Chapter Text
Jungkook wakes up with an ache in the small of his back.
It’s nothing unusual, really. He had a long workout last night and dance practice before that. He doesn’t remember doing anything to hurt his back, but he’ll make sure to talk to their physical therapist in the morning.
He rolls over and presses his face into the pillow. It smells strangely pack-y today, like his hyungs just came in and scented it with all their might. For a beta, Jungkook’s nose had always been particularly strong, but this is a lot.
He doesn’t mind. He likes the pack’s smells.
He breathes in and falls back asleep.
When he wakes up again, it’s still dark. At first, he can’t tell what woke him up.
Then, it pulses up his spine. The ache has extended inwards, and he hurts. He can’t place the pain either; his stomach doesn’t hurt, maybe his bladder? Kidney? Where are kidneys? He’s not super sure.
He groans, grabbing at his phone on the nightstand. His hand clumsily bangs against the wood, and in his groggy hunt, he bumps something off the table. It lands on the floor with a soft thud.
He’s knocked his phone off the table a million times. His bed isn’t that high, he can just stretch a little with one arm and grab it. It’s easy; he’s done it a million times. Right now, though, those few feet between him and the ground are infinite.
His body whines in distress before he can stop it.
He covers his mouth with his hand and the whine stops.
He knows he likes attention, and is happy to whine for it, but his body has never done it without his permission. His phone is so far away. He doesn’t know what time it is, everything hurts, he can’t text his hyungs for cuddles, and now his body is disobeying him.
He knows it’s nothing. His brain keeps telling him, his phone is right there. He can get it, he can text his hyungs, he can google his symptoms. It’s not a big deal. His body, however, thinks it’s a very big deal.
Instead of reaching down, he flips over in bed, pulls his blankets up to his chest. Taehyung had been lounging in his bed last night, reading webtoons while Jungkook played video games. He can still smell him, all over the blankets, all over the pillows. Making sure he’s still covered and safe, he hugs as much of his bedding as he can to his face.
Taehyung has always smelled good, but right now his scent is so strong that Jungkook can pick out the calm beta pheromones. He breathes in, out, and already, it’s hurting less.
Jungkook just wants to go back to sleep, but his phone is on the floor and his body keeps doing things he doesn’t understand. He’s too distressed to sleep, too achy to grab his phone, too confused to try to bite down his instincts.
His face is buried in the blankets when he starts to chirp.
Betas don’t chirp.
Omegas chirp.
Omegas chirp when they’re distressed, when they need help.
Jungkook is not supposed to be chirping, but he is, and his whole body is achy and sweaty and he can’t grab his phone to call for help, and so the chirps get louder. It’s an instinctual sound, his tongue moving in his mouth in a way it never has before. Jungkook is a singer, and he knows how to control his voice. This is completely out of his control. His vocal chords pull tight and flex in a way that would have his vocal teachers crying.
Jungkook thinks he’s crying now, and the chirps only get louder.
He has a hand over his mouth, and a blanket over his hand, but the chirps are too loud, he can’t muffle himself.
The thought of waking up his hyungs is devastating. If he wakes someone up and they’re mad at him, Jungkook is going to lose it. His hyungs are going to be mad at him, disappointed, Jungkook is going to be a disappointment.
He’s choking on the combination of chirps and sobs.
Then, the door opens.
“Jungkookie?” a sluggish voice asks.
Then, Jungkook is hit by his scent. Scents are hard to describe, no specific analog, but Hoseok smells clean, like sheets drying outside and the feeling of fresh lavender on his fingers. Jungkook has always been able to place these things, able to pick out the different notes in Hoseok’s pheromones, but his body has never reacted like this.
Jungkook had been facing the wall, but the second Hoseok hits his nose, he is trying his best to turn over and reach out with desperate hands.
“Hyung,” he whines, an absolute mess of a word between sniffles and sobs.
Hoseok’s hair is messy, sticking up in all directions, but he stands there, eyes wide and awake, with a single hand over his nose.
“Jungkookie,” he says again, this time with something Jungkook can’t place.
Another wave of alpha pheromones fills the room and Jungkook whines.
“Please,” Jungkook begs, almost in a whisper, “please, hyung.”
It must spur Hoseok into action, because in a flash, Hoseok is scooping Jungkook into his arms. Hoseok’s body is lean, built for movement, not bulk, but he picks Jungkook up like it’s nothing. He’s solid, warm, and as Jungkook is tucked against Hoseok’s neck the chirps quiet down.
He knows what’s happening. Hoseok probably does, too.
Betas don’t chirp; omegas do.
Hoseok rubs a hand down Jungkook’s spine, shivers and a pulse of warmth rush through his tingling limbs, and the chirps soothe into soft purrs.
Betas don’t purr; omegas do.
“Jungkookie,” Hoseok says, for a third time. This time, his voice is a gentle growl, comfortable and warm. Jungkook can feel the weight of it. “I think you’re presenting.”
Jungkook can only nod into Hoseok’s neck.
He knows. His mind is all over the place, trying its best to keep up with everything his body is doing, but he knows he’s presenting.
He’s an omega.
It’s not as much of a surprise as it should be. Jungkook has always been sensitive to scents; too sensitive, for a beta. He wants much more tactile affection than Taehyung does. They’d just accepted he was a weird beta, but to learn that he’s an omega —
It’s not as distressing as he would have expected. It’s nice, feels right.
He nods again, with more surety. “I’m an omega,” he says.
Hoseok wraps his arm around Jungkook’s back, tighter. “You smell nice, baby.”
Jungkook releases some of the tension in his muscles. He loves Hoseok’s scent, loves to be held by Hoseok, and hearing that Hoseok likes to hold him just as much feels so nice, so right.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
Hoseok’s hands are magic on his back. His fingers press right into the ache, instinctually. There are no omegas in their pack—no other omegas in their pack, Jungkook corrects. They have one now.
He likes the thought; or maybe his omega likes the thought. All these alphas and betas to protect him, to keep him warm and fed and comfy.
His purrs get louder.
This should be traumatizing; all of his alpha hyungs’ presentations were such a big deal. They got weird and loud and teary and no one knew what to do about it. When Jimin presented as an alpha he had a whole meltdown, afraid his position in the pack would change (he shouldn’t have worried, he’s still just as babied as he wants to be).
Jungkook isn’t having a meltdown, he’s just having a melt.
Hoseok smells nice, his growls are soothing away the ache, and as surprising as a late presentation is, it’s not really surprising.
Jungkook never really thought he was a beta. Becoming what he always knew he should be is almost euphoria.
Hoseok lets him sit on his lap for a minute, and Jungkook takes the time, lapping softly at Hoseok’s scent gland. It tastes like salt, sweat, and clean, human body, but it feels like home. His body is flushed with comfort and safety.
He shivers, sucks at the tiny bump. His own scent gland had always been small; maybe now it will be more prominent, maybe hyungs can take comfort from him too.
The thought pings something desperate in his mind.
“Hyung,” he pleads, “scent me, please, please.” He’ll die if Hoseok doesn’t scent him, doesn’t cover him with all his protective alpha pheromones and clean lavender.
Hoseok growls, fingers tightening on Jungkook’s back.
“I can’t,” he grunts, almost like it hurts him as much as it hurts Jungkook (which is impossible), “you’re going to go into a pheromone high.”
Oh that sounds so nice. Jungkook wants to go into a pheromone high. He’s heard of them, read of them, seen them a billion times in movies. “Please, yes,” he grinds his hips down, and to his surprise, he finds the fiction smooth, wet.
He’s confused, for a second, but then it clicks. He’s producing slick. He’s slicking up. Now that he’s paying attention, he’s not sure how he ever missed it. His underwear sticks to the skin between his ass cheeks.
Now that he’s paying attention, he can’t stop paying attention. Hyungs can fuck him so much more now, fuck. He’s self lubricating, and so fucking empty. The heat hasn’t fully overwhelmed his mind yet, but his body is already getting ready for the coming week.
“Oh my god, hyung,” he whispers, “can you smell my slick?”
Hoseok moans. “Yeah, baby. I can.”
Hoseok wiggles happily in his lap and can hear the wet sound of his slick as he moves. “What do I smell like, hyung?”
“You’re going to kill me what the fuck,” Hoseok groans before breathing in through his nose, “you smell like… like the morning in springtime, like water lilies. I want to,” Hoseok breathes, again, “I want to drown in you.”
Another gush of slick drips down his skin.
“Then drown,” Jungkook says, and it’s over. Hoseok’s nose buries itself along Jungkook’s neck, and this time, it’s Hoseok who shivers.
A hand plays with the waist of Jungkook’s sweatpants. He went to bed in his normal winter pajamas of sweats and a big T-shirt, but he’s regretting all the fabric now.
“Off,” he begs.
“We should talk first,” Hoseok says, like he’s barely convinced himself.
Jungkook is slipping into heat, he knows, but he’s still conscious. Hoseok will blame himself if Jungkook doesn’t let them talk.
“Okay, yeah,” he says, pushing down his instincts long enough to sit back on his heels, still on Hoseok’s lap but with enough space between them to think, at least a little bit.
“You’re an omega,” Hoseok says, in awe.
“I’m an omega,” Jungkook says. He said it before, but looking at Hoseok’s wide eyes, with his mind in some semblance of control, it becomes real. "Shit, I’m an omega.”
Hoseok looks worried.
Jungkook gives him a wide smile. “I’m going to have hyungs wrapped around my fingers, oh my god.”
He still aches a little bit, and slick feels weird, but he’s overtaken by a sense of excitement.
Hoseok blinks at him. “So you’re okay… with not being a beta?”
Jungkook stretches his new body. Muscles are intact, strong. He feels like himself, just a little bit wetter, a little more sensitive. “So okay,” he responds.
Hoseok’s hands find his hips. “This changes nothing about how we feel about you, you know,” he says, still looking up at Jungkook.
“I know,” he says, and he really does know. They love him already. “You love me, and you love fucking me already, now I can just go longer.”
At the end of the day, that’s all it comes down to for Jungkook. As a beta, he had a small cock and a delicate pussy; now that he’s presented, his body will change a little bit. His cock will shrink, his pussy has already gotten better at lubricating itself, but nothing else has to change. All of his hyungs already have enthusiastic consent and awareness of his limits. The limits may change, but he’s still Jungkook, and Hoseok knows him. Hoseok knows what he likes.
“So…” Jungkook finishes, panting in his new-but-not-new skin, “are you going to do something about it?
Hoseok chokes on his own spit and Jungkook grins. “Oh my god you’re going to be such a menace,” he says.
Jungkook pulls at Hoseok’s waistband with a scoff. “I’ve always been a menace,” he says, “but now I’m a menace going into heat.”
Hoseok blinks at him, surprisingly calm for all that’s happening, for the statement he just made.
“Then let’s take care of you, omega.”
Jungkook’s body turns into fire. Omega, alpha is calling him omega, alpha is going to take care of him.
Hoseok has fucked him a thousand times before, but never as an alpha taking care of his omega.
His back hits the bed and the mattress springs squeak.
“What do you want?” Hoseok asks, intense.
“Cock,” Jungkook pleads, “your cock, alpha, oh my god, your knot, knot.”
Being knotted had always been a pleasantly uncomfortable experience as a beta, but now, with slick already staining the sheets, even before he’s slipped into heat, Jungkook knows it’s going to be different, better, fuck.
Hoseok is already trailing his lips down Jungkook’s neck, long fingers rubbing at his stomach underneath his sleep shirt. “Do you want this off?” Hoseok asks, remarkably in control for everything that’s happening, all the pheromones in the room.
“Yes,” Jungkook pants, “off, all of it off.”
As Jungkook gets more and more eager, desperate, Hoseok moves slower. He takes his time slipping the cotton up and off of Jungkook’s body, carefully makes sure his arms don’t get stuck, manipulating Jungkook’s limbs like a marionette.
Jungkook is more than happy to be manipulated, as long as the attention stays on him, Hoseok’s lips and hands on his skin, on his mouth. Jungkook watches him work with half lidded eyes as Hoseok rolls his sweatpants and underwear down together, slowly. He leaves a kiss at the junction of Jungkook’s thigh and hip, then another kiss closer to his cock, then in the strong muscle of his thigh, and down and down until Jungkook is bare in front of him.
“Beautiful,” Hoseok purrs, “my beautiful omega.”
There’s something delicious about Hoseok—ethereal, intense, elegant—kneeling in front of him on the bed, fully clothed while all of Jungkook is exposed. He sits back on his heels and just looks. Jungkook is dripping.
Hoseok’s eyes catch on the wet shine between Jungkook’s legs.
“What’s this?” he asks, like he doesn’t know, like the scent isn’t penetrating the walls and probably waking up all the alphas in the house. “Is my baby leaking?”
Jungkook shivers, full body, and nods. “For you,” he says, breathless, “all for alpha.”
“Thank you so much, precious,” Hoseok responds, leaning closer and getting onto his stomach, “I’m going to enjoy my meal.”
By the time Jungkook puts it together, Hoseok’s mouth is already on him, but just on him, breathing.
Jungkook jolts but Hoseok’s hands keep him in place.
Hoseok’s lips are against his opening, hot air against the slick making Jungkook impossibly warm. He felt sticky before but now he feels wet.
Hoseok’s tongue laps out to taste, but just to taste.
Jungkook wiggles and his breathing picks up.
“Hyung,” he begs, “alpha,” but Hoseok doesn’t speed up with him. Without moving his mouth, Hoseok lifts one of Jungkook’s legs and places it on his shoulder, then repeats with the other leg.
Hoseok is holding Jungkook’s hips right up to his mouth, arms around his ass.
Finally comfortable, with Jungkook’s body in his control, Hoseok feasts.
Jungkook bites on his wail. Hoseok’s nose presses against the underside of his useless little cock, his tongue flitting against the lips of his hole with deliberate, intense pressure. His tongue only makes it inside for seconds at a time, and Jungkook’s frustration builds with the heat.
“Inside, alpha, inside.”
Sensing his desperation, Hoseok acquiesces, burying his tongue in Jungkook’s hole and pressing up, sharp and intense.
Rappers, what the fuck, Jungkook thinks as Hoseok tongue writes verses into his nerves. It’s far from the first time Hoseok has eaten him out, but it’s so much more. Slick and spit drips down Hoseok’s lips, and Jungkook’s addled brain reminds him that he could add come, too.
He wants Hoseok to fuck him, but he doesn’t want Hoseok to stop. His thrusts are slowing down, getting more and more intentional and pointed. Jungkook didn’t always come easily before, but in just a few minutes he can feel his orgasm building, cock barely touched.
Jungkook groans, and Hoseok must feel it because he eats faster, hungrily, like he feels Jungkook about to come and can’t wait to get him there.
Jungkook can’t remember how to breathe, he’s so close, so—
His body locks up when he comes, hole twitching, like he’s either trying to pull Hoseok in or push him out. The muscles contract tight, but Hoseok is stronger. He keeps eating, and Jungkook’s body keeps coming.
His eyes roll back in his head, and the pulses of pleasure just keep going as Hoseok does.
He’s wracked with aftershocks as Hoseok slows down; he’s not even really sure when it ends. His hole is still pulsing around Hoseok’s tongue, and drips of clear liquid slide down his cock.
Coming as an omega is so much better. His whole body feels sensitive, tingly, the heat simmering at a nice low bubble under his skin.
When Hoseok pulls away, a line of slick connects his lips to Jungkook.
His grin is feral, pleased.
“Good?” he asks, like he didn’t just feel Jungkook having the best, longest orgasm of his life. Hoseok could breathe on him right now and he might just come again.
Jungkook groans in response. He can be sassy in his head, but his body is still floating and pulsing and languishing in pleasure.
He feels so safe, comfortable, and sated. His limbs are lead as Hoseok puts Jungkook back down on the bed.
Hoseok is still fully clothed. Another glob of slick hits the sheets.
“Off,” Jungkook says, eyes half lidded.
“My clothes?” Hoseok asks, and duh. Jungkook nods lazily, licking his lips.
Hoseok acquiesces in a second.
His cock stands proud against his stomach, an angry, hungry red at the tip.
Jungkook’s brain shuts off. He wants that. He wants it inside him, right now, wants to feel this new orgasm with Hoseok’s cock inside of him, with his knot holding them together.
Before he can understand what he’s doing, Jungkook has rolled onto his stomach, dripping ass in the air.
“Knot,” he whines.
Hoseok chokes, and Jungkook belatedly realizes he’s presenting, begging. He purrs. He likes these new instincts. He wiggles his ass.
The bed dips behind him and Hoseok fingers dig into the strong muscles of his ass.
When those very same fingers dip inside of him, Jungkook sighs. He’s already so stretched, so turned on from Hoseok’s tongue, from the heat and the slick. He takes two easily, then three, then four.
Hoseok isn’t trying to rile him up this time, but he searches. Jungkook’s walls are more giving, softer, wetter, warmer. Jungkook sighs into the gentle exploration. He would be whining more if he didn’t think Hoseok was going to give him what he needs, but Jungkook is spoiled. It’s coming.
He’s surprisingly sated; he’s seen the porn with omegas in heat. He was desperate for a second, yeah, and getting bred sounds so good, but more than that feral desperation, he’s just comfortable, floaty and soft and safe and warm. Hoseok is taking care of him.
Hoseok’s hands retreat, and in their place, the head of his cock presses against Jungkook’s opening.
The frenzy had already been fucked out of him by Hoseok’s tongue. By the time his cock slips in, all Jungkook can do is sigh in delight.
He goes inch by inch, used to Jungkook’s body before presentation. Beta pussies are never quite as welcoming as omegas, and Hoseok is all too familiar with the slow, inch at a time stretch Jungkook normally needs.
He doesn’t need that anymore, at least not in heat. “Inside,” he whines, “alpha, inside.”
Hoseok doesn’t change his speed, filling Jungkook up inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, moment by moment. Jungkook’s arms struggle to hold him up, so he lets go.
By the time Hoseok is fully sheathed, Jungkook is a puddle. Hoseok pulls out, slow, just to sheathe himself again.
His pace is slow, punctuated by consistent rolls of his hips and kisses at Jungkook’s neck.
“Good,” he moans into the pillow, trying to let Hoseok know that it feels so good, that he doesn’t want him to stop, but his tongue is just so heavy, “yes, alpha.”
Hoseok’s teeth nip at the back of Jungkook’s neck.
“For you, omega,” he groans, not missing a beat, lost in the rhythm, “all for you.”
Hoseok’s stamina is second to none. Jungkook comes again, Hoseok buried deep inside of him, and all he can do is ride out the waves. Hoseok had said that Jungkook’s smell is water, spring, but when Hoseok makes him come, all Jungkook can do is keep himself from drowning. He lets the waves take him, and god, he’s so fucking deep.
Jungkook is still holding on to his orgasm when Hoseok’s knot pushes at his opening.
It’s not life changing; it’s not earth shattering; the moment Hoseok knots him is just right. It’s satisfying. The pulse of warm come in the stomach is comfortable, and Jungkook is so satisfied by the knowledge that he will smell like Hoseok for days, his come staining Jungkook’s insides as his, as alpha’s.
Hoseok’s teeth stay at his neck, waves of come still filling Jungkook when his eyes flutter, his eyelids too heavy to keep open.
“Stay inside,” Jungkook begs, trying to keep himself coherent long enough to plead. “When we wake up, hyung, inside.”
And Jungkook is out.