Taekook Smuts and Drabbles

got my body so wet

THIS BELONGS TO @fatal ON AO3

There's sweat cooling at the base of his neck, the lecture hall oddly warm despite the air conditioning blasting through the vents. Then again, there were some one hundred students swarmed in and Jungkook had always been susceptible to temperature changes. The alpha sitting next to him smells like incense, overpowering and spicy, burning at Jungkook's nose. He's not usually this sensitive but even his jeans feel rough against his skin, like cardboard rubbing against him.

Thankfully they only have twenty minutes left, and Jungkook can hopefully go home and take a shower, feeling sticky as he sinks down further in his seat. It's getting harder and harder to focus, his professor's words jumbling together as Jungkook's attention wanes.

"Shit," he mumbles, sucking in a breath, the taste of sandalwood and rose washing over his mouth. He rubs at the back of his neck, skin itchy, a flush crawling up his chest. His mouth's gone dry, and when he shifts his legs apart, it clicks.

Fuck.

Suddenly, the alpha next to him doesn't look so disinterested, and Jungkook squeezes his legs closed, dragging his bag into his lap, purposefully avoiding the alpha's eyes. He almost always picked aisle seats and he's never been quite so thankful, shoving his things into his bag before rushing out of the lecture.

By the time he gets out of the lecture hall, his cock's hard and Jungkook's skin is burning, clothes too thick in the late spring weather. He rushes out into the afternoon's cool, only to find that it offers no relief. Shit, shit, shit.

He hasn't gone through a heat in nearly four years, not since they started. Back then, Jungkook had spent days cooped up in his room, heat lasting five painful days. Jungkook's parents had, thankfully, put him on suppressants since he was sixteen, but Jungkook, short on cash had bought this month's suppressants at a lower dosage, thinking he'd be fine.

"Fuck," Jungkook curses, eyeing the crowd of people at the bus stop warily. Getting home on foot would take too long, and there's an angry fire burning in his gut, ready to consume him whole. He takes the risk, gets on the bus, sitting right by the bus driver, exit clear. Fear swells inside him, eyes downcast as Jungkook watches people walk past him. Maybe they can't smell it, Jungkook tells himself.

Twenty minutes later, Jungkook is stumbling off the bus, slick wetness already between his thighs, lungs heavy. His head feels light-headed, a want like nothing he's ever felt devouring him. Jungkook's cursing under his breath, fists clenched as he makes it to his apartment, praying that Jimin's already left for his class.

The place is empty, and Jungkook would sigh with relief, but the feeling doesn't come. His skin itches, ache settling between his hips, clothes too much. By the time he gets to his room, he's in nothing but his underwear, clothes chucked into a corner as he locks the door behind him. Flicking the fan he's kept in the corner all winter on, Jungkook collapses onto his bed, hissing as he makes contact with the rough cotton.

His scent is overpowering in his room, burnt caramel giving away to sharp cinnamon, and Jungkook's never felt so desperate to feel a cock up his ass, an alpha's knot filling him up. There's slick running down his thighs, underwear soaking up, and Jungkook's got his palm pressed to his cock, gasping. He can't even think of a time he's been so aroused, not even on those rare occasions when Jungkook, horny and stressed, let an alpha take him home.

"Fuck," he hisses, pushing his underwear down, the fabric brushing over his cock painfully. His skin's flushed, cock hard and leaking precum. Jungkook's taking himself into his hand, thumb pressing into the slit, a delirious mindlessness settling in. It sends a shudder down his spine, guttural moan slipping out and it was never this bad. His heats were never this bad, didn't just knock him out like this.