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When it’s two weeks after Jungkook’s twenty-first birthday and he still hasn’t presented, he breathes a sigh of relief. Almost everyone presents by age twenty, if they’re going to present at all. He can handle being a beta. He wanted to be a beta. Alpha presentations tend to trigger others, and the stress of Namjoon’s, Jimin’s, and Taehyung’s all at once? Jungkook would rather stay far away from that, thank you very much. The dorm had reeked of pheromones for weeks, enough that even Jungkook’s unpresented nose had caught it.

No, Jungkook’s happy to be a beta with Hoseok. He knows the majority of role-based assumptions are fictional stereotypes based on the media, but it would still freak him out to have the expectations of an alpha weighing on his shoulders. He’s seen the shit Namjoon gets on SNS for being a quiet alpha who solves his problems with communication instead of posturing. Also, the knot thing just kind of squicks him out. Jungkook is perfectly happy with his evenly-shaped penis.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being an alpha, necessarily. Jimin was ecstatic when he presented, and Jungkook is happy for him, even though he’d been a little obnoxious about it at first. He’d walked around with a puffed-up chest, shoulders wide and aggressive, head held high like growing a knot had made him taller too. He’d settled somewhat after Namjoon had taken him aside – probably to give him a talking-to about how being an alpha doesn’t mean being superior – but Jungkook can still see how it fills Jimin with glee to be in the right body, to have presented the way he wanted.

Jungkook spent so much time worrying about presenting as an alpha and being relieved that he was a beta that when he wakes up disoriented in a bed full of slick, two weeks and one day after his twenty-first birthday, he genuinely doesn’t realize what’s going on.

His first thought is that someone’s pranked him by pouring lube all over his sheets, or coconut oil, or some disgusting substance, but his members know how important his bed is to him that he can’t imagine them doing that. Sleep still clings to him as he tries to understand why his lower body is sticky and slippery, why his sheets and pajama pants stick to him oppressively. He groans, pulling himself up, then collapses back on the bed as a pain that feels half like muscle spasms and half like being microwaved from the inside out tears through him. 

It’s hard to breathe – his lungs are tightening and there’s a sharp, wrong smell surrounding him – and Jungkook has to try a couple of times before he forces the word “Hyung!” out of his throat. He keeps attempting to drag himself up out of the heavy stickiness in his bed but his mind is going a dozen different directions at once and his face is fever-hot.

The door bangs open, and Jungkook almost passes out in relief at the clean, floral scent that spikes the air. He knows without looking that it’s Hoseok, even though his hyung has literally never smelled this fragrant before. Something inside Jungkook’s gut just knows that it’s Hoseok, like there’s a hand tugging at his arm to tell him to relax, his hyung is here to take care of him.

“Jungkookie?” The scent fills his nose, clears his head for the first time since he woke up. Jungkook flutters his eyes open and realizes he’s dragged Hoseok close to him and buried his nose into his neck, drinking in relief straight from the source. 

Hoseok pets his sweaty hair back from his forehead and lets him seek comfort, but he does angle his body a bit so his voice can carry better when he calls into the hallway: “Taehyung? Can you get Namjoon, please, now?” He pauses, and then adds, “Better get Seokjin-hyung, too!”

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks hazily, snuffling at Hoseok’s pulse point. Hoseok kneads at Jungkook’s shoulders, tries to get them to relax, but he’s wound tight.

“You’re presenting,” Hoseok says, then shakes his head sharply. “You presented. Overnight.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says, the syllable hollow and shapeless in his dry mouth. Nothing about this feels right. He’s a beta, he’s always been a beta. “But I don’t want to be an alpha.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow so the skin above his nose makes twin parentheses. “You’re not,” he replies. He sweeps a hand down to point at the wet patch on the bed, soaking through the sheets.

Jungkook looks down at himself, really looks at the placement of the mess, and realization dawns.

“Ew,” he chokes out, and then he’s unconscious. 

When Jungkook wakes up again, in a thankfully different bed, it’s the smells that hit him first. Three of them, all pleasant in their own way but competing with each other enough that their edges become jagged and harsh in his nostrils. Jungkook shoves his head into the pillow and inhales, trying to mask them, and gets a noseful of spice. It’s overwhelming but at least it drowns out the other scents. He inhales again and something about it screams Yoongi-hyung, even though the notes of the scent feel new to him.

“Are you okay?” someone says gently. It’s Namjoon. 

Jungkook wraps his arms around the pillow and brings it with him, shoved under his nose, as he rolls over. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok are standing over him – Seokjin’s hair is wet from the shower – and Yoongi is hovering in the doorway. The hyungs being unified to help him makes Jungkook feel a little better.

He scans the decor and realizes he’s in Yoongi’s room. Seokjin steps forward and hands Jungkook a bottle of water. Jungkook doesn’t want to leave the comforting smell of the pillow so he just takes the bottle and lies there, eyes peeking out over the pillow’s edge.

“You have to drink it,” Seokjin says, perching lightly on the bed. Jungkook squirms, reminded of the sodden mess he’d left his own bed, and holds in the urge to warn Seokjin away from his gross, leaking body.

Jungkook says “I’m okay” through the pillow.

“You’re dehydrated. You’ve lost a lot of fluids,” Seokjin replies. Jungkook squawks and shoves his face fully into the pillow, wanting to wither in embarrassment. Seokjin clears his throat urgently, clearly understanding the implication of his words too late, and tries again.

“JK, I wasn’t in Bangtan when I presented, so you didn’t get to see what it was like. I ended up at the doctor on an IV because I hid in my room and got severely dehydrated. We’re not letting that happen to you, okay? Drink, please.”

Jungkook peeks out again, eyes darting between his hyungs, looking for any amusement at his expense. There’s none. He slowly lowers the pillow, taking shallow breaths through his mouth to spare his nose, and sips the water. He hadn’t realized how parched he was until it’s spilling cool and soothing down his throat. They watch him chug, plastic crackling, and they release a sigh of relief when he downs half the bottle before putting it back down.

Jungkook inhales deeply, catching his breath after drinking so greedily, and feels another wave of dizziness hit as the alpha, beta, and omega scents comingle in his nose. He groans and stuffs his face back in the pillow.

“Everybody out,” Yoongi says. “It’s too much scent for him.” Namjoon starts to protest, but Yoongi’s sharp eyes flash and Namjoon nods, leaving the room with Hoseok and Seokjin in tow. 

Yoongi squats by the bed. He reaches out a hand, then hesitates. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Jungkook considers, thinks about how sweaty and gross he feels, but decides the comfort of touch is worth the amount it’ll stress him out. He nods. Yoongi trails his fingertips down Jungkook’s forearm and it works, somehow – he feels that arm relax, and then the other does too, until they’re hanging at his sides and the pillow is resting on his chest.

“You’ve had a long day,” Yoongi says. 

Day? Jungkook thinks. I just woke up. He’s never been able to hide his feelings from showing on his face, and Yoongi nods as if Jungkook’s already asked a question.

“It’s four in the afternoon,” Yoongi says.

“What?” Jungkook cries out, sitting straight up and then wincing in disgust when he feels the liquid – slick, he reminds himself, it’s fucking omega slick – seeping into his boxers. He’d been distracted by the maelstrom of scents and emotions warring in his brain, but now that he’s sitting, all he can feel is the slipperiness between his cheeks. He shifts, knowing his face is bright red. To Yoongi’s credit, his face betrays no reaction.

“We rescheduled all of today, it’s fine,” Yoongi says soothingly. 

“But we had practice – you can’t just reschedule!” Jungkook cries out in protest.

“We can, and we did,” Yoongi replies, tone steely but wrapped in warmth. “You take as long as you need.”

Jungkook bites his lip, thinking of the packed day they have tomorrow, and resolves to make their schedule no matter how he’s feeling. He lifts the water bottle to his lips again, and this time he drains it.

“We’re gonna get some food in you, then you can go back to sleep, okay?” Yoongi asks gently. He keeps trailing his fingertips in soothing little circles, rubbing over Jungkook’s aching core now. Jungkook nods, hating how his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

“I think I want to take a shower first, if that’s okay,” he says in a small voice.

“Of course it’s okay,” Yoongi replies, waving one hand like he’s dismissing a chorus of voices telling Jungkook it’s not okay. “Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

Jungkook frowns, shifting his legs on the mattress. His muscles are less shivery than they were when he woke up the first time, and he’s feeling less hot and feverish. “I can do it, hyung.”

He turns, slipping his legs out from under the sheet and placing his feet on the floor. He steadies his weight, pleased when he doesn’t feel that swooping sensation in his stomach that portends a blackout. He feels good as he balances his weight and stands up, releasing cramped muscles, but then he glances back at the bed and sees another wet spot and crumples down into a mortified squat.

“It’s okay, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, squatting down to get at his level. “I can wash the sheets. I don’t care. It’s fine.” 

Jungkook groans, face hidden by his hands. “I just want today to be over,” he mutters.

Yoongi pats him soothingly until the humiliation starts to ebb and then walks him to the bathroom, insisting on helping him even though Jungkook pouts and says he can do it alone. 

The cold shower feels like forgiveness on Jungkook’s skin, soothing the flush that had decorated his chest and face. He reaches for his favorite soap and recoils at how its previously neutral-seeming scent suddenly stifles his nose. Instead, he douses himself in an old, barely-scented body wash he finds at the back of the shower shelf. Jungkook lathers himself, scrubbing with a washcloth, and works his way down his torso until he reaches the source of his discomfort. He blushes, unwilling to touch his hole with his bare hands now that it’s betrayed him like this, and rubs hard with the washcloth until he’s sure all traces of slick are gone from his ass and thighs. Even the contact on his hole through the washcloth feels like too much, and he grits his teeth and pretends he’s wiping down a countertop to get through it.

When he gets out of the shower, he wraps the washcloth in toilet paper and throws it away. It makes him feel a little better. Then he wraps himself in his fluffiest towel and trudges to his bedroom, which is miraculously clean and fresh-smelling. Someone must have been extremely thorough in their sanitation of his room. He’d feel a fresh wave of humiliation over one of his hyungs handling his soaked sheets if he weren’t so goddamn tired again.

Jungkook collapses into his bed, rubbing his face against his sheets. Miraculously, his laundry detergent isn’t too strong for his nose. There’s another gentler, subtler aroma that Jungkook notices as he crawls between the sheets and curls up like a baby. It’s faint, but it’s there – light notes of fig and honey that something in Jungkook’s gut places as Seokjin.  

It’s the most relief he’s felt all day.

Finally, sore muscles start to relax and Jungkook is asleep again.


When Jungkook wakes up, the first thing he does is snake a tentative hand down to his ass. He’s on red alert for the first signs of moisture but, amazingly, there’s none – his ass and sheets are completely dry. 

Jungkook never thought he’d wake up one day and get excited over having a dry ass, but he’ll take it.

He stretches, cataloguing how much better his muscles feel. His nose is still more sensitive than usual – someone in the kitchen burned something, he can tell – but the rest of him feels remarkably normal. It’s like his presentation didn’t happen at all, even though Jungkook knows he will never forget what it felt like to wake up with slick sinisterly soaking through the sheets like that scene in The Godfather with the horse head.

He dresses and goes down for breakfast. The cacophony of scents in the kitchen is more manageable today than it was yesterday, though Jungkook still has to duck his head for a quick, brain-settling whiff of his own t-shirt. When he glances up, Seokjin’s sympathetic gaze is on him.

He reassures his hyungs that, yes, he can handle rehearsal today, and yes, he is feeling better. Then, to prove his point, he eats six eggs plus half of Taehyung’s noodles. He harasses Seokjin with jabs to the neck the entire drive to the studio building. It does cheer him up a little.

It’s weird, though, that no one is verbally acknowledging that his status is changed now. They coo over him like he was only sick yesterday, not like he’s entirely different in the eyes of society. The energy in the dorm had been a lot more jovial when Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung had presented. There had been actual chest-bumping involved. But now, apart from Namjoon briefly saying that he let their managers know that Jungkook had presented as an omega, the members don’t seem to want to discuss it. 

It’s possible Hoseok told them how dismayed Jungkook had been. If that’s the case, he’s grateful. He’s already embarrassed that some of them saw how disgusting his bed was; he just wants to move on with his life and pretend it never happened.

As they progress through the day’s schedule, packing in back-to-back company meetings, Jungkook marvels at how normal everything feels. He knows that eventually his status will affect the group when he goes into heat in a few months’ time and he’ll be unable to leave the dorms for a few days, but right now he can pretend he’s still a beta and nothing has changed.

Then they go to dance practice and something changes.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand what causes it. He’s just innocently sitting there on a break, trying to catch his breath and watching his hyungs towel sweat from their foreheads, and suddenly his underwear is wet.

Jungkook flinches, immediately shifting in place to try to assess the damage. It’s just a little wet patch on his ass and – he checks with a surreptitious hand – it hasn’t soaked through to his sweatpants. 

He grits his teeth and tells himself it’s fine, it’s totally fine, nothing to worry about, as he waddles to the bathroom and wipes himself down aggressively. It’s probably just leftover slick from presenting. His body had to get it all out, and it sucks that it happened during dance practice, but it’s fine now. He barely even glances at the glistening toilet paper before flushing it. It happened, and it’s embarrassing, but it’s fine.

And then it keeps happening. 

There doesn’t seem to be any sort of pattern to it. Jungkook’s not sure if that makes it better or worse – he hates that each rush of slick is a surprise, but he also doesn’t want to know what’s causing it. At this point, he feels like everything causes a sticky wet spot in his underwear. 

Yoongi delivering a verse perfectly during rehearsal? Yup. Jimin’s bedhead in the morning? Absolutely. Seokjin chopping up vegetables, knobbly hands caressing the knife? Sure, why not. It’s like Jungkook’s body has decided everyone and everything is fair game.

Jungkook doesn’t want to ask his doctor about it – he doesn’t think he could even get the words out – and he doesn’t trust the internet not to deliver him a bunch of porn results. Luckily, ever since he was a teenager, he’s had someone he could go to with even the most embarrassing questions.

Jungkook shoves one hand into his pocket nonchalantly and pounds on Seokjin’s door. 

There’s a wordless yell from inside, which in Seokjinnie-speak means “who is it?” 

Jungkook makes an inhuman grunting noise as answer.

Seokjin opens the door, looking soft in an oversized lilac sweater. Jungkook’s fingers twitch with the need to touch him, feel how soft it is, so he darts out a hand before Seokjin can defend himself and pokes at Seokjin’s stomach, hammering at it like it’s a buzzer and he’s a quiz show contestant. Seokjin immediately assumes a protective martial arts stance, arms wheeling wildly like he’s a puppet, and backs into the room.

This is the point at which Jungkook could, and should, drop his brat facade and just confide in Seokjin calmly, but he’s never had good self-control when it comes to his oldest hyung. They keep tussling, Seokjin yelling in disapproval and Jungkook cackling as he pokes at his most sensitive spots. 

Jungkook can feel that it’s gone on for longer than it should, but they both keep playfully sparring like it’s normal to do this silently and in private. He hears Seokjin’s heavy breathing behind him as Seokjin gets him in a headlock and tries to shove him onto the bed, but he just can’t stop fighting; there’s all this nervous aggressive energy in him that has nowhere to go but out and all over Seokjin. There’s no real violence to their movements – even the flailing leg sweep that Seokjin executes has no real heat behind it, and Jungkook tumbles harmlessly onto the bed.

It’s that same nervous energy that Jungkook blames for how easily he lets Seokjin get him pinned, knees pressed between his chest and the bed and face shoved into the pillows. He finally collapses, muscles loose in submission, then stiffens immediately because when the fight leaks out of him, a little drip of slick escapes with it.

Jungkook rolls up defensively and turns, putting his ass as far away from Seokjin as he can. He prays to every deity he’s ever heard of that Seokjin can’t smell his slick – it was just a tiny amount, really. Seokjin sits on the bed and leans back on his hands, sweat from the unexpected fight making his hair stick to his forehead. He’s full-on panting. They’d been wrestling harder than Jungkook thought.

This should be the moment where Seokjin asks him with a twinkle in his eye why he’s attacking his wisest and most handsome hyung; instead, Seokjin stays silent and just watches Jungkook’s face. 

Jungkook pouts, like maybe if he’s cute enough Seokjin will be willing to crack his head open and read his thoughts that way. But Seokjin just shakes his head and waits, even if his lips twitch into an endeared smile.

They stare at each other, both breathing heavily. Jungkook wants to scream and tackle Seokjin again, but he doesn’t want to risk his ass delivering another traitorous drip of slick. He hangs his head and, before he can overthink it, he grits out, “How can you stand it?”

He expects a knowing gleam in Seokjin’s eye, maybe a dramatic exclamation, but when he lifts his gaze Seokjin’s face is still blank. His hyung must understand how much this is twisting at Jungkook’s nerves, though, because he just quietly responds with, “How can I stand what?”

Jungkook looks away again and rolls his eyes, even though he knows it makes him look twelve, and gestures jerkily towards his ass. “The fucking… slick,” he grits out. “How do you deal with it?”

“Hey, JK, you can look at me,” Seokjin says, tone soft. 

Jungkook reluctantly makes eye contact. He feels his face flush hot and he can see a mirroring blush on Seokjin’s ears. At least they’re both muscling through awkwardness to have this conversation. He thinks he’s finally in the clear and that Seokjin will have some words of advice for his condition – maybe he experienced the exact same thing after he presented. Weird, icy hot tendrils squeeze around Jungkook’s stomach when he pictures Seokjin getting wet, slick dribbling slowly down his inner thighs. 

“What do you mean, deal with it?” Seokjin asks. 

Jungkook almost whines in frustration. He allows himself an angry sigh. “Aren’t you wet, like, all the time?” 

Seokjin freezes then blinks aggressively, even for him. “No,” he says slowly. His eyes flicker across Jungkook’s face then dart down his body, as if he’ll see slick leaking out of his pores. “Are you?”

This time Jungkook does whine, a low wounded noise. “No, shut up, definitely not,” he groans, burying his face inside his sweatshirt. He doesn’t understand why everyone else has a normal, functioning body and he got stuck with… this. It’s patently, fundamentally unfair that Jungkook has only just gotten comfortable with his body and sexuality and now he’s been hit with this curveball.

“Ah, JK,” Seokjin says, more quietly this time. He rubs a hand against the curve of Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook doesn’t come out of his protective sweatshirt shell but he does stop burrowing deeper.

“You don’t have to look at me if it’s too much,” Seokjin says gently. “But hyung needs you to answer some questions, okay? I want to help.”

Jungkook nods miserably.

“Is it happening multiple times a day?”

Jungkook nods again. He’s glad he can’t see Seokjin’s expression. 

“How… wet is it?” Seokjin asks. There’s a verbal wince in his voice, like he knows Jungkook doesn’t want to answer.

“Um…” Jungkook mutters, mouth full of sweatshirt. “Not a lot. It doesn’t, like, soak through or anything.”

“What about when you’re touching your hole? Is there an excessive amount?” Seokjin asks. Jungkook would commend Seokjin on how calmly he asks it, if he weren’t busy trying to hold back an embarrassed wail.

“I haven’t. Touched it,” Jungkook replies. The air inside the sweatshirt is getting stifling, and beads of sweat are clinging to his temples.


“Ugh, hyung!” Jungkook groans. He surfaces from his sweatshirt like a deep sea creature tasting air for the first time. “I don’t know, I just haven’t. I don’t want to. It freaks me out that it gets wet. And like, what if I touch it and I soak the bed or something?”

Seokjin opens his mouth but visibly thinks better of what he was about to say. After a pause, he asks, “What’s your plan for your heat, then?”

“I don’t know, just jerk off like a normal person?”

Seokjin snorts. “Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it. Heat is miserable without any penetration.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jungkook says with confidence he doesn’t feel.

“Oh, so if I told you to go to your room right now and finger yourself, you wouldn’t freak out?” Seokjin asks hotly, voice raising in exasperation. Jungkook feels his mouth drop open and a tiny shocked noise escapes, barely a decibel above an exhale. Even worse, his hole clenches, and the skin between Jungkook’s cheeks gets fully wet with slick.

“Fuck, JK, I’m sorry,” Seokjin says when he sees Jungkook’s expression. “That was aggressive. I’m sorry. I just meant that your heat will be a lot easier on your body if you’re more comfortable doing certain things to yourself. That was out of line.”

Jungkook just shakes his head, thighs clenched together. He’s scared if he moves, then slick will suddenly pour out of him like a scene from The Shining , seeping past his pants onto Seokjin’s blanket and plushie collection.

“I should’ve said this before, but there’s nothing wrong with you,” Seokjin says. “Some omegas just get wetter than others. Just don’t be so scared of your body, okay? Your first heat is gonna be really tough if you’re uncomfortable and stressed out the whole time. You need to be able to relax and trust yourself.”

“Are we done,” Jungkook says flatly. He genuinely is grateful for Seokjin’s advice and lack of judgment, but he needs to smuggle his ass out of Seokjin’s room without being detected. 

“No, we’re going to keep talking about sex even though it’s clear we both want to die,” Seokjin reponds. “I’m your hyung. I just want to take care of you.”

“It’s just... “ Jungkook bites his lip. “I didn’t, you know,” he flaps his hands in a way that he hopes indicates fingering himself, “before I presented, so why would I start now? I resent the implication that being an omega means suddenly I’m just gonna,” he flaps his hands again, “all day long.”

Seokjin places a warm hand on his shoulder. It’s clearly meant to be comforting, but it’s hard for Jungkook to feel soothed when it causes a slow trickle of slick down the seam of his boxers.

“I know. It’s hard, growing up thinking your body will be one way and then everything turns out differently than you expected. But you’re strong, JK, even though you definitely don’t need to be told that, and you’re adaptable. You handled weirder shit than this before you were even out of high school. You’ll be okay.”

Jungkook nods, pressing down on his thighs with his fists. He just has to let Seokjin finish up his motivational hyung speech, and then he can speed out of there and get clean.

“Promise me you’ll try, you know,” Seokjin says, then flaps his hands the way Jungkook did with a laugh. “Promise me you’ll try it before your heat. You don’t have to get crazy and try a ton of fingers, I just want you to understand your body.”

Jungkook blows out an exhale. He’s almost in the clear. “I will,” he says with a sharp nod. Then he whines, “Can I go now?”

“What a brat,” Seokjin snorts. He leans back on the bed and extravagantly waves his hand to the door. “Be my guest. Go work on that assignment I just gave you.”

Jungkook lands a quick smack on Seokjin’s arm in retaliation for the comment, then trots out of the room laughing as Seokjin’s pained howls echo into the hallway. 


Jungkook had thought he had reached peak embarrassment asking Seokjin for help, but that pales in comparison to lying on his back, legs spread, staring at his asshole in the mirror across from his bed like he’s waiting for a jumpscare. 

He glares at it, the dark furl of skin that has suddenly caused all his problems, and wills himself to bring a fingertip towards it. He pauses, wonders if he should grab some lube or something, then remembers that he doesn’t need lube for this. Hot embarrassment trickles over him at the thought that his body has morphed into something built for easy access. 

Still, as humiliating as this feels, he has to familiarize himself with the feeling of something inside him. It’s a necessity – the only way to break a heat comfortably without taking a bunch of suppressants that might cause hormonal havoc. Sure, fingering himself now isn’t ideal, but at least he’s doing it while he’s calm and his head is clear.

Jungkook traces his fingertip between his cheeks, rubbing circles closer and closer to his hole. It’s still dry, no slick visible, which seems odd, but it’s better than having it dripping out of him every five minutes. The skin here is soft, silky and freshly-scrubbed from his thorough shower. There’s a dusting of fine hair around his asshole that he’s always known about but never seen from this angle.

Gingerly, Jungkook taps his fingertip on his rim, then squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath.

Nothing happens. Nobody screams. The earth, inexplicably, continues spinning. His asshole doesn’t gape wide and swallow his hand like a monster.

He keeps pressing lightly against the delicate skin, warm to the touch. It’s insane to think that his omega glands were lying dormant here for years, just waiting for him to finally feel secure in his status before releasing a flood of slick and making him question his entire identity. Fuck his glands. 

Jungkook feels around, rubbing in circles with the pads of his index and middle fingers as they catch on his opening. He counts his breaths, trying to focus on anything other than the warm give of his asshole. The tighter he circles his fingers, the more the warmth lurking deep in his gut grows. 

It’s not nice, exactly, but it’s not intolerable. It’s fine. Fingers on his asshole is fine.

Maybe fingers in his asshole will also be fine. 

Jungkook feels a shiver run down his spine that he’s grown increasingly familiar with over the past few days. As his body prepares itself to get wet, his core gets warm and his spine gets a little tight. It’s weird to feel symptoms of arousal different from what he feels when he gets a boner. His dick is still soft, resting innocently against his thigh. Jungkook wonders if it’ll plump up at all during this, or if he’s resigned to an evening of impassively fingering himself with little chance of coming.

He scoots his way closer to the mirror until his ass is practically hanging off the bed. He kind of wants to see what it looks like when his fingers slip inside - he’s curious if there will be any resistance at all. He should probably try to bear down when he does it, just in case.

With a deep breath, Jungkook positions his index finger at the center of his tightly-clenched hole and pushes, slowly and inexorably, while he bears down.

The feeling is alien in all measurable ways. The weirdness of having something firm and solid breaching his body and holding him open is one thing, but it’s even stranger to dip a fingertip inside himself and be met with velvety-soft, wet walls that cling to his finger. It’s wetter than he could have anticipated. The slick is thick and body-warm and slippery enough that he meets no resistance when he tentatively moves his finger in and out of himself.

Jungkook considers this experiment a rousing success – in that he didn’t pass out from embarrassment – so he decides he’s done for the day and pops his finger out of his ass. 

Then four things happen in quick succession:

One: Jungkook’s hole squeezes tight, sending a spurt of clear slick out of his ass.

Two: The slick, arcing in the light, hits the floor with a disgusting little splat.

Three: Jungkook, reasonably upset, jumps to his feet to grab a towel and cleaner.

Four: Jungkook’s heel lands in a small patch of slick and he tumbles, feet in the air, and lands directly on his ass, the source of all his problems. 

The impact is so forceful it makes Jungkook’s teeth rattle, and he decides then and there that he’ll never finger himself again.


Seokjin doesn’t laugh when Jungkook tells him what happened, which means Jungkook must look really distressed. His whole ass is bruised purple and maroon and he’s barely been able to sit for the past two days, opting instead to squat whenever possible. 

Jungkook is, technically, in the Bangtan equivalent of time out right now. Jimin had asked him with a snicker if he’d gotten laid and Jungkook had snapped back that just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he automatically takes it up the ass. It’s the tersest he’s been in months; the cold regret had immediately subsumed him and he’d stuttered out apologies to Jimin, who also looked like he felt guilty. Namjoon had reminded them both in his most mature-sounding voice that they shouldn’t stereotype, that it’s okay if an omega doesn’t like to get fucked and it’s okay if an alpha does. Jimin had flushed, eyes glittering, at Namjoon’s words.

The issue was resolved with a heartfelt hug, but Namjoon had suggested that Jungkook take a few minutes for a breather and Seokjin had immediately volunteered to accompany him. A dark, bitter part of Jungkook appreciates that Seokjin volunteered, because Namjoon would’ve inevitably asked him anyway. Stick the omegas together.

Seokjin doesn’t demand any explanations from Jungkook, just takes him for a walk around the building and buys him an iced americano. Even though Jungkook’s got millions of won in his checking account alone, any treat Seokjin buys for him always feels like a luxurious delicacy. He sips it, chewing intermittently on his straw, until the overwhelmed tightness in his chest starts to unravel.

He knows he won’t get to go back to rehearsal without telling Seokjin what’s wrong, so he might as well get it over with.

As he talks through the embarrassment he feels, how angry he is at his own body, Seokjin nods along. 

Finally, the story’s over, and Seokjin hesitates like he knows Jungkook’s going to hate what he says next.

“Just say it, hyung,” Jungkook pleads.

“What happened… wasn’t abnormal,” Seokjin says slowly. “If you’re tense or nervous, the slick can sort of come – hurtling out of you because you’re clenched so tight. You have to be relaxed to avoid any surprises.”

“But it’s the surprises that make me tense,” Jungkook whines. “I feel like I have no idea what my body’s going to do. It’s trying to kill me, hyung, I swear.”

Seokjin snorts. “I promise you, you’re not going to die drowning in your own slick.”

“But you don’t know that!”

Seokjin flicks him gently on the ear. That calms Jungkook; if the problem was truly severe, Seokjin wouldn’t be flicking him.

“Have you thought about prepping for your heat with a partner?”

“I…” Jungkook chomps on his straw thoughtfully. “No. It’s embarrassing. I already feel this pressure in bed because I’m BTS Jungkook, and now there’s this too? No way.”

Seokjin looks at him oddly. “I didn’t know you felt that way about sex.”

Jungkook shrugs a shoulder, tries to look indifferent, even though he knows every emotion he’s ever had is written on his face in 48 point font. “Yeah. It’s whatever. I don’t really like casual sex. So I feel weird about finding somebody for my heat.”

“For what it’s worth, having a heat partner really makes a difference. It’ll feel better, it’ll be over quicker, plus your hand won’t cramp up,” Seokjin says with a smirk. Then he softens at the distress in Jungkook’s eyes. “I understand not wanting to share your heat with a new person, though. Can we find somebody you know already and trust?”

The ‘we’ makes Jungkook pause, because, wow, Seokjin is invested in helping Jungkook’s sex life. He didn’t expect that. 

“I mean. I don’t really trust most people? I trust the 97s, I guess, but not with something this embarrassing. I feel like Bangtan are the only people I’d let see me at my worst.” Jungkook shakes his head, resigning himself to a heat full of hand cramps and frustrating orgasms.

“Oh,” Seokjin says softly. His eyebrows go slack, eyes opening wider in realization. Jungkook stares at him, confused at what he’s reacting to.

“So someone like me,” Seokjin says, even more quietly. It takes Jungkook a second to understand what he means. Then his brain fills with static as he realizes Seokjin means he’s willing to help Jungkook with his heat. Helping him by, presumably, sticking his ridiculously long fingers in Jungkook’s ass. Jungkook quivers all over in surprise, preemptively clamping his thighs together before his hole betrays him and lets another drip of slick out. 

He can see how Seokjin would think that was what he meant, since he said he’d only trust Bangtan with this. And Seokjin, with his extensive personal experience handling omega heats, would be the obvious choice among the members of BTS. Jungkook swallows, and tries to think about this logically instead of with his dick. 

All he has to lose is his dignity, and to be honest, he lost that the second he woke up in a bed full of slick. He trusts Seokjin to be kind and not make fun of him – at least, not about this. And he also trusts Seokjin to stop if Jungkook wants him to, no questions asked.

Jungkook realizes he’s been standing there silently, straw clenched in his mouth, while Seokjin waits for an answer. Jungkook releases the straw and nods, sure he’s got a pink flush all down his face and neck.

“You want me to?” Seokjin asks. His eyes search Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, that’s – yeah. That might be good,” Jungkook says. He nods sharply, once and then once more, convincing himself as much as Seokjin. They head back inside and find their places in rehearsal.

At first Jungkook can finally relax, letting the rhythmic pounding of the choreography take over his train of thought, but as the time passes, the room starts to fill with the smell of hormones and alpha sweat.

It’s harder to handle than the choreography was. Jungkook’s panting from the exercise but every inhale brings the spicy, blended scent of alpha, rich and thick. It wouldn’t be too much, except it mixes with Seokjin’s honeyed omega scent and Hoseok’s sharp clean beta scent and the combined aroma makes Jungkook’s mouth water and his head feel light, like his brain is going to float away.

He’s woozy on his feet, especially when he finds himself standing between Jimin and Namjoon. Their scents are the most different out of all of them – Namjoon’s is a smoky firewood, Jimin’s cold and clear like water – and they war in his nostrils, making him dizzy. He’s about to ask for another break (which he never, ever does) when the rehearsal thankfully moves to a rapline song and he gets to escape to the edge of the room.

Jungkook tucks his nose into his shirt, inhaling his own scent gratefully. Their scents hadn’t felt this strong since he presented. They hadn’t even felt that strong earlier today, but it’s like agreeing to let Seokjin help with his heat had attuned his senses and made his body needier.

Seokjin plops down next to him on the dance mat and offers a stupidly, ridiculously broad shoulder for Jungkook to lean on. Jungkook does, grateful for the chance to try to calm his body down. Without thinking, he nuzzles further into Seokjin’s nape, chasing the sweet scent. 

Sitting and breathing Seokjin in helps Jungkook regain his control. He’s feeling a little less overwhelmed, he thinks.

And then Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi start practicing, snarling lines at each other and prowling around the makeshift stage. Yoongi bares his teeth as he raps, spitting each verse with a fire that leaves Jungkook breathless. Ho doesn’t fare much better when Hoseok or Namjoon perform either. Hoseok’s bodily control is like nothing Jungkook’s ever seen – his hips move with unparalleled confidence – and Namjoon leads them both, quieter and subtler in his power but unmistakably in charge.

Jungkook gets caught up in watching them, but not so caught up that he misses Jimin and Taehyung. Taehyung, always rapline’s biggest fan, is dancing on the sidelines, but Jimin is leaning back with hooded eyes, watching Namjoon with more hunger than Jungkook’s ever seen. 

Jungkook’s trying to parse what it means, but his thoughts are interrupted by Seokin’s soft, “Really, JK? Now?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what Seokjin means. He pulls away from Seokjin’s shoulder to look at him in confusion and that’s when the smell hits in, a smell he’s grown to dread over the past few weeks. Jungkook doesn’t even have to look down to know that there’s drips of slick leaking into his underwear, not enough to leak through the fabric but still apparently enough that Seokjin can smell it. And this time, the slick comes with a wave of arousal so intense that Jungkook feels himself start to harden immediately.

Gaping, Jungkook scrambles back a few feet, horrified that all it took to get this turned on was seeing his band members perform (and smelling one in particular). He’s made his peace with the wetness, but boners during dance practice was something he thought he’d gotten over years ago. He rocks back into a squat but he’s distracted by the scents in the room and he sprawls over onto his back. He squeezes his eyes closed in embarrassment and when he opens them, Seokjin is over him, backlit by the ceiling lights.

“Hey, Jungkookie,” Seokjin says softly. 

Jungkook grunts in response, but it’s one of his Seokjin-grunts, not an actual concerning pained grunt, so Seokjin’s forehead uncreases.

“Are scents kind of overwhelming right now?” Seokjin asks, eyes darting over Jungkook’s face. He very politely and deliberately does not look down at Jungkook’s crotch, where there is probably a very telling indicator of what’s going on.

Jungkook nods, swallowing thickly.

“Okay,” Seokjin says briskly. “I think you’re done rehearsing for today.” It says something that Jungkook doesn’t even try to disagree with him on that. He just curls up, bringing his knees up to cover his crotch, and watches Seokjin let his members know that Jungkook’s not feeling too good, actually, and Seokjin’s going to take him home to rest. 

He bustles Jungkook briskly out of the studio and into a car that takes them back to the dorm. Getting out of the room full of scents helps a little bit, and Jungkook finds he can breathe easier, especially once they roll the windows down. Seokjin leads him inside, hand placed cautiously on Jungkook’s lower back in case he gets dizzy again. Then Seokjin sends Jungkook to his room and tells him to wait for him.

Jungkook collapses back on his bed and pulls his sweaty shirt off, dumping it onto the floor. It’s weird. He feels fully in control of his faculties but normal fantasies that would maybe creep into his mind while touching himself in the shower (Taehyung pinning him down, Jimin and Namjoon snarling at each other, Seokjin complimenting him) suddenly have much more of an effect on him. He can feel wetness starting to seep into the seat of his pants and he’s about to get up and change when Seokjin walks into the room holding a glass of water.

“Drink this,” Seokjin instructs. Jungkook does, embarrassed by how obvious he must smell.

“You probably guessed already, but you’re in preheat,” Seokjin says matter-of-factly. Jungkook coughs, accidentally inhaling a mouthful of water. Fuck. He thought he’d have more time. He didn’t think it would start so soon.

“It’s okay,” Seokjin says soothingly, patting Jungkook’s thigh. “You have about a week until your heat hits. And preheat can be calmed pretty easily with an orgasm or two. You’re okay, Jungkook. This is all normal.”

It still doesn’t feel normal to Jungkook but he nods, keeps sipping water, trying to be good. 

“So you have a choice right now, okay?” Seokjin says, uncharacteristically serious. “I can help you. Practice. Like we talked about.” Even though his voice is clear and calm, Jungkook can see his ears flaming bright pink. “Or I can leave and you can handle this however you want to handle it. Hyung will support you either way. Up to you.”

“I think, um.” Jungkook exhales. When he closes his eyes, all he sees silhouetted against the darkness is Seokjin’s hands on him, Seokjin’s soothing voice telling him he’s doing the right thing. “Can you help, hyung? Practice?”

Seokjin nods. “Of course. I can demonstrate what I do during my preheat, I guess? And of course you can tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable.”

Jungkook nods. It all feels like they're moving too fast and not fast enough, hurtling towards an inevitable that scares him but entices him all the same. 

He lies back on the bed, arms at his sides. He doesn't want to undress too much and weird Seokjin out, so he figured he'll just let his hyung undress him to his comfort level.

Seokjin looks at Jungkook's sweaty chest and trails his eyes down to his waistband. He darts out unexpectedly and pokes a finger just below Jungkook's navel, making him squeal and flail. When Jungkook stops giggling, he realizes he's a lot less tense than he was. Seokjin had annoyed him to make him more comfortable.

Seokjin's broad hands settle on Jungkook's hips, and Jungkook lifts up so that his sweatpants can come off. Jungkook freezes in his arched position, suddenly reminded of how wet his underwear is right now.

"Can you, um, get a towel," he grits out, staring at the ceiling.

Seokjin coughs in surprise but nods, heading to the bathroom. Jungkook hears the sink running and realizes that Seokjin is washing his hands. His hands that will be inside Jungkook soon.

He returns with a thick bath towel. He lays it out on top of Jungkook's sheets, tucking it all the way up so it extends from Jungkook's feet to shoulder blades.

Jungkook settles back down, cringing when he feels the slick that's soaked into his underwear press against his asscheeks. 

Seokjin politely, almost fastidiously, tucks his fingertips under the band of Jungkook's underwear. Jungkook nods, lets Seokjin drag the boxers down until he's lying in just his socks on the bed, cock still semi-hard between his legs.

Seokjin sits on the bed, so close to Jungkook that his body heat soaks into Jungkook's bare hip. Seokjin keeps his face looking businesslike, a polite set to his mouth that's usually only present during meetings with their company. He reaches towards Jungkook's hips and at first Jungkook assumes he's reaching for his dick, like a normal hookup would, but instead Seokjin lightly places his hands on Jungkook's inner thighs and spreads his legs apart.

Jungkook resists the urge to press his thighs back together, keeping himself from being exposed. Having his dick out is nothing compared to having his hole on display, slick still clinging to the skin. He bites his lip and keeps staring at the ceiling, feeling like the slick on his ass is a glowing beacon.

Eyes still on Jungkook's face, Seokjin reaches between his legs and traces around his hole, pressure light. Jungkook can't help it - he yelps at how foreign it feels to have someone touch him there.

"Shh, it's okay," Seokjin says. He pets his finger over Jungkook's hole, again and again and again. Jungkook forces himself to relax his hip muscles and winces when another dribble of slick leaks out.

Seokjin blinks in surprise, peering down between Jungkook's legs to look at his probably-now-soaked hand. It's too much for Jungkook, who feels like his skin has been vacuum-sealed around him. The attention on his hole is too much of everything – too overwhelming, too shameful, too good.

"Can you please not look at it," Jungkook says flatly. "I can see you looking and it's just." He can't choke out the rest of the sentence, distracted by the soft petting over his hole.

"Would it help if you can't see me looking?" Seokjin asks, rather innocently for someone whose fingertip is nestled up against someone else's asshole, if you ask Jungkook.

Jungkook nods. Seokjin taps him expectantly on the thigh with his clean hand which jolts him to the realization that, right, he has to move to make that happen. Jungkook turns over onto his front, hands braced on the towel, and smushes the lower half of his face into his pillow.

It's a little better now that he can't see the furrow of Seokjin's brow and the sheen of his plump lower lip. But it's also worse in a different way, as Jungkook realizes having his knees tucked under him makes him look wanton, like he's presenting himself. Which, he supposes, he is.

There's a pause and it burns Jungkook up not to know where Seokjin is looking or what he's thinking. But then the fingertip is back, circling his hole, and then Seokjin slides the length of his finger in at once, pushing past Jungkook's tight entrance.

Jungkook's pretty sure he makes the most undignified noise he's ever made in his life. Thankfully, it's muffled by his pillow. Seokjin had just… slipped inside, so easily. And now there's the unmistakable feeling of something pressing insistently inside him, pressing against his insides.

Seokjin works the finger in and out, replacing it with two almost immediately. Jungkook had only tried one finger during his disastrous experiment and he braces himself when he feels the blunt press of two fingers against his hole, but to his surprise they slide in easily, no pain involved. While one finger had been distracting, two fingers is downright arresting – every nerve in Jungkook’s body is attuned to the feeling of being stretched. His hole intermittently clenches down, squeezing tight, and it makes him breathless.

Seokjin, quiet up until this point, makes a thoughtful noise and then rubs the pads of his fingers up against Jungkook’s walls. He probes, fingertips tracing along Jungkook’s insides, then chuckles sweetly when he hits a spot that makes Jungkook’s cock twitch. Jungkook arches his back and swirls his hips back against Seokjin’s fingers, trying to get more stimulation on his prostate. He’s met with the pressure of a third finger, and now Jungkook’s feeling cocky because he doesn’t even hesitate, just rocks back and lets it slide home.

It blows Jungkook’s mind a little bit that he has three fingers – three whole hyung-sized fingers – moving inside him and there’s no pain, just his body opening up to take more and more. He’s marveling at that until Seokjin thrusts his fingers in a little more aggressively and there’s a very audible squelch sound. 

Jungkook moans, mostly out of humiliation.

“It’s okay, Jungkookie,” Seokjin says. “It’s normal. See?” And then he wiggles his fingers and the room is filled with wet noises. Jungkook wants to cry, both from how overwhelming it feels that his body is making that sound and from how good Seokjin’s fingers are as they massage inside him. The slide inside gets slipperier and somehow even easier until there’s practically no friction at all.

Jungkook’s legs shiver and he realizes there’s slick trailing down from his hole, drenching his inner thighs. It’s probably dripping down Seokjin’s wrist too, he realizes with a pained gasp. It’s shameful to picture and even more shameful to realize he likes that idea, dick pulsing between his legs even though neither of them have touched it.

He’s been rocking his hips, working himself on Seokjin’s fingers, but suddenly there’s a hand at his hip gently holding him steady. Jungkook’s obviously stronger than Seokjin, could control the pace if he wanted, but the quiet possessiveness of the gesture renders him immobile. 

While Jungkook stays frozen, stays good, Seokjin strokes over his prostate. Each press of his fingers makes Jungkook’s skin feel a little tighter and hotter, makes his breath come a little quicker. 

Seokjin moves the hand on Jungkook’s hip to his cock, gripping it firmly and rubbing over the head in a practiced, punishing motion. Jungkook probably squeals. He’s not sure. At this point he’s busy trying to keep his arms from giving out. The dual assault on his senses has him forgetting himself, his consciousness going hazy at the edges. 

“When it’s your heat, you’ll probably want to get knotted,” Seokjin says casually, like that’s something you just say to your dongsaeng who’s barely hanging on to his sanity already. “You don’t have to, but it’ll be more satisfying when you come. I always thought knots were overrated ‘til my first heat.”

Horribly and unsurprisingly, it’s that image – Seokjin’s hole stretched wide around a knot, slick decorating his pretty soft skin – that makes Jungkook come. His back bows with it, hole squeezing so tight around Seokjin’s fingers he’s surprised he doesn’t push them out, cock spurting come all over his chest and Seokjin’s hand. It lasts and lasts and lasts, pleasure cresting over Jungkook until he’s shaking and collapsing onto his towel, which is now absolutely disgusting and should probably be burned.

Seokjin pulls his fingers out and pats him on the ass primly. Sure enough, his fingers make a wet sound of impact on Jungkook’s asscheek.

“Good job, Jungkookie,” Seokjin says. There’s pride in his voice.

Jungkook turns over onto his back, floating back to himself. He’s never come that hard in his life. “And that was… normal?” He asks, trying to ignore how Seokjin’s hand glistens where it catches the light.

“That was normal for preheat. Heat’ll be more intense,” Seokjin says sunnily.

Jungkook stares at him like he’s seen a ghost. The ghost of himself, dead from coming too hard.

“More intense?” He asks faintly. He looks down at his body, furrowing his eyebrows.

Seokjin senses his hesitance and raises a hand to pat him on the shoulder, but pauses when he realizes the hand is still covered in slick. He wipes the hand off on the towel instead. Jungkook averts his eyes.

“You’ll do great. Hyung will be there to help you every step of the way,” Seokjin says. Jungkook nods, but he’s still wound tight with nerves. “I’m gonna let you get cleaned off,” Seokjin says. “But I am gonna make you do a post mortem with me whether you want to or not.” His tone would be threatening if he didn’t look so cheerful. Jungkook nods again, but internally he’s panicking, mind racing in circles trying to come up with excuses.

He just can’t do it. He can’t look Seokjin in the eye and tell him how good he made Jungkook feel. 

When Seokjin leaves, it’s like every string holding Jungkook together has been cut. He collapses, shoving his face further into his pillow in frustration. Why did his body have to be so confusing? It would be easier if everything was cut-and-dry – either he got off on being fingered like a normal omega, or he was repulsed by penetration and made do another way. Instead, he’s stuck at a weird horny crossroads where he feels embarrassed and ashamed of what his body likes, but then gets off on that feeling. 

He lets himself lie in bed, wallowing in the misery of how good and bad it had felt when Seokjin had seen how much slick he produced. But then said slick starts sticking to his stomach, and he gets up to shamefully hide the towel in the bottom of his hamper and then take a shower.

By the time he’s clean, remnants of slick scrubbed from between his thighs, the other boys are back home and preparing dinner. 

“How are you feeling?” Namjoon asks, voice soft with concern.

Jungkook whips his head to look accusingly at Seokjin before he realizes that Namjoon is referring to Jungkook’s made-up illness that Seokjin had used as an excuse to get them out of rehearsal. Namjoon looks between them, confused.

“Um, fine, much better,” Jungkook says. He knows the tips of ears must be betraying him, because all he can think about right now is Seokjin’s fingers inside him, his soft voice, the mental image of a knot plugging him up.

“Enough better that you’ll help hyung cook?” Yoongi asks, looking up from the peppers he’s chopping.

“Not that much better,” Jungkook replies with a shit-eating grin, but he lets Hoseok tug him over to the kitchen island to help them prepare the meal. Hoseok puts a possessive palm over the back of Jungkook’s neck, pressing so lightly it’s barely there. 

After dinner, Seokjin shows up in Jungkook’s room again. He pushes the door open, swings it closed, then knocks belatedly when Jungkook refuses to look up from the webtoon on his phone.

“No,” Jungkook says.


“Nope,” replies Jungkook. “I’ve decided to opt out of this conversation. I don’t want to talk about it.” He keeps scrolling through the webtoon even though he’s no longer processing the images. 

“Such a brat,” Seokjin says, sitting heavily down onto Jungkook’s bed. “Why don’t you wanna talk, huh?”

Jungkook says nothing, still scrolling, staring at his phone intensely.

“What are you looking at, Namjoon’s nudes?”

“Hyung!” Jungkook gasps, dropping his phone into his lap. He glares at Seokjin who reaches out, quicker than Jungkook’s ever seen him move even at a buffet, and grabs Jungkook’s jaw. Jungkook pouts but meets Seokjin’s eyes and lets him hold his face still. 

“Come on, baby,” Seokjin coos. The laughter in his tone just makes Jungkook feel worse about blushing in response. “Tell hyung what’s wrong. Did it hurt?”

“No. Felt good,” Jungkook replies. Seokjin’s hand holds his face tight so his lips poke out in a forced pout, but he’d probably be pouting anyway. 

“Then what’s wrong?” Seokjin asks, not unkindly. 

“It’s gross,” Jungkook says. He wrinkles his nose. 

“What about it is gross?”

“Everything. Me.”

“You?” Seokjin pauses. His eyes dart over Jungkook’s face, take a quick detour down to his lips, then return to his eyes. “You’re not gross.”

Jungkook nods as hard as he can despite Seokjin’s grip on his jaw. “You said yourself, I get really wet. It’s gross.”

“Oh, Jungkookie.” Seokjin pauses, trying to gather the right words together. “It’s not gross. You’re not gross. The amount of slick you produce, it’s…” He hesitates, then sighs. “It’s really hot.”

Jungkook blinks.

“I felt lucky that I got to see you like that. I know, you’re not used to it, but you looked so gorgeous dripping slick.”

The words are getting to Jungkook, wrapping around him thick and lush like a blanket. He feels a little light-headed but he powers through.

“It’s not just the slick, though,” he says. Seokjin’s honesty inspires him to admit: “It’s what I thought about. I kept thinking about… knotting.”

“Wow, the omega thought about knots during his preheat,” Seokjin snorts. His mouth twists in contrition when he sees Jungkook frown. “Sorry, hyung didn’t mean to make fun. But I don’t understand why it took you by surprise.”

“It wasn’t the knots, it was… Ugh.” Jungkook closes his eyes again. “It was whose knots they were.”

He waits, eyes closed, for a response. Finally, Seokjin lets out a long-suffering sigh and says, “I don’t know why you’re pausing, like there’s any universe where I wouldn’t ask whose knots they were.”

Jungkook keeps his mouth shut.

“...But I think I can guess, then,” Seokjin continues. He tsks. “And it was multiple knots, hmm? Greedy.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook snaps, and he tries half-heartedly to shake off Seokjin’s fingers where they’re pressed into his cheek. He’s unsuccessful and gets a poke to the side for his trouble.

“Well, not Hobi, obviously, since he doesn’t have one.” Hoseok doesn’t, but Jungkook burns up hot when he realizes he’d been picturing Hoseok fucking him anyway, kissing Jungkook like he’s fragile but fucking him like he wants to break him. “But probably Yoongi, right?”

Jungkook nods, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Of course. His knot’s fucking huge,” Seokjin says. Jungkook wants to put the conversation on pause, ask how he knows that, but Seokjin continues, “And definitely Taehyung.”

Jungkook nods again, afraid to see Seokjin’s expression.

“And Jimin, too? I swear, that boy must douse himself in pheromones, he always reeks of alpha,” Seokjin laughs. The laugh turns quieter, more contemplative, when Jungkook nods again.

“And Namjoon? Are you that easy for your hyungs, Jungkookie?” 

Jungkook whines high in his throat but nods a fourth time. It’s a yes to both questions.

“Well, I doubt Jimin would be too happy seeing Namjoon knot somebody else, but he’s always had a hard time saying no to you.”

That shocks Jungkook into opening his eyes, blinking hard. “Wait – they’re–?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Seokjin preens, looking pleased with himself for having juicer gossip than expected. “Yeah, they are. Honestly I’m grateful. I think Jimin needs an outlet for all that baby alpha energy.”

Jungkook processes, images flickering across his subconscious. So Namjoon was… knotting Jimin. Okay. That’s undoubtedly a hotter image than Jungkook had ever dreamt of by himself. He pictures their leader, using his size to leverage Jimin against the wall – Jimin, alpha hole not made to be fucked, stretched wide around Namjoon’s knot – maybe the hint of Namjoon’s teeth against his throat…

Seokjin clears his throat. Jungkook realizes his mouth has dropped open slightly and closes it. 

“Yeah, they’re doing whatever it is you’re picturing,” Seokjin says gleefully.

When Jungkook manages to boot his brain back up, he realizes Seokjin had also said that Jimin would maybe be interested in – Jungkook?

“Jimin would want to knot me?” Jungkook blurts out in a small voice. 

Seokjin schools his features, but Jungkook can tell he’s trying not to laugh again. “Jungkookie. They all want to knot you. Hoseok wants to knot you, and he doesn’t even have a knot.” Seokjin shakes his head, patting Jungkook’s cheek with his thumb. “Honestly. And before you ask, it’s not because you’re an omega. They would’ve done it before you presented, too.”

Jungkook must look incredibly shocked. Seokjin says, voice quavering as he represses his laughter, “You think they haven’t noticed your crushes on them? You’re our baby, Jungkook. Of course they want you.”

The little flickering heat that had lived in Jungkook’s chest for years grows brighter, warmer. Every time he had caught himself staring at his hyungs or thinking about them in the shower, he’d try to repress it and shove it deeper into his subconscious. But the flame had grown over time despite his denial, and Seokjin’s words just make it stronger. There’s still one thing, though, keeping it from consuming him all together.

“You said they all want to. To fuck me,” Jungkook manages to get out with minimal blushing. “But you didn’t include yourself.”

Seokjin releases Jungkook’s jaw to pat him on top of the head condescendingly instead. “Duh. They all want to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you.”

Jungkook chokes on air, and he’s honestly grateful for that because his coughs drown out the little embarrassing whimper he makes. He shifts on the bed without thinking and is rewarded by the humiliating feeling of slick trickling once again into his clean underwear. Seokjin’s plush lips part in a smug, cheesy grin, half self-aware and half totally pleased with himself.

“How about we get you through your first heat first before we think about anybody else’s knots, alright?” Seokjin says. He thumbs at Jungkook’s bottom lip. It’s a possessive motion and Jungkook feels the heat of it through his core.

Jungkook tries to nip at the thumb but Seokjin moves his hand away too fast, letting out an offended yell that immediately transforms him back from suave confident hyung into silly Seokjinnie.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” Seokjin grumbles. It’s a quick change in tone but it suits them, Jungkook thinks. It feels right to ricochet between tense flirtation and making little jabs at each other. It keeps them on their toes.

“See if I even share my toys with you during your heat,” Seokjin says, pouting exaggeratedly, but Jungkook knows he will. Seokjin doesn’t get possessive often, which is why it’s so striking that he’s taken full responsibility for Jungkook’s first heat. 

The knowledge that Seokjin will take good care of him settles warm and satisfying in Jungkook’s stomach. His heat is still something that he’s nervous about – he couldn’t even listen to Seokjin describe his slick without squirming – but he dares to hope that it might be fun, too.

Taehyung yells for Seokjin somewhere in the dorm – something about how he wants him to look at his feet, which, sure – and Seokjin sighs and pats Jungkook on the thigh. He stands up from the bed but doesn’t make his way to the door just yet. Instead, he eyes Jungkook, considering.

Jungkook is about to tease him for moving like a slow old man when Seokjin leans forward and presses a quick, gentle kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. He’s pretty sure he squeaks in response, cheeks heating up even though they’ve done much nastier things today. Then Seokjin’s out the door, leaving Jungkook to his muddled thoughts and an unfortunately wet asshole.


The week that passes before Jungkook’s first heat feels both interminable and over too soon. Jungkook feels like a prisoner sentenced to the gallows, but instead he’s going to get knotted and he’s probably going to love it.

Despite the many hints Jungkook has dropped (okay, fine, he’s dropped no hints, because he’s shy and a little overwhelmed), Seokjin hasn’t touched Jungkook again since he fingered him that first time. That hasn’t stopped Jungkook from jerking off to the memories, though, tugging his cock feverishly under the blankets each night. He’s considered fingering himself too – it would certainly be easy, given how much slick he produces – but 1) he knows he’d be unable to replicate the experience Seokjin gave him and 2) he kind of likes the feeling of being empty and waiting to be filled. Also, that would require doing too much laundry, even by his standards.

It’s hard not to think about it constantly when his heat keeps being brought up. Jungkook knows that it’s entirely innocuous when Manager Sejin mentions that he’ll be taking a few days off the schedule and that a hotel room in Seoul was booked for him. Sejin has said as much to the other members about their own ruts and heats, and Jungkook had never thought anything of it. But now that it’s him, now that all he can think about is Seokjin pushing inside him, he can’t stop blushing.

Jungkook can’t decide if it’s worse or better that Seokjin isn’t acknowledging what they’re going to do once Jungkook’s heat hits and they’re in the hotel room together. Seokjin’s just treating him like his normal, platonic bandmate. He’s not even wrestling him or flicking his ear annoyingly.

Halfway through the week, Seokjin’s munching on some absolutely divine-looking tteokbokki and without thinking, Jungkook opens his mouth expectantly for some. Seokjin looks at him, quirks his lips, and hands over the fork instead of feeding Jungkook. It feels like rejection and even though Jungkook tries not to let his hurt show on his face, he’s sure he pouts a little.

It’s made even worse when Hoseok sees him pouting across the table and says, “JK, excited for your first heat?”

Jungkook chokes on his tteokbokki.

“You’ll be fine,” Yoongi says, offering a soothing little crescent of a smile to Jungkook. “We’ve all been through heats and ruts, it’s just a couple days of weirdness and then back to normal.”

“Honestly, it’s weird we haven’t, like, evolved out of them,” Taehyung says dreamily through a mouthful of egg. “Like, what’s the point of heats anymore?”

“The point is to take a knot, Taehyung,” Seokjin says. His tone is equal parts sweet and smarmy, like he just knows he’s going to make Jungkook gasp (which he does). 

“But that’s so outdated!” Namjoon replies with a little frown. “It’s not like omegas’ number one priority in life is getting knotted. And besides, alphas can take knots too.” He nibbles his bottom lip, a concerned furrow in his brow, completely indifferent to Jimin slowly turning bright red next to him. Jungkook remembers what Seokjin had told him about Jimin and Namjoon and thinks again about Namjoon slowly, encouragingly coaxing his knot inside of Jimin, plenty of lube on hand to substitute for slick.

Jungkook decides that’s far too much sex talk for the kitchen table. “Ah, Hobi-hyung, it’s just a heat,” he whines.

“Well, we’re excited for you,” Hoseok replies. “Are you getting… anyone to help out?” He sounds calm, maybe a little curious. Jungkook’s mind flashes back to what Seokjin had told him about all the members wanting to knot him. He tries not to read anything into how Taehyung’s leaning forward a bit, watching Jungkook closely.

Jungkook hesitates, not sure if Seokjin would want the others to know about their plan. Their hyung has always been pretty private about who he spends his time with, during heat or outside of it. 

It turns out he didn’t need to worry, because Seokjin clears his throat and announces: “Yes, he is.” 

If the smug tone of Seokjin’s voice doesn’t make it clear who Jungkook’s chosen, then Jungkook’s embarrassed squeal certainly does. Jungkook puts his forehead down onto the kitchen table and groans as Seokjin erupts into his squeaky laugh. 

The rest of the table bursts into chatter. Jungkook can’t make out all of it but he hears Jimin’s high voice piercing through the chaos, whining to Seokjin, and he hears Yoongi mutter “of fucking course.” 

Jungkook tilts his head to stare balefully up at Seokjin, who’s still laughing away, shoulders shaking. Seokjin catches Jungkook’s glare and winks at him 

“They’d find out anyway the second we got back with you smelling like me,” Seokjin says.

He’s right. He’s always right. Jungkook hates that he’s right. 

“You’re all being gross,” Jungkook grumbles, but he knows he’s smiling his little pleased grin that he always gets when his hyungs make fun of him. Hoseok coos and pinches his cheek, making his nose wrinkle in delight.

Besides, Jungkook muses later as they go about their schedule, he kind of likes that they all wanted to know. They don’t treat him like he’s different now because he’s an omega. Nobody offered up their knot for him to go on a test drive when he presented, though he’s embarrassed to admit he’d probably accept that offer. They still treat him like Jungkook. They still tease him and fawn over him and shout admiringly when he takes off his shirt in the dorms. He’s just a Jungkook who gets heats sometimes, and maybe that’s okay.


As far as Jungkook is concerned, “Are you nervous?” is one of the most offensive phrases in the Korean language, second only to “Do you need help carrying all those groceries?”

He’s BTS Jeon Jungkook. He’s broken records before he’s even presented. Asking him if he’s nervous is like an insult and a call to action all at once. So of course the first thing Seokjin says to him when he’s driving them to the hotel for Jungkook’s heat is, “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Jungkook replies, voice shaking with nerves.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Seokjin says.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Jungkook parrots back. Seokjin flicks his ear perfectly, eyes never leaving the road.

“How’d you feel this morning?” Seokjin asks.

“Okay. I honestly didn’t think it had hit yet.” Jungkook pauses. “Wait, that’s not true. I woke up… wetter than usual. But I felt totally normal. It wasn’t until I came down for breakfast that anything felt different.”

“What happened?” Seokjin hadn’t come down yet. At the time, Jungkook was grateful, but now he realizes he’ll have to just tell him anyway.

“Taehyungie-hyung put his hand on my lower back, just to get around me, and it was like…” Jungkook blushes and gestures with his hands. He realizes Seokjin is still waiting for him to verbalize it. “Hyung, it was like a flood. I could tell they could all smell it. I think they were trying to be polite and not mention it but Hoseok-hyung was like, “Whoa, JK,” and they were all looking at me and… ugh,” he finishes lamely, leaning low in his seat. All that attention on him had made his skin feel too tight.

“They were all looking at you how? Like they wanted you?”

“I…” The more Jungkook thinks about it, the more he can picture it: Jimin running his tongue along his plump bottom lip, Namjoon’s eyes narrowed in focus, Yoongi’s chest swelling in an obvious deep inhale. “Yeah.”

Seokjin hums, sounding pleased. “They wish they were here right now.”

Jungkook’s throat goes dry at the idea. Of them all taking care of him during his heat, of them all watching him hungrily as they wait for their chance to pounce.

“No, they don’t,” he scoffs. It’s one thing to hear Seokjin say it and another to believe it’s true. “They wouldn’t have reacted like that if I weren’t pumping out pheromones.”

Seokjin stops the car at a red light and turns to stare at Jungkook disbelievingly. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook shrugs, embarrassed that they’re still talking about this and embarrassed at how wet the idea makes him. “It’s not like any of them asked to help me with my heat.”

Seokjin snorts. It’s hugely undignified of him. Jungkook leaks a little bit more slick.

“Jungkook…” Seokjin shakes his head. “They didn’t ask to help with your heat because I told them not to.”


“Yeah. I knew you’d get self-conscious about it if they asked. I know you’ve been struggling with your status change. I didn’t want you to think they thought any different of you after you presented.”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open. It’s impressive and heartwarming how Seokjin was able to gather the tangled threads of his confused, stressed-out thoughts and understand them so well. 

“Also, I called dibs.”

Jungkook chokes. “You what?” 

“Relax,” Seokjin laughs as they pull up to the hotel’s back entrance, an attendant already waiting outside for them. “I just told them not to approach you because I wanted to see who you’d approach on your own. And you made the right choice. Me.”

Jungkook wants to be mad, wants to pout a little, but the thing is, Seokjin’s right. Jungkook had chosen him over his other hyungs. Not to mention, the idea of Seokjin calling dibs on him, staking a claim on him, is so hot it makes Jungkook’s thighs press together and more slick leak into his underwear. He’s grateful he wore black pants, because otherwise he’d be worried about it visibly soaking through.

“Come on, we’re here,” Seokjin says, patting Jungkook on the thigh. It’s the first time he’s touched Jungkook in days and Jungkook shudders at the sudden need that overcomes him. He wants Seokjin all over him, inside him and around him, so wrapped up in him that all he’ll be able to smell and sense is Seokjin. The desire from his heat hits full force and he bites back a growl, stumbling after Seokjin as they enter the hotel.

The attendant gives them the keycard for the penthouse and then it’s just a short ride up the elevator until they’re standing in front of the door. Jungkook twitches, aching with how empty he feels.

Seokjin reaches up with the keycard then playfully misses, tapping the keycard on the door instead. This time Jungkook does growl and shove his face into Seokjin’s neck, panting harshly. Since they’re the only ones with access to this floor, he doesn’t feel nervous about rutting his hips up against Seokjin’s ass, pushing against him until he’s got him pressed against the room door.

“Get off, you animal,” Seokjin says fondly. He finally – finally! – swipes them into the room and Jungkook immediately grabs him around the waist and hauls him up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He whirls his head around, spots the bedroom, and trots off towards it, dodging furniture like an obstacle course.

Seokjin giggles the whole time, bouncing over Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’re ridiculous,” he says.

“I might be a little excited,” Jungkook admits as he deposits Seokjin onto the thick, luxurious bedding. The room is beautiful – floor-to-ceiling windows, stunning decor – but all he can look at is Seokjin, lying back on the bed with hooded eyes. Seokjin drops his bag on the floor next to the bed and beckons Jungkook closer. 

Jungkook steps forward, shivering as a trickle of slick makes its way past the hem of his briefs and down his thigh. He kneewalks up the bed until he’s hovering over Seokjin, fingers itching with the urge to touch him. 

Jungkook awkwardly looms over his hyung as he waits for Seokjin to tell him what to do. Seokjin’s grin gets wider and he pats the bed next to him. “Lie down,” he says, and Jungkook obeys. He hesitates for a second, not sure if he should lie on his front or back, but he decides he should try to lie on his back this time. Maybe it will make Seokjin happy.

When Jungkook lies back, head cushioned on a pillow, it lightens his heart to see how proud Seokjin looks. It also sends enough slick into his underwear that they’re now thoroughly wet. He should have worn a bathing suit, he thinks, mortified.

Seokjin crooks an eyebrow and, to Jungkook’s horror, nuzzles his face into Jungkook’s hipbone and takes a rich, heady inhale. Jungkook squeals and tries to buck his hips to push Seokjin off but Seokjin holds him in place, hands gripping his hips as he rubs his nose against the crease where Jungkook’s thigh meets his groin.

“Hyung,” Jungkook gasps, scandalized. There’s no way it can smell good. Sure, he can’t smell it very much himself, but isn’t it… overwhelming at best? 

“Mmm?” Seokjin hums in reply. His hands trail down under Jungkook’s ass, lifting it a few inches in the air so he can happily nose lower and lower. “You smell nice, Jungkookie.”

“It’s gross,” Jungkook whispers, then bites his lip. Against every nerve in his body screaming at how humiliating this is, wave after wave of heat is pulsing in his gut, pushing out more slick and making his cock twitch in his briefs. The idea that Seokjin can smell him through two layers of fabric, wants to smell him even though he’s dripping and nasty, just makes him more sensitive and needy than he already is thanks to his heat.

“You’re calling your hyung gross?” There it is – Seokjin’s playful mock-offended tone. Jungkook rolls his eyes and doesn’t rise to the bait. “I’m not gross, Jungkookie,” Seokjin says sweetly. He tucks his fingertips into both of Jungkook’s waistbands and pulls them down as a unit, leaving Jungkook bare from the waist down, thighs immediately snapping together to cover himself.

“We’re still doing that?” Seokjin tsks, pressing Jungkook’s thighs apart. “Rude not to let hyung see. Don’t roll your eyes,” he says. 

Jungkook isn’t sure how Seokjin knew he was rolling his eyes again. Seokjin hasn’t taken his eyes off of Jungkook’s crotch. 

“Aren’t you going to put down a towel?” Jungkook asks, lifting his hips up to try to keep the slick off the blankets. They’re so fancy. He’d hate to ruin them.

Seokjin laughs. He trails soft fingertips, cool on Jungkook’s overheated skin, down Jungkook’s inner thighs to trace along his crack. “It’s a hotel. They’ll clean the sheets for us.” Jungkook must still look conflicted, because Seokjin’s expression gets even more mischievous. “Besides, anyone who smells them will feel like they hit the lottery. It already smells so good in here. You’re dripping and we haven’t even started.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook says blankly. This is cruel and unusual punishment. It has to be. Seokjin’s words are going to send him into cardiac arrest, or make him pass out, or at the very least make him ridiculously, unbelievably hard. 

“If your slick was gross, would I be able to do this?” Seokjin asks, and then he just fucking spreads Jungkook’s cheeks and licks a fat stripe over his hole. Jungkook chokes and he feels himself clench down hard in shock, suddenly desperate for his hole to be touched more roughly, to be filled and bred. 

Seokjin starts with delicate licks, just up and down over Jungkook’s hole, the slightest pressure. It’s way too much for Jungkook to handle but it’s also not nearly enough. He wants to be split wide and taken so badly he wants to cry.

Seokjin just keeps licking, thumbs massaging around Jungkook’s hole. It has the humiliating effect of making Jungkook relax, slick dripping out of him. He feels the warm, wet caress of Seokjin’s tongue as he chases a droplet of slick down Jungkook’s thigh.

“Doesn’t – fuck – doesn’t it taste bad?” Jungkook bites out.

Seokjin shrugs one shoulder and starts peppering kisses on Jungkook’s inner thighs. “I mean, it’s not like a fucking steak dinner or anything like that. I’d still do a mukbang of your ass on Eat Jin, though.”

Jungkook kicks him in the shoulder. It feels like the right thing to do. 

Then he immediately regrets it, because Seokjin starts laughing, and that means there’s no longer a mouth on him. How has Jungkook lived his whole life without having Seokjin’s pretty mouth on him 24/7?

“Sorry, baby,” Seokjin says patronizingly. He exaggeratedly wipes the back of his palm across his mouth. Jungkook groans low in his throat when he sees the sheen of the slick he wipes off.

“Let me guess, you’re tired of messing around and you just wanna get filled, right?” Seokjin asks. When Jungkook nods, he grins and says, “Yeah, I remember my first heat. I just wanted everybody to shut up and knot me. It can be fun to play around with it a little more, though. Next time, we should experiment with some knot denial.”

Next time. Jungkook – maybe stupidly – hadn’t realized there’d be a next time. After all, wasn’t this supposed to just be Seokjin teaching him the ropes, an older omega helping out a freshly presented omega?

And then he thinks of how confidently Seokjin had asserted that he called dibs on Jungkook’s first heat, and he realizes that Seokjin – and all of his hyungs, if Seokjin is to be believed – wants him for more than just one time.

Seokjin flicks him on the thigh, bringing him back out of his head. “What, did you start daydreaming when I said the word ‘knot’?” Seokjin snorts.

Jungkook lifts his foot to kick him again but Seokjin catches his ankle. He slides his palm up Jungkook’s leg, all the way up, through the mess of slick coating his inner thighs, and without preamble he pushes two fingers deep inside Jungkook. He takes them so easily, walls parting for Seokjin, and Jungkook keens at how good it feels to finally have something pressing inside to hold him open.

There’s no slow build-up, no adjustment period this time. Seokjin just gets right to work, bracing Jungkook’s stomach with one hand while the other works rapidly, pulsing deep inside Jungkook hard enough to make him quiver. Jungkook stops craning his head to try to see what Seokjin’s doing and just lies back and takes it, hips shuddering up the bed. 

He doesn’t even need a hand on his dick. It’d be appreciated, of course, but just Seokjin’s fingers – and, fuck, that’s a third pushing in – feel so good. He’s in awe at how easily his body welcomes Seokjin inside. It used to be something that horrified him, but now he’s oddly proud of it. He feels powerful, knowing he can get stuffed full and still take more.

Speaking of more, Seokjin pulls his hand away and asks Jungkook if he wants a fourth finger, and all Jungkook can look at is how wet Seokjin’s hand is. It’s dripping, rivulets of slick trailing down his entire forearm. 

“Hyung, you’re going to make a mess,” Jungkook says breathlessly.

“It’s a little late for that,” Seokjin replies, glancing down. 

Confused, Jungkook wiggles his body so he can see what Seokjin’s looking at. Oh. There it is, a damp patch the size of his ass, right in the middle of the bedding. He’d been so busy getting fingered he hadn’t even noticed he was practically leaking onto the bed.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook says scratchily.

“That’s nothing. Wait ‘til we get knotted,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook is still fixated on the damp spot, so shocked that he was so heat-addled he failed to notice, and then his brain catches on the word ‘we.’


Seokjin smiles and scoots back on his knees to get off the bed. Jungkook pouts, suddenly feeling bereft. Seokjin had been fucking him so good, giving his hole the only thing it needed. Why is he leaving?

His internal question is answered when Seokjin bends over to unzip the bag he’d left on the floor. Jungkook turns towards him, unable to see what Seokjin’s fiddling with, but his question is answered when Seokjin pops back up.

“Don’t ever say hyung doesn’t love you,” Seokjin says indulgently as Jungkook stares at the object in his hands.

The first adjective he can think of to describe it is: big. It’s long, almost half a meter. It’s baby blue. It’s thick. And it’s got two bulbs in it.

Not bulbs, Jungkook realizes. Knots.

Seokjin places it lovingly on the bed. “Taking a knot the first time is kind of intimidating. I figure you’d appreciate some company.”

Jungkook’s mouth is hanging open. He closes it, clears his throat. He can’t think of what to say. His brain keeps sticking on the idea of those knots, so wide he knows his fingertips wouldn’t touch if he held one. On one of those knots slipping deep into Seokjin’s hole, squeezed tight inside him. On the other knot cradled inside Jungkook.

Seokjin pulls off his own shirt and starts unbuttoning his jeans but he pauses when he sees Jungkook still lying there like an idiot.

“You do want to do this, right?” he asks calmly. There’s no assumption in Seokjin’s tone. Jungkook knows without a doubt that if he backed out now, Seokjin would be nothing if not understanding and kind about it. But there’s no fucking way Jungkook is backing out now. He nods vigorously and tears his own shirt off, wincing when he hears a seam rip. Seokjin chuckles.

Jungkook shifts backwards until his whole back is resting against the pillows and headboard, giving Seokjin space to crawl up the foot of the bed between his legs. It’s really quite something to see Seokjin like this. Obviously Jungkook’s seen him naked countless times. Nudity itself is less thrilling and more “oh, it’s Tuesday” when it comes to Bangtan. But the gleam in Seokjin’s eye, the confident sway of his hips, the way his cock is bobbing half-hard between his legs, all feel new and captivating.

Seokjin raises the dildo and places one end of it against Jungkook’s stomach. He looks down and inhales sharply when he sees how fat the knot is. He knows he can do this, though. He wouldn’t be Jeon Jungkook if he went around backing down from challenges, no matter how big they’ll feel inside him.

As Seokjin starts to tease the head of the dildo against Jungkook’s hole, he starts up a pattern of soothing narration. “You don’t usually need lube during your heat. I mean, you don’t usually need lube ever, but for something this big you’ll need some help most of the time. But during your heat, it’s like… magic. Your body just takes and takes and takes.”

With each word, he shallowly fucks the dildo inside Jungkook, pressing the first few centimeters in and tugging them out just as quickly. Each time he does it, he works it in slightly deeper. Jungkook grunts and wiggles his hips to try to work more in, to get more of the perfect feeling of being filled.

“Look at you,” Seokjin says. “I mean, not to sound porny, but… You’re just so wet.”

“It’s okay. You can sound porny,” Jungkook gasps. He doesn’t give a shit. Seokjin could say whatever he wants to him right now, as long as he keeps pushing the thick dildo further inside.

“Listen,” Seokjin says. He grips the dildo at its midpoint and pulls it all the way out of Jungkook. It makes a wet, wanton sort of noise, the kind that sends heat rushing to Jungkook’s face. Seokjin pushes it back in with another dirty-sounding sound and guides it until the knot is just outside Jungkook’s rim, taunting him. 

Jungkook makes a broken noise and tries to fuck himself down onto the knot but Seokjin holds him still. “Let hyung get on first,” he murmurs. Jungkook nods but he can feel himself pout. He’s so close to the knot he can taste it, can already imagine himself being split open and then plugged up. 

“Don’t pout,” Seokjin laughs. He drops his end of the dildo on the bed. The full heavy weight of it tugs pleasantly at Jungkook’s rim. He clenches around it to make sure it’s secure, then clenches again because it feels nice to be held open by something thick and solid. Jungkook is so distracted by the rhythmic clenching that he gasps in surprise when Seokjin is suddenly leaning over him.

“You’re taking it so well,” Seokjin says sweetly. He pets one hand down Jungkook’s cheek and Jungkook nuzzles into it like a cat. The compliment washes over him like rain. It feels so good as it settles under his skin and fills him with glowing happiness. He registers distantly that it’s his heat that’s making him so needy and responsive, but truth be told he’s always been weak for his hyungs’ compliments.

It doesn’t occur to him to ask for more, but something in his eyes must scream it anyway. Seokjin looks at him, suddenly so serious, and then he’s leaning in slowly, giving Jungkook enough time to put a stop to it. 

When it happens, Jungkook accepts the kiss eagerly, parting his lips to let Seokjin consume him. He inhales in shock when he realizes the sharp, salty taste on Seokjin’s mouth is him. He could never have imagined himself gleefully licking his own slick from someone’s tongue, but here he is, grabbing his hyung’s jaw and kissing him as thoroughly as he can.

Seokjin indulges him. He presses their chests together and it sends a bolt of heat to Jungkook’s crotch when he feels Seokjin’s hard nipples rubbing against him. He gets lost in the kiss, drowning in his own taste and Seokjin’s smell. 

Then Seokjin shifts on the bed and accidentally knees the dildo. The sensation of it moving heavily in his gut makes Jungkook arch his back and moan, eager to get back to what they were doing. Seokjin gives him one last smiling kiss and then shuffles backwards.

Jungkook pushes himself further up the headboard to get a good look as Seokjin leans back and spreads his bended legs. Now that he gets his first good look at Seokjin’s hole – pretty dark skin, tightly furled, a smudge of wetness around the rim – he realizes what an injustice it is that he’s never seen it before.

He wants to touch it, wants to do a million things to it to make Seokjin feel good, but for now he’s content to watch Seokjin play with himself, dipping a finger inside then bringing it out wet and shining. Seokjin scoots forward and lines the other head of the toy up against his hole. 

He should be looking at the toy, but instead Seokjin looks up and makes heated eye contact with Jungkook as he pops the head inside. Jungkook groans, as affected by the way the toy shifts inside himself as he is by the view of Seokjin’s tight hole stretched out by the thick shaft. 

Seokjin moans unabashedly, not caring how loud he is. He swivels his hips and easily takes more until his knot, too, presses up against his hole. 

Jungkook is thankful the toy is flexible enough that they can do this while sitting up and watching each other.

He expects Seokjin to control the toy with his hands, but instead Seokjin bites his bottom lip and shifts his hips. He’s clenching the dildo so tight that when he moves, he thrusts it inside Jungkook, fucking them both at the same time. The knot, huge and intimidating, pushes up against Jungkook’s rim. He can feel his hole start to give.

“That’s it,” Seokjin says. He pushes against Jungkook’s knot with his hand, teasing him by slowly pushing the very edge of it inside. “Count down from three for me.”

Jungkook does, struck by how taut his voice is, and when he gets to ‘one’ Seokjin gives a forceful push that lodges the knot past his rim. Jungkook’s moan is ripped from his chest as he feels himself split open, rim stretched impossibly wide, all facilitated by the slick steadily slipping from his hole. He keeps making these little whiny gasps, and he can’t help it because there’s a fucking knot inside him keeping him full to bursting, so big that when he bears down he cant push it out. 

He whimpers, wiggling his hips, feeling the heavy shift of the toy deep inside. He finally feels full. The heat still thrums under his skin but it’s been tamed momentarily by this feeling of being claimed. 

Seokjin gives the dildo a little tug and huffs, gratified, when it stays stuck inside Jungkook. Instead of releasing the toy, though, he traces his fingers around Jungkook’s rim and collects a smear of slick. 

“I don’t get as wet as you, plus I’m not on my heat,” he says by way of explanation. Jungkook squeaks when Seokjin rubs his slick around the edge of the toy’s other knot and then guides it inside himself, pushing on it much harder than he did for Jungkook. Seokjin struggles with it briefly, forcing himself to take deep breaths. Jungkook stares at where his rim is seemingly stretched as wide as it can go around the knot at its thickest point. Then, almost in slow motion, his hole accepts it, sealing tight around it until all Jungkook can see is the shaft.

“Fuck,” Seokjin exhales. He’s right, Jungkook thinks. Every clench and twitch Seokjin’s body makes is echoed inside his own hole. They’re both sitting there, trembling and plugged up, trying not to come apart at the seams. Jungkook imagines how they must look – two omegas, almost vibrating out of their skin, connected by a thick toy.

“It’s…” Jungkook bites his lip with a moan. He can’t even verbalize it. He’s mad it feels this good, to be honest. 

“Right?” Seokjin grins. He thrusts forward, which rocks the knot a little deeper inside Jungkook, churning it into his insides. He keeps thrusting, each movement punctuated by the wet noises caused by the slick brimming around the shaft. 

Jungkook can feel, now, how wet the blanket is underneath him, and he moans, half ashamed and half excited by it.

“I’ve never met another omega who got this wet. It’s amazing,” Seokjin muses, briefly resting his hips then shoving them forward. “You could probably take a knot easily even off your heat.” 

The room fills with the sounds of Jungkook’s whimpers and the toy moving inside him. Seokjin looks pensive and devious. If he has a point, Jungkook hopes he’ll say it soon. It’s getting harder and harder for Jungkook to think, even to breathe, because it feels like there’s no room in his body for anything else but Seokjin. 

Jungkook wraps a palm around himself and he almost cries at how overwhelming it feels to be stroking his cock while Seokjin steadily, methodically works the knot deeper inside him.

“You know,” Seokjin says. His voice sounds rougher than before. It’s the only hint Jungkook has that he’s also getting close. “You get so wet that I could pull you aside and fuck you whenever I want.”

White-hot streaks trail up Jungkook’s limbs. He clenches down hard, imagining Seokjin fucking into him before a show, just because he can. Just because Jungkook would love every second of it.

“Not just me,” Seokjin gasps out, finally jerking his own cock. “All of us. All your hyungs could fuck you, one right after the other. You’d let us, wouldn’t you?”

Jungkook cries out, high-pitched and broken, because he’s picturing it – Hoseok fucking deep into him then handing him off to Yoongi, Taehyung knotting him right before an interview so he leaks come and slick during it, Jimin and Namjoon taking out their ruts on him together. He’s picturing it but it’s overlaid with Seokjin in all his senses. The taste of him lingers on Jungkook’s lips, the smell of his slick and the sound of his cries fill the air. Jungkook is so full to bursting with Seokjin. He wants to hollow himself out and become nothing more than a vessel for Seokjin, somewhere his hyung can always find a home.

The idea of being taken like that by all his hyungs makes Jungkook squeeze so hard around the knot that it hurts. He spends himself onto his stomach, each jerk of his cock accompanied by an internal clench that makes him see stars.

He’s strung so tight by the orgasm that he wants to come down but he can’t because the knot is thrusting inside him again. Seokjin has started working against his own knot, tossing his head back so the plump pinkness of his lips shines in the light. 

“I get you first, though, right, Jungkookie?” Seokjin pants.

Jungkook’s whole body feels weak. He’s slipping from consciousness, exhausted from the force of his orgasm, but he has the strength to nod.

The pale planes of Seokjin’s torso pull taut and then he collapses onto his back. The come he shoots only adds to the mess between them on the bed.

Jungkook catches his breath. The itch under his skin and the empty feeling in his hole have finally abated. He can feel Seokjin shifting on the bed, using a bit of blanket to wipe himself off, but Jungkook’s so fucked-out that he can’t even move. Nodding took every last bit of energy he had.

His heat is done, for now. He slips into sleep.


When Jungkook wakes up, it feels eerily similar to the morning of his presentation. The bedding under him is coated in slick and he’s exhausted and thirsty, body aching.

But this time he feels right. 

Jungkook groans and stretches and, in doing so, realizes the toy is still lodged inside him. He squeals and turns on his side, trying to push it out, and it drags heavily along the bed. He comes face-to-face with Seokjin, who smiles fondly and boops him on the nose.

“Sorry,” Seokjin says. “I tried to pull it out of you but you hit me in your sleep.”

“Please take it out,” Jungkook whines. Even as loose as he is on his heat, he’s starting to get sore.

“Promise not to hit me again?”

“No promises.”

Seokjin surprises him with another kiss, one that makes Jungkook yelp and then melt into the bedding. When he opens his mouth to let Seokjin (now with freshly brushed teeth) lick inside, Seokjin gives the dildo a firm tug and the knot comes popping out. Seokjin drops the toy on the bedding and Jungkook shudders at the wet noise of impact it makes. His hole must be gaping. He kind of wants to see.

“So we have a couple options,” Seokjin says. “We can stay here, if you feel like you’ll have another wave of heat. Or we can head back to the dorm.” He sees Jungkook look at his ripped shirt in dismay. “I also brought a change of clothes for both of us. Hyung came prepared.”

Jungkook frowns. “What if we go back and there’s another wave?”

“Then you’ll have plenty of help,” Seokjin says with a wink. “Even if you’re not on your heat.”

Jungkook gulps, remembering what Seokjin promised. How they’d all eagerly help him any time he felt needy. How they wanted him just as much as he wanted them.

Even with all they’ve revealed to each other, it still feels like a big step to admit, “I want to see you on your heat too.”

“You can see it anytime you want,” Seokjin says. “I’ve got heat inducers.”

“Wait, what are heat inducers?” Jungkook asks, bewildered.

“Oh.” Seokjin’s grin grows and grows. “Oh, Jungkookie. I still have so much to teach you.”