Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Given that Bangtan is an all alpha group, there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that the maknae too will present as an alpha.

Just as predicted, Jungkook goes into pre-rut a few days after his twentieth birthday. Their apartment floods with the stench of pine trees and smoke, heady and sharp. As has been tradition since Seokjin’s presentation five years ago, they order fried chicken and beer, make a toast to the baby of the group finally becoming all grown up. The seven of them now the same. Adults. Alphas.

And just like with all the others, Jungkook too feels downright nauseous in the presence of other alphas during his presentation. Even if they are his hyungs, even if they are his best friends— they’re still alphas at the end of the day, and Jungkook’s pre-rut hormones are vehemently repulsed by their presence.

All except for one of them.

“How’re you holdin’ up, Koo?” Hoseok rubs Jungkook’s back, slow and gentle, fingers tracing up and down his spine. 

Jungkook closes his eyes, tremors wracking through his body in waves. For some reason, he isn’t put off by Hoseok, even though he’s an alpha too. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s almost as if Jungkook’s inner wolf welcomes Hoseok’s presence. Wholeheartedly leaning into his touch. 

“You okay?” Hoseok’s voice is gentle, grappling at the last remains of Jungkook’s conscience. “Does it hurt, bun?”

It doesn’t hurt. Yet. He’s still only in pre-rut, after all. But he’s witnessed first hand how much things had plummeted all the way south during the presentation of every single one of his hyungs. The absolute chaos when they went into full rut, roaring in agony, violent and wild as they slammed their knots into the hired omega service. 

“Not feeling too great, hyung.” Jungkook chuckles drily, wincing when he feels another pang of pain shoot though his head. “I feel sorta sluggish, like I can’t move my body the way I want to. Slow… uncomfortable.”

“Oh baby, I promise it’ll get better soon.” Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook and pulls him close. “You’ll feel good as new once you’re done with your first rut.”

Jungkook notices absentmindedly that Hoseok smells sweet. It’s his first time smelling Hoseok’s scent— a sign that he really is presenting, he really is crossing that threshold. Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed and he inhales Hoseok’s scent, sighing as he lets it douse his nerves. Hoseok smells like vanilla. A terribly comforting scent— sweet, grounding. With a grunt, Jungkook nuzzles into Hoseok’s neck, hands winding down to wrap around Hoseok’s hips, a subconscious plea for him to stay.

“It feels better when you hold me, hyung.” Jungkook sighs, mouth pressing against Hoseok’s scent gland, lips grazing against the protruded patch of flesh and immediately getting coated with his sweet oil. “Makes me feel safe.”

“I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to, baby.” Hoseok pecks Jungkook’s crown, holding him close, humming into his ears. For a brief moment, Jungkook feels like he’s back home in Busan, waves brushing against his feet, sun teasing his skin, not a worry in his mind. But then, there it is again, that pit in his stomach, churning, grinding, burning in a way no fire has ever scorched him before. 

“Please—” Jungkook clenches his eyes shut, mouthing against Hoseok’s neck, inhaling sharply, scurrying as close as their bodies will allow. They’re meshed together, chest to chest, too close, but not close enough. “Please, hyung—” Jungkook’s voice cracks when another wrack of shivers runs through his fame. “Please don’t leave me.”

Hoseok sleeps with him that night, tucking Jungkook under his chin and holding him tight. Every point of contact between their bodies tingles curiously. Even though Jungkook’s skin shivers under the cold night air. 

If it isn’t for Hoseok, Jungkook doesn’t think he would be able to fall asleep that night.

***

When Jungkook wakes up the next morning, he feels more disoriented than he has ever felt in his life. His head spins around in circles, ears ringing like a thousand sirens going off at the same time. He tenses his jaws, screwing his eyes shut as a sudden migraine splits his head into two. 

It’s a kind of acute physical agony that he’s never known before. And it’s not like he’s a stranger to pain. Broken a dozen bones growing up, got into his fair share of fights, practiced choreo till his feet started bleeding. But this is a fresh layer of hell, crawling under his skin and setting it on fire. 

“Koo?”

Jungkook winces at the sound, curling into a fetal position and covering his ears with his palms. He hisses through his teeth, thrashing his head about as a wave of nausea courses through his frame. It’s sheer torture, forcing himself to inhale and exhale and just fucking stay alive when he wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Koo, honey—”

“Hurts,” Jungkook manages to choke out, mouth dry as sandpaper, voice raspy and broken. “Please—” He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. Or why. He supposes he’s begging for the excruciating pain to stop.

“Shush,” the voice says, gathering him up, tucking an arm under his hips before hawling him against a firm chest. Jungkook’s breath leaves him in a stutter and his eyes snap open as the familiar scent of vanilla infiltrates his nostrils.

“Hobi hyung?” Jungkook whimpers as a fresh wave of pain shoots through his temple, making him physically recoil. But not for long. Because Hoseok is warm and familiar, anchoring him, albeit temporarily. Not that Jungkook cares; he is happy for any salve he can lay his hands on, even if it’s the fleeting kind.

“I got you, bun.” Hoseok’s lips press against Jungkook’s ear, whispering sweet nothing, coaxing sweet little shivers from him. The good kind— the best kind. The kind that only Hoseok is ever able to draw out. Jungkook relaxes into him, exhaling shakily before he shifts so that he’s lying across Hoseok’s chest, burrowing into his neck and mouthing at his scent gland. Vanilla coats his tongue, thick and sweet and intoxicating in the best way possible. It’s easy to shove his pre-rut pains to the side when he’s able to lose himself in Hoseok this way. It’s easy, so easy.

“Joon?” Hoseok’s voice sounds far away. Which is funny because Hoseok is right there, combing his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. It sounds like he’s on the phone. With Namjoon apparently. Jungkook purrs in self satisfaction at having been able to piece the clues together. 

“Kookie’s gonna go into rut any time now,” Hoseok continues, his voice sounding dampened by the incessant pounding in Jungkook’s head. “Can you call tell manager hyung to call the heat service? It’s looking a little bad— he’s sweating a lot. Hurry please!”

So saying, Hoseok ends the call and sighs, probably throwing the phone away, before relaxing into Jungkook’s hold. Jungkook grabs him closer, gut clenching uneasily as he processes Hoseok’s words. He’s going into rut. Oh. So that’s what this is— this ache in his gut, this ceaseless fire beneath his veins, this restlessness that borders on a physical ache. 

This overwhelming need to flood his senses with something— and that something just happens to be Hoseok’s scent. Jungkook notes absentmindedly that Hoseok’s scent is so unnaturally sweet for an alpha. Something like vanilla would usually be associated with omegas. But he supposes it makes sense given how gentle Hoseok is, for an alpha or otherwise. It makes sense. 

What doesn’t make sense is the way Jungkook isn’t repulsed by Hoseok’s alpha pheromones. The normal reaction would be to reject Hoseok’s presence and to act out against him, likely to spark a friction from both their inner alphas facing off against each other in a battle for dominance.  

It’s not at all normal for an alpha starting his rut to be so ease with another alpha— in fact, it’s downright ludicrous how Jungkook is trying to get as close to Hoseok as possible, his inner alpha completely ignorant to Hoseok’s subgender. But then again, he’s always found Hoseok to be something like a place of comfort for him. On many occasions, he’s found himself wrapped up in Hoseok’s bed, curled into his sheets and inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla— of Hoseok . 

Jungkook’s always found comfort in Hoseok, and this time is no different. Regardless of their subgender and the biology of alpha-alpha repulsion during rut cycles, it all boils down to Jungkook and Hoseok in the end. And they’ve always fitted together like two pieces of a puzzles, jagged edges locking tight.

Can you tell manager hyung to call the heat service?

Panic starts to bubble in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach as he suddenly registers that they’re going to arrange an external heat service for him. That means Hoseok is going to leave him. Bile rushes up Jungkook’s throat like a broken dam, making him choke on his overwhelming feelings. Fuck fuck fuck— he doesn’t want that. This is his first rut— the first time he’s going to pop a knot. A romantic part of Jungkook’s heart feels torn at having to spend it with a stranger— like it’s some kind of business deal, an inconvenience to get over with as soon as possible. But it’s not. It’s special. Or at least, Jungkook wants it to be special; he wants it to be intimate. He doesn’t want a stranger to get him through the whole ordeal, mechanical and detached. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want anyone else. He wants—

He wants Hoseok.

“Hyungie,” Jungkook stutters out, wincing as another wave of fire courses through his veins, a white noise blaring in his eardrums. He grunts under his breath, tightening his grip around Hoseok and using him like an anchor. “Hyung, please—”

“Hmm?” Hoseok’s voice sounds so out of reach— and Jungkook’s trying so hard to grab hold and yank him back— he’s trying so fucking hard; he is.

“Hyung,” Jungkook repeats, continuing to mouth against Hoseok’s scent gland and inhaling the soothing scent that coats his tongue. “Don’t want them to call someone from a rut service. Please— please , hyung.”

“Koo, what—?”

“I don’t want to spend my first rut with a stranger, hyung.” Jungkook hisses through his teeth, grinding his teeth in frustration. “I’m so scared.”

“Koo, honey, look at me. Look at hyung.” Hoseok’s voice is soft, placating, and he tips Jungkook’s face up by the chin, cupping his cheeks and rubbing their noses together. Jungkook gulps, blinking away the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok continues, so close that Jungkook can feel Hoseok’s breath on his face, minty and relaxing and making Jungkook want to lean in and close the distance. “There’s nothing for you to be scared of, bun. All your hyungs have gone through this before. We’ve all had to call a rut service to help with our ruts— our first ruts, as well as the ones that follow. It’s normal, Koo. You don’t have to be afraid at all. In fact, you’re probably nervous because of your rut pheromones. Once you’ve knotted an omega, you’re bound to feel much better.”

Jungkook shakes his head, chewing into his trembling lower lip. No. Hoseok doesn’t get it. Jungkook can feel his skin crawl at the very thought of having to fuck a stranger— he feels nauseous just imagining it. It’s not that he hasn’t watched porn or jacked off before. But that’s always been a more detached experience. He’s never had to put himself in the place of the alphas in those clips. He’s never knotted anyone before— this is going to be his first knot. In his first rut. With his first sexual partner. Jungkook doesn’t want to lose his virginity to some stranger. But he also doesn’t know how he can explain all of this to Hoseok without sounding ridiculous and spoilt.

Risking all of that, Jungkook turns towards Hoseok, lips parting. Before they completely freeze in place. A pang of pain stabs straight through Jungkook’s heart. Something like guilt— something like resignation. Ah, there’s no way he can back out now. Not when Hoseok is looking at him with such tenderness in his eyes, smile gentle and concerned, hand squeezing onto Jungkook’s t-shirt so tight that his knuckles turn white. There’s no way Jungkook can deny him anything. 

“Okay.” Jungkook’s heart deflates as the single syllable leaves his lips. His shoulders slump in defeat, chest squeezing in anxiety. “I trust you, hyung.”

When Hoseok bursts into a smile, eyes twinkling, rubbing his nose against Jungkook’s in affection— there’s a part of Jungkook that wants nothing more than to believe his own words. 

***

It’s ridiculous how well the hyungs know Jungkook. The omega they booked for him ticks all of his boxes. She’s tall with long legs, a small face, long luscious hair. Short black skirt with leather boots and half a dozen silver piercings on her ear. She’s the manifestation of all of Jungkook’s wet dreams growing up. She’s perfect.

Or at least, she should be perfect.

At the moment, she’s straddling Jungkook on the bed, scenting him. All eager hands and experienced mouth. Soft and warm and wet and everything and everywhere all at once, sending Jungkook’s senses into overdrive. But not the good kind of overdrive. Not the kind where his inner alpha breaks loose just to ravage the omega at his fingertips. Not at all. Why, it would be more accurate to say that he’s a little repulsed by the whole deal. 

“You smell so good, alpha!” She’s purring in his ear, the kind of voice that’s porn worthy— sexy— but it makes him cringe, makes him want to clamp her lips shut. “Gonna knot me so good, aren’t ya?”

Is he? Jungkook doubts that very much. He’s heard from his hyungs— even read some articles on naver— about how an alpha is supposed to absolutely lose it when he goes into full rut, how he’s supposed to cave into his dormant urges and breed and stake his claim. So why is it that he wants to do none of those things right now? He’s got a good fertile omega in his lap, eager and experienced. And yet…. Why is it that all he really wants is to curl into a fetal position and wait for his dumb rut to pass? So this stranger will leave him alone and he can go back  to his Hoseok hyung—

Huh?

What does Hoseok have to do with anything? 

“Ah—” Jungkook groans, clenching his eyes shut, trying to block out the way the omega is gripping onto his cock, rubbing the sides of the shaft with her long cool fingers. Hoseok’s hands are warmer— smaller — and surely, they’d feel so much better jerking him off. She’s leaning in close, nipping against his earlobe, her pheremones clouding up his mind. She smells like the honey dripping from flowers when they’re in full bloom, floral and sweet. So sweet that it leaves a bad aftertaste in his mouth. Hoseok’s vanilla scent doesn’t do that— no, Hoseok’s scent is so delicious— so addicting.

“Finally!” She coos, bringing Jungkook back to the present. At some point, she’d completely stripped out of all her clothes and managed to yank Jungkook’s pants all the way off too. “You’re finally getting hard, alpha. Took you long enough! A late bloomer in every aspect, aren’t ya?”

What…? Jungkook’s eyes widen as he forces himself to look down at his cock. It’s hard as a rock, engorged and flushed pink. There’s a slight swell at the base, no doubt the sign of his knot starting to form. Oh god— his knot. He’s going to pop his first knot today. As if on command, all his blood runs south and fills his cock even more, making it pulse when the omega starts to thumb at the slit. Jungkook whimpers at the red hot gnawing sting in his groin, tears beading at the corner of his eyes as he aches for release— as he aches to be able to pop his knot.

But it’s not because of her. Jungkook startles at the realisation that he doesn’t want this omega at all. He doesn’t want to fuck her or knot her or anything. No matter how much he aches for a release, he doesn’t want it from her. He doesn’t want anything from her. Heck, it’s not her that Jungkook wants. No. Jungkook wants—

“Don’t worry, honey. Noona’s got you.” She giggles, lifting herself on her thighs, her fingers digging into Jungkook’s shoulders, the long nails scraping his skin. He gulps, trailing his eyes down. From the lust sparkling in her eyes to the sweat trickling between her breasts to the soft contraction of her abs to the slick dripping down her thighs. 

She’s so fucking wet, the slick warm where it falls on Jungkook’s skin. Her scent is more pronounced now, pungent almost with how sweet she smells. And it clogs Jungkook’s throat, suffocates him. His mind is woozy, and it feels like he’s watching things unfold from outside of his body, completely detached from it all. Which is what he wants more than anything. He wants to detach himself from her— from this.

A sudden wet squelching sound snaps Jungkook’s eyes back to the omega in his lap, jolting in surprise as he tries to focus on what she’ up to. She’s grinning seductively— or trying, because it’s not seductive at all when Jungkook is as turned off as he is. With a heave, she grabs Jungkook’s cock and positions herself right above him. Jungkook’s chest twists in panic as she hovers for a minute, before slowly bringing herself down, her cunt lips stretching over the tip of the cock and sucking it in.

“No!” Jungkook grunts out, drawing back as if he’s been scalded. It sure feels like he has. His chest rises and falls in quick succession, his blood singing in his ears as he feels a wave of alarm douse him. “No no no! Leave— Please!”

Jungkook scrambles back until he’s pressed against the headboard, knees dragged up to his chest, cock weeping and flushed an angry red, the hint of a knot at the base. He’s so fucking hard. But not hard enough that he wants to fuck her. A shiver wracks through his frame as his mind plays a picture of the scene— of his first knot stretching out her cunt before he pumps her full. It should be hot, it should turn him on. But it doesn’t. He feels sick just thinking about it.

“Jungkook-ssi?” No, Jungkook hates the way his name sounds coming out of her mouth. He absolutely loathes it. “What’s wrong? Does your rut hurt, baby?”

Don’t call me baby. There’s bile rising up Jungkook’s throat from her words— from her voice. He just wants her to leave him alone. Shaking his head, he tells her just that, his voice cracking pathetically at the end.

“What do you mean you want me to leave, honey?” She tilts her head to the side, looking genuinely confused. As she has every right to be. Jungkook is an alpha in rut, after all. And an omega like her is everything he should crave at the moment. Even Jungkook knows that’s how things should go. But the reality is so different. What’s wrong with him?

“Please.” Jungkook’s voice is merely a whisper and the shock in her eyes is the only sign that she’s heard him. “Please leave. I— I don’t want this.”

“You’re kidding’ me, right?” She scoffs, eyebrows knitting into a frown. “You’re already in rut. Your first rut. You do know that you’re going to go feral in a few hours, right? You need to knot someone, alpha. Or else you’ll lose your fucking mind!”

Saying so, she plants her palms on the mattress and tries to scoot closer, eyes glossed with a mixture of concern and lust as she tries to close the gap between them. She’s right. Jungkook knows this. He’s only just gone into rut. There’s a whole week of this torture left for him to endure. Not to mention how he could go feral any moment. He shivers at just the thought of it. 

An alpha in rut is vulnerable, many times more vulnerable than an omega in heat. Especially an alpha who’s newly presented. Like Jungkook. If he doesn’t end up popping his knot at least once, he’s going to end up going permanently feral; staying that way forever. Jungkook shivers at the thought, anxiety building up in his chest as he imagines all the percussions he’d have to face if that happens and everything he stands to lose.

The omega’s hand grazes against his thighs, a fleeting touch. But one that has his skin breaking into gooseflesh. He recoils almost instantly, much to her annoyance. She grunts in exasperation, about to reach out for him again. Only to stop when he growls, a low rumbling sound that comes straight from his chest. He’s snarling at her now, something fierce burning inside him, spluttering and crackling. Her shoulders sag, lips curling down in a defeated frown.

“Fine. Suit yourself. I got paid upfront anyway.” She sighs shakenly, taking a step away from Jungkook and making to get up to her feet. It’s clear that she feels insulted. But it’s more than just a wounded ego. There’s fear laced between her words; she’s afraid of Jungkook. That much is apparent from the way she gathers her clothes in a hurry, simply throwing her shirt on, before scooting out of the room and slamming the door shut behind her.

Leaving Jungkook to face his first rut alone.

Suddenly, there’s a commotion outside the door. Jungkook lifts his head, squinting as he tries to make out what’s going on. He can hear a woman’s voice— the omega’s, no doubt. It’s funny how he doesn’t even remember what she looks like anymore, now that she’s one for good— and then, there are a couple of familiar voices, sounding like they’re pleading with her. He can make out Hoseok’s voice and Namjoon’s too. But he can’t quite grasp what they’re saying though. It sounds too far away and muffled, so much so that Jungkook has half a mind to get on his feet and press his ear against the door so he can properly eavesdrop. 

Jungkook’s about to do just that when the door flings open of its own accord, startling him at the coincidental timing. Without any preamble, Namjoon storms into the room, with Hoseok at his heel. They both look absolutely exhausted, eyebrows pinched together with worry.

They walk towards the bed, pausing  at the foot of the bed and looming over Jungkook. With an embarrassed huff, Jungkook grapples for the sheets and attempts to cover himself. Everything smells like omega slick and sex and his fucking rut. But Namjoon's scent suddenly diffuses into the entire room, pungent and spiked with anxiety, like a tumultuous sea during a storm. Jungkook shrinks into himself, bile rising up his throat at the scent, hating their proximity. Wishing Namjoon would leave so that he can start breathing again, so that he can inhale Hoseok’s scent and calm himself down.

“Jungkook-ah…” Namjoon’s voice breaks through Jungkook’s morbid thoughts. It’s soft, but icy cold, sending shivers down Jungkook’s spine and making him slink as far back into the bed as possible. Which isn’t much, considering how he’s already pressed against the headboard. “What’s going on?” Namjoon’s lips stretch into a straight line. “Why did you throw the omega out?”

“I don’t want her,” Jungkook chokes out, shaking his head adamantly. “I don’t want to knot her, hyung.”

“What were you thinking, Jungkook-ah? You can’t afford to be so picky when you’re in rut.” Namjoon isn’t one to shout, never has been. Especially not when he’s angry. His voice goes impossibly low, somehow managing to remain so terribly calm and cold. For some reason, Jungkook finds that a lot more nervewracking than if he were to raise his voice. 

“I know,” Jungkook mumbles out, lowering his gaze so that he doesn’t have to look at Namjoon. “But I can’t help how I feel.”

“How do you feel, Jungkookie?” Hoseok’s voice is far more gentle than Namjoon, albeit just as tired. Just as fed up with Jungkook’s bullshit. “Your rut must be in full swing by now. I— I can’t imagine going through a rut by myself.” Hoseok wraps his arms around his waist in a self hug, closing his eyes momentarily and shuddering, as if he’s imagining it.  And then, he’s looking back at Jungkook, pleading with him with those dark liquid orbs. So pretty, Jungkook thinks, suddenly forgetting about the fire in his gut. Hoseok is so pretty.

“Jungkook— Koo. ” Jungkook feels a tingle in his chest at the way Hoseok still calls him petnames even during such a tense situation. “You can’t do this to yourself,” Hoseok continues, shaking his head adamantly. “We won’t let you. You need someone to share your rut with you.”

“I don’t want that omega, hyung. I felt so repulsed by her!”

“Well then, we’ll find you someone else, alright?” Namjoon chimes in, his voice cracking the smallest bit and belying how he’s starting to finally lose his composure. “We’re not gonna let you fuck yourself up, Jungkook. We’re gonna get you someone else and you’re going to have to knot someone at some point, whether you want to or not—”

“I will do no such thing!” Jungkook snarls, before he blinks in shock. He covers his mouth with his palms, tears blooming afresh at the corners of his eyes. Oh god no. He just raised his voice at Namjoon. He’s already losing his grip— fuck fuck fuck—

“Joon, you can’t say that.” Hoseok groans, reaching out and squeezing Namjoon’s shoulder. “We can’t force him to do anything. Especially something as intimate as this. That’s fucked up.” He turns back towards Jungkook, swallowing harshly, before bowing his head the smallest bit. He taps the back of Namjoon’s neck, making him sigh in defeat before bowing down as well. “We’re sorry for upsetting you, Koo. You know Joon didn’t mean that, right? He’s just high strung.”

“Sorry, Jungkook-ah.” Namjoon does sound genuinely remorseful, a little self-loathing too. But not as much as Jungkook feels. God, everything’s falling apart, and it’s all Jungkook’s fault. If only he’d sucked it up and fucked that omega they’d hired for him. Then, his hyungs wouldn’t be bowing their heads before him like this, bruising their pride and breaking Jungkook’s heart in the process. It’s all Jungkook’s fault.

“But you still need to pop a knot, Koo.” Hoseok’s voice is tense, laced with sadness, stretched so taut that Jungkook’s afraid it’ll break— that’s he will break with it. “I don’t wanna see you go feral, bun. I love you so much.”

“Hyung, please—”

“You said you couldn’t fuck her because you didn’t— want— her, right?” Namjoon interrupts them, rubbing his chin in deep thought. He frowns, looking back up at Jungkook. “Why don’t we get you someone you’d— well— want? Can you think of someone like that? We could try to find a rut service omega who fits all your desired criteria then? See if that works out.”

“That’s a great idea, Namjoonie!” Hoseok claps his hands in glee, eyes twinkling with hope, before turning back to Jungkook. “Tell us what kinda person you want, Koo.”

“I—” Jungkook clears his throat, glancing between Namjoon and Hoseok, gaze wavering and unsure. The problem is that he doesn’t know what he wants exactly. The omega from before had ticked all his boxes and then some. From her sexy appearance to her confident personality. She was just his type, actually. But for some reason, he hadn’t felt even an ounce of attraction towards her. Jungkook frowns, rut addled mind swimming as he tries to conjure up an appropriate answer to Namjoon’s question. He gulps, throat suddenly going dry, before he closes his eyes and tries to concentrate on the problem at hand.

What kind of person does Jungkook want, really? What kind of person would he feel attracted to? What kind of person would he be okay with knotting? What kind of person would he want to breed ripe? Jungkook licks his lips, mouth becoming more and more parched the more he thinks about it. There’s a face slowly forming in the back of his mind, the features starting to get etched out one by one, slowly. Until it’s a distinct image, achingly familiar and in high detail.

“Someone who’s gentle with me,” Jungkook mutters out. Namjoon makes an irked sound, which makes Jungkook flush darkly, looking down at where his hands curl into the fabric of his pants. “Someone with a nice laugh,” Jungkook continues, his voice wobbling with a steady build of embarrassment. “The kind of laugh that makes me feel all warm and tingly. I want someone who fits perfectly in my arms. The perfect height so that I can back hug them and rest my head in the crook of their neck. Delicate so that I can carry them. But strong so that they can pick me up too. I want—” Jungkook swallows his spit, darting his eyes to the side and focusing on a very confused looking Hoseok. “I want someone who smells sweet. Like— like vanilla .”

“Jungkook—?” Namjoon’s face scrunches up with sudden discomfort, his brows knotted so tightly together that Jungkook’s worried they’ll snap at any moment now. With a surprised grunt, Namjoon opens his mouth and closes it just as quick, before glancing towards Hoseok with a concerned look on his face. He knows. He knows exactly what Jungkook means. It’s commendable how quickly he was able to catch on. But that’s just what you’d expect from Namjoon; he’s always been a whole genius. He’s the pack leader for a reason.

“Bun, that’s really fucking specific.” Hoseok chuckles, but without any real mirth. “Specific and also unrealistic. We can’t find you a person who is all those things… in one night. That’s not how it works. You need to be more practical, bun. How are we gonna find someone like that in just a couple of hours, huh? What you want is so— intimate. I don’t think we can get someone like that from a mere rut service provider. Especially at such short notice.”

Namjoon scoffs, muttering curses under his breath as he looks at Jungkook incredulously. “You’re kidding, right? Tell me this is some fucked up joke, Jungkook.” 

“What’re you talking about, Joon?” Hoseok frowns, confusion setting in deeper. It’s almost endearing how oblivious he is. Almost. 

With a morose shake of his head, Jungkook chews into his lower lip, before averting his gaze towards Hoseok. “There’s one person I can think of,” Jungkook whispers out, voice shrill and high pitched, making him feel so mortified that he wants nothing more than to evaporate into thin air.

“Huh?” Hoseok looks taken aback, his mouth curling down in his signature pout, an endearing triangular formation of his lips that makes Jungkook’s shoulders slump with adoration. “What are you talking about, Koo? What do you mean you already know someone? Are you seeing someone in secret? Why didn’t you tell us—?”

“Hobi, you dense idiot!” Namjoon hisses through his teeth, wiping his hand down his face, before sighing. Hoseok shoots him a confused glare, clicking his tongue in annoyance. He’s about to say something, only to be interrupted by Jungkook.

“It’s—” Jungkook clears his throat again, tugging his legs closer to his chest. “It’s you , Hoseokkie hyung. I wanna share my rut with you.”

To Be Continued