Work Text:
Jungkook really had not been expecting it when he’d presented as an alpha. He’d always been clingy, loved to be scented by his hyungs, always deferred to them for judgment, never one to posture and instigate—all stereotypical traits of people who tended to present as omegas and betas. If you had asked anyone who knew him—friends, parents, his members, hell—even random acquaintances would probably have put money on anything besides alpha.
But then, Jungkook woke up one morning to a knot in his pants and the alarm of his pack, all huddled together in the hall outside his bedroom, drawn there from the unfamiliar scent wafting through the door. When he’d waddled out to them—wide-eyed, slightly afraid, and embarrassingly hard—he had been hit with their combined scents in a way that had never occurred before. His nose stung with the force of being able to smell everyone completely for the first time, and it only served to add to the sensory overload he was experiencing.
He was overwhelmed and emotional and every way that a person could be, and in no state to recall anything as arbitrary as pack traditions. Irrelevant, outdated pieces of ceremony that probably meant something at some point in time, but certainly not anymore and definitely not to Jungkook.
Hoseok had sat him down after their long day of practice on the same day he’d presented; Jungkook had been in no mood at the time—exhausted and irritable from the combination of a frustrating day of practice and the rush of alpha hormones, his skin itchy all over, like it was fighting to contain the rest of him. The only thing he wanted to do is shower and plant himself face-first into his bed. He wouldn’t have had the energy to socialize after today if it had been a regular day, let alone after the war his pituitary gland had decided to wage on him.
“Hyung, I really don’t give a shit about ‘tradition,’” Jungkook huffs where he’s sitting tense in the middle of the couch. He can hear Seokjin admonish him all the way from the kitchen, but it only serves to aggravate him even more, fingers twitching in his hoodie pocket where he has them balled up.
Hoseok takes it in stride, smiling easy as he brushes of Jungkook’s piss poor mood. “I know you don’t, Jungkook-ah. Just don’t think about it like that. You play-fight with us all the time, it’s not any different from that.”
Jungkook lets out another huff. Sure, technically it’s not different, except this has all this weight and meaning attached to it, none of which the new alpha can bring himself to care about. On top of that, he’s terrified of winning; he wins a lot—it’s a very real fear.
“Tomorrow afternoon, Jungkook-ah,” the older omega singsongs as he gets up. “We already told Namjoonie to be ready,” he leans in close causing Jungkook to stiffen with a with a combination of Hoseok’s scent so near—burning his nostrils in a way it never did before—and the mention of their leader.
His crush is probably an open secret at this point, he’s sure of it—just another fact of life; the sky is blue, the grass is green, and Jeon Jungkook is madly in love with Kim Namjoon. Now that he’s presented as an alpha, he’s not entirely sure what his next move should be, but he’s certain it can’t possibly be fighting him for his position because of some washed up tradition.
“And remember,” Hoseok scratches lightly at Jungkook’s hair before he starts to leave, making his way toward the kitchen, “It’s just for fun.”
Jungkook waits another moment before he pushes himself off the couch in a huff, going to sulk in his bedroom like he’d originally planned for his evening.
He refuses to participate. They simply can’t make him; he’s sure of it.
When he wakes up in the morning, Jungkook is mildly irritated that he hadn’t dreamed up the previous day’s events; he’s incredibly irritated by Taehyung tugging him out of bed to come eat breakfast so he “can keep up his strength.” Still, he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he shovels down the noodles that Seokjin sets in front of him all the same, albeit a bit angrily.
He immediately holes up in his room once he’s slurped down the last noodle, hoping—praying—that they’ll just forget about it. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.
Jungkook’s almost dozed off again, flipping aimlessly through every app on his phone. He thinks—prematurely, foolishly—that his plan had actually worked, that’s they all forgotten just because he’d stayed out of everyone’s hair.
His hopes are dashed again when Jimin comes to drag him out of his room a scant few hours later—not quite kicking, but maybe screaming a little bit—tugging him into the living room where he finds everyone already waiting. Namjoon stands from the couch as he and Jimin enter the room, moving to wait across from where the smaller alpha plants Jungkook.
Jungkook sighs heavily again; he really, really doesn’t want to do this—he has never had any interest in being a pack leader nor is it something he’s ever planned on wanting. Despite his insistence that he didn’t care, everyone had waved his concerns away with encouraging pats on the back during dinner the previous night. Everyone does it, Jungkook-ah, they had said.
Well, if everyone jumped off a cliff…
Jungkook shakes that thought before it can finish; he already knows the answer is yes, anyway.
He remembers Jimin and Namjoon’s fight, shortly after Jimin had presented; a “fight” that had ended with him pinned and breathless from the tickle assault Namjoon had subjected him to. He can even sort of recall Seokjin and Namjoon’s fight—after they’d all voted for Namjoon to be their leader—which ended in a similarly heated thumb war.
Even so, while he knows he really doesn’t have anything to worry about, this wasn’t an ordeal he was looking forward to. Jungkook looks though his bangs across the living room at Namjoon, trying to ignore the itch under his skin that reignites again as he eyes the other alpha, even as the older man gives him a small, dimpled smile and shy wave. He finds himself smiling back despite himself, his overwhelming crush doing its best to snuff out his instincts to make the other alpha submit.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Seokjin announces once Taehyung returns to the room, immediately snatching a handful of popcorn from the omega’s bowl as he wedges into a small empty space on their couch.
“It’s not a show,” Jungkook mutters to himself, even as he crouches into a more athletic stance. The itch has morphed into a low simmer, his nostrils burning with the dark spice of Namjoon’s scent even in the face of the rest of the pack.
“Alright, Jungkook-ah,” comes Namjoon’s deep voice; in any other situation, the alpha’s dark timbre would be a comfort to Jungkook. Now though, it only serves to stoke the fire growing inside of him. “We do this all the time, yeah? Just for fun,” he smiles at Jungkook, crouching down to a similar stance, his dark grey sweat-shorts riding up on his thick thighs.
Just for fun.
Jungkook nods, swallowing thickly as he tries to tamp down the way his instincts cry out, his alpha chomping at the bit for a chance to prove itself despite his own personal hesitation. He takes one last deep breath in an attempt to calm the mad wolf inside of him, glancing up again to see Namjoon beckoning him.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
And with that, Jungkook launches himself at the other alpha.
Everything happens quickly enough that Jungkook barely has time to process it all, his entire body working on autopilot. It’s nothing like Jimin or Seokjin’s fights; this is aggressive and purposeful in a way their matches hadn’t been, and Jungkook knows it’s because of him. They spar, hands flying as they aim jabs at one another’s torsos, the occasional dramatic cheer from one of the other five.
He vaguely registers the feeling of Namjoon’s elbow knocking him in his jaw, hard enough that he tastes the blood in his mouth from his freshly split lip, followed immediately by a stuttering apology.
“Oh, shit, Jungkook-ah, I’m so sorry—”
Jungkook can’t process Namjoon’s words over the blood rushing in his ears and the pounding at the back of his skull telling him to win at all costs. He whirls under the other man’s outstretched hand at the same time he kicks one of his legs out from under him, causing him to fall forward. Jungkook pounces, planting himself high up on the backs of Namjoon’s thighs and using his body weight to pin the other man down. He notices Namjoon trying to lift his head to turn and look at Jungkook, but succeeds only in ripping a snarl from the young alpha as he reaches out with one hand to scruff him, making him fall limp at the weight on his neck.
Everything around them is still—deathly so. Jungkook can just barely make out the other five’s scents over Namjoon’s thick musk directly beneath him and, if it weren’t for that, he could have almost forgotten they were there completely. He knows he’s sweating a bit, panting as he fights to catch his breath, still putting all his effort into keeping Namjoon held down—still riding the wave of aggression that has ripped through his body.
He’s not thinking when he leans forward even more, enough for his nose to brush the other man’s even sweatier hairline. Jungkook registers the fact that he’s growling low in his throat, even as he drags his teeth across the back of Namjoon’s neck, nipping slightly as he removes his hand; a warning to stay put.
Below him, Namjoon stutters out a breathless moan, rolling his head back down to bare more of his neck and, all at once, it’s like reality shifts back into focus and Jungkook becomes hyper-aware of everything around him. He still has his teeth dug in slightly to the back of Namjoon’s neck, and he’s not entirely sure if the others could hear the soft noise their leader let out, but he’s positive they can all see the way he’s baring his neck to Jungkook right now.
He’s also fairly certain they can see the way Jungkook is tenting his gym shorts where he’s perched on the backs of Namjoon’s legs.
Despite his awareness, though, he can’t bring himself to stop what he’s doing—to quit holding his leader down underneath him. Instead, Jungkook feels a bit like he’s floating just outside of his body, watching as he does things that he isn’t actively controlling. The next thing he knows, he’s leaning more of his weight into Namjoon, still growling with a low rumble in his chest, hard cock pressing into the swell of the other alpha’s ass.
As he leans forward, Jungkook digs his teeth in the back of Namjoon’s neck even more, securing his hold on the alpha. He can feel the others’ eyes on them both as he rolls his hips down, and he wonders if they can hear the other man’s soft gasp—see the way he tries to lift his hips to press back into Jungkook.
Jungkook isn’t sure why, but that action only serves to aggravate him even more—that Namjoon wouldn’t just stay still and take what Jungkook gives. He digs his fingers into the other man’s forearms where he’d been gripping him, bearing down even more.
He’s still not used to new way he perceives scents, only having barely a day to process it all; everything—everyone—smells different to him. Even Namjoon—whose scent he’s probably committed the closest to his memory—is off, something new running beneath his normal grassy scent that Jungkook hadn’t been able to place.
It’s still there now, even while he’s being pinned down underneath a shockingly aggressive newly presented alpha. But now there’s something else in addition to it all—something that’d only just started to make its way into Jungkook’s psyche. This, though, he recognizes immediately.
Arousal.
For a split second, he thinks it might be his own that’s just overflowing, or possibly even one of the other members, but as soon as the thought enters his mind, he knows it’s wrong. The natural, woodsy musk is still there, flooding Jungkook’s senses in a way that almost makes him feel drunk, but it’s darker somehow—headier. He’s not sure how he identifies it as arousal—maybe some baser, instinctual part of him that just knows—but he’s positive that’s what it is.
He likes this, Jungkook realizes. Namjoon is enjoying being pinned down by Jungkook. More than enjoying it, apparently.
On the couch, he can just barely hear someone shifting, the rustling of fabric on fabric—a sharp intake of breath.
Well. Maybe Seokjin was right. Maybe this is a show.
Jungkook still feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience, watching from a distance as someone else operates in his place. He watches while this other-him thrusts down harshly against Namjoon, still biting along the back of his neck. It’s not meant to be anything other than a display of the power he has over the older alpha, and Jungkook knows he’s delirious with it.
“Jungkook-ah, please,” Namjoon gasps out, subtly spreading his legs as much as he can while still mounted.
Jungkook sits up just enough to tug Namjoon’s hips up and his shorts down, leaving his bottom half spread open and bare. He uses one hand to pull both of the older alpha’s arms behind his back, gripping his wrists tightly in one hand as he ruts his own still-clothed cock against Namjoon’s naked ass.
The friction feels good—better than usual, even—and it spurs him almost into a single mindedness that he can’t bring himself to stop. Jungkook’s jerked off before, even had sex before, but everything feels somehow more now, with his presentation.
He’s panting more now that he had been when he and Namjoon had been fighting, sweat beading around his temples as he rubs himself off on the other man. Jungkook’s sure his grip must hurt—one hand digging into Namjoon’s wrists and the other into his hip—using the leverage the tug him back even harder. It doesn’t seem like he minds though, using what little balance he has to tilt his hips and press back to meet Jungkook’s thrusts.
God, it’s almost starting to hurt, the way his underwear is rubbing up against the sensitive skin of his cock, but he still can’t bring himself to slow down or stop. His briefs are soaked with precome, the wet patch growing by the second, and he hates the mess, the more conscious piece of him scrunching his nose is disdain.
The instinctual part of him, though, is preening at the way Namjoon has apparently elected to submit to him.
Behind them, he can just barely hear a sharp gasp accompanied by a cacophony of soft, wet noises, which only serves to make him preen even more.
Good. Let them all see who the victor is.
There’s an unfamiliar tingling feeling at the base of his cock, and he panics for a brief moment before he realizes—his knot.
Jungkook lets out the first noise that wasn’t a growl or vicious pant, moaning loudly as he throws his head back, ceasing his thrusts to opt for a harsh grind instead. It’s all hitting him at once: Namjoon’s submission, his victory, the members’ arousal at watching him.
His orgasm hits him out of nowhere, knot pulsing hot as he pumps hot into his shorts. Jungkook’s come a lot before, but this is an inordinate amount, even for him.
For breeding, his brain helpfully supplies, and all he can do is groan again, doubling over Namjoon’s back while his hips continue to twitch with each new wave of come that leaves him.
“Hey.”
Jungkook can only manage a grunt in response, chin tipped down against his chest and eyes squeezed shut.
“Jungkook-ah.”
It’s Namjoon. He really should say something; he should answer him.
“Nn,” Jungkook manages. Another spurt of come leaves his cock and he shudders.
“It’s over now. You worked hard—you did well,” comes Namjoon’s deep voice, all perfect and soothing, reaching through the haze to pluck directly at him. Jungkook smiles dopily, releasing the other alpha’s wrists finally, letting them drop to the sides of Namjoon’s body. He doesn’t back away, though, still pressed close as he smooths his palms across the expanse of Namjoon’s back.
He’s just about to put some distance between them when he makes a mistake—he takes a deep breath.
Everything comes rushing back to him in an instant: he can still hear—still smell—the others on the couch, sure, but more importantly, he can still smell Namjoon.
Namjoon, who is still underneath him and, evidently, still aroused.
If Jungkook had just been able to settle back into his body, he’s immediately punted back out once more—relegated to watching himself as a low growl begins bubbling its way out of his chest once again.
He grips both of Namjoon’s hips and shoves his own forward, hissing briefly at the oversensitivity and the sticky mess that’s cooling in his underwear. The other alpha gasps as he jostled forward again, bracing himself with his now-free hands placed up by his shoulders.
“Jungkook-ah, you—” he tries, but Jungkook isn’t in a place to hear it.
He proved he was a strong and capable fighter—that he’d be able to protect them all.
Now he needs to prove this to all of them, too.
Jungkook pauses for a brief moment, just long enough to shove his own shorts down and free his still-hard cock. He grunts with the exertion of maneuvering Namjoon to be where he wants and noting that, despite the squawk of protest, the other man follows along with Jungkook easily. He feels a sense of satisfaction as he surveys his handiwork: Namjoon, on his hands and knees in front of him, legs pressed together.
Behind them, he can faintly hear the sound of someone—he’s not sure who—whispering, accompanied by a long, drawn-out groan—Taehyung, he’s fairly certain—followed by a series of frantic breaths. He squeezes his own cock briefly, barely sparing a thought for how messy he is, soaked with his own come and the fresh wave of precome steadily leaking from the tip again. It feels good to know that they all watched him and got so affected, and the knowledge goes straight to his cock.
He leans down over Namjoon, covering the alpha’s back with his own body and sticks his messy hand directly in front of his face. Namjoon casts a look from the corner of his eye over his shoulder, obviously confused about what Jungkook is asking of him.
“Spit, alpha,” Jungkook says gruffly, tone dark in a way that it ever has been before.
Namjoon’s eyes widen slightly, but he complies anyway, gathering a decent amount of saliva in his mouth before spitting it directly into Jungkook’s waiting palm. He leans away again and uses his clean hand to spread Namjoon open, gazing down at the other man’s dark hole as he spreads the spit along his length, adding to the sticky-wet mess of his own fluids already there.
“Y-you can’t, Jungkook-ah, we need—” Namjoon starts, nervous for something that even in this state Jungkook wouldn’t try.
“Shut up,” he grits, slapping the head of his cock directly over Namjoon’s hole, relishing in the loud wet sound that echoes around them. He rubs his full length down Namjoon’s cleft a few times. Even though he had sounded nervous, Jungkook can feel the full-body shiver that runs through the other man’s body—the way his hole flutters greedily, like it’s waiting to be filled.
Another time, maybe.
Jungkook repositions himself, angling his hips down so that his cock slips between Namjoon’s thighs where they’re pressed together. He slides about halfway in before he pauses again, slapping Namjoon on the side of his ass—light enough that it won’t leave a mark, but hard enough to sting.
“Tighten up.”
Namjoon immediately complies, squeezing his thighs together even more, trapping Jungkook’s cock between them. The young alpha groans as he continues to push forward into the smooth pocket that Namjoon’s legs create, the thick muscle pressing around him. He moans again when the head of his dripping cock brushes against something once his own hips are flushed with Namjoon’s, realizing that he’s brushing against the other’s balls.
Jungkook shoves himself forward again, like he’s trying to fit his whole being as close to the other as he can, head falling to his chest when the force of his thrust causes Namjoon’s balls to brush against the sensitive head of his cock once more.
“Hyung,” he chokes out, the most like himself he’s been all afternoon.
Namjoon reaches back behind himself, lightly grasping at Jungkook’s hip. “It’s okay. Do what you need to do,” he soothes.
Jungkook nods helplessly, mouth hanging open as he begins to thrust forward, fucking Namjoon’s thighs in earnest. And it does feel good, the sensation heightened from a combination of having already coming once before, and the knowledge of the situation they’re in. That he fought another alpha and won; that his pack watched him come out on top; that they’ll all watching him take the spoils of victory now, and enjoying themselves as they do.
The hand that Namjoon had on Jungkook’s hip falls away, and he fuzzily notices the way it makes its way down between Namjoon’s own legs, the alpha’s scent flaring for a brief moment once he gets a grip on his own cock. It pulls another broken moan from Jungkook as he hunches over, rutting helplessly as he desperately chases his second orgasm.
“You did such a good job, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon pants below him, voice just barely louder than the sound of his own hand working at his leaking cock. “Showed us all how strong you are. Such a good alpha.”
That rips a sob from Jungkook’s throat as he falls into himself even more, still fucking Namjoon’s thighs at a frantic pace. He can feel his knot starting to swell again, and the part of him that’s floating outside of himself knows it won’t be long now.
“G-gonna show us all what a stud you are, too, yeah?” Namjoon finishes with a curse under his breath.
“Yeah,” Jungkook sobs again, “Yes, I will, I will,” he chants.
He can feel the cord in his gut starting to fray as his orgasm approaches once more—not a sudden overtaking like his first had been, but a full-body burn that starts at the very tips of his fingers and toes, slowly sparking its way inward until it hits him in his core.
When he comes this time, he’s still shocked at the sheer volume of it leaving him, especially since he’d already come once. But now, with Namjoon on the precipice of his own orgasm, his thighs squeezing tight around Jungkook’s knot, it’s like the sensation is tenfold from what it had been the first time. He falls forward, plastering himself to Namjoon’s back, hips fucking forward occasionally with each new wave of come he pumps out. It’s only a few moments later that he barely makes out a soft curse from Namjoon and Jungkook’s senses are suddenly flooded with a concentrated wave of Namjoon’s scent, their two scents swirling together in a cloud around them.
They both stay still for a few moments, barring the occasional shudder from the aftershocks of their respective orgasms, until Jungkook finally feels himself starting to go soft, slowly becoming aware of how sweaty and tacky he is with come. He peels his face back from where he’d had it resting on Namjoon’s shoulder, scrunching his nose at the damp spot left behind.
Namjoon groans as Jungkook backs away, rolling over and out of the mess of his own come pooled on the floor. Jungkook watches the other alpha as he falls backward, bare ass on their hard floor, finally feeling like he’s returned to himself. He takes in the sight in front of him: Namjoon covered in a sweat-drenched t-shirt, softening cock laying between his thighs that are messy with Jungkook’s come, his own knot taking a bit longer to come down.
Jungkook rolls his neck, sighing contentedly before he snaps his eyes open. He whips his head around, only to find the couch completely empty now. He’s not sure when everyone left, far too wrapped up in his own mind to notice, but he has no idea where they went or at what point they’d all steadily made their way out of the living room.
His scent must spike with panic or confusion because he immediately feels Namjoon’s hand on his knee, attempting to ground him.
“They left when you were still…uh,” he coughs, “When you were knotting me,” Namjoon finishes with a soft mumble.
Jungkook blushes furiously and only barely manages to fight the urge to cover his ears in embarrassment. But that’s good, that they’re all safe and everything is okay. He almost lets the relief wash over him until another realization hits him.
He fucking won. Jungkook challenged Namjoon for the leadership position of their pack and he won. And then he—he mounted and humped the other alpha until they both came. And everyone saw.
Oh shit, oh god, oh no—
Namjoon sits up quickly with a grunt, and takes both of Jungkook’s wrists in his own.
“Hey, Jungkook-ah, look at me.”
Jungkook turns to the older man obediently, even as he feels his eyes start to sting with unshed tears in his panic.
“Hyung, I don’t want—I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry, I don’t—”
He’s spiraling. Namjoon is his leader; that’s how it’s always been and that’s how Jungkook always wants it to stay.
Namjoon squeezes his wrists again, smoothing his thumbs over the scent glands there in an attempt to sooth the new alpha.
“It’s okay. Don’t be upset. It’s okay. Look at me, Jungkook-ah. I promise it’s going to be okay,” Namjoon speaks to him slowly, even as Jungkook’s brain starts moving at lightspeed, swirling with every unreasonable and outlandish scenario that he believes himself ill-equipped to deal with.
This is exactly why Namjoon-hyung is the best leader, he laments.
“It’s not okay,” he manages, throat constricting as he tries his best to hold back his tears, “It’s not okay, and now I have to—but I don’t want to—and you’re the best leader, I really don’t—”
“Nothing is going to change, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon laughs softly, changing strategies and wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders in an awkward hug.
The gesture only makes him more emotional, tears finally spilling over as he cries into Namjoon’s t-shirt. “How could it not?”
“The whole thing really was just…for fun,” Namjoon shrugs. “It doesn’t really mean anything. Unless you really wanted to be in charge, I guess we could go talk with the company and—”
“No!” Jungkook exclaims. He hates meetings even when it’s for stuff he does want; he’d rather die than subject himself to a conference room for something he wants nothing to do with.
Namjoon laughs again, squeezing Jungkook’s shoulders, “Then nothing will change. Okay?”
“But I—and then I—I held you down, hyung, I’m so sorry, I don’t—” Jungkook still has his face buried in Namjoon’s shirt, and he’s sure his words are muddied, not entirely sure the other man can even understand him, but he’s sitting with his bare ass on his living room floor and he’s feeling a bit confused.
“Well, that was,” the alpha clears his throat, “That was uh. Unusual,” he says.
Jungkook cringes. He’s so fucking embarrassing; he’s sure he definitely fucked up any miniscule chance he ever had at Namjoon being interested in him. Who just mounts and humps their crush like that? In front of their pack, too?
Way to show a total lack of control, Jungkook-ah. Just thinking with your dick; a total knot-head.
“But not exactly unwelcome.”
Jungkook whips his head up so quickly he almost knocks Namjoon in the chin. “What?” He sniffles.
“Just. You know,” Namjoon is looking everywhere in the room except at Jungkook directly in front of him. “It’s like. If you wanted to do something like that again. With me. I’d be…okay with it.”
Jungkook stares.
“But it doesn’t have to be with me, obviously,” Namjoon backpedals immediately. “You should totally go explore your options and have fun while you’re still young and—”
It’s stupid, but Jungkook is apparently on a roll of just doing shit today, so he tries to not think about it too much when he squeezes his eyes shut before leaning forward and crushing their lips together. He only makes it a brief moment before he panics again, pulling back with a stuttered apology on his lips.
“Hyung, fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
Namjoon cuts off his rambling with a kiss of his own, the pair of them staring cross-eyed at one another for a split second before realization washes over Jungkook and he slips his eyes shut. He sags into Namjoon, fingers clutching weakly at the fabric of his t-shirt, trying his best to not go out of his mind with the knowledge that Namjoon kissed him.
“Put some pants on; we’re hungry!” Seokjin hollers at them from the hallway, causing them both to pull away from one another abruptly.
Namjoon starts laughing into their kiss before he pulls away, and Jungkook briefly contemplates strangling Seokjin.
“Everyone else is uh…settled, then?” Namjoon calls.
“Yoongi-yah is dealing with them, but they’ll be done soon,” the oldest answers. “You need to figure out what we’re going to eat, though,” he says, pointing a stern finger like the two of them are in trouble before he disappears back down the hall.
“Well,” Namjoon starts, a grin overtaking his features, dimples etching their way into his soft cheeks.
Jungkook is wholly smitten.
“That sounds like a question for our new alpha, doesn’t it?” Namjoon’s shoulders shake with laughter even as he speaks.
Jungkook takes it all back—he hates it here. He’ll be booking the first train back to Busan in the morning.
For now, though, he settles for throwing his bunched-up shorts at Namjoon, who only cackles louder as the garment hits him square in the chest.
He tries to look genuinely sad when he speaks, but Jungkook finds himself giggling, too. “Hyung,” he whines, “I’m in a really vulnerable place right now. You shouldn’t make fun of me,” he finishes with his best pout.
“I guess you’ll just have to remind me who’s in charge then. Won’t you, alpha?” Namjoon’s eyes are twinkling as he stands, extending a hand to help Jungkook up from the floor.
Well. It’s just for fun, after all.