[UPDATE TIME ok let’s see if i can’t at least make it to the end of spike three today good fucking god mono you’re a trainwreck]

[link to top] https://twitter.com/yeongwonhanrain/status/1307337630615572481?s=20

the worst of jungkook’s alpha instincts kick in at the end of the second day, on the third spike.

spike, singular, because since the universe has a penchant for tormenting him, jimin and taehyung spike simultaneously.

which of course means that nobody’s in the driver’s seat, so to speak. it’s just two whiny, needy omegas grinding back and forth, legs scissored, feeding a double-ended knotted dildo into each other as they cry.

and jesus, do they /cry/.

jungkook has heard more crying omegas than he can count, and up to as many as two or three at once, in various stages of heat, for the odd pack or two that he’s chaperoned for.

and each time, he’s felt the pull on his alpha nature, like a little tug he’s come to expect since his presentation. /hey/, it says. /omega in distress/.

and each time, calmly, he’s able to examine that sensation, relay the relevant information as is his duty as a chaperone, and then set the feeling of it aside. calmly.

but watching jimin and taehyung sloppily rut against each other, teary and desperate, neither of them able to stand going empty long enough to mount the other, jungkook can barely remember ever having been calm in his life.

he’d woken up before them, his nose alerted by the rising heat-scent as their spike neared, and urged them to drink and eat a little, trying desperately to hope that the synchronicity he was smelling would not in fact come to fruition.

as the minutes wore on, and it became ever clearer that there was no avoiding the inevitable, jungkook had forced himself, stiff-legged, back to the recliner, helpless to the sight of jimin and taehyung, now themselves realizing the impending onslaught,

slowly descending into the full throes of heat spike.

jungkook had been prepared for the intensity of spike two. but now, faced with his hyung’s tear-streaked faces, white-knuckling the arms of the recliner, he thinks spike two was absolutely nothing compared to what he’s enduring - what /they’re/ enduring - now.

taehyung had started crying first. jungkook had had to watch jimin, brow wrinkled with how much he was fighting to maintain enough concentration to fuck taehyung open with one hand and rummage through a specific area of the nest with the other, bit back his own tears.

eventually, jimin had succumbed to the heat too, of course, the two of them pressed together from forehead to toes, weeping into each other’s open mouths between uncoordinated kisses.

“taetae,” jimin had said with a particularly pathetic sniffle. taehyung had merely whimpered in response, and jimin echoed it with his own small noise. “just let me - let me find the-“

“s’under that blanket,” taehyung had warbled. “y-you tucked it there so it would be easy to get to j-just in case this happened.”

then there had been a flurry of limbs, taehyung struggling to relinquish the tightness of his clutch on jimin for jimin to roll onto his back to reach for whatever toy they were looking for.

of course, jungkook had realized as soon as jimin pulled it from its spot. of course any omega couple would have a double ended dildo with two knots at the middle - it made perfect sense. they didn’t need an alpha - just some good preparation.

watching them had been agonizing - both overwhelmed, shaky, trying to comfort each other through the tremors of their own bodies.

jungkook had watched them alternate between holding back their own sobs at the empty ache they must have been weathering and nipping at each other’s collarbones, at any skin within reach, desperately trying to settle each other.

now, having finally worked the dildo into jimin first, then taehyung, jungkook hopes that the fullness might relieve some of the heat.

and for a moment, after the dildo is fully seated, slick slathering them from navel to knee, jimin and taehyung seem to relax, the tension bleeding out of them by a minuscule fraction.

jungkook lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his own body taut as a bowstring as he scents the air frantically, still smelling mostly eye-watering distressed-omega scent. a hint of satisfaction, sure, but jimin and taehyung’s bodies are far from satisfied.

he watches as they try to work up some kind of rhythm between them, before giving up, hands grasping at any purchase on each other’s bodies, smearing their tears into each other’s necks as they lie on their sides.

taehyung’s big hand is curled around the very midpoint of the dildo, holding it as steady as he can manage in his condition, as jimin circles his hips messily, the very image of desperation.

and jungkook? jungkook can nearly feel his teeth vibrating in his jaw with the strength of his desire to /ease/.

his hyungs are struggling on this spike, trying so hard to take care of each other when they’re in no shape to do so themselves, when he’s /right here/, when he could /help/-

but they don’t need him, he reminds himself forcefully. he might be an alpha, but they don’t /need/ him - omegas get by perfectly fine on their own. he refuses to let himself get into an alpha-savior complex. his hyungs deserve better than that.

he just also thinks that his hyungs deserve all the help they can get. but it’s not in their contract. they didn’t negotiate anything beyond a chaperone role - and jungkook truthfully doesn’t know that he would have been open to negotiating anything more.

he hadn’t thought beyond the chaperoning, because he’d been so focused on making sure everything was squared away, and because he would never have imagined that he might find himself wanting to do more. to help more. to help as not just a chaperone, but as an /alpha/.

jimin shifts on the mattress, hitching his thigh higher, and he and taehyung moan in concert, as they finally get their cocks aligned.

with a pause in their grinding and some half-blubbered gesturing, they readjust so that jimin’s hand is stabilizing the dildo as taehyung wraps his shaky hand around their cocks.

the only saving grace of the heat, jungkook thinks, is that orgasm comes quicker, faster, and hopefully will relieve them of the strain that jungkook can’t shoulder for them.

the whines become indistinguishable from the crying, as taehyung pumps them as best as them can, jimin throwing his head back as he shudders through his orgasm abruptly, come oozing over taehyung’s fingers.

and then, as taehyung opens his eyes to peer down at his fist, his eyes catch jungkook’s over jimin’s shoulder, just as his own thumb catches on the underside of his cockhead, and the knot on his side of the dildo pops into his hole.

jungkook watches, as if in a dream, as taehyung’s pupils dilate, and his eyes roll back as his mouth drops open on a cry.

“al-!”

taehyung comes just as jimin rushes up to smother his outburst with a kiss.

jimin and taehyung come down from their orgasms, wrapped so thoroughly in each other, and even through the ferocity of the kiss they’re sharing, jungkook can hear taehyung’s sobbing.

maybe jungkook merely imagined the weight of taehyung’s gaze in that split second. maybe taehyung had been so close to orgasm, his gaze had been unfocused anyway, and maybe he was about to let out a long, nonspecific wail.

jungkook has to have imagined the curl of taehyung’s tongue, the l following the ah. the soft “ff” that came afterwards was merely jimin’s lip getting trapped between taehyung’s teeth, not an intentional choice.

it has to be, because this deep into heat, there’s absolutely no reason taehyung would even notice anyone other than jimin is in the room. not when his mate is right there, also heat-needy and debauched, seconds after an orgasm.

and yet, there’s a note of dissatisfaction, however faint, when jungkook checks the scent in the room. it’s the littlest acrid hint in the heady, eye-watering sharpness of the smell that accompanies a spike.

jungkook probably wouldn’t have even noticed it had this been any other group he was chaperoning for, and not his own two dearest hyungs, whose scents he knows so intimately.

and even so, he can’t pinpoint if it’s coming from taehyung or jimin with the thick hazy mask of heat overlaying everything

his attention is taken up, however, as jimin pulls back, replacing his own mouth on taehyung’s with his fingers after he runs them through the mess of come on their bellies.

the deep furrow in taehyung’s brow smoothes a little as he sucks on jimin’s fingers, and a stilted sigh escapes through his nose as he licks all the way to jimin’s wrist, slurping up every drop of come and slick until jimin’s whole hand shines with his spit.

at last, taehyung opens his eyes again - fixed squarely on jimin this time.

“thank you, jiminie,” he croaks hoarsely, a fresh wave of tears collecting in his eyes.

jimin, this time, is no better off, and even with his back to jungkook, jungkook can see the quiver of his slim shoulders as he half-laughs, half-sobs, cupping taehyung’s cheek with his spit-slick hand. “of course, baby. i got you. always.”

“you’re mid-spike too, though,” taehyung protests, and jimin shushes him.

“and you’re here for me too. together, right?”

“together,” taehyung nods, and leans in to feather a kiss over jimin’s cheekbone, before he bends to trail more down jimin’s neck as jimin sighs.

every muscle in jungkook’s body urges him to wrap them both up in his arms and just hold them. and while that wouldn’t be so odd on the errant movie night or beach day, in this context it’s a feeling so foreign to him that he shivers with it.

as jungkook wrestles his attention away from himself once more, jimin pets a hand down taehyung’s spine, a halfway-purr abortively stopping and starting in his chest. “we’ve got more to go, taehyungie,” he asks. “how do you wanna do this?”

taehyung finishes sucking the hickey he’s working on into jimin’s sternum before he breaks away, gasping, as if just remembering that he’s at the mercy of his own biology at the moment.

“want your fist again, jimin,” he pants, starting to squirm again. jungkook’s pretty sure he never went fully soft. “but don’t. wanna make you wait either,” taehyung finishes with a considerable effort.

“do you think - ah! - you can. fuck me with the,” jimin hisses, as taehyung’s squirming undoubtedly tugs on the knot lodged in him. “with the one with the curved handle?”

taehyung nods. “forgot about that one,” he admits. “but definitely, nnn, a better angle.”

“we’re both going to have to be empty for a second,” jimin warns, and taehyung winces.

“i’m gonna cry again, m’sorry, min,” he says, lip already wobbling at the thought of it.

“my baby,” jimin says, voice heavy with fondness. jungkook wonders what jimin must feel to have his affection bleed so evidently into his words.

jimin presses a careful kiss to taehyung’s pout and counts down from three, pulling the dildo out of both of them at the end. taehyung, to his credit, does his best to keep from outright sobbing, but his face scrunches up in displeasure.

hauling himself to his knees, jimin fetches a thick, knotted dildo mounted to a handle on a ninety-degree angle from the opposite end of the nest, dragging himself back over with it.

a wet trail of slick dampens the part of the bed he’s traversed, and a sheen of it covers the double-ended dildo they’d just flung aside. jungkook is only mildly horrifed to find that he longs to be /closer/ to the mess, and not further away.

he thinks about falling asleep with taehyung’s slick still on his hand, and slightly mourns the loss of it now that he’s washed his hands several times since, in spite of how gross he /should/ find it.

taehyung reaches up to take the dildo from jimin just as jimin flops back down beside him, the two of them apparently incapable of any position that isn’t just on their sides facing each other when they’re both so deep into heat.

jimin dances his fingers around taehyung’s still-swollen rim as taehyung chants, “in, in - i’m still loose, it’s fine,” simultaneously curling his own knee up so taehyung can get his arm underneath it to support jimin’s leg.

awkwardly, taehyung twists his body to free the arm trapped beneath him, threading it under jimin too, until his hand curls out from under jimin, emerging near his back.

jungkook isn’t quite sure what taehyung is aiming to do until he watches as taehyung clumsily but successfully passes the dildo into the hand beneath jimin’s body, angling it to push into jimin from behind.

jimin arches his back, pushing back against it, and it starts to sink into his loose, dripping hole, directly in jungkook’s line of sight. jungkook can’t take his eyes off of where jimin’s slack rim stretches obscenely around the girth of the toy.

still, the toy isn’t quite as thick around the base as he is, he thinks - not that it matters, jungkook catches himself. god, comparing his size to a /toy/ - his hyungs’ heat has truly done something to him.

once the dildo is seated just up to the knot, taehyung gives a perfunctory flex of his wrist, pulling out a fraction before pushing back in. “good?” he asks through a steady-stream of tears, no doubt because he’s still empty.

“so good,” jimin sighs. “let’s get you full too,” he murmurs, and then he’s pushing his whole hand into taehyung with little to no resistance.

taehyung chokes on a sob that bursts from his chest, sounding overwhelmed and relieved all at once, and jungkook aches. with what, he doesn’t know.

behind jimin, taehyung’s hand picks up the pace of his thrusts as jimin mewls, in turn rocking his fist harder up into taehyung in a breathtaking loop of motion that has jungkook enraptured.

their cocks bob between them, and with both taehyung’s hands occupied, it falls to jimin to try and gather both of them into a single fist. he can barely get his thumb hooked around their combined girth.

jungkook’s mind briefly tortures him with the image of jimin’s tiny hand on his own cock, endowed with an alpha’s size. he barely summons the wherewithal to fight it, weary of the semi-hard state he’s been in, on and off, for somewhere north of 40 hours.

he’s distracted, however, by the growing out-of-place scent he detects, even as jimin and taehyung rock themselves close to orgasm again.

as taehyung shudders and wails out an orgasm that leaves him hiccuping, fucking the dildo weakly into jimin until jimin follows, jungkook continues sniffing at the air, at the acrid-bitter traces he can’t fully pick out.

taehyung keeps thrusting his arm, fucking the knot in and out of jimin’s rim until jimin’s coming again right on the heels of his last orgasm, but even then, the scent doesn’t abate.

it’s longing, jungkook realizes with a start. something missing that the heat-couple needs.

even as jimin’s spike-scent peters out after a solid three orgasms, confirming to jungkook’s anxious addled mind that his hyung is probably safely halfway through the duration of his heat - and hopefully the most intense spikes - the note of discontent doesn’t fade.

jungkook tries to focus as jimin shimmies his way down, dildo still caught in his hole, to envelop taehyung’s cock with his mouth, fist in up to his wrist as he maneuvers it in a wide circle that has taehyung’s legs jerking.

but his alpha brain won’t let go of the fact that there’s something amiss, no matter how subtle. jimin and taehyung certainly /look/ fine, or as fine as they can mid-heat, but jungkook’s nose says otherwise.

in all his years of chaperoning, not once has jungkook felt so utterly helpless. there’s something his hyungs want, that they need, and he can’t deduce what it is, only that the lack of it is there.

all in all, the heat seems to be progressing fine - neither of them are slipping into truly worrying symptoms - but jungkook had promised his hyungs the best, and there’s something he can’t seem to provide, just out of reach.

he’s forced to set that terrible line of inquiry aside when taehyung’s deep, lovely voice babbles, “jimin, jimin, oh, jiminie-“ as he comes down jimin’s throat, jimin’s fist slowly coming to a halt inside him.

jungkook gives them a few moments before he gently calls out to them.

“hyungs,” he whispers, not sure if they’ll hear him.

both their heads swivel towards him instantly.

he stands, grimacing at the cramp in his legs from having been so tense for so long, and picks up the basket of water bottles and snacks.

“i really have to pee,” he lies (although it’s not entirely false). “start rehydrating and i’ll come back to check in in a sec, okay?”

“yes, kookie,” jimin says on an exhale, still catching his breath. taehyung’s gaze glitters up at him from the bed.

jungkook barely makes it into the bathroom before he’s fisting his hands into his own hair.

he slumps back against the door, tugging hard, hoping the pain on his scalp might give him a little clarity. it proves to be a futile exercise, and he resigns himself to his frustration for three, four breaths before he crosses to the toilet to relieve himself.

he flushes and washes his hands, resisting the urge to pick at his cuticles, knowing that he probably wouldn’t stop until they bled, at this rate.

it wasn’t enough for him to realize there was something about his hyungs, something about his warmest, safest hyungs, that sparked something different in him, in the middle of chaperoning their heat.

now, there’s something they need that he can’t figure out, even with all his experience. and even as his rational self assures him that it’s nothing severe, that day three is usually the final day of heat and if anything were to go seriously wrong it would have by now,

his alpha brain recoils at the idea that there’s /something he can’t fix/ for his omega hyungs, when they’re at their most vulnerable. when they need him the most.

he had thought was good enough to do this for them, and the idea that he might have been wrong wounds him more deeply than any crisis he might have been having about the nature of his...his /feelings/ towards them.

but jungkook can’t hide in the bathroom, because as inadequate as he might be, he’s still all they have right now.

so he dries his hands, smooths a hand through his rumpled hair, and walks back out towards the bedroom.

“but you can’t, because jungkookie-“

jungkook freezes.

they’re talking about him.

from this distance, and with the hushed way jimin and taehyung are whispering, jungkook can only hear snatches of what they’re saying - little bits and pieces of “you can’t-“ and “contract” and “he has a job to do”.

there’s taehyung’s deep, lovely voice, affronted, reassuring “more than enough-“ and jimin, then, “it’s okay to want-“

something in jungkook’s chest cracks open at the sadness in their voices, evident even though the words aren’t.

he’s not doing as well as they deserve.

they know, and they’ve noticed. whatever it is that they need, he’s not fulfilling it, he’s not-

he huffs a breath through his nose without thinking, caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts, and hears their conversation cut off abruptly.

shit.

jungkook telegraphs his footsteps more loudly than he usually would as he pads the remainder of the distance back into the bedroom, and by the time he enters, they’re both obediently guzzling their water bottles, with no indication of the conversation they were having.

jungkook doesn’t let himself fully enjoy the normal warmth he gets from feeding them this time, even as they smile, thank him, tell him he’s the best.

because now he knows he isn’t, because there’s something they won’t tell him. something they need.

and jimin and taehyung might be doing just fine, but they deserve the world, and jungkook, it seems, isn’t able to give that to them.

no matter how much he’s realizing that he wants to, in more ways than he ever could have imagined wanting.

[haha oops that got angsty the author promises that all will!! be resolved!!!! in due time!!!!!!!!! but alas the circumstances of the chaperone-ship are such that there is a bit more pain to weather before we finally get some resolution for jungoo’s poor heart (and his dick).]

[slightly shorter update and it took a turn from horny into sad so the author thanks you for sticking around and bearing with it if you are still here,, she is going to go pop some ibuprofen for this headache and knock the heck out.]

[two, maybe three updates to go, she thinks?? thank you all for the continued love on this way-longer-than-anticipated mess!!]