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Namjoon had stopped setting an alarm for himself years ago.

Why suffer being lurched into wakefulness by the angry screech of a digital alarm clock, when he can simply remain sleeping just long enough that Seokjin has to seek him out in person? Waking up to the gentle press of lips against the back of his neck and a soft, fondly murmured “Joonie” is by far the better option.

And Namjoon isn’t an idiot - he knows how irresistable his scent can be first thing in the morning, sweet and fresh and oh so tempting. By the time Jin comes in to wake him, it’ll have been at least five hours since he was last claimed by one of his bondmates, and any Alpha worth their salt will be able to smell that on him in a heartbeat.

Seokjin is no exception. 

Which is why, every morning without fail, the elder will end up peeling the blankets away to drape himself over Namjoon’s back, mouthing kisses down the side of his throat, telling him how sweet he smells, how pretty he looks, how warm he feels, and would you look at that, Namjoon’s already wet and aching for a knot.

“You wanna?” the Omega slurs, still half-asleep but already very keen for his first morning fuck. Gods, when isn’t he wet? Being the only Omega in a pack of six healthy, eager Alphas, there’s rarely an hour goes by when he isn’t slicking up because one of them has started getting handsy with him.

And, granted, because Namjoon is basically horny as fuck 24/7.

He’d stopped wearing pyjama pants years ago, too. They took too much energy to put on again after his last fuck of the evening, and made it difficult for the younger pups to gain access to him during the night if they needed relief. And Namjoon really didn’t want to have to think about the logistics of disrobing himself at seven o’clock in the morning when he was still so sleepy and cosy. Better just to fall asleep bare below the waist and let Jin handle everything without the need for any sort of effort on his part.

Namjoon definitely enjoys being handled by Kim Seokjin.

The Alpha is fucking huge.  

And it’s not just his knot, which is gloriously thick at full capacity, or his cock, which is long enough to make Namjoon’s stomach bulge if he’s bent in half at the right angle (they’ve done a lot of experimenting over the years, because Jin really gets off on the whole stomach-bulge thing). No, Jin is just big in general - the only pack member who’s both taller and broader than Namjoon, who can truly overpower him physically without the need for settling nips or dominating Alpha-pheromones, and Namjoon loves that about him. Loves being pinned beneath his weight, pressed down against the bed as Seokjin nudges his thighs apart, held in place with a hand on his nape as the Alpha’s cock pushes into him roughly.

Namjoon’s built up a lot of muscle over the years - dancing and a steady workout regime will do that to a guy, regardless of subgender - and while being a little buff isn’t necessarily unusual for Omega idols, he is significantly taller than most of the other Omegas in the industry. Far too often, news outlets overseas still mistake him for an Alpha when they’re writing a piece about BTS, usually assuming that Yoongi or Jimin (as the petite, baby-faced members of the group) are Omegas.

And it doesn’t bother him so much any more, not really - he came to accept his body a long time ago, and he’s found confidence in his strong physique, no longer compelled to hide his thick thighs and toned arms and bulking pecs beneath huge baggy sweatshirts and hoodies, as he once did. He’s comfortable in his skin, truly he is...

But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy being made to feel smaller than he is - having a bondmate like Seokjin, someone physically bigger than him in every way who can effortlessly make him feel like a petite, precious Omega, is absolutely his favourite way to start the morning. 

“Always so good for me, Joonie,” Jin coos once they’re securely tied together, the Alpha’s cock pulsing its hot release as he rocks his knot back and forth inside the Omega, laughing softly at Namjoon’s sleepy whine. “Five more minutes and I’ll have you pumped nice and full. Why don’t we shower after breakfast today, hm? We can keep you plugged up all snug until then, maybe let the pups have a go before we clean you out. Sound good?”

Namjoon hums, clenching around the knot in eager agreement, and Jin rewards his enthusiasm by reaching beneath them to stroke Namjoon firmly towards his second orgasm of the morning.

It isn’t even seven-fifteen yet. Today’s already going great.







“You want me to turn it up a little higher?” Yoongi asks him, rubbing a soothing hand down his spine.

They’re settled on the couch, Namjoon’s head and shoulders pillowed in a cushion on the Alpha’s lap, tremors running through him as the knotting-vibrator propels him rapidly towards another orgasm. There’s a towel beneath his hips to protect the leather of the couch, his clothes folded neatly on a chair nearby to keep them clean, and the soft melody of Yoongi’s new track playing on low in the background. 

“Joon-ah,” Yoongi prompts gently, squeezing the back of his nape. “Are you close? Tell hyung what you need, sweetheart.”

Namjoon whines, pressing his face into the cushion and clenching tight around the toy as he feels the electric-hot tendrils of his approaching orgasm.

“Bigger,” he manages to gasp, head turned to one side. “Fuck, please, need it-”

Yoongi reaches for the remote without hesitation and clicks on one of the controls to inflate the silicone knot even further. The increased pressure against Namjoon’s sensitive inner walls and the heightened bzzzt of the toy’s vibrations have him seizing up immediately, everything from his teeth to his toes clenching as his orgasm slams into him powerfully.

Namjoon’s ears are ringing, but whether that’s due to the intensity of his climax or the volume of his resultant scream, it’s hard to tell.

Just as he’s crested that euphoric peak and the constant vibrations threaten to turn pleasure into something far more torturous, there’s a quiet click of the remote and the buzzing ceases.

“Good boy,” Yoongi purrs into the echoing silence that follows, gently rubbing Namjoon’s heaving back. “So pretty for me, Joon-ah.”

The toy’s knot stays firmly lodged inside of him, and Namjoon’s grateful for it, clenching down again just to feel that wonderful fullness, breathing in deep to get a lungful of Yoongi’s mocha scent. The Alpha smells satisfied, and his inner Omega couldn’t be happier.

Mating with Yoongi is always something extra special. It had taken a couple of years to work out how best to satisfy the Alpha’s needs without doing or saying anything that might make him uncomfortable, and they’d had a couple of missteps back in the beginning, but Yoongi’s always been upfront and honest with him about his sexual preferences - or occasional lack thereof. 

Sometimes mating with Yoongi meant curling up together fully-clothed to share kisses and gentle touches, perhaps with a thigh between his legs, the Alpha coaxing him to grind down on it to achieve his own release. Sometimes Yoongi liked to see him naked, fucking himself on a thick dildo, watching without touching, seemingly content just to witness Namjoon’s pleasure. And on other occasions Yoongi would take control of the mating more directly, be the one with the remote that controlled a vibrator or fucking machine, petting Namjoon gently while he let the toy ring orgasm after ogasm from him.

Namjoon has only seen Yoongi’s beautiful cock a handful of times, on the nights when his bondmate felt comfortable to touch himself during a mating session without his clothes on, and while each of those occasions had been lovely, having Yoongi fully-dressed and stroking his hair while he sobs through the oversensitivity of his eighth consecutive orgasm is an excellent alternative to getting knotted.

And what comes afterwards is wonderful, too. Once Namjoon’s recovered enough to be able to sit up and sip at a bottle of juice, snugly plugged up and swaddled in a thick blanket, Yoongi will cuddle up against him, sometimes even straddle his lap, bury his nose in Namjoon’s scent-gland, and purr. 

It’s just about the best sound in existence, in Namjoon’s opinion.

Alphas usually only purr like that when their instinctive need to mate and breed has been fully sated, and to hear that soft, rumbling hum come from Yoongi, an Alpha who confessed to having no real desire to pop a knot or breed his cunt, makes Namjoon’s inner-Omega preen. Whatever needs Yoongi did have, Namjoon had satisfied them, and that’s all that mattered. 








Hoseok often liked to play rough, much to Namjoon’s delight.

Seokjin was a gentle lover, thorough but careful, and the pups were always enthusiastic but always respectful as one would be with an elder bondmate, regardless of subgender. Hoseok, on the other hand, had no qualms about manhandling Namjoon into whichever position was most convenient for him at the time, despite their size difference.

“Fucking winking at the camera like that,” Hoseok growls playfully, shoving him over the desk almost the second the door lock clicks into place. “You know that’s gonna be all over Naver in like an hour.”

Namjoon laughs, propping himself up on his arms to peer back at the dancer, shaking his ass. 

“Knew you’d be watching,” he teases, because with Hoseok that’s what he does, that’s how they work, the playful back-and-forth that riles them both up to boiling point. “What’s wrong, Hobi, you jealous of me flirting with a few million fans?”

His bondmate’s answering grin is dark, promising.

“Oh, so you were being a flirt?” Hoseok remarks, draping himself over Namjoon from behind, clothed erection pressing against the Omega’s clothed ass as finger curl into his hair, tugging to bare his throat. “If you wanted another spanking so soon, you only had to ask, sweet thing.”

Namjoon moans as teeth graze over his scent-gland, slick already dripping from him at the intensity of the Alpha’s pheromones. 

“Yeah?” Hoseok breathes against the shell of his ear, a smile in his voice. “You want Alpha to paddle that cute ass of yours before I knot you?”

Fuck, the mouth on that man. He’s made Namjoon cum before just from this; holding him down firmly, mouthing at his neck, describing in detail everything he intends to do to the Omega. It’s hot as fuck, and Namjoon lives for that thrill of excitement and anticipation that fills him as soon as Hoseok has him pinned.

“Think I’ll tie you up first,” the Alpha muses aloud, fingertips trailing over Namjoon’s wrist and down his arm where it’s resting on the desk. “You always look so pretty all trussed up for me.” He pauses, and stops the teasing tone just long enough to check, “You okay with that, Joon?”

And how else is Namjoon supposed to reply to that excellent suggestion, other than with an enthusiastic “fuck yes” and an immediate rush of slick.









Namjoon had never banked on being the leader of an idol group. 

He’d initially signed up to BigHit as a producer, both he and Yoongi together - as a fellow nerd and passionate lyricist, the Alpha had collabed with him a couple of times during their first tentative steps into the underground rap circle.

Nobody had realised he was an Omega back then, except Yoongi. Six feet tall, dosed up on suppressants and covered in so much scent-blocker he couldn’t even smell himself, there really hadn’t been any way for strangers to know his real subgender. Not that Omega rappers were a rare thing, society wasn’t that backwards, but the nature of the underground rap culture in general tended to attract predominantly Alphas - it was all about showing off, bragging and posturing and trying to verbally out-Dom each other on stage, a non-physical fight to see who had the biggest metaphorical dick, ect. It had been amusing, in all honesty, seeing them all trying so hard to be badass, almost to the point of parody. The failed attempts at witty comebacks, the cheap diss-lyrics, compensating for a poor sense of rhythm by being louder and more aggressive in their delivery, hoping to come across the biggest, the baddest, the most intimidating...only to inevitably be bested by Namjoon in front of a live audience at every rap battle.

He wonders, sometimes, on how his old opponents must have felt after Bangtan’s debut, when BigHit had pushed the strong-Omega-leader narrative so hard (keen to attract a western demographic usually unattainable by majority-Alpha groups). Had the defeat stung more once they finally realised they’d actually lost to a nerdy teenage Omega rather than the untouchable Beta he’d pretended to be in the underground? He likes to think so.

Namjoon genuinely hadn’t expected to make it through the the trainee-elimination process, not with dance being such a huge factor - gods, the number of nights he’d come home with blisters the size of golfballs after running through the same song over and over again in the days leading up to their monthly review, convinced he was one misstep away from being kicked out. Being whittled down from twenty-two talented trainees to seven potential group members had been surreal, especially when he’d come to realise that he was the only Omega who’d made it through - the only non-Alpha, as it turned out, because even little Kookie had begun presenting in their final months of training (and had swiftly been put on good quality suppressants, like the rest of them). 

For once, being the odd one out had actually worked in his favour when the time came for the company executives to decide who would represent the group as their leader.

“We need someone who can appeal to a wider audience,” Bang Si-Hyuk had explained, as Namjoon sat in his office - a little stunned, still reeling a little from knowledge that he’d made it , staring down at the contract in front of him. “I know you’ve already vouched for Seokjin and Yoongi as capable pack-leaders, but with the group so...Alpha-heavy, we feel it would be better to allow someone else to speak for Bangtan Sonyeondan. You’ve got a sane head on your shoulders, Namjoon-ah, and the other boys trust your judgement - the position of leader is yours, if you’ll have it.”

Saying yes hadn’t taken a great deal of deliberation on Namjoon’s part. By that point, he’d already begun the bonding process with Yoongi and Seokjin, and his growing infatuation with Hoseok was no secret either. As an Omega, he had certain cravings, suppressants or not, and both Jin and Hoseok had been all too happy to help scratch that itch in the privacy of his and Yoongi’s tiny shared studio. 

The maknaes had still been pups back then, too young for him to feel anything beyond a warm sort of platonic affection and that instinctive Omega-impulse to protect anyone younger than himself, but those feelings had definitely changed over the years.

Oh boy, had they changed.

Namjoon still thinks back on those first nights together fondly. How nervous the pups had been when they’d joined him in bed, finally old enough to come off suppressants and be accepted by the hyungs as bondmates rather than packmates, all of them so sweetly eager to prove themselves despite no prior experience. Taehyung had almost popped a knot in his pants when Namjoon spread his legs invitingly. Jimin had cursed up a blue storm when they locked together, and then immediately started apologising for it - Namjoon hadn’t been able to choke down his resulting laugh, and Jimin’s ears had gone red in embarrassment.

And gods, he can still remember Jungkook’s flushed cheeks, the way the pup’s eyes had widened adorably when Namjoon took his hand to guide him closer between his parted thighs, the bob of the Alpha’s throat as Kookie tried not to let his anxiety show. Namjoon had done his very best not to coo, because the pup had clearly been trying to live up to his newly-adult status and prove his worth as a good bondmate, but damn, he’d been so fucking cute.

Seokjin had been there on those ‘first’ nights too, both as a source of reassurance and encouragement for the maknaes, and as a watchful eye in case the pups got a little too enthusiastic and tried to initiate a mating bite prematurely. None of them had, because they were Namjoon’s good boys, but Seokjin’s presence had been a welcome one all the same. 

Years have passed since then, and long-gone are those shy, hesitant pups who had so tentatively scooted between his thighs to carefully fuck their first knot into him...and in their place are three of the most shameless, insatiable Alphas that Namjoon has ever encountered in his whole fucking life.

Not that he’s complaining. 

“Good job,” Namjoon slurs, cheek smushed against the fabric of the couch in his studio, reaching behind himself clumsily to pat Taehyung’s hip as the younger man’s cock finally stops spurting inside of him and the swollen knot begins to deflate. “Feeling better?”

“Mm,” Taehyung hums, a satisfied sound, and leans over Namjoon’s back to kiss his shoulder. “Thanks, Joonie-hyung. I’m gonna pull out now, ‘kay?”

Namjoon gives an answering hum, trying his best to clench up as the Alpha slips free, but after being tag-teamed by the maknae trio for the better part of the afternoon, he’s significantly looser than he had been earlier on, and he feels some of the liquid warmth dribble out of him and down his inner thigh despite his best efforts.

“Hyuuung,” he hears Jungkook protest, the maknae’s pout audible - Namjoon doesn’t have the energy to open his eyes, but he can picture the pup’s pursed lips well enough. “No, don’t let it out.”

“Ah, fuck, we should’ve brough a plug,” Jimin laments, and Namjoon hears drawers being opened and closed over on the other side of his studio. “Hyung, where’d you put that big purple one? It was here yesterday…”

The Omega feels fingers scooping up the spilled seed and pushing it back inside - by the soft, cute noises of frustration, it’s probably Kookie - Namjoon’s giant Alpha-baby. 

Sighing fondly, the Omega blinks a few times to shake off that foggy, well-fucked feeling and reaches for his phone to skim through a few emails, letting the maknaes debate behind him about how best to resolve the issue. Might as well do something productive while the pups are busy fussing about his unstuffed cunt. 

“The stylists are asking for our input on this year’s season’s greeting album,” he reports, shifting a little to make himself more comfortable, feeling something wet dribbling down his thighs in the process. 

Jungkook whines again, and Namjoon feels teeth nip lightly at his asscheek in protest.

“Hyung!”

“Ooh, can we do crop tops for one of the shoots?” Taehyung asks, kneeling down beside the couch to press his cheek against Namjoon’s, reading the email with him. “I wanna show off my abs. It’s a crime that Moonbin got to be more of a hoe than me this year, I need to catch up.”

“Crop-tops would be cute.” Namjoon grins fondly, turning his head just enough to kiss the Alpha’s cheek. “I’m sure we can figure something out. Anything else?”

“Chokers!” Jimin pipes up from across the room, still rummaging through the Omega’s filing cabinet, probably ruining his alphabetised stationary - Namjoon will need to nip him for it later. “Festive ones, if they wanna keep in-theme. Hyung, why is there a paddle in here?”

“Hobi gets bored sometimes,” Namjoon answers distractedly, busy trying to reply to the email in a way that doesn’t make him sound utterly shameless - a hard task, given that he’s asking for crop tops and chokers - stretching his legs out behind him one at a time to flex his stiff hamstrings. More wetness leaks out of him at the position change, dribbling down to make a mess of the leather couch (thank fuck for wet wipes).

Jungkook growls, a low rumble that makes Namjoon’s thumbs pause in their tapping and his traitorous, ever-horny inner Omega rear it’s hoe-head in keen interest, heat curling anew in his belly.

“Stop moving,” the maknae-Alpha complains. Despite the growl in his voice, his tone is still sulky-whiny-baby enough to make Namjoon smile. 

Sometimes it’s fun to tease the pups, remind them that while he’ll always be their eager-to-breed Omega, he’s still their leader.

“What, you mean like this?” Namjoon deliberately spreads his legs and pushes, feeling the rush of cum-and-slick seep out of him to splatter against the couch.

Jungkook gasps in dismay and uses four fingers to hurriedly stuff him up, trying to prevent further loss. 

“Hyung!” Jimin protests, laughing, finally abandoning his search for a plug. “That was mean, look at the poor baby’s face.”

Namjoon does so, propping himself up on one hand to glance back over his shoulder, finding Jungkook kneeling on the couch between his spread legs, staring back at him with a sulky-frowny pout.

It’s fucking adorable. 

The pup has a thing about keeping his Omega pumped full and plugged, despite birth control meds and a long-term implant making pregnancy a complete impossibility - it’s just part of the Alpha’s natural mating drive, Namjoon gets that. And Kookie’s drawing close to his rut, so those impulses must be especially strong this week. Namjoon resists the urge to coo at him, because Jungkook would only blush and get all squirmy if Joon called him out on it. The big baby.  

He smiles, and glances down at his phone again to close the email, instead opening up the hyung-line groupchat. 

“I’ll ask Yoongi to bring a plug over once he’s done recording,” the Omega promises, quickly typing out the message. “He always keeps a couple in his studio.”

Jungkook makes a soft noise of acknowledgement, but Namjoon can still hear the pout in it. He sighs again and reaches for his discarded hoodie, tugging it closer and bunching it up to form a makeshift pillow before lowering his cheek back down onto the cushioning fabric, scooting his knees underneath himself to prop his ass up at an angle.

“You wanna go again, baby?” he offers indulgently, pretending like it’s entirely for Jungkook’s benefit and not because having the pup’s fingers still stuffed inside him is already making heat coil tight in his loins. “We’ve got time.”

The immediate spike of Alpha-pheromones in the room is obvious, and Namjoon hides his grin in the fabric of his hoodie. They’re all so easy to rile up, and he loves them for it.

“You’re not too tired?” Jungkook checks, tentative but hopeful as he pulls his fingers free. 

Jimin scoffs. “C’mon Kookie, when has our Joonie-hyung ever been too tired for a knot? He’s got crazy stamina. Strongest Omega-mate in South Korea.”

Namjoon tries not to preen visibly at that, but some reactions are just biologically programmed into one’s genes. Praise is good. Praise is wonderful.  

And fuck yes, he’s got stamina. He knows he’s a good leader, a good Omega, someone who can adequately provide for his pack and meet their needs in every capacity. He knows of other idol-packs in the industry who have to rely on suppressants for the duration of their careers, or worse, who rely on outside help through rut-settling services to Alphas during their yearly cycle (and gods, how many first and second generation idols have since found themselves the unfortunate victims of the false-pregnancy scandals that had resulted from those external service contracts?). Namjoon shudders to even think about any of his bondmates turning elsewhere to satisfy their needs. Their knots are his, and he’ll fight any other Omega who tries to tempt them away from him.

“You’re such a sweetheart, Kookie,” Namjoon praises, because he’s pleased his pups are still so sweet and thoughtful even after all these years, despite Namjoon’s daily reassurances that they can take whatever they need from him as regularly as required. “Thank you for asking. It’s okay, you can fuck me as hard as you need to, I can take it.”

When the pup hesitates a moment longer, Namjoon turns his head to glance back over his shoulder, spreading his legs a little wider. 

“Please, baby? Hyung really needs a knot-”

The Alpha chokes on a soft growly-moan, hands gripping Namjoon’s hips, erection bumping between the Omega’s thighs. At the contact, Jungkook’s breath stutters out of him in a shaky whoosh, and the head of his cock is suddenly pushing up against Namjoon’s loose entrance to thrust smoothly inside.

“Gonna give it to you,” the maknae promises, a little breathless already, hips rocking forward. “Gonna make you cum on my knot, hyung.”

Smiling, Namjoon rests his head back down on the makeshift hoodie-pillow. 

“Good boy.”

There’s a rustle beside him, Taehyung shifting on his knees next to the couch, and Namjoon turns his head to see the pup already fisting his own renewing erection.

“Can I go again, too?” the Alpha asks hopefully, leaning to kiss Namjoon, his hand still moving quickly over his cock. “After Kookie?”

“Now wait a minute,” Jimin complains, audibly pouty, and Namjoon hears the draws the filing cabinet slam closed. “You had a go right before Kookie, if anyone’s next it’s me.”

“Tough luck, I asked first.” Taehyung turns to poke his tongue out at the other maknae. “You snooze, you lose.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow a little, and he looks ready to growl, so Namjoon raises a hand to shush them both. 

“Be nice to each other, or neither of you get to knot me after Koo,” he tells them, voice hitching every few seconds as Jungkook finds his rhythm, hips smacking loudly against the Omega’s ass. “Now shh a sec, I need to finish this email.”

Working with a cock fucking into him is nothing new - Namjoon’s perfected the art of multitasking over the years, and some of his best rap lyrics were written bouncing in Seokjin’s lap or knot-warming Hoseok after dance practice. 

“Maybe we should ask for a specific location for this year’s outdoor shoot,” he muses aloud, pitching the idea to his maknaes. “We could go someplace where there’s already snow? Maybe even a ski resort?”

“That would be cool,” Jungkook agrees, just the teeniest bit tremulous as he tries to adjust Namjoon’s hips to a better angle. “It’s been forever since we went snowboarding. Fuck...Tae, can you help? I wanna go deeper.”

Taehyung hums and lets go of his own cock to roll smoothly to his feet, gripping Namjoon’s thigh and waist, spreading his legs wider and pushing his hips further up. The new angle briefly makes the Omega see stars as Jungkook pummels his sweet-spot with greater accuracy, and by the time he’s blinked his vision back into focus, his email is full of typos.

“A ski resort could be fun,” Jimin agrees, stealing Taehyung’s previous spot on the floor so that he can lean in and steal a few kisses of his own. Jungkook suddenly does something with his hips that makes Namjoon gasp, and Jimin smiles against his mouth, pulling back to watch his expression keenly. “Oh...I think he liked that, Kookie. Do it again”.

“Do what, this?”

That same upwards-twisting thrust, and Namjoon’s toes curl as pleasure zings through him, the first tremors of a brimming orgasm. 

Knowing he’s liable to accidentally type and/or send something that he’ll later regret if he continues, Namjoon exits the email app and locks his phone, tossing the device away and crying out softly as another of those sharp thrusts rocks him forward.

He hears all three maknaes rumble their approval at his reaction, feels their hands on him, a little rougher now in their enthusiasm, pressing his head down, lifting his hips up, pulling and tugging and petting as Jungkook fucks into him more rapidly, until the wonderful pressure building up inside him bursts and he feels a rush of slick gush down his thighs as he cries out, pressing his face into the hoodie.

“Oh, shit,” Tae breathes, as Jungkook growls and shoves his newly-formed knot inside, locking them together. “Fuck, Kookie, look at that - you made him squirt.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Jimin moans, mouthing at Namjoon’s scent-gland like a man starved. 

The chime of the (long-ago-soundproofed) locked studio door has them all pausing, Namjoon trying to shake off fuzzy orgasm-high long enough to think coherently. 

“S’probably Yoongi,” he slurs, and gently bats Jimin away from his neck with a clumsy hand.

Jimin huffs and gives his lightly-mauled scent gland one last lick before rolling to his feet and tucking himself back inside his joggers to go answer the door. Namjoon hears the momentary pause as Jimin presumably checks the identity of the visitor through the peep-hole, before the door is quickly unlocked and opened. 

“Hey,” Yoongi greets, a casual drawl. “What’s the big emergency, why’d you need- holy fuck, what did you do to the couch?”

Namjoon grins into his hoodie, unrepentant.

“We didn’t have a plug,” Taehyung explains, lightly petting at the base of Namjoon’s spine as Jungkook’s cock continues to pulse inside of him. “Joonie-hyung made a mess.”

“Yeah, no - that’s all your mess, cubs,” Yoongi counters, and Namjoon feels the couch dip beneath his upper body as the Alpha perches beside his head. “It wasn’t his fault the three of you came unprepared...quite literally. Jiminie, you have hands, go grab some tissues.” Gentle fingers card through Namjoon’s hair. “You doing okay, Joon-ah?”

Namjoon turns his head just enough to peek up at his fellow rapper. Yoongi’s gaze is warm and full of love as he peers down at him, and it makes something in the Omega’s chest swell hot and tight.

“M’good,” he reassures, uncurling the fingers of one hand from his hoodie to tug lightly at the sleeve of Yoongi’s soft sweater. “C’mere, wanna kiss.”

Yoongi’s smile curls wider, fondly amused, even as he leans down to oblige.

“Someone’s feeling floaty, I see,” the Alpha remarks, lips trailing from Namjoon’s mouth to his jawline, before trailing down his throat, Yoongi’s nose dragging across his scent-gland. “How many knots so far?”

Was Namjoon supposed to be counting? He used to do that, back when making it to double digits in a twenty-four hour period felt like some kind of monumental accomplishment. Now if he hasn’t hit a dozen by mid-afternoon, there’s something very wrong with his bondmates.

“Mmm...lots,” he answers, a pleased hum. 

“Ah.” Yoongi breathes a quiet laugh and kisses his throat, one hand stroking gently up and down his spine. “And are the pups taking good care of you? Keeping you fed, hydrated?”

Namjoon nods, pointing vaguely towards the little table just beyond the arm of the couch that houses an array of sugary drinks and easy-to-hand-feed snacks. Every couple of knots they’ll make sure he takes a few gulps of something; Seokjin trained them well.

“Good,” the Alpha notes approvingly, and kisses him again. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Plug’s on the desk when you need it, puppies.”

He pulls away to murmur something else to the younger Alphas, but Namjoon can’t quite catch it, too distracted by the sensation of Jungkook’s knot beginning to deflate. Before he can catch it, a soft, displeased sound escapes him and he clenches instinctively around the shrinking bulge, trying to keep the pup inside a little longer, muscles tensing.

Four voices shush him gently, hands petting him all over as Jungkook pulls out, only for another cock to sink into him a split second later before any of the maknae’s seed has time to escape. 

“It’s okay, hyung, we’ve got you,” Jimin reassures, snapping his hips forward in a rough thrust that goes at odds with his sweet, soothing tone. “Alpha’s gonna give you what you need.”

Such a good boy.

Namjoon settles down immediately, rubbing his cheek against the hoodie and letting his muscles go lax again. 

He’s in good hands.

 

 

 


 

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