Chapter Text
Hoseok breathes against Jungkook’s neck.
His scent is overwhelming in the small room. Hoseok is much too used to his own scent, but he’s sure that his pheromones are floating around just as heavily.
Jungkook is an omega, he thinks, hissing as his twitching, spent balls push out another wave of come.
It makes sense, really. Jungkook has always been the first to smell his hyungs for comfort, to wrap himself up in their arms to sleep after a rough few days. He has a collection of soft blankets and softer sweaters, and likes to steal clothes from the dryer for his own little collection of comfort items.
Careful not to jostle the place where they’re joined, where they will be joined for the foreseeable future, Hoseok turns a sleeping Jungkook onto his side and spoons up against his back. Like this, he has even better access to Jungkook’s scent gland.
Scents are never one thing, never something that can be so clearly placed against some material analogous scent, but Jungkook in particular smells like everything. If water had a smell, this would be it. It’s fresh, clean, almost salty, but tinged with a soft, cool, floral note that Hoseok associates with spring and rainfall.
Namjoon is going to lose his mind. He’s always been close to his instincts and overwhelming need to protect; it’s why they all agreed to make him pack alpha. He’d vibrate out of his skin with an anxious need to keep everyone safe, and that was with a pack full of only alphas and betas.
Now, with an omega, with their baby maknae an omega ?
Hoseok is surprised Namjoon isn’t knocking down the door already.
Probably because you did a good job, Hoseok’s alpha purrs, quieted the baby down, stopped his chirping, no distress pheromones to wake up the others.
As indulgent as the thought is, it’s probably right. Distress would wake up the others, but sex smells? Not so much; they’re used to sex smells, even if they’re not usually so clearly omega.
Hoseok isn’t coming anymore. No more pulses of that primal, satisfying warmth are rushing out of him, but his knot won’t go down for another hour, especially with an omega slipping into heat locked onto him.
Even when it does, though, Jungkook’s last coherent plea was that Hoseok stay inside until Jungkook wakes, and fuck, even the memory of his teary begging has Hoseok’s knot swelling again.
Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook and pulls him in tight, preparing himself for a long night.
Namjoon’s dreams are confusing. He’s asleep, but barely, still able to pick up the fact that they are dreams, not awake enough to fight them.
In the dream, he’s pacing around their house, no other building in sight for miles in any other direction. Just open, grassy plains, fading into a haze that he knows is forest way in the distance. It’s confusing, he knows, because they live in the penthouse of an apartment building in the middle of an extremely busy city.
He doesn’t question it, at least, not in the dream.
He has to scent the property. He has an omega in heat to protect. This is confusing, too, because he doesn’t have an omega; his pack is full of alphas and betas. Still, he can smell the omega, his slick, and so Namjoon marches the perimeter, leaving his scent on a fence that his brain hasn’t really put together in any clear way. He hasn’t seen a cool looking fence in a while, maybe. His dream-brain doesn’t know how to make one.
Namjoon wakes up to his phone alarm, immediately knowing that he slept poorly. His neck feels wrong and he’s still stuck, half asleep.
He can still smell the omega from his dream. The instincts are still there. He wants to go mark a perimeter, protect, but what’s the fucking perimeter on an apartment.
He shakes his head, trying to get the dream and the dream-smell out of his head.
It doesn’t work. He rubs his eyes.
The scent only gets stronger, tinged by the distinct sweetness of slick.
He sits up in bed and looks around. The sun is just barely starting to rise below the city with a soft gray light. The house is silent; he can’t even hear Jungkook’s snoring a few rooms down.
The omega scent, though, is clear.
Laced with it, though, is Hoseok’s pheromones, Hoseok’s sex pheromones.
Namjoon’s first instinct is fear. Did Hoseok bring an omega home, to their nest, and fuck them without talking to anyone?
Namjoon dismisses it immediately. Hoseok would never, too loyal to their pack, their family. If he needed something, he could get it.
The mystery remains. Namjoon stretches and gets up in his pajamas to investigate.
The scent is easy to follow.
Right to Jungkook’s door.
Standing in front of it, the scents are so easy to pick out: slick, come, sex, and over it all, heat.
Why the fuck is there an omega in heat in their nest, in his nest. He should have marked the fucking perimeter.
He bursts in the room, teeth already bared.
And then he stops.
Hoseok is huddled over someone on the bed, eyes wide and one finger held to his mouth in the universal shut the fuck up or else.
Namjoon’s brain can’t put it together. That big brain, with all its firing neurons, can’t put it together. The lump on the bed looks like Jungkook; it has Jungkook’s hair, is in Jungkook’s bed in Jungkook’s room, but he smells like an omega.
“What the fuck,” he stage whispers.
Hoseok gives him a warning look before responding in barely voiced whispers. “Keep your voice down, let him sleep before the heat really hits.”
Namjoon blinks at him.
He can’t put it together.
Hoseok rolls his eyes before continuing in the same, low, quiet voice. “Jungkook presented as an omega last night.” Namjoon glitches. “Let him sleep.”
Namjoon sits down on the floor.
He’s glad Jungkook has a rug in here.
Jungkook probably picked the soft rug because he’s an omega, he’s always been an omega. Omegas like soft things. Omegas need nesting materials, especially when they’re in heat. Jungkook is an omega.
Namjoon wants to get his omega soft things, and then maybe mark the perimeter.
The dream makes sense.
Namjoon stands up, just as abruptly as he had sat down. “I’m going to,” he whispers, “nest things. Protect. Water. Do you need water? I’ll get water.”
Namjoon is gone before Hoseok can respond, body working on instinctual autopilot. He blacks out, just does all the things his alpha says he has to do.
He’s rubbing the scent glands in his wrist all over the private elevator entrance when he hears it.
Chirping. His omega is chirping, his omega is distressed, Namjoon is going to kill whoever dares make his baby chirp. He quickly picks up his pile of pillows and water bottles and shrimp chips and stumbles to Jungkook’s room, bursting into the room blindly.
He drops his presents on the rug and gets his first full look of Jungkook.
He’s held against Hoseok, his back to Hoseok’s front. His big eyes are teary and dilated, one hand extending out for Namjoon from Hoseok’s hold.
“Alpha,” he begs, and Namjoon falls to his knees next to Jungkook’s bed.
“Baby,” Namjoon responds, tilting his head to look at Jungkook. He can’t help but to touch, to hold Jungkook’s cheek and wipe away his tears, “alpha is here.” He looks over Jungkook’s shoulder, at Hoseok softly licking at Jungkook’s scent gland, “alphas are here.”
Jungkook closes his eyes with a sigh. The blankets shift; Jungkook is rolling his hips against Hoseok’s crotch. His slick in the air is sweet on Namjoon’s tongue.
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, breathless, “smelled you, couldn’t see you.”
Namjoon’s dick is filling up in his pants, his body responding to the overwhelming heat of a young omega. “I’m here, omega,” Jungkook shivers, “just had to go make sure you’re safe.”
Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. The movement under the blankets gets more purposeful, rhythmic, and all of a sudden Namjoon realizes that oh, Hoseok is fucking Jungkook right now. He’s murmuring against Jungkook’s neck, and Namjoon only picks up parts of it.
“Never left, baby, stayed inside, all night. All for you.”
Namjoon swallows. That’s so fucking hot.
“Did alpha knot you, baby?” Namjoon asks, putting on his strongest pack alpha voice. It’s an easy role to slip into, and judging by the way Jungkook’s eyes roll back in his head, it’s a role Jungkook appreciates. Namjoon is all too happy to play the part.
He grabs Jungkook’s hair, just like he’s always loved, and holds it tight. “Held you Hoseokie-hyung inside your pretty little hole all night and still hungry for more,” he purrs, “good boy, what a good omega.”
Jungkook cries out in a cute whine, head pushed up and down against the pillow as Hoseok thrusts from behind him. His mouth falls open, and without thinking, Namjoon puts his finger on Jungkook’s tongue.
Without missing a beat, Jungkook sucks.
He doesn’t just suck, he laves Namjoon’s fingers with his tongue, like he’s hungry, like the salt on Namjoon’s skin could feed him.
Namjoon’s brain pings in red and pink.
“Do you want something in your mouth, little one?” He asks, and Jungkook’s eyes fly open. He nods, desperately.
Jungkook tries to speak around Namjoon’s fingers, giving him a slurred, messy version of “Yes, hyung, alpha, alpha, let me suck on your cock, fuck oh my god please, please.”
Namjoon grins, almost feral.
Of course, his perfect maknae with an oral fixation would end up an omega. “Just wanna be stuffed, hm? All bred and sated?”
“Fuck,” Jungkook tries to say as Namjoon pets his tongue. Hoseok groans his agreement as he circles his hips into Jungkook.
“Get closer to the edge,” Namjoon commands, standing up. His alpha headspace is a radical departure from the version from a few minutes ago, but this version is making his omega happy so he doesn’t fight it.
Hoseok acquiesces, giving Jungkook a particularly hard thrust, pushing his body just a little closer to the edge of the bed. He remains tightly in Hoseok’s arms, but his pink, panting lips are positioned right at the edge of the mattress, right at hip height.
Namjoon doesn’t even bother taking his pants off. He pulls out his dick, erect and proud, and holds it against Jungkook’s lips.
“All yours, baby.”
Jungkook whines and eagerly takes Namjoon into his mouth.
It’s the last clear sound they hear out of him for a while. Jungkook is reduced to muffled whines, moans, and grunts, but stuffed full as he is, it’s hard to hear anything but the wet slap of skin on skin, his ragged breaths through his nose, and Namjoon’s constant affirmations.
Jungkook sucks like he’s starving, like he’ll die if he can’t get Namjoon’s come inside him, on him, if he can’t get Hoseok to knot inside him again.
Namjoon tells Jungkook all about the mess he’s going to be when they’re done with him, about the fact that Jungkook is going to smell like them forever and ever.
“The whole world is going to know you’re ours,” Namjoon groans, not even thinking about his words, lost in the perfect suction of Jungkook’s pink mouth, “our perfect omega, made to be used, to be bred, stuffed—“
He’s lost track of his mouth, but he feels when Jungkook comes.
His mouth goes slack, happy to keep taking, but his eyes go aggressively unfocused and he shivers. Hoseok can feel it too; Namjoon can only barely imagine how he’s clenching up around Hoseok’s cock.
“He comes,” Hoseok says, punctuating his words with thrusts, “for fucking ever.”
Hoseok grits his teeth, trying not to come. Namjoon can only imagine, so he does. He’s going to wait for Hoseok’s knot to go down, and when he pulls out, Jungkook is going to be so desperate, dripping two full loads of alpha come.
He’s going to beg, going to cry about how dirty he is, how it’s all coming out, how Kookie needs to be full and only alpha can help. Namjoon is going to mount him and fuck into him with one, smooth stroke and breed him so hard he cries. His little hole is going to clench so tight that Namjoon can barely stay inside, but he will. He will, and his knot will catch inside—
Namjoon is lost in the fantasies and swell of omega pheromones when he comes down Jungkook’s throat.
His knot stays just at Jungkook’s lips. Jungkook tries to push forward, to take the knot into his mouth, but Namjoon, barely coherent enough to stop him, holds Jungkook back by the grip in his hair.
Hoseok is giving Jungkook aborted little thrusts, coming deep inside, his instincts repeatedly saying in, in, further, make sure it sticks.
Jungkook whines when Namjoon pulls out, but he doesn’t reach out, too sated by the knot.
They’ve never had an omega to take care of before, but Namjoon pays attention. As long as he’s knotted and in the arms of an alpha he trusts, Jungkook’s heats should stay painless and comfortable. Namjoon will make sure he stays comfortable.
He kneels back down and kisses Jungkook languidly, tasting his come on Jungkook’s tongue. Jungkook is too exhausted, too comfortable to give much back, but he tries his best, his slow, heavy tongue moving against Namjoon’s.
“Good boy,” he whispers as he pulls away. Jungkook sighs in contentment.
He’s glad his alpha brought the blankets, pillows, towels, water bottles. He tucks himself back into his pajamas and wets a soft cloth with the water bottle before returning to the mess of slick and sweat and come on the bed.
Carefully, oh so carefully, he wipes away the tears and spit and drops of come from Jungkook’s face. The room is still heavy with slick and come and pheromones, but Jungkook hates feeling too dirty. Namjoon can’t do much about his hole, as Hoseok is probably still coming, but he can at least make Jungkook feel nice and clean.
He discards the cloth and rubs a soft thumb against Jungkook’s cheek.
Jungkook blinks his eyes open, slowly coming up to awareness, the heat sated for the moment.
“Hi baby,” he says with a smile.
Jungkook smiles back. “Hi, hyung.”
“You’re an omega,” he says in a soft whisper, just for them.
“I am,” Jungkook responds, searching Namjoon’s face for a reaction, and when he only gets a smile, gets joy, Jungkook’s joy gets wider too. “I’m happy.”
Namjoon can’t help himself. He kisses Jungkook, chaste for all the filthy things they’ve just done. “I’m happy too, my perfect omega.”