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Hindsight is a bitch. Hobi isn’t going to pretend that he’s proud of how he reacted when he found out, though he thinks about it constantly now. Wishes he could blink his eyes and go back to this morning, and say the right things.
He’d been half asleep for one, which was never a good start. His mom had always said that waking up a sleeping Hobi was akin to poking a hibernating bear and expecting it to smile.
Hobi needs hours every morning to fully come alive, to cultivate the sunshine personality that he works so hard on projecting to the world. It’s why he religiously gets out of bed at 7am every day, despite not having any classes until 10am. He needs time to do his hair, his skincare, pick the exact right outfit for the vibe he’s feeling that day. He needs to choose the perfect song to get ready to. He needs time to choose the right breakfast, for God’s sake. Scrambled eggs on rye toast when he has studio early in the day, and something lighter if it’s a day of lectures. The joys of a double major in History and Dance.
Jungkook is a different beast entirely. Maybe it’s an omega thing to be hardwired cute with zero effort required, because every morning, he rolls out of bed ten minutes before they have to leave looking soft cheeked, soft eyed, soft haired. And within five minutes and with copious amounts of food stolen from Hobi’s plate, he’s his happy, bright eyed self.
It doesn’t take much at all for Jungkook to just be Jungkook , and that’s part of the reason it had all happened for Hobi. He couldn’t help but be attracted to the omega with the glossiest eyes, the thickest hair, and the strangest living habits of anyone he’d ever met.
It’s what made it all so strange that Jungkook had shaken him awake at ten minutes past six this morning. With only a single eye cracked open, Hobi could tell that the omega had been crying. His big, chestnut eyes were ringed with red, and he was sniffling into his sweater paws.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he’d said, worried but thoroughly unprepared for how their day was going to go. He thought that maybe Jungkook had uncharacteristically flunked a class, or gotten some red socks mixed in with his white tees. “What happened sweetheart, tell me.”
“My heat. I’ve been so distracted with rendering this dumb recycling center model that it just… slipped my mind.” He bit his plush little pink lip, blunt Omegan canines digging little tooth marks into his skin. “I’m two weeks late, Hob-ah.”
Hobi felt his stomach turn to lead. He was still in his bed, propped up on an elbow while Jungkook perched on the edge, waiting for a reaction. Any kind of reaction, really. Anything other than a dumbass alpha turned entirely to stone, immovable and frightened.
So now, he wishes he could go back in time, and kick himself in the ass, drag his stupid self out of bed so he could comfort Jungkook, hold him. Tell him that no matter what happens, he won’t be alone. He wishes now that he hadn’t cried before he’d said “I’m here to support you”. He always was more of a crier than Jungkook.
They’ve been living together for a year now, and sleeping together for about ten months.
It had happened slowly at first, just small lingering touches while they watched TV at night. Then Hobi had started making enough breakfast for the both of them, and if Jungkook’s plate ended up with extra hash browns, or the best streaks of bacon, then what of it? He was just an alpha with a crush, afterall. Jungkook had started thanking him with little kisses on the cheek, soft presses of his raspberry lips that lingered for hours and hours after they’d parted for classes.
Those kisses had quickly become addictive. And when cheek kisses became tongue kisses, and tongue kisses became blow jobs and morning sex, Hobi had truly walked down the path of dependency. Slick-stricken, his brother would have said.
And here they are now, ten months in with such in-depth knowledge of each other’s bodies they could each write a thesis on it.
Night after night, they turn off the TV and vow to spend some time alone. Hobi has to put in some early hours at the gym he part-times at or maybe Jungkook has a final coming up for his Architecture degree, and needs to make some model or other. Their intentions are always so good as they march off to their respective bedrooms, peering over their shoulders at each other, Jungkook with a pout and Hobi with a determined frown creased into his face. It’s hard to stay strong when their rooms share a wall—when Hobi can not only picture Jungkook shimmying out of his baggy jeans, out of his tight little Calvin Kleins, but smell the rush of berries the second he gets naked just a room away. It’s a pavlovian response now, how hard he gets within seconds when he catches raspberry on the air.
And inevitably, it is always Hobi that breaks first. Jungkook has a talent for waiting him out. When he crawls into the darkness of the omega’s bedroom with his proverbial wolf’s tail between his legs, it’s always to that same little giggle, the rush of fruity pleasure, and a huffed little “I told you so”.
Well. Look where that got them.
But they don’t just have sex either, although the sex is mind blowing. Jungkook is wild and uninhibited, willing to try it all, eager to coax Hobi out of his repressed shell. For the first month or two, they just had vanilla sex. Fucked in the missionary position, made each other come hard and often. And just sex had turned into Jungkook introducing him to his alluring box of toys, edging him for hours on end with his wrists bound, riding him senseless until he didn’t know his own name.
They don’t really share any hard kinks per se, but they do share a passion for trying anything and everything. Jungkook makes sex fun and exciting and unpredictable.
But they also just sleep—hold each other, cuddle into the night, talk about their problems and trade childhood stories. When Hobi thinks about Jeon Jungkook, now, it’s not always about his tiny waist, his rock hard abs, and the way he slicks up faster than any other omega he’s ever been with. Which is two, by the way. Before Jungkook, he’d slept with a grand total of two omega girls.
Instead, Hobi thinks about beautiful, soulful eyes that contain multitudes. He thinks about a soft voice that starts to lisp when Jungkook is tired, that sings like a dream, that soothes him when he’s upset. He thinks about a beautiful soul, and when he ponders on why that is, Hobi wonders when exactly it was that he became such an enormous, down bad, simp.
So yeah, they’ve been fucking for ten months when it happens, and Hobi has been in love with Jeon Jungkook for maybe five of them.
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to be looking for,” Jungkook whimpers when they’re standing together in the cramped aisle of the college’s pharmacy.
It’s kind of messed up really that they put the pregnancy tests right beside the sex stuff. Sure, Hobi knows how pregnancy happens, wouldn’t be in this situation if he didn’t. But does he need to look at fifty types of artificial slick and knotting condoms of every colour, taste, and texture while he’s freaking out about potentially becoming a father at 22?
No, frankly he doesn’t. He wonders if he’ll ever have sex again, and then he feels really bad that that is what he’s thinking about while something is actually happening to Jungkook’s body. He reaches out and squeezes his omega… the omega’s hand.
“Lets just get one of each?” He says, picking up a digital test that claims it can predict the sex of a pup after only 4 weeks. That seems kind of fucked up, so he puts that one back. They choose two digital tests that claim early detection, and one pack of regular old piss on a stick and wait for the lines tests.
“Let me get them, it's the least I can do,” Hobi says, taking the tests from Jungkook and walking up to the counter. He hears the omega chuckle behind him as he goes.
Hobi feels strangely embarrassed, like the alpha woman behind the desk is going to ask how old he is, make some shitty comment about how he’s throwing his life away, question how much he even knows about children, and has he ever even changed a diaper?
The crazy thing is, he’s 22 and Jungkook is nearly 20. They’re young, however you look at it, but it wouldn’t exactly be controversial for them to have a pup together. He feels like he’s too young for this not to be a scandal, but the assistant behind the desk just sighs with boredom and fills up a paper bag with their bounty. She probably gets nothing but pregnancy scares and STDs, working in a campus pharmacy. He’s not special at all, though he feels like the first college alpha ever to find himself in this situation.
“Look, we’re going to be fine,” Jungkook tells him as they walk back across the quad towards the dorms. “Whatever happens, we’ll just figure it out together, and it’ll all be fine. Nothing has to change.”
Hobi nods. He feels the need to wrap his own scarf around Jungkook’s bare neck, to protect him from the unusual lick of cold in the summer breeze, today. He’d call it his paternal instincts kicking in, but he always feels this way about Jungkook. And Jungkook, independent to a fault, always tells him to fuck right off, he can look after himself. Said affectionately, and with a big, triangular smile that makes Hobi’s heart clench.
Instead he just lets his hand twitch at his side, and follows Jungkook over the grass they’re not actually supposed to walk on. Try telling someone as headstrong as Jeon Jungkook that. When they see Yoongi on the other side of the grass, Hobi shoves the paper bag of tests right into the bottom of his tote bag. He knows that, despite being kind of scary and possibly even clairvoyant, Yoongi can’t actually see through paper. But the thing is, Hobi and Jungkook? Their thing? It’s not exactly out in the open.
In fact, they’re kind of a secret. A wishy-washy, what are we, are we friends with benefits, are we just fucking, are we secretly in love and going to end up together kind of on the down-low secret. Hobi himself doesn’t have a clue “what” they are, and he’s been too scared to ask.
He feels like once he opens his fat mouth and asks Jungkook if they’re boyfriends , then the end is nigh. Jungkook will tell him that they were just filling time, a convenience, friends who had urges and itches to scratch and why not scratch each other’s, you know? Jungkook will say “I love you, hyung, but just as a friend” and then that will be it.
They haven’t even addressed all of this being a secret, keeping it all hush-hush from Jungkook’s terrifying hyungs. It just seemed to evolve that way, naturally.
Two weeks after they first slept together, Namjoon was due to visit for brunch. Hobi and Jungkook had spent the morning airing out the apartment, getting rid of all traces of alpha from the omega’s bedroom, stowing every condom they owned under the bed as though Namjoon would go looking there. They worked hard all morning to make it look as though they had never even considered getting their genitals out and rubbing them together.
Jungkook had even placed a fresh vase of daffodils on the coffee table, like their disgusting dorm room had ever even seen a fresh flower. Was it overkill? Perhaps. Had it continued this way for nearly 10 months since? Absolutely, it had.
Namjoon had been too interested in gushing all over Jungkook to really think too much about why Hobi was even there, perched in the doorway like the big, strong beta would realize he’d been defiling his little baby and rip his neck open. Namjoon can be so scary for such a gentle guy. He likes to read, sure, but he also benches more than Hobi’s body weight, and that’s more than a little terrifying when you’re what his Grammy always called “a wee slip of an alpha”.
And Namjoon isn’t Jungkook’s only terrifying hyung. As well as the beta, and Jungkook’s two actual brothers, Yoongi and Seokjin, Jungkook has two more bodyguards. Taehyung and Jimin might be the least physically imposing of the gang, but they are also the trickiest. He often suspects that they know more than they let on about his and Jungkook’s thing , with their shrewd comments and relentless questions about his love life. That’s five people in total who make it their business to frighten off anyone who even looks at Jungkook the wrong way. And of course he loves it, loves being the baby, and only pretends to pout when they fuss over him.
Today though, it’s just Yoongi. Jungkook’s youngest-older brother and most sardonic hyung is bounding over the grass towards them with a big bag of groceries in his hands. Nothing new, his love language is feeding Jungkook. Hobi has reaped the benefits of this often, and it has to be said that Yoongi is an excellent chef.
“Googie-baby, you weren’t at home?” Yoongi says, out of breath from his little trot across the quad.
He, too, is chronically underdressed for the cold, though it's not as unusual for an alpha to run hot. He doesn’t suffer Jungkook’s excuses though, just lays his groceries down on the grass and rifles in his backpack for a scarf. Jungkook huffs and puffs as Yoongi knots it around his neck, but he doesn’t argue. Yoongi casts a withering glare at Hobi like it's his fault that Jungkook is cold. Never mind that Jungkook isn’t even cold, at all. Make it make sense.
“We went to the pharmacy,” Jungkook shrugs, and Hobi snaps his eyes to him in a panic. Why would he say that?
“I have a cold, you see,” Hobi adds quickly, coughing a little for dramatic flare. Yoongi just grabs his groceries, and links his arm in Jungkook’s.
“Come on you two, I’ll make you brunch. I don’t know how you survive with those grim little campfires they call dormroom ovens. I’m so glad I’m not a student anymore.”
The whole way back to their building, Hobi can feel the pregnancy tests boring a hole in his pocket. It’s like there’s a neon sign above his head with a glaring arrow telling the world “I might have gotten the love of my life pregnant, but it’s complicated. We’re not together -together, you see, even though I want us to be”.
Or something.
Hobi just wishes Yoongi would go home so they could seal their fate. Instead, the alpha cooks chilaquiles with all of the fixings — crisp, home fried tortilla chips. Salsa verde so zingy it makes the roof of his mouth sing. Perfect, sunny side up wobbly eggs that sit on top of the bounty like a pirate flag. And on the side, guacamole with lots of lime and garlic, because Jungkook loves it that way, and Yoongi loves making Jungkook happy.
“You should move in with me next year, Googie. This place is so grim,” Yoongi says when he’s bidding them goodbye, perched on the threshold but still not actually getting a clue and leaving . Hobi wants to cry, actually, because did you know that people with the last name Jeon take twenty five hours to say goodbye? It’s like a disease they all have, the inability to just end a conversation with a simple goodbye, and get the hell out.
Because no, Yoongi has to scent Jungkook thoroughly for the third time today. He has to remind him to call their mom. He has to ask after all of his final projects, even though they’ve already talked about it, Goddammit Yoongi. Okay, maybe it’s Hobi that needs to chill.
He’s chill. He’s absolutely fine.
“See you later, Hobi,” Yoongi hums at him. “Come over for some video games with me and Jiminie sometime, yeah?”
Hobi just nods and disappears back inside. No matter how many olive branches Yoongi waves at him, he can never relax around the other alpha. He’s too innately soft to not feel awful about the things he’s doing to Jungkook on the regular under Yoongi’s nose, too bad a liar to keep that guilt off his face.
Well. He's fine.
But when Jungkook is perched on the toilet seat, and Hobi is holding his hand, waiting for that first two minute test to finish… Well, he’s not really fine at all, is he? He’s sweating so much that his white t-shirt is stuck to him, and he knows that his black pepper scent is clouding up the room so much that even he can barely breathe through it.
“It’s okay, stop worrying so much. I find it calming, actually,” Jungkook says, his voice steady and his eyes not full of wet tears like Hobi’s are. He always says that about the alpha’s scent, even though most people find the intensity of the black pepper kind of jarring. Jungkook just tells him that if you mix black pepper and raspberry, then you have the perfect garnish for a Gin and Tonic. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if G&Ts are kind of a pensioner’s drink.
“What are we going to do if it's positive?” Hobi whispers, and squeezes Jungkook’s hand tight. “Like… Do you know what you want to do? I want to do what you want to do.”
Jungkook laughs, and just squeezes back. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t get outwardly stressed the way Hobi does, but he knows that Jungkook worries deep down. When he’s staring into the distance with his cute, vacant smile, Hobi knows he’s thinking, scanning through his internal filofax for what needs to be done that day. He knows that Jungkook is really good at internalizing his anxiety to the point that his body starts to jitter, his knees bop and clank together, and his feet can’t stay still.
Hobi runs a thumb from the back of Jungkook’s hand to the scent gland at his wrist, and feels the bitter raspberry scent start to sweeten. His face is pretty, soft, impassive, but even Jungkook can’t keep the nerves out of his scent.
They’re both so young, of course they’re scared.
He doesn’t tell Jungkook that he’s already started to smell something new in his scent—oranges and macadamia nuts, fresh and earthy. He just holds the omega’s hand and silently prays that the moment stretches on forever so they can stay kids for a bit longer.
“Fuck,” Jungkook whispers as he passes the test over to Hobi. He’d been adamant about peeing in a cup, and sticking the tests inside so he didn’t have to worry about getting piss on his hands. Trust neat-freak Jungkook to be worried about a thing like that, at a time like this. “It says I’m six weeks”.
Hobi thinks that they both knew this before they even bought the tests, but the reality of seeing that pink cross in the tiny test window hits him with the impact of a bus. His stomach feels like it's fallen through his body and right out of his ass. Because he’s going to be a dad. Isn’t he? Is he?
“What… is it too early to ask… what do you want to do?”
The hand he’d laid on Jungkook’s knee is probably bruising, but the omega looks like he needs something to anchor him to reality as much as Hobi does. He loosens his hold and caresses the skin that’s peeking through the artful holes in Jungkook’s jeans. Hobi can’t help but scan his body, from his thick, beautiful thighs to his tiny waist. It's something that’s so specific to Jungkook that he can’t imagine his belly swelling, filling out that tiny place that he likes to wrap his longer fingers around.
“I’m going to have the baby,” Jungkook says, with a steely determination in his voice. If Hobi didn’t slide his eyes to the omega’s face when he started talking, he’d never have heard the tears in his voice. The sweet tears running down his face, around the soft curve of his cheek and into the corners of his lips.
He leans in and kisses Jungkook’s mouth softly, tasting the film of salt that’s building there. His lips are pursed closed so tightly that it’s barely a kiss at all, but Hobi needs him close.
“Okay,” he whispers when he pulls away. They stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like hours, but is probably only half a minute. Hobi thinks how wild it is to know for certain that this man is going to be in his life forever now. No matter what happens with him and Jungkook, whatever their relationship is, Jungkook will always be his pup’s Dam. He will always be Jungkook’s baby Sire. They will never not be connected.
As much as Hobi knows he’s down so bad for Jungkook, already deep in the kind of love that hurts , it's a scary thought.
“Are we going to be okay?” Jungkook whispers.
Hobi has no idea if they will be. He honestly can’t see how they could possibly be just okay , not really. They have no money. They live in a dorm room that stinks of years of college boy, a funk so deeply embedded into the walls and furniture that bleach couldn’t lift it. How many of those boys had found themselves in a situation like this? He needs to buy Jungkook a bed, immediately. Buy them a bed? Does he need to buy a bed for all three of them?
“Yes,” he says, taking Jungkook’s hand and raising it to his lips. “We’re all going to be okay. I promise.”
That night, they curl up in Jungkook’s bed and he wraps his arms around the omega’s stomach. He’s almost scared to touch, but it feels like the right thing to do. When Jungkook falls asleep, exhausted and silent, Hobi just cries and cries and cries.
“Baby, do you want any more blankets?” Hobi asks the purring pile of cotton that’s undulating on the bed. Jungkook has been nesting. Jungkook has been nesting .
Hobi thought he’d seen nesting before. He grew up with an omega dad and an omega sister. They nested all the time, and when they were smaller, his dad even pulled him in beside him, wrapped him up in the warm flannel sheets he favoured, licked his grubby spots and soothed him.
Jungkook is nesting nesting. Has been since they got back from the first scan at 10 weeks. It was supposed to be a check for anomalies in the pups DNA, but more than anything it was the first time they heard the heartbeat, more rapid than he’d imagined. It sounded like someone in distress, but then hearts that are that tiny have to beat more often. He’d cried and Jungkook had said fuck so many times it had made the ultrasound tech giggle. She’d told them that their pup, owner of the rapid heartbeat that made his own go still, was due to be born on February 14th. Valentine's baby.
But, fuck, it was a fuck moment. Sometimes fuck is all that suffices.
When Jungkook gets deep into the nesting headspace, he goes non-verbal. It’s like watching an omega that’s truly scent drunk, though who’s scent he’s drunk on is hard to say. They’ve been able to smell the pup, and Hobi is almost certain now that it's macadamia. Sweet and nutty, milky like Jungkook’s skin, a hint of his own bitter black pepper. It’s all mixed up on the surface of the omega’s body, rolling over him in waves and nestling deep into the fibres of his nest.
Currently, the nest is sort of like a blanket fort. Hobi has strung up a canopy, nothing fancy, just something he picked up second hand on Marketplace. They dangled Jungkook’s sensory lights along the top of the makeshift fort, and every day the omega finds something new to drag in there. Today, he’s making grabby hands for the soft, rainbow cardigan Hobi is wearing.
Weeks ago, if you’d asked Hobi to share any of his clothing with anyone, he’d have laughed in your face. He loves his clothes, and he does not share. But he can’t say no to Jungkook. Not when he’s looking at him with wide, nebulous puppy eyes that peer into his soul and wrap around his heart, cut off his oxygen, signal to his instincts to protect, warm, feed, pup up. Well. Not much need for the last one, but tell that to the beast inside.
And while he’s on the topic of beasts, that is another thing entirely. Jungkook is so horny all the time. It’s never at night either, when they’re curled around each other, fresh from the bath, Jungkook’s cute little butt pressed against him and his scent so endearing. It’s when Hobi is cooking, or doing homework, or trying to distinguish between laundry that will make it into the nest and laundry that will upset his omega’s sensitive nose.
He’ll wiggle over to Hobi with a whine that cuts to his jugular. It’s like in those seconds of seduction, Jungkook’s skin gets extra glowy, and his eyelashes elongate, fluttering at Hobi like a siren calling to a shipwrecked sailor. He’s just a big, dumb alpha, after all.
Jungkook will lead him by the hand to the bed, the sofa, the shower, wherever his wild omega tells him he wants to be fucked that day. And he’ll ride Hobi like his life depends on it, pinning him into the blankets with his hands, and bouncing on him for what sometimes feels like hours. It’s like a crazed kind of pleasure and torture, an insanity that takes over the both of them.
Hobi tries to hold off his orgasm for as long as he humanly can, because he knows Jungkook will just want to fuck again minutes later. He’s 22, but he has his limits. Sometimes he’ll be so worked up from the way Jungkook rides, that he’ll come in minutes. Seconds, even. He’s never, ever fucked anyone raw before Jungkook, not even when they got pregnant. That was the case of a faulty knotting condom.
And it’s like the omega’s slick insides were made for him, clenching his dick in a hot vice, his heart hanging on the edge of a cliff. He can’t help it some days, he just can’t hold back. On days like that, when Jungkook starts to whine and rock him into orgasm too fast, he’ll pull out and come all over him, eat the omega out for hours on end. Until his lips go numb and start to swell. Until Jungkook is so wet and slippery he can barely create any friction between them.
So yeah, fucking like rabbits is definitely one of the high points of living with a pregnant omega. And frankly, while his omega is growing an actual wolf inside his body, it's the least Hobi can do to get down south and eat out twice a day.
Right now, Jungkook has his sleepy face on. He’s still working so hard in class that when he’s home and not turned on, all he wants to do is nest. He grabs Hobi’s cardigan like a shark snapping up a bloody limb, wraps it around his shoulders and torso and buries his nose right into the armpits of it. As soon as he’s curled it just right around his body, snuffled up enough of Hobi’s scent to make him calm and content, a deep purr begins to rumble in his body.
Hobi has never loved a sound so much in his life. It tickles a part of his brain like ASMR, sending prickly sensations down his neck like someone is blowing on his skin. He wants to dive in, head first, and tuck himself around Jungkook too, but he always waits to be invited.
Today, Jungkook falls right asleep, so Hobi just sighs deeply and forces himself to walk away. He focuses on cleaning up the apartment, stacking up Jungkook’s textbooks on his computer desk, and starting a load of laundry. Jungkook is 16 weeks pregnant now, and they’ve settled into somewhat of a routine. When they get home from school, there’s usually sex, then food, then nesting. Hobi tidies up and tries to make the dorm nicer for Jungkook to wake up to. Later in the evening, they eat together, and watch something on the TV.
They sleep together every night now, and there’s no pretense of needing time apart. It’s just a given. But they still haven’t talked, or made a real plan. Jungkook is so driven to make everything work that he’s researching everything there is to know about the baby—hypnobirthing, postpartum recovery, breastfeeding. Hobi even caught him reading about preschools.
But they never, ever talk about what they are. They don’t talk about their families, and how to break the news. They don’t talk about how they’ll cope with a child and school next year. They don’t talk about the fact that Hobi is graduating in one semester and won’t actually be able to live here anymore.
Jungkook can be so impenetrable, like he’s so determined for everything to be perfect that Hobi is constantly afraid to rock the boat. He knows he’s a coward, too. There’s that. Always that.
For his own part, he’s started job hunting like his life depends on it. Hobi knows that when he graduates, he needs a full time job. He needs a proper, adult apartment like Yoongi’s. He needs money so he can move Jungkook in and look after him and the baby until Jungkook can finish his degree. He has five more years left to go, because Architects are masochists. Their baby will be nearly ready for school when Jungkook graduates.
More than anything, he needs the balls to ask Jungkook if they’re together now. Because what is there to being together if not living together, sleeping in the same bed, fucking constantly, and having a child together. What else is there? What other little domino is he forever looking to lay down before he’s satisfied that he’s concocted the perfect pattern for them?
Hobi has just finished whipping up the best omelette known to man, if he does say so himself, when the door raps. He glances at his wrist watch and sees that it’s 7pm. Not an insane hour to call in by any means, but they also never get guests unannounced. With Jungkook literally hiding a pregnancy that's well into its second trimester now, it's kind of imperative that they don’t.
He turns off the stove, and covers the omelette to keep it warm, and makes for the door.
“About time, slow coach,” Namjoon smiles when he opens the door. While the beta has the grace to wait for Hobi’s thoughts to formulate, Jimin and Taehyung are nowhere near as polite. They push past him with excited elbows and knees, arms full of wine bottles, beer and snacks, and God knows what else. Namjoon smiles kindly, his handsome dimples twinkling, and follows them in.
“Yoongi and Seokjin will be like half an hour,” Jimin shouts from the sofa, and Hobi cringes. Jungkook is still sleeping, and he needs to get these bumbling idiots out of here before his mate and baby are rudely awoken from their nest. Or… something. He mentally slaps his overeager alpha, and pushes it back down to the depths of hell blooming in his chest.
“Um… why are you here?” Hobi asks, cringing at how brittle and anxious his voice comes out. He needs to play it cool, make up an excuse and cart the three of them out of there. He also needs to work up the courage to do that as quickly as possible, because frankly, Jungkook’s hyungs still scare him.
Taehyung is staring at him, and it's impossible to know whether there is too much going on in that boy’s brain, or too little. Jimin is wrapped around Taehyung’s neck, peering at Hobi like he’s an idiot who’s forgotten to put on pants again. Which… a cursory glance down at his cleaning joggers tell him he did not . Take that Park Jimin.
“We’re here for Jungkook’s birthday?” Namjoon asks more than he tells. His deep voice goes up at the end like he’s wondering himself if he’d messed up the date. Hobi blinks back at him, and for a while they’re both lost in a battle of who’s the more awkward idiot—Namjoon, too polite to look away, and Hobi, slowly reassessing all of his choices today.
How the fuck did he forget Jungkook’s birthday? Is Jungkook angry with him? Is that why he didn’t invite him into the nest? Does he even know it's his own birthday?
“Okaaaaay,” Namjoon says, slowly backing away until his legs hit the back of the sofa and he tumbles over on top of Jimin and Taehyung.
The yelps they make and the chaotic stomp of their tangled limbs are enough to wake Jungkook. Seconds later, the omega is standing in the door of the living space with his hair standing on end. Even with the panic coursing through his body, Hobi can’t help but coo at the bedhead, the flushed cheeks, his beautiful legs poking out of the oversized rainbow cardigan.
“Happy birthday, baby,” the trio sing out in unison once they’ve separated.
“Oh,” Jungkook says softly, his eyes glazed and his tongue lisping against his upper palette. He sounds drunk and Hobi knows that in a way he is—he’s drunk off nesting hormones, sweet macadamia and black pepper. He’s deep in his headspace and not likely to come out properly before his brother’s arrive either.
“What's wrong with him?” Jimin asks, turning to scowl at Hobi.
Taehyung, who has stalked across the room and wrapped himself around Jungkook’s body like a koala, is pulling back now.
“Why do you smell like…” he trails off, eyes boring into Jungkook’s glassy ones. “Oh.”
“Oh, what?” Jimin says, marching over and pushing into Jungkook’s other side. “What is it, Tae? You know I don’t have those omega super-scenting powers like you guys.”
Jungkook is just smiling softly at the both of them, swaying slightly on his feet and giggling like it's all so funny. Which, sure, it probably is when you’re three sheets for the wind and don’t have to actually deal with what's slowly occurring to everyone else in the room.
“Let me just,” Hobi says, shoving past Jimin and Taehyung with a slight growl. He can’t help it, it's just his instincts when he sees the omega and alpha crowded around Jungkook like that. He needs to get his baby to bed, needs to get him some warm cardamom milk and run his fingers through Jungkook’s soft curls. His baby needs him.
“Out of the way, come on now,” he snaps, wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s waist and bumping Jimin out of the way again with his butt.
“Ah, hyung, it’s okay. I’m fine,” Jungkook sing-songs, cuddling into Hobi’s side and pushing his wet little nose against his scent gland. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Namjoon’s jaw fall open at the open display of affection.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jimin says, huffing and stomping, laying his hands on his hips in two angry triangles.
“Less of that alpha bullshit, please,” Namjoon says, pulling Jimin back to the couch. “It stinks in here, and Googie’s clearly already scent drunk. Rein it in, please Jimin.” He pauses with a small frown and looks to Hobi. “You too, Hob-ah. It’s not helping him.”
Jungkook whines and hides his face in Hobi’s shirt now. Taehyung is still standing with his mouth wide open, looking between the two of them.
“Let me tuck him into his nest, and then we’ll talk,” the omega says, slowly unwrapping Jungkook from Hobi’s neck. “I think it’s best that we clear things up before his brothers get here, don’t you think?”
Hobi gulps, and watches as Jungkook wraps himself around Taehyung.
“You smell amazing, hyung,” he hiccups, and allows himself to be guided from the room. Everyone else watches as he and Tae leave in silence. Tae, who has been bulking up this year, manhandles Jungkook easily through the door frame, and they can hear a light little chuckle getting smaller as the two omegas disappear into Jungkook’s bedroom.
“So, what the fuck was that?” Jimin asks, spinning on his heels to size up Hobi. He’s usually one of the less confrontational of Jungkook’s hyung harem, more content with unbothered jokes and teasing. Hobi likes him a lot, but when Jimin feels threatened he’s like a mother lion, teeth out and claws ready to rip the neck from anyone who dares attack his baby.
“Maybe we should just wait until Tae gets back, and all talk together?” Namjoon sighs, dropping back down onto the sofa. He runs his hand through his hair, ebony and longer these days. It makes him look softer.
Jimin sits down beside him, and Hobi lingers on the periphery. He wishes sometimes that he wasn’t so threatened by them, because in another universe they’d have all been friends, he thinks. Lord knows, Yoongi has tried to bridge the gap and bring him into the fold, but he’s been so held back by their territorial relationship to Jungkook.
When they first moved in together, Jungkook had been dating this guy called Mingyu. Classic six foot tall, movie star good looks, arms like boulders kind of alpha. Pretty much the opposite of Hobi, who is often mistaken for a beta, and sometimes an omega if he’s wearing scent blockers. Jungkook always laughs when he says that.
“You’re like the most alpha person I know. People are just really dumb,” he’d shrugged one morning after they’d stayed up late into the night having sex and talking. “I mean, I’m not your typical omega either, am I? But what does that even mean, and who the fuck even cares?”
Well. Jungkook was definitely an omega, and he had the baby in his womb to prove it now.
Typical alpha or not, Yoongi had hated Mingyu with a passion, and the memory of it had stuck with Hobi.
Taehyung shuffles out of the bedroom looking flushed, and one sweatshirt down.
“He seemed so docile when I laid him in his nest, but I swear to god once I tried to move away, he nearly wrestled my top off of me,” he laughs. But not in the happy, broad, boxy way that Taehyung usually laughs. It’s more of a “I genuinely don’t know what to do or say,” kind of thing, stilted and awkward.
“Did you let him take drugs?” Jimin demands of Hobi. “He looked goofed out of his mind.”
“No, he’s definitely just 100% pregnant,” Taehyung says flatly, sinking down onto the rug in front of Namjoon and Jimin’s feet. He looks exhausted. “I could smell it pretty much the second he walked in here. Some kind of nut, but milky?”
All three heads turn to look at Hobi. He swallows and shrugs. This really feels like the exact worst time in the world for Jungkook to be in one of his nesting-scent-comas. Hobi is petrified enough to tell his own friends and family about the baby, nevermind breaking it to five guys who would go to war against anyone that hurt Jungkook. He wants to turn around and walk into their bedroom, crawl into the nest that’s growing by the day, and disappear under the covers with his omega.
“You’re not serious, Tae,” Jimin gasps, reaching out to shake the omega like he’s expecting him to turn around and say GOTCHA.
“I thought he looked different. Just… glossier, or something.”
Namjoon looks at Hobi when he says it, and there’s this knowing look that’s lingering there that makes him feel scared. Namjoon clearly knows. How he knows, how long he’s known? Who knows. But he definitely knows, and Jimin and Taehyung don’t yet.
“How did this happen? He’s been, like, chronically single since Mingyu right? Like he barely even leaves the dorm, when the fuck did he even get the opportunity to let someone raw dog him?” Jimin looks close to tears, and Hobi wants to melt right into the carpet.
“Stop,” Namjoon says, reaching out to run a hand over Jimin’s thigh. He’s always had a remarkable ability to calm everyone down. It’s one of the reasons Hobi likes him so much. If they lived back in the times of traditional packs, he thinks Namjoon would make a great pack leader.
“Look,” he says, taking a deep breath. Now is as good a time as any, really, isn’t it? What exactly is he waiting for? Life is about to get much harder. He’s about to raise a child, fight battles he doesn’t know how to fight. Hobi might feel like he’s meek enough in this moment to be blown away by a strong breeze, but he has no choice but to let all of that shit go. His omega is a bedroom away, incapacitated. And he needs to do this for him, because everything else in this pregnancy is going to be all on Jungkook.
“Can you guys sit down and be quiet for like five minutes? Just listen to me, and if you want to dig my grave and bury me out in the quad when I’m done, then so be it.”
Namjoon smiles at him softly, and he doesn’t look angry. He looks worried, maybe empathetic. He looks like if Hobi asked for it, he’d wrap him up in his big arms and tell him it’s all going to be okay. It makes his eyes water up and his throat get tight and sore, but it also gives him a little courage.
“I’m the sire. Jungkook is having a baby. With me. My baby. Our baby.”
Namjoon nods his head, and reaches out an arm to pull Jimin into a side hug. Taehyung and Jimin have identical expressions—wide eyes and slack jaws, and all of the theories he had that the pair of them knew that he and Jungkook were hooking up fizzle away like sherbet on a wet tongue. How was it Namjoon that knew all along?
“What the fuck?” Jimin says, but it's a whisper of shock, not anything venomous. “How long have you guys been dating? Jungkook never said anything .”
Tae scrambles up onto his feet, and wobbles over towards Hobi. He pulls him into a warm hug, arms wrapped so tight and snug around his shoulders, coconut smelling curls pushed up against his face and tickling his nose. Hobi doesn’t know what to do for a while, just stands ruler straight like all of his muscles have turned to long, frozen branches. And then it’s something about the weight of someone’s kindness pushed against him, something about the tenderness of it that just makes him fall apart.
“Oh, hyung,” Taehyung whispers, patting his back in a slow, steady rhythm. “It’s okay.”
He peers over Tae’s shoulder as he sobs and Jimin and Namjoon are standing now too, lingering on the edge of the rug like they don’t really know if they should come any closer.
“We’re not dating,” he croaks out as he pulls back from Taehyung. “I… we’re just… I don’t know what we are…” he trails off.
Namjoon disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a pint glass of cold water from the fridge. He gestures to Hobi to take a seat on the sofa, and lays down the glass.
“I love him,” Hobi whispers when he’s gulped down half of the water and can breathe again.
“Hyung,” Taehyung sobs, and why is he crying? He’s not the one that’s just out here with his heart hanging out. Hobi has so many feelings, has been gathering them up for ten weeks now. Ten months really, though they’ve become quite a sight more complicated of late. “How far along is he?”
Taehyung looks towards the closed door of Jungkook’s bedroom like he wants to lay down on his belly and crawl right back into his friend. They’ve always been the most affectionate—not just because they’re both omegas, though certainly there’s some solidarity in their shared biology. But because they’re both babies. Taehyung and Jungkook crave affection, and they don’t go short of it either as the youngest.
But if they’re given the choice of a lap to sit in, they’ll always choose each other. When Tae is here, Jungkook is curled up into his side, or Tae is the big spoon, snuggling into Jungkook’s dark hair.
“You can go in if you want,” Hobi says, shaking his head towards the door where Jungkook is probably fast asleep now. “He gets like this in the evenings when the day’s been rough. I think it’s just the surge of hormones and the tiredness. Once he gets home, I think his omega just takes over and needs to nest. He’d like it if you were there.”
“Do you want us to leave so you can go in there?” Tae asks instead, kneeling in front of him and running a honey-brown hand down Hobi’s bicep. It’s nice, comforting. He’s releasing all of these calming pheromones into the air, nothing too intense, nothing that overpowers the permanent scent of Jungkook on the air. Just a light rush of poppies that wraps around Hobi like his hug.
“I think at this stage it might be better if you just bite the bullet. All in one go, you know?” Namjoon says from beside him on the sofa. “Yoongi and Seokjin are only going to ask more questions if we call them off and tell them not to come.”
Hobi knows he’s right. He’s going to have to face Jungkook’s brothers eventually, why not do it when the other three are being kind.
“Thanks for… well,” he mutters, wiping his nose with his sweatshirt then looking down at himself in disgust.
“Look,” Jimin says with a deep huffed out breath. “I need to talk to Jungkook before I know how I’m supposed to feel about this, because 100% I have his back implicitly. But we’re here for you, too hyung. I’m sorry if I came in here charging.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he says, taking the proffered hand Jimin offers. It feels weirdly stilted and formal to shake each other’s hands, but it also feels nice. Like they’re meeting each other halfway. And let's face it, if he and Jungkook are going to be dumb, young college-parents, they’re going to need all the allies they can get.
“Okay,” Namjoon says, and gets to his feet again. “I’m going to get some drinks and snacks.” He points to Taehyung, “You go stay with Jungkookie for a little bit and make sure he’s okay. The last thing we need is Seokjin coming in here howling like a lunatic and waking him up. Omega’s who are pregnant can get very agitated if they feel threatened in their nest.”
“Not going to ask how the fuck you know that,” Jimin mutters under his breath, and falls back into the deep burgundy cushions of the sofa.
It’s a pretty gross corduroy two-seater and Hobi feels the sudden and intense urge to get the thing out of here right now, to buy Jungkook something clean and comfortable that his omega can feed their child on. He swallows hard and reminds himself that Jungkook isn’t his omega, and he needs to stop thinking that he is, even if his alpha thinks otherwise.
“Hobi, go get changed and wash your face. You’ve basically sneezed all over that sweater, and you look like your cat just died.” Namjoon points towards the bathroom, and once again Hobi feels a rush of fondness for the beta, something like respect for how well he handles everyone in a crisis.
“Well what about me, Sergeant?” Jimin says in a pout. Namjoon just rolls his eyes, and disappears into the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder.
“Just sit there and look pretty. We’ll need to play to Yoongi’s soft spot for you as a distraction when they arrive.”
“Soft spot? More like hard spot. Big, hard, raging boner,” Taehyung giggles as he disappears down the hallway.
When he gets into the bathroom, Hobi looks long and hard at himself in the mirror. He thinks he’s lost some weight over the last few weeks. Eating hasn’t been the first thing on his mind, and he’s been cramming in extra shifts at the gym wherever he has a spare moment. Jungkook’s hours are much longer at school than his, even with a double major, so he has hours and hours without the omega at home and he’s tried to use that time to earn as much as he possibly can before the baby comes.
He pulls his shirt off and goes to throw it in the laundry hamper before he stops himself. Even if he is half dead right now, Jungkook will scold him later if he throws it in the wash. He wanders down the hallway topless, and peeks his head in the bedroom door. Taehyung is wrapped around a sleeping Jungkook from behind, cuddling up into his sweet half moon shape and wrapping his hands around the omega’s belly. It looks like Jungkook has claimed even more of Taehyung’s clothes, because the nest is even lumpier than before and Tae’s just in a t-shirt now.
“He’s still sleeping,” Tae whispers with a smile. Their poppy and raspberry scents are so complimentary, and the room smells like a spring meadow.
“Kay, just dropping this off.” Hobi walks around to the other side of the bed and tucks his sweatshirt up into Jungkook’s chest. In his sleep, the omega snuffles and reaches out for it, bringing the ball of mustard cotton up to his nose and snuggling deep into it. It makes Hobi’s heart hurt with want and love and a million other things.
“You really are down bad, aren’t you?” Tae laughs softly and Hobi just shrugs. What do you say to that? However he’d managed to keep his feelings under wraps before all of this, things are different now.
“Come on, Lothario,” Taehyung rolls out of the bed, tucking a big rainbow hello kitty plush behind Jungkook to fill the space he’d vacated. Jungkook crawls on top of it, face smushed into the warmth of the sheets, plushie bundled under his chest. Hobi pulls on an oversized tee on his way out.
Back in the living room, Namjoon has laid out some honey chips and a few rows of beer stubbies, and Jimin is flat out on the couch.
“It’s just… If someone was going to have a teen pregnancy, I really thought it was going to be Tae,” he said in a dull, mournful voice. Tae huffs and shuffles over to the sofa, jumping head first onto Jimin’s exposed belly.
“He’s not a teenager,” Hobi says, sighing as he melts into the chair, grabbing one of the sour ales from Namjoon’s proffered hand. “He’s 20 years old.”
“Sure, but he was literally a teenager yesterday, hyung,” Taehyung laughs, tickling Jimin whose legs shoot up at all angles, knocking the omega over onto the rug. “You’re kind of getting off on a technicality. And he has like… a million years left in his degree, too. Have you guys talked about that?”
He pops the pulley on the beer can and lets the hiss ring out into the room, but doesn’t say anything. They have barely talked about anything .
“Oh, Hyung,” Jimin sighs, sitting up so he can look over at Hobi.
Park Jimin’s eyes have two modes—he can wield the deep set of his hooded eyes for good or for evil. It’s kind of his thing, the devil angel dichotomy. Right now, his eyes are warm and comforting. “You know what Jungkookie is like. He acts like he’s fine all the time, but inside he’s a big, soppy marshmallow. I think you’re going to need to be the one to bite the bullet and talk about all of this.”
“We do talk, but it's never about the things we should be talking about,” Hobi says after his first refreshing glug. “He’s obsessed with this dumb book about, like, what to expect when you’re having a pup. And don’t get me wrong, it’s all good stuff, but it feels weird that we’re talking about like… baby vomit, when I don’t even know what we are, or where we’re all going to live in like three months.”
He takes a deep breath and clutches the can, his fingers imprinting into the tin and making a crackling sound.
They all sit in silence for a few minutes. Taehyung reaches over to lean against the column of Hobi’s thigh. Jimin looks like a kicked puppy, and Namjoon seems totally lost in thought.
When the door goes, Hobi feels like a vat of ice water has been forced down his throat and into his stomach. Because fucking hell. Fucking hell .
“I’ll go,” Namjoon says with a solemn frown. “Look alive, troops. We got this.”
Taehyung squeezes his thigh, and it's nice to feel like he’s not alone in this.
“Jesus, it’s like a funeral in here, what gives?” Seokjin drops a big square present, wrapped in pink foiled paper with a green bow on the table. The others had abandoned their gifts there earlier, and Hobi had barely spared them a thought. He still feels sick when he thinks about how he forgot Jungkook’s birthday.
Yoongi shuffles in after Seokjin, and looks around the room with his blank face on.
“Where’s the baby?” he asks, carefully hanging his coat on the rack. It’s not actually a coat rack, just a row of nails that Jungkook hammered into the wall one day during one of his more optimistic, “we can make this place work” flights of fancy.
Three pairs of eyes slide over towards Hobi, and to hell with good intentions, right? So much for we’re all in this together, gather the troops. Namjoon, Taehyung and Jimin are about as subtle as a pig on a spit roast with their identically anxious expressions.
“What’s going on?” Seokjin says, smile sliding off his face as he looks between them all. Yoongi comes up beside him, and then there’s this wall of scary brother , shoulder to shoulder, and frankly? Hobi wants to set off a fire alarm, and get everyone out of here so he can nest himself. Why can’t alphas nest when they need to? He sure feels tender enough.
“Um, do you want to sit down and have a beer and we can all… talk?”
“Not really,” Yoongi says, frowning now. “Where’s Jungkookie?”
Seokjin slides his eyes towards the bedroom door, but keeps quiet. Just sits down on the sofa, pushing Jimin’s feet out of the way, and grabs a can of beer.
“Sit down, Yoongi,” he says in a measured voice that sounds like cold, hard steel.
Yoongi is still standing looking like he has something to say when the bedroom door swings open, and Jungkook pads out in just his boxers and Taehyung’s oversized sweatshirt. He has these big, woollen socks on his feet, so big they roll up around his ankles and make him look cute and soft. He’s so tall and strong, but he just looks like such a baby some of the time.
“Hyungs,” he sings, stretching out his arms as he makes his way over to Yoongi. He wraps him up in a big hug, dwarfing the little, angry alpha and rocking him from side to side. Thank fuck the nap seems to have made him a little more alert. He still looks kind of glassy, like he’s got a cold and has taken too much drowsy flu medicine, but it's nothing like earlier.
“Happy birthday, baby,” Yoongi says, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s waist and spinning him in a circle. For two brothers that look so different, they sure look a hell of a lot alike sometimes.
“Ah, thanks hyung. I forgot it was my birthday with the baby and everything,” Jungkook says, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just sprint into the room and drop a carpet bomb, spread destruction all over the dormroom with a disturbingly placid face.
“Jungkook-ah…” Hobi says, trailing off, eyes hanging out of his head. Jungkook just wanders over to Seokjin and perches on the arm of the sofa.
“Can I have this for my nest, hyung?” he asks, pulling at the orange wool of Seokjin’s scarf. He doesn’t even wait, just starts yanking at it like he’s wrangling a snake, inching it off his brother’s neck until it pulls away all at once. Seokjin just stares and stares.
“What fucking BABY?” Yoongi yells, and it's like he’s on a 30 second delay. Like it had taken his brain that long to buffer, input the information Jungkook had slipped out, and turn it into blind panic.
“Oh my God,” Seokjin whispers, his eyes slipping to Jungkook’s belly. There’s nothing to see really in the oversized shirt, but Seokjin looks like he’s gazing upon a 9 month bump, ripe and ready to deliver. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Jimin leans into Seokjin and starts making soothing circles on his back.
“Hush, hyung. It’s all going to be okay. They’re going to figure it all out.”
“What the FUCK is happening? Can someone explain before my brains explode?” Yoongi is still yelling, and now Jungkook is pouting. He doesn’t like noise at the best of times, but Jungkook is pregnant.
Hobi jumps to his feet and wobbles over to Yoongi. “Look, keep your voice down. He needs comfort and quiet right now, and not all of your… um, shouting…”
“Guys, it’s fine,” Jungkook says, a little giggle in his voice. He’s got his face pressed into Seokjin’s scarf now like it's an oxygen mask, and he’s swaying from side to side like the beta’s mild scent is tequila and he’s a freshman who doesn’t know his booze limits yet. “Chill out. We’re just having a pup, it’s not the end of the world, right Hob-ah?”
Hobi spins around to make his way over to Jungkook, because of course he's scent drunk again. Of course he is with all of these people in the room, all of their big worried scents dribbling out all over the place and overwhelming his baby.
He tries to get to Jungkook that is, but Yoongi lays a big, flat palm on Hobi’s shoulder and pulls him short.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Yoongi growls, and he’s bearing his actual, real life, alpha canines. At Hobi . He’s growling like they’re two big, dumb wolves in a forest fighting over a dead deer.
“Jungkook is not a dead deer,” he growls right back, terrified but feeling like his instincts are taking over. His alpha has been snapping at the bit all day, but when faced with Yoongi’s aggression, he’s rabid. Telling him to bear his own teeth, snarl right back. Protect his baby from this alpha in his territory. Smelly, washed up, student-funk territory, but his nonetheless. His and Jungkook’s.
“The fuck?” he hears Jimin and Taehyung whisper, one or both of them. He’s too locked in on Yoongi to know. “Did he say dead deer?”
“Back the fuck up, Hobi,” Yoongi says in a low, menacing voice. “What the hell did you do to my baby brother?”
“Yoongi, come on,” Namjoon says, striding over and pulling the two of them apart. “Nobody needs a dick measuring contest right now. How about we focus on Jungkook for now, huh?”
Namjoon manages to get everyone sitting, though they don’t have nearly enough chairs. Jungkook is now squished into the middle of the sofa, between a doting Jimin and Seokjin. Yoongi is in the armchair with Namjoon perched at the side. Probably so he’s close enough to intervene in case the alpha decides he wants to mutilate Hobi’s face again. So much for being on good terms.
Hobi sits down at the other side of the coffee table beside Taehyung, and waits for someone to speak.
“So,” Seokjin starts. He looks pale, and he’s got a half-goofed Jungkook tucked up under his arm. “You guys are… together?”
Yoongi’s still growling, but it’s kind of like Jungkook’s purr—consistent and even, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Still, it makes the hairs on Hobi’s neck stand on end. He wants all of these alphas and betas out of their space, away from his baby.
“That’s complicated,” Hobi says, munching on some honey chips. He’s not even hungry but his hands need something to do.
“How complicated can it be? You got my little brother pregnant, you’re either together or you’re not.” Seokjin is frowning at him now, but he’s calm somehow.
Jungkook smiles over at Hobi, soft and sappy. “We’re in love,” he says in his sweet, sing-song voice like everything they’ve been doing for ten months now is so simple.
Has it been simple all this time? Hobi feels like there are daisies blooming in the pits of his stomach, growing up his oesophagus, flowering out of his mouth. It’s beautiful and wonderful and perfect, but it’s overwhelming and choking too. He can barely breathe, because have they been in love all this time? Has Jungkook loved him back all this time?
“Yes,” he croaks, as his eyes start to sting. “I love him so much.”
Taehyung coos at his side, and Jimin snuggles into Jungkook. Hobi is just so struck by how pretty his omega is, cross-legged on the sofa with his long, tanned legs entirely bare. He’s so long, and strong and perfect, and he wants to crawl across the room on his hands and knees and bury his face against all of that smooth skin.
Taehyung titters beside him, and leans in to whisper into his ear. “Calm down a bit. Your scent is going haywire.”
Taehyung and Jungkook are probably the only ones who can smell it, but he tries to push the daisies back down into his chest. Tries to stop the rush of he loves us back, he loves us back, he loves us back that his alpha is screeching inside of him.
“I think all of you should leave now,” Hobi hears himself say as he scrambles to his feet and starts taking all of their coats off the makeshift coat rack. “We have very important things to do. Pregnant stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”
He throws a denim jacket at Taehyung and tosses Jimin’s borg hat across the room.
“Now hang on just a second. Just because I haven’t punched your lights out doesn’t mean we’re okay with this,” Yoongi smarts, getting to his feet and pushing back into Hobi’s space.
“Yoongi, come on,” Seokjin says, stretching up from the sofa and pulling Jungkook up after him. He crushes his baby brother in a bear hug that makes the omega purr and squeal. “No one is feeling this big, domineering alpha act you’re pulling anyway. Leave them alone.”
“How are you so okay with this? He’s a baby , hyung. Are you two keeping it?” Yoongi says, and he looks a little like he’s going to cry. Jimin reaches out to him and pulls him down on the sofa for a hug.
“It’s not an it ,” says Jungkook. “It’s my pup, and yes we’re keeping her.”
Everyone snaps their eyes back up to Jungkook who is still wrapped up in Seokjin’s arms with his head peeking over his brother’s shoulder.
“You found out the sex?” Taehyung gasps, and he’s wringing his hands and smiling a big goofy version of his best boxy grin.
“Don’t need to,” says Jungkook, pulling away from Seokjin. “I just know.”
“You can’t just know …” Jimin rolls his eyes and sips some of his beer.
“A girl…” Yoongi whispers, his big cat eyes going big and wide. “I’m going to have a niece?
Yoongi is in such a daze that he allows Soekjin to wrangle him into his black wool coat. The pair of them are nearly at the door when he snaps out of it and spins on his heels.
“Don’t think this is the end of things, Jung Hoseok” he points a knobbly, long finger at Hobi and narrows his eyes again. He doesn’t look as scary this time, with his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. “You and I are going to get lunch tomorrow and have a serious talk, you hear me? So answer my fucking Kakao messages for once”.
He turns to Jungkook and his eyes soften. “Come here now, you big baby.”
After Seokjin has managed to pull a nearly teary Yoongi off Jungkook for the fourth time, they finally leave. Namjoon and Jimin aren’t long behind them, promising to come back tomorrow with baby clothes and toys (unnecessary, Jimin), and helpful research and library books (unnecessary, but marginally better, Namjoon).
Taehyung stays while Hobi cooks some dinner. It's nearly 9pm already, and he knows well that if Jungkook doesn’t eat soon, he’s going to feel nauseous.
The omegas cuddle up in bed to watch Crash Landing on You for the fifty-fifth time, and he fries up some sesame tofu and pajeon. Meat and seafood have been making Jungkook feel sick, but he’s been craving vegetables and spice. Lucky, because the list of things that Hobi can actually cook isn’t particularly long. Another thing they need to work on, because he refuses to be the kind of alpha that chains his omega to the stove.
He smiles a stupid, dopey smile when he thinks of it. All of the terrifying things are still there, but Jeon Jungkook is his omega.
“You’re good at this, you know,” Taehyung says when he pops his head into their tiny kitchen. It’s not really a kitchen at all, really, more a collection of units, a sink, and a stove shoved into the corner of the living space. So far, it's gotten the job done, but they’ll outgrow it pretty quickly once two becomes three.
“Not really, I’m going to have to learn to really cook though. Maybe Yoongi and Seokjin will help me once they’re finished scalping me alive,” he hums as he flips the pajeon without it falling apart. Small victories.
“Not that, dumbass,” Taehyung laughs, grabbing some plates, chopsticks and condiments from the cupboards and setting them out on the coffee table. “Looking after him. You’re doing great.”
Hobi pauses with a tiny edge piece of pajeon half way to his mouth for the taste test.
“You think so?” he says in a quiet voice.
It’s not that he thinks he’s doing a bad job. He just doesn’t think there’s ever a way he can be doing enough. Not when Jungkook is running himself ragged in class all day, turning all of his assignments in on time, all while growing an actual life inside his body. A tiny pup, a baby girl if Jungkook is to be believed, who’s taking all of his sustenance. It makes him feel inadequate no matter what he does.
“Yep. He’s happy,” Taehyhung nods and pushes him aside at the stove so he can plate up the pajeon and tofu. “Go get him. I’m gonna head out when we’re finished eating, kay?”
Hours later, when Taehyung is gone, Jungkook is curled up on the couch with his head in Hobi’s lap.
“I didn’t know, you know,” Hobi murmurs, running his fingers through the glossy warmth of Jungkook’s hair. The omega just rolls his head from side to side, like he’s trying to find the perfect spot, then gazes up at Hobi with his pretty doe eyes.
“What?”
Hobi clears his throat and blushes. “I didn’t know that you… loved me. I didn’t know that you knew that I loved you, either. I didn’t know anything , really.”
Jungkook hums and lets his eyes close for a few minutes, legs stretched out the length of the sofa and hands crossed on his belly. He’s got pants on now, unfortunately, but he’s ditched the oversized cardigan. In his little cropped, black t-shirt, his tiny belly is on display. It’s so strange to see him without cut abs, but there’s a smooth little mound forming under his hands that looks so precious it makes Hobi want to cry. He’s only 16 weeks, so it hasn’t truly “popped” yet, but it's smooth and convex. It’s real.
“I’m not amazing at saying what I’m thinking,” Jungkook starts, in a thoughtful voice. He’d been quiet so long that Hobi thought the subject was closed. He bites his lip as he listens. “But I think we’re really good together. I want us to be a proper family. I know that, like… we have no idea what we’re doing. And we’re going to need a lot of help, but, Hob-ah…”
He opens his eyes again and looks back up with a cute, nervous smile.
“I think we can do it. I think we’re going to be okay.”
Hobi leans down and pecks his lips gently. “I fucking hope so. I didn’t want to scare you by talking about how scared I am but… what the fuck are we even doing?”
Jungkook just laughs. He’s just so… so.
“Hobi, the way I look at it, we’re kind of in it now, you know? This baby is in me, and it has to come out one way or another. People have kids every day and they somehow manage to make it work, so why not us?”
Jungkook devolves into giggles at that, and it's impossible not to laugh when he laughs. Hobi sees it with his friends, his brothers, random people in shops and cafes. When Jungkook smiles, something warm just spreads through you and you can’t not smile back.
“Can you just remind me of that twice a day or so?”
Jungkook lifts the bottom of Hobi’s shirt and snuggles his face into his belly. His lips are warm and wet and he’s huffing little breaths against Hobis' skin.
“I wish I could do more. It seems so fucked up that omegas literally have to do all of the carrying, the growing, literally push the pup out and all alphas have to do is shove some sperm in.”
Jungkook nips at his bellybutton. His omegan teeth are much blunter than Hobi’s own, and it feels like a tickle, but it also sends a zap of pleasure through his stomach.
“Firstly, what a gross way to put it,” Jungkook laughs, his words muffled by T-shirt and belly skin. “And secondly, I can think of a few other things you can do, hyung.”
He pulls away from Hobi’s stomach to bat his eyelashes, suggestively.
“Oh?” Hobi laughs. “Like what?”
Jungkook just rocks his head in Hobi’s lap, rolling over onto his side so he can mouth at the starchy denim of his crotch.
“Like, maybe I can ride?” Jungkook says, as he bites into the jeans. Hobi doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he can barely feel it through the thick Levi’s, but he doesn’t really need to. The idea of having a lap full of horny omega, bouncing on top of him with his little belly all bare and smooth… well, that’s making him hard enough.
“I’m going to be so big soon that all I’ll be able to do is ride. You know you’re not supposed to lie on your back when you’re pregnant? I guess the baby squishes your organs or some shit if you do.”
Jungkook is wiggling out of his sweatpants now, shimmying out of them and kicking them off the sofa without even using his hands.
“Didn’t bother with the underwear after your shower, then?” Hobi asks as he watches, not moving a muscle. His mouth starts to water at the rush of raspberry that fills the room, and he can see the sweet little spot between his thighs where Jungkook’s skin is already wet, his cute dick hard and pushed up on his stomach.
“I can’t deal with the waistband in the evening. I don’t know, it’s not ideal pillow talk when I’m literally about to sit on your dick, but I feel so much bigger by the end of the day.” He shrugs his T-shirt off too, and now he’s totally naked, kneeling beside Hobi without an ounce of self consciousness. “I’m gonna need those huge Bridget Jones knickers soon. Will you still fuck me in those?”
Hobi runs a hand down Jungkook’s bare side. He loves the deep curve where the omega’s broad chest and shoulders sink down to the tiny nothingness of his waist. He’s like a perfect hourglass, so strong and so delicate in equal measure.
“I’d fuck you in anything , as long as you want me to,” he sighs deeply as Jungkook dips down to unzip his jeans. He doesn’t take Hobi’s shirt off, just yanks the Levi’s half way down his thighs, underwear too, and shoves his shoulders back into the sofa.
“Just lie back and relax. You looked after me today so let me take care of you,” Jungkook laughs as he climbs up to straddle Hobi. “I’m so wet all the time now, it’s wild. I thought I’d be laid out wanting to just eat, and cry all the time, but all I wanna do is fuck.”
“I’m not complaining, bab…” he cuts off with a deep, rough groan as Jungkook sinks onto him.
This is what it’s been like the last few weeks. No prep, no foreplay, just Hobi hard as a rock at the smell of his aroused omega, and Jungkook wet and primed 24/7. There’s something so hot about him just being ready for Hobi’s knot all the time. It’s like heat, but without the pain, and the frantic energy of it all.
“God, you feel good,” Jungkook says, wiggling his hips to adjust. “I know it… ugh … totally goes against all of my independent omega beliefs, but it was so hot the way you were growling at everyone earlier. Oh fuck .”
Hobi just watches his face, pretty as it moves from a concentrated frown to moments of frustrated bliss. His mouth falls open, pink lips plush in a perfect circle, and his eyes flutter shut as he moves. It’s just slow, undulations of his hips at first, and Hobi holds on, letting his own hands that rest on Jungkook’s hips move with him.
“Love when you let me just do what I want with you,” Jungkook moans as he speeds up. He’s still not lifting his hips off Hobi, just grinding forwards and back, forwards and back, side to side, round in a small circle. It makes him breathless and so desperate for more friction.
“Please, baby,” he whines and Jungkook grins down wickedly. “Move, come on.”
“How about you just shush and let me, uuuuugh . Write my name with your dick,” Jungkook giggles between moans. He has Hobi’s shoulders pinned into the back cushion of the sofa, and it feels so good to be held down by such a strong omega. He feels himself start to sweat, a prickly heat on his upper lip and the back of his neck.
“Do you really do that?” he laughs, huffy and out of breath. Finally Jungkook lifts his hips, uses his strong, beefy thighs to push up and slam back down against Hobi’s pelvis.
“Oh god, yes. No, no I don’t. It just sounded… fuck… funny,” Jungkook sighs, throwing his head back and picking up his pace.
“Do you know you have the perfect dick? Alphas always think we want these humongous dicks, but actually… oh god … we just want it to be pretty… curved… don’t want it to split me open, just want it to fuck me good .” Jungkook falls forward and lays his head against Hobi’s shoulders. “God I need some water, riding is so hard when you’re pregnant.”
Hobi’s alpha is howling inside his chest, chomping at the bit to be in control, to dominate. It’s like a whole different kind of pleasure to push him down, let him be collared and leashed as Jungkook rides him towards his orgasm.
“You want me to take over?” he says as he feels his canines elongate, feels them dig imprints into the flush swell of his bottom lip.
“Don’t fucking dare,” Jungkook hisses, and lifts his knees up so his feet are flat on the sofa. His little bump is so pronounced in this position, so pretty and round that the impossibility of it flabbergasts Hobi.
It doesn’t take long for Hobi to come once Jungkook does. He wraps his arms around Hobi’s neck so tight that he almost chokes, and he falls forward against his chest and moans, body clenching around his dick so hard he almost sees stars. He grabs Jungkook’s dick as it bobs between them, and with one, two, three flicks of the wrist, he comes all over Hobi’s shirt.
“Jungkook, pull off, I can’t – I’m gonna…”
Jungkook laughs, body going lax with his orgasm. “Hobi, I’m pregnant. I’m not going to get any more pregnant. Come inside me.”
After a few breaths, Jungkook picks his pace back up again and Hobi can feel the swell of his knot, pressing against Jungkook’s entrance. It’s hard to get it into him at this angle, so the omega lets him lay him down on the sofa and hike his knees up around Hobi’s ears. It won’t be long before they can’t do this at all.
“You’re so pretty, all full like this. I swear to fucking god, you’ve gotten prettier,” he moans as he thrusts his knot against Jungkook’s hole. He pushes, pushes, and when the knot pops inside, it literally takes him three seconds to come, hard and fast. He has to mouth at the neck of his own t-shirt as he feels the cum fill Jungkook to stop himself from biting. He wants to bite so bad it hurts. His teeth hurt, his mouth hurts. He wants to feel the cut of the pretty, white flesh at Jungkook’s neck in his canines, leave his mark so it can never, ever be washed away. So Jungkook will be his forever.
“Down boy,” Jungkook whispers, leaning up for a kiss. It’s sweet, like raspberry, and it feels like a puppy pat on his alpha’s exposed belly.
“I love you,” he chokes out, embarrassed. It’ll get easier to say it, with time. It still feels like something he needs to repress, push back down his throat to keep his heart safe. He feels too exposed with the words drifting out through the room.
Jungkook runs a palm along the curve of his jaw and plants a tiny kiss on his cheek. “I know Hob-ah. I love you too.”
They stay wrapped up like that for nearly half an hour, with Hobi soft and buried deep inside Jungkook, the omega’s legs wide. Hobi has to balance on his elbows so he doesn’t put any pressure on Jungkook’s belly or pelvis. It’s not until his upper arms start to tremble with the exertion that he pulls out, and sits back on his heels to look down at Jungkook.
The omega runs a hand along his own hole, the cum seeping out of him, and rubs it into his belly. It’s both disgusting and heart wrenching, somehow. Hobi finds himself swallowing down a lump in his throat that feels like painful love.
“Maybe one day you’ll give me a different kind of mark,” Jungkook giggles.
“Happy birthday, Jagiya,” he whispers as the omega starts to drift off beside him, still on the dumb couch. The one he really needs to replace.