Nip & Bloom

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/31173686.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin
Character: Min Yoongi | Suga, Park Jimin (BTS), Bangtan Boys | BTS Ensemble
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Strangers to Lovers, Forced
Cohabitation, Alpha Min Yoongi | Suga, Omega Park Jimin (BTS),
yoonmin bickering, Scenting, Nesting, Collars, Non-Sexual Submission,
Subspace, Soft Dom Min Yoongi | Suga, Slow Build, Eventual Smut,
Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rutting, Ruined Orgasms, Dirty Talk, Knotting,
Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Mating Bites, Rough Sex,
Established Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Eventual Kim Line
Poly, Everyone being whipped for Joon is canon at this point, Fluff and
Humor, Angst, Worldbuilding, Pack Dynamics, Founding the Bangtan
Pack
Language: English
Collections: Fav Fics of Yoonmin (Dophanh4397)
Stats: Published: 2021-05-08 Completed: 2021-11-13 Chapters: 22/22 Words:
154915

Nip & Bloom

by mangust_d

Summary

Traditional and oppressive views of alpha/omega relations run rampant in the Korean
society even in 2021. Unmated and packless Park Jimin is placed in a government
programme which pairs delinquent omegas with support mates to help them better navigate
their subgender. Jimin’s alpha for six months turns out to be Min Yoongi, a tiny music
producer who wears fuzzy sweaters, and who won’t stop talking about his kitten Holly.

“You look like an omega,” Jimin blurts out.

The strange alpha flashes him a smile that reveals the pink of his gums. “Is that
something you prefer? I saw your file, and it said you identify as queer.”
“Oh, you looked at my file just to see if I like to fuck other omegas? Knot
swelling yet?”

Notes

• FIC PLAYLIST
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 Government-issued Knot

The letter arrives on a perfectly normal Tuesday.

Jimin picks up his stack of mail on the way upstairs, shifting through it like a naïve little pup, and
the vessel of doom slips out of its hiding place between a pizza advert and one of those freebie
magazines no one ever reads.

He already knows what it means. The envelope is thin and light, way too small to include all the
documents he wished to receive, papers that would put an end to the years of harassment he has
suffered from various government agencies.

Shoulders slumped in early defeat, Jimin sits down in the comfy armchair by the windowsill. It’s
his favourite spot in the tiny flat, the place where he likes to quiet his mind after a long day at
work, watching the spring rain fall on the roofs below.

The weather is sunny today, though. It’s a day suited for baseless optimism and melting ice cream,
not for unemotional announcements from faceless government entities. The letter in question is
addressed to Jimin, but in third person, as if it was fully expected to be read by his guardian, who
would later inform him of the possibly life-altering decisions made on his behalf.

They must think that puny, scatter-brained omegas wouldn’t be able to understand legal jargon,
anyway.
Dear recipient,

the inquest regarding omega Park Jimin’s status as unmated and unclaimed has been processed in
accordance with the Omegan Welfare and Safety Act, article III sections 2–5 regarding unmated
omegas above the age of 25. It is hereby decided that the evidence presented of omega Park
Jimin’s aptitude for independent life and long-term happiness under his current living conditions is
considered insufficient.

Omega Park Jimin is requested for mandatory counselling to ascertain that his prolonged lack of a
dominant partner or pack has not caused any adverse effects to his health. Omega Park Jimin is
expected to check in at the Omega Welfare Centre in Seogyodong on 3 May 2021, 1 pm. A
thorough revaluation of omega Park Jimin’s status will be conducted by a representative of the
Omegan Welfare and Safety Committee (OWSC). Omega Park Jimin has been appointed a
temporary handler, beta Kim Seokjin for the duration of the evaluation process.

We kindly request your cooperation,

beta Oh Taeri, OWSC specialist in mature omega affairs.

There’s nothing after that, no explanation given for why his petition was rejected for the third time
in a row. Feeling mild disappointment despite himself, Jimin tears his eyes off the letter. It’s a slow
and physically painful process.

He presses a palm above his right eye socket and rubs, so hard he sees dancing dots of white on the
insides of his eyelids. He would’ve gotten scolded for it, were his mother there to see. Jimin’s
mother is always fussing over the health of his eyes because of an accident that happened in early
puphood.

But the steady pressure helps when his mind starts racing like the ball in a pinball machine, going
over a series of unwanted scenarios.

Jimin has heard the horror stories, of course he has, has witnessed stuff himself too. A few years
ago his friend Jungkook tried to get some birth control, and the centre called his parents to ask if he
was going to get mated in the next two years, if he was meant to have pups soon so that they
wouldn’t give him anything too permanent. Jungkook was only seventeen at the time, and the
humiliation of having to discuss his budding sex life with his parents made Jungkook retreat further
into his shell of shyness. It took three more years to coax him out of that headspace.

This letter is more of the same shit. Jimin tries to handle his own matters, tries to follow all the
legal steps to make sure no one will ever question his unmated status or try to put a claim on him
on the basis of his subgender. What they offer instead of proper legal support is a slap of
misogynism to the face, meant to shame Jimin for not getting his shit together by the ripe age of
twenty-seven, when he should be getting fat with pups and graciously pulling out of the working
life to fill the role of a full-time parent. An omega in their prime, people would often say.

It doesn’t help that Jimin is a pretty omega, too. In fact he’s painfully aware of the fact, often using
it to his advantage to get random alphas wrapped around his finger like it’s nothing, betas doing
him favours and pampering him. And other omegas — other omegas get wet and needy and ask for
him to climb on top to mount them and whisper dirty things in their ears. They call him handsome
and beautiful and say that he has a nice cock that’s nearly as big as a beta’s.
Jimin likes to think he’s allowed to revel in the occasional feeling of being desired, as in most areas
of life he has been served a sucky hand of cards. He flunked out of university and got a barely
decent job with just about liveable wage. His flat is small, too cold in in the winter and hot in the
summer. He has astigmatism in his eyes and gets puffy cheeks after one too many bowls of
ramyun.

But Jimin is great at being an omega, model specimen really. He gets fuzzy in the head during sex,
drips slick on the sheets regardless of whether he tops or bottoms. He has plump lips and high
cheekbones that give off a hint of alluring femininity from certain angles – a face to drive alphas
wild. Jimin is lean and fit from years of dance, the kind of omega most alphas like to tame and
mold to their liking. He’s even nice and tight according to the select few alphas and betas he has
graciously let anywhere near his hole.

Jimin retrieves a glass of stale water from the table and waters his snake plant, which has drooping
leaves. It’s fitting. Jimin’s soul is in that plant, wilting away.

He used to be a nice person, he really did. Jimin still is nice to certain people, to his family and to
Jungkook, lets the younger omega tease him and carry him around like a sack of last year’s
potatoes with his big muscles flexing. Jimin even looks up to Jungkook’s alpha who actually
makes an active effort to be a good mate to his friend. It’s rare to see, sadly.

And although highly undeserved, he is also nice to –

“Jiminie what the fuck?”

Jimin turns on his heels, mouth opened to a listless shout.

“Wh–What are you doing here?” he mumbles with a slack jaw.

Taehyung, Jimin’s platonic soulmate and the most annoying baby alpha in existence, flicks his too
long bangs off to the side. “I rang the doorbell three times. I thought you had starved to death or
something, so I decided to let myself in.”

Jimin blinks, open vowels of bewilderment still stuck in his throat. The OWSC letter is in his hand,
crumpled into a ball of runny ink and cheap printer paper.

Taehyung looks unbothered by the silence. He shakes off his jacket and places it on the backrest of
the green armchair.

“I didn’t hear you. Had lots to think,” Jimin offers eventually.

“Bad news?”

Jimin nods. He walks to the kitchenette in the corner of the room and starts preparing tea. “I’m
sure they’ll try to put me in one of their stupid programmes this time. Last time I got off the hook
just because I told them I was considering mating you.”

Taehyung snorts. He and Jimin tried to have sex once, when they were young and dumb and
thought it was an automatic thing to feel attracted to the opposite subgender. Although it’s hardly
their fault. Their high school sex ed class consisted of the teacher describing the process of
‘making pups’ as the most natural thing in the world and showing pictures of happy omegas with
fresh claiming bites marring their scent glands.

In the last year of high school Taehyung presented, surprise alpha of the family, everyone’s
favourite pretty boy who was supposed to be yet another Kim omega. But then he popped his first
knot during a dinner with the extended family. Taehyung’s parents started putting immense
pressure on him, wanted him to become the head alpha of the family with a pretty omega at his
side.

Taehyung started getting touchier with his best friend, started repeating how good Jimin smelled to
him, because he thought it was the right thing to do and say. The baby alpha thought it would ‘fix’
their relationship which was already being frowned upon by others for being non-romantic in
nature.

One year after their disastrous sex experiment Taehyung came to see Jimin, all shy and sheepish,
and told that he was questioning his sexuality, that he was jerking off to the thought of knots in his
ass and teeth snapping at his neck. It still brings a smile to Jimin’s lips, the memory of Taehyung
with cherry red cheeks when Jimin showed him where he could buy beginner-sized knotting dildos
on the cheap.

The kettle makes a clicking noise as it switches off by itself. Taehyung has been quiet for a while.

“What are you going to do this time?” he asks quietly.

Jimin gathers air in his lungs and then lets out a heavy sigh. “Damned if I know. Maybe I could
blow my handler or something.”

“You know what, that could actually work. Corruption is still a major issue in this country,”
Taehyung says with a serious expression. “Oh, and can you give me the blue cup? Everything
tastes better out of that.”

•••

It definitely won’t work, Jimin thinks as he’s standing at the Omega Welfare Centre’s reception
desk, watching in horror as a tall man approaches from the hallway, eyes already locked on Jimin
like he’s a high profile target. The man has a face suited for a television and the confident
demeanour of an alpha, even though according to his name tag, he’s ‘Kim Seokjin, beta’.

The beta bows to Jimin in proper etiquette, only a small nod of acknowledgement, and Jimin
scrambles to bow more deeply as an omega should. He keeps reminding himself of the fact that his
miserable predicament isn’t this Seokjin person’s fault, and that he should at least show the beta
some basic courtesies.

“Very good, Jimin-ssi,” Seokjin says as if he’s giving positive affirmation to a dog. Jimin touches
his own visitor tag on instinct, having the urge to cover it somehow.

“My name is Seokjin, but you can also call me beta if you’d like. You have a physical and a little
chat with me in your schedule for today. We’ll take a urine sample and some blood, nothing too
crazy,” he explains cheerfully. The beta’s hair is permed and dyed a shade of warm brown, and
he’s dressed in normal jeans and a shirt instead of the grey hospital scrubs most of the other staff
members seem to wear.

Seokjin comes to stand closer to Jimin, towering over him, but his smile stays intact and seemingly
genuine. He smells like fresh rainwater, a typically mild scent for a beta.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek, his mind still stuck on long summer nights, rain and thunder,
and the intoxicating smell of wet asphalt. He doesn’t find his words in time to answer.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Seokjin says, frowning a little. Thankfully he doesn’t touch Jimin,
doesn’t start herding him around as if he’s too stupid to navigate well-lit corridors on his own.
“Let’s get the medical stuff out of the way first. I’m sure you’ll feel more at ease then.”

Seokjin turns back to where he came from, and Jimin stumbles to follow, sticks of lead attached to
his torso instead of legs. It’s not worth making a scene here, as it would only make things more
difficult for him if they thought there was even the slightest possibility he could be starting to go
feral from the lack of dominance.

It barely happens in modern society, but sometimes cases like that reach the evening news. The
results often aren't pretty.

In the end Jimin pees in a plastic cup like a good boy and lets a grumpy beta nurse draw a few
ampuls of blood, no doubt to conduct a pregnancy test and screen him for STDs.

Of course Jimin would be a disease-ridden slut just because he sleeps around sometimes.

They make him list all of his medications (the list is quite extensive) and take a survey on his
sexuality and gender. There are a million questions on gender dysphoria and sexual attraction,
because naturally he must be gay or ace or just outright broken to not be mated yet.

Seokjin comes to get him after the tests are done. He gives Jimin a cookie and a glass of apple
juice which isn’t half bad but reminds him a bit too much of the piss jar from earlier. They make
their way into a small room with windows to the busy street below. Jimin gets to sit on a plush sofa
by the window, listening to the bustle of the city while he munches on the chocolate chip cookie.
Seokjin settles in front of the computer and goes through Jimin’s information, asking for
confirmation on some things here and there.

“So, tell me Jimin-ssi, how are you?” the beta asks in a conversational tone, lifting his eyes off the
computer screen. Seokjin has put on a pair of thin-rimmed glasses, and the anti-blue light coating
gleams in the afternoon sun spilling in from the large windows.

Jimin tries to mask his laugh with a dry cough. Whenever the OWSC people start playing
psychotherapists, they’ve lost Jimin for good.

“You probably want me to say that I have bad headaches and that I fidget nonstop and try to bare
my neck to every alpha I come across, correct?”

Seokjin hums and leans back in his chair. He’s insanely attractive but in a way that is almost too
much, as though his flawless appearance could get permanently burned on Jimin’s retinas.

“Do you have those symptoms, then?” the beta asks, a subtle smile tugging the corners of his lips.

“I don’t,” Jimin replies.

“That’s nice to hear.” Seokjin tilts his head to the side like a puppy. “Do you ever wish you had an
alpha or beta to look after you?”

Jimin bites his tongue. “So now you’re all straight to the point, Seokjin-ssi? What happened to
trying to pry into my personal life?”

Seokjin’s smile widens. He scratches the bridge of his nose with a long finger that is slightly
crooked from the second joint. “I made an executive decision after seeing you don’t take well to
small talk.”

“It’s not small talk if you purposefully try to make me trip over my words at all times,” Jimin says,
tilting his jaw up.

Seokjin studies his face for a moment. The beta doesn’t seem to get flustered over silences like
Jimin does. He reminds Jimin of Taehyung in that regard.

“Why am I really here?” Jimin asks then, just to fill the void. Seokjin’s eyes flicker with something
in response, perhaps professional pity.

“Look, Jimin-ssi,” he begins with a soft expression, “according to the survey you filled out, you’ve
been seriously abusing suppressants and blockers for almost a decade. You’ve had no serious
relationships in the past five years, no dominant since you moved out of your parents’ home. It
really doesn’t look all too good.”

“I’m very happy without a mate, and I couldn’t bear living in a pack. Way too much drama for my
liking. My life is going great as it is.”

Seokjin sighs. “I’m sure it is, but I’m talking statistics now. Based on public health research,
omegas are at heightened risk of mental health issues and a plethora of medical complications
when they live all on their own like you do.”

“Don’t explain my subgender to me, beta,” Jimin snaps. He’s getting angry, mentally preparing
himself and putting his guards up, because he knows in which direction the discussion is headed.

It’s like a train wreck he can’t look away from.

“I must apologise. I meant you no offence,” Seokjin quickly says. He looks almost uncomfortable
now, and Jimin is slightly taken aback. “What I meant to say was that we have certain guidelines to
follow and data points to look for. I’m afraid your medical records ring many of those internal
alarm bells. This is not a personal attack on your privacy, just a preventative measure.”

“It seems highly personal to me, Seokjin-ssi,” Jimin says, but his words lacks ire. He’s tired and
just wants to go home.

“I know it does,” Seokjin agrees, “but try to take this as a chance to receive some free healthcare
and get your medications under control. Quite frankly I’m appalled that a licensed gynaecologist
would have prescribed you this many strips of suppressants without a proper heat cycle in
between.”

Jimin shrugs, trying to act clueless. Seokjin doesn’t need to be informed of the classic tactic of all
unmated omegas for whom heats are a personal hell come to earth – booking appointments at
multiple shoddy clinics in the shadier part of the city and collecting handwritten prescriptions from
each one.

Seokjin gives him a sharp look but drops the subject. “You have a control check-up two weeks
from now,” he says. “We’ll discuss the results of your blood and urine tests and try to come up
with a suitable solution.”

‘Solution’ doesn’t have a nice ring to it, Jimin thinks, but he doesn’t have the energy to start
fighting it.

“Do you have any questions?”

Jimin shakes his head. He wants Seokjin’s annoyingly handsome face out of his field of vision, he
wants to scent Taehyung and curl up in bed.

“Very well then. I’ll give you my number just in case, okay? Just give me a call if you’re feeling
unwell or anything.”

Unwell?

Why would Jimin be feeling unwell?

•••

Two weeks later Jimin is back for the results, buzzing with nervous dread. He has spent the last
few days in bed with Taehyung, spending all of his hard-earned vacation days to watch low-budget
omega romcoms on Netflix and laugh at the unrealistic representations of alpha-omega courting
with the grand gestures of affection and the fainting omegas with doll-sized waists.

Taehyung tried to convince him of the possibility that the world may not be ending after all, that
maybe Jimin is just fine and the results will prove he’s living well on his own.

But Jimin has a nagging feeling at the back of his head, Seokjin’s carefully chosen words on repeat
in his ears like a moth fluttering around a street lamp.

This time Seokjin doesn’t come to pick him up from the lobby. Jimin has to wait outside his office
for fifteen minutes and contemplate his likely doom.

When the door finally opens, Seokjin peeks his head out, hair slightly tousled and the corners of his
mouth downturned. “I’m very sorry you had to wait, Jimin-ssi. There were some last minute
arrangements I needed to make. Come in, please.”

Jimin doesn’t ask about the nature of the arrangements, doesn’t want the extra burden of knowing.
With some luck they aren’t even related to his case.

“Hello, nice to see you,” Seokjin greets as soon as they’re sitting down, in the same spots as last
time. There’s a huge bowl of fruit on the coffee table, but Jimin ignores it. He doesn’t have much
of an appetite these days.

“Have you been well?” the beta asks.

“I’m just dandy,” Jimin huffs. “Can you please be upfront about it, Seokjin-ssi, and tell me if I
need to go see a gyno again to change my meds?”

“I’m afraid it’s not quite as simple this time.”

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks. The air-conditioning is whirring loudly. The metallic hum is
irritating.

“I need to ask you a few more questions,” Seokjin says as though it would answer Jimin’s question.
“When was the last time you nested properly?”

Jimin bites his lip, thinking back to his bed with a couple of thin blankets and a single pillow.
Seokjin isn’t going to like the answer, he already knows.
“I don’t nest,” he reveals.

Jimin’s handler sucks in a sharp breath through closed teeth. “You don’t – nest? At all? How about
scenting?”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Jimin tries to deflect.

“Please, just answer the question. It’s important.”

The wall clock above Seokjin’s head is ticking in a steady rhythm, but the seconds seem to advance
at half the regular speed. Why is Jimin focusing on that all of a sudden?

Jimin shakes his head like a dog to get the misty fog at the corners of his mind to clear up. He
hates talking about omega things for this very reason – it makes him start sliding into the
headspace he has been avoiding like the plague ever since presenting, only allowing himself to slip
halfway there during sex.

Jimin licks his lips, blinking in rapid succession. “I scent my friends’ wrists sometimes. They don’t
wear scent blockers as often as me.”

“Ah yes, you must wear them daily, then?”

Jimin doesn’t bother answering. He loves using deodorants and scent-neutralising body sprays in
addition to the oral blockers he takes every morning. It’s a matter of safety really, as some rut-
crazed alpha could possibly jump an unmated omega late at night and not even get charged for it
due to ’extenuating circumstances’ or ’a lack of evidence’. Jimin knows that Jungkook’s alpha
makes sure to scent him from head to toe every time he wants go clubbing with Jimin, even though
the omega is tall and strong and sports the alpha’s mating bite and collar. Jimin does everything in
his power to hide his status from complete strangers, even if his appearance is often enough to give
it away.

“How’s your slick production?” Seokjin continues. “Have you experienced abdominal pains or
changes in your libido?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, getting up from his seat. “I will go to the doctor’s if there’s a problem with my
reproductive organs. I’m not discussing my medical history with a social worker.”

“Sit down, Jimin-ssi,” Seokjin says, authority bleeding into his voice for the first time, reminding
Jimin of the fact that even betas can successfully order omegas around if they put their mind to it.
Not that Seokjin could actually command Jimin, but there’s definitely some pull to obey.

Jimin sits down, slowly. His knees feel weak.

“The tests we ran revealed that you have a severely altered testosterone-oestrogen balance and an
overproduction of histamine and stress hormones. In addition to that there were some mild to
moderate vitamin deficiencies that need to be treated with dietary changes and supplements. It’s
clear that you aren’t coping too well on your own, and that some rapid measures have to be taken
before you find yourself in the ER, or worse yet, feral on the streets. There’s a good chance that
your reproductive system has already suffered irreparable consequences, but we’ll do thorough
fertility testing once your hormone levels have been rectified.”

Jimin’s jaw drops. His first instinct is to talk back, to deny everything Seokjin said. But he can’t
get a word out of his mouth, so the beta keeps talking, as if the words are light and easy on his
tongue.
“We have made the urgent decision to place you in our support alpha programme. I had to pull
some strings, but one of our best alphas was just relieved of his last engagement, so you won’t need
to wait any longer. The programme lasts for six months, and during it you’ll get to practise your
submission in a safe environment. The alpha will take care of your needs and offer things like
scenting and dominant guidance as needed.”

Jimin needs to say something to make this stop, but his mind draws a painful blank. “I – I don’t –“

There’s a soft knock on the door, and Seokjin springs to his feet. “This must be him. I’ll let the two
of you discuss the finer details of your arrangement. Every support alpha-omega relationship looks
a bit different.”

Jimin feels like he’s suffocating in a tiny metal box at the bottom of the sea, the weight of the
water crushing him at every direction. He reaches blindly for his thigh and pinches the skin as hard
as he can through the fabric of his trousers. The sting is just enough to make him able to breathe
again.

Seokjin is out the door already, speaking in hushed voices to some awful alpha who is going to
barge in and demand Jimin to submit ‘for his own good’.

And Jimin is powerless to stop any of it. He knows the Omegan Welfare and Safety act all too
well, has it memorised to a T to be always hyper-aware of the few rights he has as a member of the
third subgender. If he actually has a medical condition of some kind, there’s no hope for him.
Omegas are known to have been taken into custody for much less than that.

There are footsteps approaching, light and steady, and Jimin turns his head to face the window.
There’s a family of three buying ice cream from a street vendor down below.

Summer is truly here, Jimin observes.

The footsteps cease.

“You must be the government-issued knot,” Jimin states, eyes still fixed on the small pup clapping
her hands at the ice cream cone. He can’t smell the alpha, he’s pumped full of scent blockers just
like Jimin himself. The only scent in the room is one of hospital – disinfectant and demise.

“That would be me,” comes a smooth voice. “I bowed at you, just so you know.”

Oh, a progressive white knight who thinks it makes him so high and mighty when he shows alpha
courtesies to someone below him.

Out of perverse curiosity, Jimin meets the alpha’s eyes out of the corner of his vision. He doesn’t
bother to get up for a bow though, feeling too spiteful to give a damn about etiquette. His actions
would be considered immensely rude in any circumstance, but the alpha doesn’t look particularly
angry. He’s standing at a short distance, all smooth, airbrushed skin and even teeth, broad shoulders
hiding under a baby blue sweater. The alpha’s dark hair is styled on trendy waves, long at the nape.
Everything about him is soft and glossy, rounded at the edges. It gives him a deceivingly boyish
appearance.

“You look like an omega,” Jimin blurts out.

The strange alpha flashes him a wide smile that reveals the pink of his gums.

“Is that something you prefer? I saw your file, and it said you identify as queer.”
“Oh, you looked at my file just to see if I fuck other omegas? Knot swelling yet?”

Jimin feels his anger all the way in his fingertips, a numbing kind of heaviness that borders on
exhaustion. He has had a very long day. With the last of his strength he wants to deck the pretty
boy alpha in the face, wants to see his perfectly smooth cheekbone bloom blue and purple.

The alpha raises a single brow, as if he knows just what Jimin is contemplating. “I’m not going to
stand here and talk rubbish about how I understand how you feel and make excuses for your brat
behaviour,” he says calmly.

The alpha’s eyes appear slightly feline as he squints at Jimin, assessing him from head to toe with
somewhat clinical interest. “But to answer your tactless question – no, I’m not fetishizing your
sexual proclivities. I’ve been with other alphas too, for that matter.”

A hot flash of white surges through Jimin’s body. Only an alpha could admit to not being
completely straight with that much ease and confidence.

Nonchalantly.

“I really don’t care all that much about subgender,” the alpha continues. “I would prefer if you
forwent making such baseless accusations about my intentions.”

Jimin really needs to calm himself down, he feels like he could go feral from the tiniest nudge,
from the alpha just blinking at him too loudly. Maybe – maybe he has been closer to the edge than
he even realised.

Jimin changes his approach, focusing on the small bundle of rational thought still clinging to the
edge of his consciousness. “How would this even work? Do I need to live with you or something?”

The alpha nods, shifting his weight onto his right foot. “Yes, although you can continue your daily
activities as normal. I will be your alpha only within the confines of our temporarily shared home.”

Jimin’s primal brain starts screeching at the words, loud and maybe a bit desperate. He’s not sure if
the primitive part of his mind wants him to fight back or get on the floor and show his belly.

Jimin shivers at the thought, trying to force himself to focus again. ”If there’s no way out of this,
then – then let’s just live as roommates who don’t really get along. I’ll be invisible, just eat and
sleep and go to work. You won’t even know I’m there.”

It takes the alpha, whose name Jimin still doesn’t know, a long while to answer. He clenches his
jaw and scratches his neck. His hands are large and veiny, the only remotely alpha-like quality
about his appearance. Jimin stares at them approximately three seconds too long.

“I will honour your wishes to the best of my ability,” the alpha eventually says. The vowels stretch
on his tongue like molten toffee. “Although it should prove difficult to treat you like air, omega.”

The room feels depressurised for a fraction of a second. Jimin rolls his shoulders back, feeling
defensive and submissive at the same time. No one in his family or friend group call him that with
so much intent.

Jimin bares his teeth a little, making the alpha flinch, and it’s enough to break the rubber band
pulled taut between them. Jimin’s ears ring from the imaginary impact.

“Fine, knothead,” he says in a dismissive tone, letting the acrid poison of anger gather in his mouth
and stick to his crude words. “You can do whatever you want as long as you don’t try to put your
grabby hands on me or something.”

The alpha’s mouth falls open, his tongue shiny and pink where it rests against his teeth. There’s
another lopsided silence.

Jimin stumbles over his own tongue trying to correct himself. “I mean, not anything. Just – don’t
do any alpha shit…”

“Alpha shit?”

Jimin takes a deep breath that barely reaches his lungs. “You will not use your teeth on me, ever,”
Jimin states, grateful for finding a more even voice. “Not even the tiniest nip, it makes me dumb
and lethargic and I despise it. If you think I’m not up to your standards, you are welcome to choke
on your lectures.”

The alpha nods again. He’s amused, Jimin can tell from how his brow twitches. He must think that
the silly little omega is throwing a temper tantrum.

“Are you finished?” the alpha asks in a low rumble.

It’s Jimin’s turn to nod. He feels too hot despite having taken off his denim jacket.

“When is your next heat due, omega?”

Jimin smacks his lips. “That won’t be a problem, I’m on birth control and heat suppressants most
of the year anyway –“

Jimin’s voice trails off as he sees the other’s eyes widen in surprise. The alpha starts pulling on one
of the many silvery hoops hanging from his left ear, a shocked expression straining his delicate
features.

“What?” Jimin huffs.

“They didn’t tell you? It’s a part of your rehabilitation to stop using heat suppressants and scent
blockers for the time being. Your file said you’ve become dangerously dependent on them.”

The alpha’s words register five seconds too late, five seconds too late to start screaming like a
lunatic. Instead Jimin feels his whole body shake, thighs clenching to pounce, fingernails digging
cuts into the meat of his palms.

“They showed my medical records to you?” he spits, voice breaking as if he’s going through
puberty.

An alpha he doesn’t know is smiling at him in a wistful way – feeling sorry for him for abusing
suppressants as much as he has had to.

Like it’s somehow his concern.

Because apparently it is.

“I – I will get my heat in a few weeks if I stop cold turkey. It would be awful.”

“I know, omega. I will do everything in my power to make you feel more comfortable when the
time comes.”

Jimin shakes his head. “I’ll go back home and just – deal with it I guess. It’ll be hell, but –“
The alpha interrupts him with a raised hand – the alpha whose name is still a mystery to Jimin all
the while they’re discussing Jimin’s heats, his least favourite discussion topic ever.

“There are many things other than knotting I could do to help you. I could bring you food and
nesting supplies, make sure you had a change of sheets every now and then and maybe a scented t-
shirt or two to make your nest smell better. Even if you hate the idea of an assigned support mate
as you clearly do, you’re allowed to take full advantage of the sucky situation.”

“Are you some pack beta with all that nurturing crap?” Jimin gasps in disbelief. He buries his face
in his hands. The many rings he wears on his fingers dig into the sensitive skin under his eyes, but
he doesn’t care if he’ll have ugly imprints later.

“It’s not safe for an unmated omega to spend a heat in an alpha’s home. I’m not that stupid,” he
says.

“Jimin-ah, why do you think I was chosen for this programme?”

Jimin-ah.

Of course the alpha would already know his name, of course he would drop honorifics just like
that – like they’re already good friends.

Or alpha and omega with an established power dynamic.

Jimin suddenly wants to weep and wail like a pup. He bites down on his lip, so hard his eyes water,
but a tiny whimper breaks through despite his efforts.

The alpha’s eyes soften. “I’m not going to hurt you or force you to do anything. If and only if you
ask me to act more dominantly toward you, I will. Are you done whining now?”

Jimin inhales. Then exhales. “What if I hate your scent? Some people are not scent compatible,
you know that’s an actual thing?” He knows he’s grasping at straws.

The alpha huffs. Jimin can’t tell whether he’s amused or irritated. “People tell me it’s orange peel
and leather. Not the strongest as far as alpha scents go. I’m sorry, I thought you’d feel more
comfortable if neither of us had scents for this initial meeting.”

Meeting, aka international ‘let’s humiliate Jimin’ day.

“I don’t know, it could clash with mine since I smell like lilacs,” Jimin says dumbly, creating yet
another tense silence. The alpha’s nostrils flare wide – he’s instinctively trying to inhale Jimin’s
scent, see his mate potential. It’s always like that, alphas running around led by their noses and
knots.

“Good to know,” the alpha mumbles and then clears his throat. “But I don’t think that will be a big
issue as we won’t be sleeping in the same room or anything like that. I suggest we go back to your
place for some clothes and necessities. After that we should go over to my house, as I need to give
you your day collar as soon as possible.”

A collar?

A fucking collar?

"Wait, hold on?” Jimin nearly yells, making the small alpha stumble backwards.
“I don’t even know your name, and you already want to put a collar around my neck?”

The words have an instant effect on the alpha. He develops a pink blush on his round cheeks and
lowers his eyes in shame.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve gotten flustered when you wouldn’t look at me in the beginning… My name
is Min Yoongi, and I’m twenty-nine years old. You can call me alpha, or just hyung if you’re more
comfortable with that.”
 Drunk-Dazed
Chapter Notes

Jimin is grieving the loss of his independence in all five stages, and today’s category is
hard denial.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“The collar is non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says, answering Jimin’s question for the fifth
time with an astounding amount of patience.

The thing is, Jimin knows the whining won’t do any good, he knows that for his own safety there
has to be some mark of ownership on him if he can’t use any scent blockers for months. But still,
the mere thought of a collar flips Jimin’s guts inside out, acid seeping into his bloodstream through
the lining of his stomach. He has never worn one, not even for a quick role play in the bedroom. It
has always been a hard limit for him.

Yoongi seems to understand what Jimin is going through, at least to some extent, as he doesn’t
snap at him even once. He just repeats the same information over and over again in a monotonous
voice, like a broken line of code.

When they reach Jimin’s flat, having taken the metro in awkward silence, elbows bumping in the
afternoon rush hour, Jimin dashes inside ahead of the alpha to yank a window open and pick up
Taehyung’s oversized sweater off the floor.

It’s too late though, as Yoongi is already standing in the doorway, brows knitted into a tight frown
and arms crossed over his chest.

Jimin waves the purple sweater awkwardly, only managing to spread the alpha’s scent around
more.

“He’s a friend,” he mutters.

Yoongi’s eyes trail to the corner of the room, to Jimin’s twin bed with crumpled bedcovers and an
old laptop discarded on top of the duvet. It’s where he was cuddling with Taehyung just hours
before, crying about his miserable existence in prophetic fashion.

“I didn’t ask,” Yoongi states, but there’s a slight shift of tension in the air, an incremental increase.

Jimin takes a small suitcase out of his closet and starts throwing items of clothing inside at random.
He can always come back for stuff in a few days’ time. It’s a great excuse to get a few hours of
peace in his own home, away from the tiny alpha and his unnerving presence.

He also doesn’t want to move all of his stuff over to the alpha’s place – it would make everything
way too real.

Yoongi stands back with hands in his pockets, overseeing Jimin’s efforts. At some point he
disappears into the bathroom, and Jimin doesn’t pay attention to his absence in time, too busy
trying to find a few clean pairs of underwear. The alpha returns without a word, carrying an
assortment of boxes and bottles that reaches his chin in height. It’s Jimin’s entire stash – almost a
year’s worth of suppressants and oral scent blockers.

“I couldn’t find your birth control anywhere,” Yoongi says in a conversational tone as he crams the
boxes and pill jars into his own backpack without mercy.

A rush of heat creeps up Jimin’s neck and face, like boiling oil trickling into his capillaries. The
alpha remains completely unbothered, though, pulling the zipper back up and turning to smile at
Jimin in one continuous line of movement.

It makes Jimin vengeful. He wants the alpha to get embarrassed, wants to see his stupidly round
dumpling cheeks burst dark red with blood.

“How old-fashioned of you to think that every omega would be on the pill,” Jimin scolds with faux
confidence. “You see, I have a copper IUD to take care of that. Hurt like a bitch getting that put in,
as those things weren’t exactly designed male omega anatomy in mind.”

Yoongi blinks at him through his fringe, mouth slightly agape. Mission success.

“I really don’t want any accidental pups, so I was willing to breathe through the pain,” he
continues, smiling so sweetly his lips might stick together. “You know how they have to spread the
cervix and –”

Yoongi starts mumbling to drown Jimin’s voice out. “Yeah, well – that is good – I mean, sounds
uncomfortable.”

“It really was,” Jimin sighs dramatically, still eyeing at Yoongi’s backpack with a degree of
longing.

The alpha catches his wondering eyes. “You can have your medications back when the six months
is up. That’s another topic we won’t be having conversations on.”

“Scent blockers aren’t that bad for you, you know that Yoo– hyung. I could just stop the heat
suppressants, and no one at the Centre would have to know that I still use my blockers.” Jimin tries
to flutter his lashes in a way he knows to be seductive.

Yoongi doesn’t even spare him a look. “Perhaps not physically, but scents are important for us in a
psychological sense, too. It brings a great deal of comfort to have a mutual scenting with a trusted
companion every once in a while.

Jimin huffs through his nose, refusing to give Yoongi the satisfaction of a verbal answer. He keeps
ripping clothes off hangers in a highly disorderly manner. It doesn’t matter even if he has to wear
one shirt and sixty pairs of socks for the next week. He’s not there to please Yoongi, after all.

“How about nesting supplies? I can carry them for you,” the alpha offers.

Jimin freezes for a second, holding an old t-shirt he got from a dance competition seven years ago,
trying to come up with an excuse. Honesty didn’t go so well with Seokjin back at the Centre.

He goes for offence instead. “I don’t – haven’t bought any, don’t you know how expensive good
blankets and pillows can be?”

Yoongi lets out a disapproving noise and looks around, as if he’s trying to eyeball Jimin’s level of
poverty. “I’ve got some extra blankets so we can get your nest going in preparation for the heat. If
you want, we can go to Homeplus some day next week and shop for a few more. I get an
allowance from the Centre as a part of my compensation, and I use that money for buying supplies
needed to take care of my omegas. Although usually omegas prefer to bring their own nesting
supplies with them, so my stash is fairly limited.”

Doing such a domestic activity with Yoongi seems utterly impossible, but Jimin finds himself
nodding dumbly. Where are his headphones? He’s almost certain he saw them hanging off the
back of the chair…

“I have a cat by the way, a kitten I adopted from the shelter a week ago,” Yoongi says.

“Cool,” Jimin replies, not really paying attention.

“Do you like cats, Jimin?”

“Hmm what? Yeah – cats are nice.”

Jimin makes the mistake of looking in Yoongi’s direction. The alpha has the stupidest smile
imageable on his face, making his features melt into a blob of pudding.

“His name is Holly,” he says enthusiastically.

It’s almost endearing – if Jimin wasn’t ready to throw hands every two minutes, he would actually
return the alpha’s smile and ask to see pictures on his phone or something sappy like that.

Instead, he snickers. “My English isn’t great, but I’m pretty sure Holly is a girl’s name.”

Yoongi only smirks in response and then tells Jimin to hurry up with his packing so that he can
feed Holly his dinner in time.

They’re all the way out of the building, Jimin’s suitcase rattling on the pavement and concerning
clouds gathering on the horizon, when Yoongi suddenly stops in his tracks and studies Jimin’s face
for a fraction of a second.

“Did you remember your phone charger, omega?” he asks. “It was on the kitchen counter.”

And Jimin has to swallow his pride and jog back inside.

The alpha’s flat is not that far away, much to Jimin’s dismay, as it makes the three-stop metro ride
all too brief. Yoongi lives in a nice neighbourhood, not terribly far away from either of Jimin’s
workplaces. The buildings are pretty new, and there are little green areas and playgrounds between
the blocks of flats.

The inside of his home is similarly neat and tidy, a large sofa taking up most of the living room
area. There’s an alcove with a modern kitchen to the side, and two closed doors at the opposite
wall. The house smells faintly of alpha, too weak to make out the individual undernotes, which
means that Yoongi must’ve used scent blockers for a few days and aired the place out to make it
less overbearing for Jimin.

Before Jimin can consider the thoughtful nature of Yoongi’s actions, the alpha lets out a highly
uncharacteristic shriek and drops his backpack carelessly to the floor. Jimin’s confiscated pill
bottles make a rattling noise at the impact.

“Holly!” Yoongi exclaims when a wary-looking ball of grey stripes stirs in the small padded basket
by the couch. The kitten is on the alpha in an instant, claws and teeth first, not looking exactly
happy.

“Daddy is sorry for leaving you alone for many hours. So sorry,” Yoongi coos, lifting the feisty
kitten up in his arms. Jimin tries extremely hard to unhear what Yoongi just said.

Holly hisses and Yoongi has to hold him at an arm’s length to prevent injury, but it does little to
dull the alpha’s excitement.

Yoongi switches on some light, making Jimin’s silent amusement short-lived. He notices
something very wrong on the coffee table, waiting for Jimin like an omen of death.

The collar is black leather, shiny and thick and heavy-looking. There are two D-rings at the sides
with a third, larger ring looped through the both of them.

“Is that straight out of the last omega’s neck?” Jimin asks with a scoff that it’s meant to sound
haughty, but he only manages scared and whiny for the time being.

Yoongi looks moderately horrified. He starts petting Holly on the head so firmly that the kitten’s
ears get squished against his skull. “Of course not. It would be a great insult to give you another
omega’s collar, willing to receive it or not.”

Jimin wants to say that the biggest insult is having to accept Yoongi’s collar in the first place, but
the words die and fade away just behind his velum.

“It’s a new one, but I wasn’t sure about your tastes, obviously, so I went for something simple,”
Yoongi continues, putting Holly down because the kitten has started clawing him again, looking
quite menacing with his little paws outstretched for maximum damage. Maybe he wasn’t satisfied
with the rough pets.

The collar Yoongi thought simple seems nightmarish to Jimin. Th alpha picks it up from the table
and presents it to Jimin like a great tribute.

“Are you going to put a leash on that?” Jimin asks, pointing at the metal ring in disgust.

Yoongi chuckles, but it’s quite hollow. “I must admit that I like these ringed designs the most
because it gives me leverage to grab a disobedient omega quickly and without fear of damaging
their neck. These two extra rings make sure that the drag is evenly distributed if I were to pull
here.” He demonstrates the motions with two of his mesmerisingly long fingers. “But that is
entirely hypothetical of course,” the alpha rushes to add. “I won’t touch you as I promised. You
can try to think of this as a fashion piece instead.”

Jimin doesn’t try to hide his sour expression, but he steps a bit closer, knowing there’s nothing to
be done about it. “Give it here. I’ll put the damn thing on.”

Yoongi glances at Jimin’s outstretched hand and knits his brows together. “As your alpha I must do
the collaring myself. I won’t touch you more than absolutely necessary, don’t worry.”

Jimin sneers, but he doesn’t have the energy to start a fight. He has six months to rile Yoongi into
madness, after all. He turns around and focuses on the wall painted a shade of navy blue. It’s such
an alpha colour to use in interior design.

Yoongi’s hands ghost over Jimin’s neck for a few moments, radiating warmth, and then there’s a
weight pressing down on his Adam’s apple.

“Usually you would get on your knees on the floor or on a pillow, but you can just stand like this if
that’s more palatable for you,” Yoongi explains and fastens the buckle all the way, tighter than
Jimin expected. He swallows, testing the constraints of the leather and finding them quite
claustrophobic.

“This is your day collar,” he continues with a tiny tap on the buckle that sends vibrations through
Jimin’s body. Thankfully the alpha’s hands don’t linger.

“I’ll put it on for you first thing in the morning, and it’ll stay on for the day. You don’t have the
permission to touch the buckle yourself apart from medical emergencies. I don’t expect anything
else from you in terms of submission, not until you ask for it yourself. If you want more
dominance, we’ll work our way up from there.”

Jimin turns to look at Yoongi, blinking silently. The ring attached to the collar falls between
Jimin’s clavicles as a noticeable weight and stays there, slowly getting warmer from the contact
with his skin.

“I need a verbal confirmation, Jimin-ah. It’s a matter of your safety as your blockers won’t last for
much longer.”

“Fine,” Jimin grits between closed teeth. “I won’t take it off unless it’s an emergency.”

Yoongi is visibly relieved. “Thank you. I will give you a night collar to wear for bed – it’s just a
stretchy piece of fabric to act as a small reminder of our arrangement. If you ask nicely, I might
sometimes remove your day collar early if you plan to stay home all night where I can see you.”

It doesn’t seem like that good of a deal to Jimin’s but once again he swallows his complaints out of
exhaustion.

Jimin is shown to his room next. It’s rather small but has a full-sized closet for clothes and a
comfy-looking bed that is wider than the one he has back home. It doesn’t smell much of anything
in the room. He can’t detect the omega who used to live here at all.

“It said in your file that you work part-time as a secretary. Will you be needing a desk?” Yoongi
asks, gesturing at the empty space by the window that could just about fit another piece of
furniture.

Jimin places his suitcase onto the floor with a thud. Holly has followed them to the bedroom, and
the kitten is making quick work of sniffing the room out. Maybe he hasn’t been allowed inside
before.

“I don’t really need one,” Jimin says, a little flustered by Yoongi’s attentiveness even if it’s a
categorical invasion of his privacy. “My boss doesn’t need me to work from home very often, as
it’s a small firm. And my other job is teaching dance classes, I do that on the weekends mostly.”

“Very well then,” Yoongi says in an oddly formal way, although it seems that old-fashioned things
are very much on brand for the alpha. “Although I don’t like that you work so much. It must put a
lot of unnecessary strain on your body.”

“Oh, because I’m a weak omega?”

Yoongi tilts his head. He seems to do that a lot. “No, because you’re only human.”

The alpha doesn’t give Jimin a chance to come up with a witty response. “I work from home quite
often as I like to keep an eye on my omega, and Holly is too young to be left unattended for long
periods of time. I work as a music producer, so my presence at the studio isn’t always needed.”
“Cool,” Jimin manages to say, brain stuck on the words ‘my’ and ‘omega’, getting hazy all over
again. He absolutely hates the idea of Yoongi hanging out at home when Jimin has one of his rare
days off. He also comes to the gut-wrenching realisation that having proper sex will be near
impossible for the time being. Maybe some quick fumbling in a bar bathroom could still work, but
full-on sex with another alpha’s collar around his neck – it would be too much to stomach for most
people. And besides, Jimin needs to go and sleep at Yoongi’s place every night, and he can’t
exactly sneak some random hookup past the alpha’s sharp nose.

Even the thought of riding one of his dildos with Yoongi being right there, able to hear everything
and smell his slick through the door sounds like a medieval torture method.

“You really aren’t going to do more than that, are you? Just loiter about and watch me squirm?”
Jimin asks. It sounds dumb even to his own ears, and maybe even slightly sexual.

“Sometimes you just need someone to see that you eat and live well, wouldn’t you agree, Jimin-
ah?”

“Why do you keep using banmal with me? I never said you could.”

“Because an alpha uses casual speech with their omega,” Yoongi answers with a shrug, like it’s the
most obvious thing in the world and Jimin is just a massive idiot. “If you insist, I can use
honorifics if we happen to meet in public.”

“I mean – whatever,” Jimin groans. He averts Yoongi’s calm gaze by yanking the closet door
open. He could easily fit his entire wardrobe inside, and that’s saying a lot.

Yoongi says he’ll go and feed Holly, and then asks if Jimin is okay with takeout food.

Jimin says he doesn’t have much of an appetite, and Yoongi only frowns in response, leaving him
to wallow in self-pity.

An hour later he comes back to knock on Jimin’s door to say the food has arrived. This time he
doesn’t ask if Jimin is hungry.

•••

Min Yoongi may be many things, but first and foremost, the bastard is consistent.

Just as Yoongi promised, Jimin isn’t expected to do any submissive gestures beyond standing still
for Yoongi to fasten his collar every morning. The alpha doesn’t touch him, doesn’t raise his voice
in an attempt to sway Jimin or make him shut up even when he knowingly tries to rile the alpha up.

Jimin’s scent comes back one day after coming off the scent blockers. It happens at the dinner
table, Jimin with his mouth stuffed full of white rice, and Yoongi stirring a pot of soup with a
wooden spoon Everything around them becomes floral in a surge of pheromones that makes
Jimin’s scent gland ache and throb. It’s almost sickly sweet to his own nose after such a long time
on the strongest blockers on the market, so he presses a palm against his own neck to dampen the
effect a little, having the ridiculous urge to apologise for his bodily functions.

Yoongi tenses up, rigid as a steel wire, and drops the spoon in the soup up to the handle. Jimin can
see that the alpha wants to make some kind of comment so badly that he’s practically sawing his
tongue off with his teeth. But he holds back successfully, and Jimin never finds out if the comment
would’ve been positive or negative.

Yoongi’s own scent kicks in a few hours later, the alpha coming out of the shower, hair wet and
wearing a t-shirt with a damp spot at the neckline. He’s freshly shaven, skin glowing in a way that
shouldn’t be feasible for a human being, and for a second Jimin mixes his actual alpha scent for an
expensive aftershave.

“Orange peel,” you were right, Jimin says quietly, inhaling deeply despite himself. “And leather.
An odd combination.”

Yoongi scrunches his nose at the comment and scurries off, and that’s the last time they discuss
their respective scents, resorting to dancing around the topic like two awkward teenagers even
though it’s clear that they have some kind of effect on each other. In the evenings Jimin lies in bed,
staring at the ceiling and trying to breathe through his mouth. He often gets a bit light-headed from
Yoongi’s scent, too used to living in a scentless space. When he finally falls asleep, his dreams are
full of giant oranges and small wolves that try to chase and eat him up.

The next few few days pass in an unpleasant flurry of emotions, with Jimin trying to come to terms
with his limited freedom and not quite getting there mentally. Work is a bit hectic with new orders
coming in, and Jimin lives through the days on a diet of cheap sandwiches and energy bars. At
least his boss doesn’t cause any trouble – she’s an omega herself and only compliments Jimin’s
scent, getting to smell him for the first time despite having known him for three years.

Jimin’s utter inability to feed himself causes them to develop a little routine with Yoongi. The
alpha waits for Jimin to come home from work and freshen up a little. Then, at eight o’clock sharp,
he knocks on the door and asks, “have you eaten?”

His answer is almost always a resounding no, and Yoongi proceeds to prepare them dinner while
grumbling and complaining loudly about how Jimin could at least try to take care of himself.
Secretly Jimin loves having his very own chef, even if it means having to sit down with Yoongi
and trying to show puppy dog eyes in case the alpha would take pity and take off his collar a few
hours early. It hasn’t happened yet, but Jimin’s ego is a tad too big to allow actual pleading.

One night Jimin is feeling bored and anxious, and in order to distract himself, he strikes a
conversation during dinner to ask about the other omegas Yoongi has had, asks what they were
like and what the alpha did with them.

Yoongi refuses to go into detail because of confidentiality, but he humours Jimin by telling him
about the usual kind of training he would put an omega through.

If they were less like Jimin, is left unsaid at the end of that.

“I like to keep things pretty simple,” the alpha starts with one of his lazy smiles, making sure that
his noodles are covered in sauce all over. “I discuss the omega’s case with Seokjin hyung who’s
the handler in most of my cases. Then I make a training plan based on the specific needs of the
client. Sometimes it’s patience training, like having to wait for a reward in silence for example.
With some it can have more physical aspects, such as holding and scenting them. I can even do
dominance positions like holding them by the neck or putting my teeth at the back of their neck. Of
course everything is negotiated beforehand and explicitly consensual. Some find that kind of thing
relaxing as it makes submitting easier, having someone tell them what to do.”

Yoongi holds a short pause, probably searching Jimin’s face for a fight-or-flight response. “There
are many situations in which a support mate can prove beneficial, and everyone’s case is vastly
different. I’ve grown to love helping people this way over the course of this program. And I’m a
good alpha for the job, they tell me. I can be firm when needed, but my scent isn’t particularly
intimidating to people. I also don’t fall into rut just because an omega smells nice during their heat,
so you have nothing to fear from me when the time comes.”

Yoongi takes a good piece of meat in his chopsticks and places it on top of Jimin’s rice. “Did this
answer your question?”

“Yeah – I guess it did. But how would you train me, if you could do whatever you wanted?” Jimin
blurts without thinking.

Something flashes behind Yoongi’s eyes, so quickly it’s barely there, but Jimin is pretty sure it was
a positive emotion.

Yoongi says he has spoken enough for one day and needs his ‘introvert break’.

•••

Today has been an exception to their normal routine. Yoongi has been out all day, just as he said he
would. There was some emergency at work – a singer wanted to back out of a record contract, and
Yoongi left in a hurry to change her mind. He filled Holly’s bowl with fresh kibbles and left a full
meal with side dishes in the fridge for Jimin to eat.

Jimin enjoys his day off in relative peace, feeling a bit horny and jittery as the hours roll by. He’s a
sexually active person with a high libido, and living in celibacy whilst having to inhale an alpha’s
scent straight from the source all day long isn’t the best way to ward off impure thoughts.
Especially since Jimin’s body doesn’t seem to care that the source of the scent is the person Jimin
despises the most.

Disaster strikes as Jimin is lounging on the couch, in the middle of the third film of his ex tempore
marathon of his favourite British romcoms (the absolute best one is ‘Knotting Hill’ with Hugh
Grant!). Jimin has barely jerked off for the past few days, too busy at work and living in denial of
Yoongi’s existence, so it’s not entirely surprising when slick starts soaking through his underwear
completely out of the blue, pooling between his cheeks in a quantity that seems impossible out of
heat.

‘Omega Actually’ keeps playing in the background with Alan Rickman’s stiff features filling the
screen, and Jimin has to look away. Even the visual cue of an alpha’s face is enough to set him off,
make him whimper low in his throat.

Jimin isn’t even hard, just alarmingly wet and achy in a strange way, so his slick production gone
haywire must be yet another unfortunate reaction to the alpha’s scent lingering on every surface of
the house.

For a fleeting moment Jimin actually considers pulling down his old sweatpants right there on
Yoongi’s couch and stuffing three fingers inside himself, just to make the strange pain of
emptiness dull a little. His hole clenches at the thought, releasing another glob of slick inside his
briefs, and it’s enough to make Jimin feel sick to his stomach and scrap the thought altogether.

As an omega Jimin has had his fair share of putting up with unwanted bodily functions and
awkward slick-accidents at school, but none of it has made him be ashamed of what or who he is.
But this however, this would be hitting a new, unprecedented low – fingering himself to
completion while a baby kitten stares him down from across the room, nose pressed into the sofa
cushions to drink in an alpha’s scent who is a massive dick – an orange-peel smelling dick.

Jimin reaches for his phone with a groan and goes to his most recent contacts. His hands tremble,
and he nearly drops the damn thing.

“Kook-ah, I want to go clubbing,” he says as soon as the line connects.

“What, tonight?” Jungkook asks, perplexed. “Hello to you too, I guess.”

Jimin clicks his tongue impatiently. “Hello my sweetest Kookie. And yes, tonight. My head is
exploding. It’s – I think Yoongi is – he is –”

Jimin clears his throat and hooks two fingers in the metal ring of his collar. Trying to pull the
leather down does nothing to ease the constant feeling of ‘getting slowly choked to death’ around
his throat.

”What, an asshole? Don’t say he hurt you?” Jungkook squeaks. Jimin can hear that Hoseok, his
alpha, is rumbling something in the background, getting concerned for Jimin.

“Wait, no –,” Jimin breathes out, biting his lip. “He’s just so nice and boring and – small.”

“Small?” Jungkook sounds mildly amused. Jungkook has never shared Jimin’s problems with
submission. His alpha is a bit shorter than him and not nearly as muscular, but it doesn’t stop the
omega from baring his neck after one stern look from Hoseok.

“He’s just so unfit to be an alpha, and yet he thinks so highly of himself.”

Jungkook laughs softly. “Fuck him, then, for being small and boring.”

“Can you two see that I get absolutely wasted tonight?” Jimin requests. “I’ll get Tae to join us as
well. With two alphas there no one will look at me even if I reek of a flower meadow at dawn.”

Jimin holds his breath. He knows Hoseok has the final word in the matter, and even though the
alpha is chill and sensible, the situation is slightly volatile. It could very well be that he would see
it as treading on another alpha’s territory.

Jungkook puts the phone on speaker, and Hoseok’s naturally raspy voice replaces his omega’s.
“Jimin-ah, can you hear me alright?”

Jimin mumbles his yes. God, he’s so wet it’s not even funny. Maybe going off the suppressants has
caused this? Maybe he should see a doctor just in case.

”We can take you out, of course we can. Just don’t do something stupid on your own, okay? Like
go outside late at night, not even if the alpha drives you up the wall.”

Jimin laughs airily. “I wouldn’t, I don’t have a death wish just yet. All I want is to drown in a
bucket of the finest champagne and pretend that I still have my bodily autonomy intact, even if it’s
just for one night.”

Jungkook chimes in. “I don’t think we can afford a bucket of real champagne, though.”

“I’ll drink disinfectant if it comes down to that,” Jimin corrects himself.

Hoseok laughs, but it sounds strained. “I’m not sure if Jimin is in the mental state to –“
“Bye I love you,” Jimin chirps, “I’ll wear something cute just for you, something that rocks both of
your worlds.”

He disconnects the line before either of them can start complaining.

•••

Jimin enjoyed getting ready for the club, squeezing into a pair of ripped jeans and a flimsy shirt
made out of some translucent, shiny material that feels almost wet to the touch. Even though he
had a limited selection on hand, it felt good to doll himself up a little, do his hair and makeup in his
preferred style after wandering through Yoongi’s flat with unwashed hair and worn out clothes. It
made him feel better – almost normal in a way. His slick production has calmed down after leaving
Yoongi’s flat, and his head feels clear for the first time in days.

Currently they’re at Hoseok and Jungkook’s place, waiting for the appropriate time to go to the
club because they try to be cool like that.

Taehyung is wearing a black turtleneck which makes him look intellectual, and Jimin thinks it’s
kind of funny knowing that the alpha has the habit of going on long tangents about nonsensical
topics. He likes to ramble on and on about books he has never read beyond the blurb at the back,
and talk about places that he has only seen in a single Hollywood film or a travel guide. Wearing
that, he actually might be able to lure some handsome alpha for a conversation before they catch a
whiff of his adorable idiocy.

“I should probably scent you before we go,” Taehyung says.

Jimin’s smile is wide in the throes of rising intoxication. He gets up and parks himself in
Taehyung’s lap, taking a sip of his unholy mixture of different spirits and sweet fruit punch. “Sure.
Here’s my wrist.”

Jungkook lowers his glass of red wine onto the table. The others have been drinking much less than
Jimin, so he’s about to have an armada of babysitters at the club.

“I think Taehyungie hyung meant you should scent like mates do. It would be safer to have his
scent all over you for tonight,” the younger omega says.

“Ew,” Jimin giggles and punches his best friend in the arm.

In reality Taehyung has a nice scent, a little sweeter than the usual alpha musk. In that sense he
reminds Yoongi a bit. Jimin puts a fake pout on his face and presses his nose into Taehyung’s
scent gland, rubbing it with the tip to get pheromones flowing freely. It feels weird and intimate
and perhaps a bit wrong as well, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind. Taehyung lifts
his wrist and starts rubbing it over Jimin’s gland. It’s awkward because of the thick collar that’s
partly in the way – Yoongi’s collar as Jimin’s mind quickly supplies, and Taehyung has to hike the
piece of leather up Jimin’s throat to gain proper access.

When they’re done, Jungkook looks at Jimin and inhales with a frown. “This is not enough,” he
decides. “Hobi hyung’s scent is a bit stronger than Taehyungie hyung’s, you should scent him
too.” He doesn’t look overly enthusiastic about it, but he guides his alpha to Jimin and presses
Hoseok’s wrist to Jimin’s neck with clear determination.
“You smell really potent right now, hyung,” Jungkook explains a bit sheepishly, when Jimin raises
a brow. “I didn’t remember how – how nice it was.”

Jungkook then observes with sharp eyes as Hoseok goes over Jimin’s pulse points, rubbing his
scent all over him. It’s a huge act of trust from Jungkook to let his alpha scent another omega in
such an intimate way, and Jimin is quite thankful despite his state of inebriation. He gives the other
omega a crushing hug and a kiss on the cheek.

When Jimin asks if he’s okay, Jungkook is a good sport about it and says it’s mainly funny having
his friend smell so much like his mate.

•••

Jimin is pretty drunk already when they arrive at the club. He grins when the bouncer wants to see
his ID, and he smiles even wider when Taehyung loops a hand around his waist and pulls him onto
the dance floor where they go wild like in their youth, when clubs were something new and
exciting instead of sweaty and hard on an omega’s nose. But somehow Jimin manages to tap into
that lost stream of energy and pull Taehyung along with him.

There’s a drink in his hand throughout the night – sometimes a cocktail, sometimes a glass of water
or soda. Jimin knows he’s being taken care of, his alcohol consumption managed to just the right
level of fucked up without the unpleasant side effects.

At some point during the evening Jimin meets some dude’s gaze across the dance floor. The man
is clearly a bit older than him, and hot in a way that involuntarily reminds him of Yoongi. He has
soft features and clear skin, and incredibly even teeth that gleam in the neon lights. Jimin slips
away from the others and shifts through the dancing crowd like a beast in its home territory.

He finds the hot guy leaning into a closed bar counter, sipping on a beer. The man sees Jimin’s
collar, must’ve seen it before as well, but he doesn’t leave, just looks mildly intrigued.

“Hi you,” Jimin says, hoping he doesn’t sound too drunk.

“Hello,” the stranger says. His scent must be mild or blocked since Jimin still can’t smell him at
all, not even while standing extremely close to him.

Jimin puts his fingers through the ring of his collar and bites down on his lip, knowing he must
look seductive and pretty.

“I wore this collar and scented my alpha friends because I didn’t want to get hit on by some
random alphas with no manners. But you are not a random alpha, are you?”

The stranger knocks back the rest of his drink and smiles wide. “I’m a random beta with good
manners. That what you looking for?”

“Could be,” Jimin answers and takes a step forward.

“You look like you ran away from your alpha though, little omega,” the beta coos, setting a hand
on Jimin’s waist, the soft part just below his ribs. He gives it a squeeze.

Jimin’s heart hammers in his throat. Suddenly it feels like much more than a prospect to fool
around with a hot stranger to blow off some steam.

He forces his neck to bend into a smooth nod. “I might be. You just need to take the risk.”

Taehyung finds him ten minutes later, pressed against the brick wall at the smoking area, shirt
ripped open where the beta got a bit too excited. Jimin’s lips are swollen and hot from the make out
session that was fast and hard and borderline inappropriate for such a public place.

The beta asked Jimin to go home with him, and on any other day he would’ve gladly said yes. But
for now it’s only scraps for Jimin.

“Fuck Min Yoongi,” he mumbles under his breath, and by some miracle Taehyung hears his
words.

“You did all that just to piss your fake alpha off?”

Jimin feels irritated, because Taehyung is right. He’s horny and mad and frustrated, but kissing the
beta he did out of spite.

Jimin really is mad, he’s drunk out of his mind and so fucking mad. He starts fumbling with the
buckle of his collar, suddenly unable to breathe properly.

“What are you –?” Taehyung starts to ask, but Jimin silences him with a single look.

The collar comes off, and Jimin’s neck is hit with the refreshing night’s breeze. He almost throws
the thing over the smoking area fence but holds back at the last possible second.

He tilts his head back and smiles, doesn’t think.

Doesn’t want to think any more.

•••

Jimin stumbles through the lobby area and into the lift. Did Yoongi live on the seventh floor? Or
eighth, Jimin can’t remember. His collar is still off, the metal buckle hitting his thigh on every step
because he can’t quite coordinate his own limbs.

He should probably put it back on. He should button his shirt back up and hide the hickeys and
scratches he received. Maybe Yoongi would be less mad then.

Somehow Jimin finds the right door, punches in the key-code – 130613, easy enough to remember
even in his drunk daze. Maybe something important happened to the alpha back in 2013. He seems
like the sentimental type for sure.

Because drunk Jimin is a dumb Jimin, he announces his entrance with a cheerful “honey, I’m
home”. What drunk Jimin doesn’t expect is to find Yoongi sitting cross-legged on the floor,
wearing a buttercup yellow cardigan and grey joggers, face schooled completely neutral. The alpha
has a laptop open next to his knee, but he’s paying no attention to whatever he was working on.

Only to Jimin, and more specifically the smooth, uncollared expanse of his throat. The alpha’s eyes
slide lower, to take in Jimin’s mild state of undress, where over a third of his shirt buttons are
ripped off by that beta Jimin has barely any memory of.
They go lower still, to Jimin’s hands that are dirty from tripping over himself while walking
through the small park in front of Yoongi’s building, right after he had said his goodbyes to
Taehyung who came to escort him back home. The grass was wet when he braced the impact with
his palms. He dropped the collar, too, but had the mind to pick it back up.

“I can see you’ve been drinking,” Yoongi says. His voice is like the surface of a pond.

Jimin sways on his feet. He should take off his shoes, but he’s not sure if he can do it without
falling over.

“Yeah,” Jimin slurs his words, “had a bit to drink I s’ppose.”

Yoongi inhales, deeply, and there’s a slight change in his expression, a tiny twitch at the corner of
his mouth. He doesn’t look pleased, but he’s not getting up from the floor either.

“It’s the same alpha from before. Was it them who did that to you “ Yoongi points at Jimin’s bared
chest, “or was it someone else? There are many scents on you.”

“Does it matter? Do you need to know about who I f-fuck?”

Yoongi is silent for a moment. He shuts the lid of his laptop.

“What was the one rule I said was non-negotiable, Jimin-ah? Can you repeat that for me, please?”

The ‘please’ sinks right through Jimin like a ball of iron in a sack of feathers.

“I – I’m not supposed take the collar off myself,” he says miserably.

Perhaps it’s some sick mental tactic, but Yoongi doesn’t visibly react to the words. Jimin and his
drunk brain fall for it all too easily. He holds the collar up like an olive branch.

“I’m sorry, a–ah–,” he presses his eyes shut, forcing himself to utter the word, “alpha.”

Yoongi stands up to take the offering, and his warm, clean fingers brush over Jimin’s cold, dirty
ones.

“Put this on me, alpha,” he squeaks. It doesn’t sound very convincing, Jimin knows, but he had to
at least try.

Yoongi tuts softly. “I know what you’re trying to do, appeal to my alpha side with submission. Are
you expecting me to punish you now?”

Fuck, Jimin is way too drunk to have this conversation now, he has no filter. “I bet you want to –
want to bite me silent and rub your stupid scent all over me. But you can’t do that, can you?”

“Why do you always talk about biting as if it’s the only thing on my mind?” Yoongi sighs. “I was
really worried for you, I thought you were going out there smelling like you do –,” the alpha seems
to choke on the end of his sentence. His eyes bulge slightly, and he snaps his mouth shut.

Jimin tilts his head a bit to the side, exposing his scent gland to Yoongi. It’s automatic, he doesn’t
have much control over his body for the time being.

“You can meet whomever you’d like, of course you can. I have no control over your sex life either,
except for when you eventually go into heat. Then I have to supervise you closely. But Jimin, you
need to understand that I’m responsible for your safety overall, and that this collar is the only thing
I have to ensure that, especially since you won’t allow me to scent you at all. I know it must feel
 weird, having that symbol of ownership when you’re not actually committed to a relationship. I
know it must suck.” The alpha sounds pleading now.

Something lurches inside Jimin, perhaps a collection of his major arteries and vital organs. The
world is spinning, full of Yoongis of all shapes and sizes, spots of light and dark that recede and
come closer. He’s mildly fascinated by the phenomenon.

“I could uhhm – give my friends’ numbers to you? Would that bring you some peace of mind
whenever I go out?”

Yoongi smiles a bit. “Thank you Jimin-ah. I think that would be a very good idea.”

“I’m sorry for leaving without telling you. I won’t do that again.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure you’re being honest with me.”

There’s frothy spit in Jimin’s mouth, but he’s unable to swallow as Yoongi’s fingers work over his
throat. He has to fight the urge to get on his knees for the collaring. Standing up feels wrong, he
should be lower than Yoongi, he should –

“I know this is pointless,” Yoongi says quietly as he fastens the collar tight, pulling Jimin out of his
spiralling drunk thoughts, “we’ll swap this out for your night collar in a minute anyway, but I think
you need this for a moment, don’t you?”

Jimin opens his mouth, but Yoongi’s questions were rhetorical, as he continues right away.

“Yeah, your scent is already settling down. I was getting worried there for a bit.”

Jimin’s scent? He can’t smell anything wrong, just the layers of cheap alcohol and cigarette smoke
on top of the regular flowery sweetness. But then again scents are usually weakest to one’s own
nose.

The hands on his neck are gone, and Jimin’s collar is back in place. It feels like something alive is
crawling on his neck, sticking to Jimin’s sweaty skin like a leech.

“Do you feel ill? You look a bit pale.”

“Nn–no I hold my liquor really well,” Jimin slurs, but the perspective he’s observing the world
from is a bit off. Slanted somehow.

Someone gasps “oh shit”, and Jimin’s limp body hits a strong pair of arms.

And he passes out.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry/you’re welcome for the accidental DILF Yoongi moment there with Holly.

Also not me retconning Jimin to use a non-hormonal birth control method so that I
don’t have to bother with condoms later lmao
Practise safe sex kids!

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Instincts Are a Bitch
Chapter Notes

Jimin and Yoongi are a collective mess. That’s the chapter. Also, heed the ‘yoonmin
bickering’ tag if you haven’t already caught onto it.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jimin stirs awake into a groggy, sticky existence, unpleasant to a point where it would be better to
slip back into the darkness.

But Jimin can’t fall asleep anymore, not when his mouth is too dry to ignore, making his tongue
feel swollen and too large for his mouth. In addition to that, there’s a headache looming over his
temples, like a slowly tightening steel band.

He opens his eyes to face a borderless twilight. The blinds are drawn in the room – his room in
Yoongi’s house. He has no blankets on, they’re in a heap at the foot of the bed, but his body is
covered in a gross layer of sweat under the clothes from the night before. He smells of stale
cigarettes and that one tequila sunrise he spilled on his own shirtsleeve, mixed with wilted lilacs.

He has no shoes on, which means Yoongi has removed them at some point.

Wait, oh no…

The image of the tiny alpha in his yellow cardigan, face blank and stiff with disappointment,
comes back to Jimin with the intensity of a car crash. He remembers how he took unsteady steps in
Yoongi’s direction and fucking fainted in his arms like a victorian lady trying to get away from an
unpleasant social situation. Expect Jimin doesn’t wear corsets, at least not without a very good
reason, which means he has no excuse for his behaviour.

After his tragicomical tumble, his memory is reduced to bits and pieces. He just barely remembers
burying his nose into the mix of orange peel and laundry detergent, inhaling the soft fabric
covering Yoongi’s arms as he was carried bridal style to bed.

He remembers Yoongi complaining how his shoulder was going to get messed up again because of
Jimin and his loose limbs flopping everywhere.

Or did he dream those words, did he dream Yoongi carrying him like that? Judging by the way his
body hurts and aches, the alpha could’ve just as well dragged him across the floor by the ankles.

He has one more memory, that of Yoongi looming over him, perhaps worried that Jimin would
puke in his sleep and choke or something. The lights were out, so Jimin could only see his
silhouette and taste the heavy alpha pheromones on the tip of his tongue. His eyes felt so heavy, as
if there were two kilo weights hooked to his eyelashes. In his memory Yoongi didn’t touch Jimin,
only watched, and yet somehow it felt even more intimate than if Yoongi had simply pressed a
hand over his scent gland and rubbed it raw.

He doesn’t remember Yoongi removing his day collar, though. When Jimin checks, he finds that
it’s replaced by the velvety soft band of fabric he has to wear for bed.

Jimin’s mouth is so dry. He craves ice-water, but he’s unsure if his stomach would agree with it
right now. On top of everything else wrong with his hangover-filled existence, his morning wood
is pressing painfully against the zipper of his tight jeans. He tries to shift the position of his dick
with a tactically placed hand over his groin, but it doesn’t help much. Palming himself only makes
matters worse, and it leaves him less sated and more uncomfortable than before.

There’s the faintest knock on his door, followed by a quiet “are you awake?”

Jimin considers playing dead. He freezes in place, the sheet sticking to the back of his neck. He
keeps applying steady pressure on his dick though, can’t help himself. He’s suddenly hyperaware
of the fact that the hot beta who kissed him senseless didn’t make him cum last night. He hasn’t
gotten any relief in days and days.

“Jimin-ah, are you alright in there?”

It doesn’t seem very likely that the alpha would be giving up any time soon, so Jimin braces
himself, letting go of his dick with some regret and fisting the sheet next to him.

Yoongi pushes the door open as soon as he gets permission. He’s holding Jimin’s collar in his
fingertips, fiddling with the metal buckle.

“Morning. How are you feeling?” the alpha asks hesitantly. His eyes are narrow and catlike, even
more so than usual.

“Fine. I’m sorry for passing out like that. I’m usually really good with alcohol. I don’t know what
happened,” Jimin croaks, even though he knows very well it’s not the alcohol Yoongi is so
concerned about.

The alpha blows air through his nose, shoulders rising and falling in the rhythm of his breathing.
He’s leaning into the doorframe, awkward as ever. “Do you happen to remember that you
promised to give me your friends’ phone numbers last night?”

Jimin grimaces a little, but he remembers. How could he not when the discussion took place when
he was still in an unfortunately sound state of mind. But after all it is a compromise on Yoongi’s
part. The alpha wants to find a way to check up on Jimin without exerting unnecessary authority
over him in the form of curfews or punishments, all of which he would be legally allowed to do.

So in that sense Jimin has to comply, has to give Yoongi that tiny bit of rope.

“Give me your phone,” Jimin says in a slightly bitter tone, sitting up on the bed. At least Yoongi’s
stupid texts with old people emojis and grammatically correct verb endings can be Taehyung’s
problem from now on.

Yoongi extends his hand from far away, as though he’s disgusted by Jimin’s dishevelled state and
pungent scent. The alpha’s phone is the latest model, and it makes Jimin stop to think that Yoongi
having such a big flat to himself must mean the alpha is relatively wealthy despite his young age.
Jimin hasn’t bothered to google Yoongi’s production merits, but it is possible that he has that one
hit song from years ago which enabled him to play nanny in his free time and lead this mildly
lavish life.

Out of spite, of which Jimin has plenty these days, he saves his best friend’s number as ‘Hung
Taehyung’ with a purple heart. Jungkook he types in as ‘Resident Rabbit’.
Much to Jimin’s disappointment, Yoongi’s expression hardly changes as he glances at his phone.
Instead he closes in on Jimin and fastens his collar while Jimin sits on the bed with hunched
shoulders, staring at the alpha’s midriff. Sitting like this, neck bent down to give Yoongi access
feels more like deliberate submission, and it makes Jimin’s toes curl.

The buckle closes with a click. Jimin forgot to say he wants to take a shower before getting his
collar, too busy looking at the rips in his knees and the blue and purple bruises blooming on his
skin, the result of him falling over just outside Yoongi’s house, as he always does.

Clumsy Jimin. Clumsy little omega, Jimin’s brain remarks.

Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath, as if he only now is done processing what he saw on his phone
screen. “This Hung– I mean Taehyung – is he the–?”

Jimin shakes his head to make the odd, queasy feeling in his gut ebb away. He has bigger fish to
fry right now.

“He’s the alpha you’ve been smelling on me. Back at the flat and last night,” he confirms
smoothly.

“And you –?”

“Oh yeah, we have sex all the time. Fuck like rabbits,” Jimin deadpans, even though his heart is
fluttering like the wings of an injured butterfly.

“Rabbits –,” Yoongi mumbles, and Jimin is pretty sure the alpha didn’t mean to repeat the word
out loud.

“You know, his dick is just massive.” Jimin demonstrates the alleged size with his hands, adding
an extra inch or five for good measure. Jimin actually has seen Taehyung’s dick once or twice, and
it’s no lie to claim it’s a good size.

Yoongi looks dazed for a moment, breathing with his nostrils flared wide to inhale the competing
alpha’s scent – but he quickly recovers.

“You have sex with the same alpha ‘all the time’, but there is no power exchange of any kind
between you?”

Jimin’s front cracks at the thought of Taehyung trying to tell Jimin what to do, and he starts
laughing so hard his hangover flares into a blinding, splitting headache. “I thought you didn’t care
about my sex life,” he gasps, gripping the side of his head. “But yeah okay, you got me. Tae is my
best friend. We don’t sleep together, not anymore at least.”

Yoongi looks completely perplexed, and Jimin feels a heady rush of power. The alpha wants to ask
more questions, but can’t bring himself to do so.

“Ask away,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. He can almost forget his irrational shame, how it feels to
be under Yoongi’s scrutiny. “I know you want to know so bad.”

Yoongi sighs heavily. “The other alpha whose scent was all over you, was he the one who – who
put their hands on y– who you interacted with?”

“Who ripped off half the buttons on my shirt?” Jimin helps. “No, he’s the alpha of a close friend.
That’s why I let him scent me last night.”
Jimin doesn’t mention the beta who left his mild yet distinct scent of lime all over him, and Yoongi
doesn’t bring him up either, perhaps because the alpha’s primal brain sees him as a lesser threat or
some other masculine shit.

And Jimin does’t really care about what Yoongi thinks of him – the alpha can think him a slut all
he wants. He’s free to think that Jimin sleeps with half the city, that it’s normal and casual for him
to roll in dozens of scents to mask his own.

Probably Yoongi is just as bad himself – the quiet ones are the kinkiest after all.

Now that Jimin thinks about it, perhaps Yoongi would enjoy Taehyung’s alpha qualities much
more than Jimin ever would. Back at the centre he bragged about being with other alphas so
casually.

Yoongi with Taehyung, that’s an image for sure. The small alpha doesn’t seem like the type to go
for alpha dominance struggles as the aggressor, not with his mild manners and low effort aura. But
perhaps looks could be deceiving –

“When you’re with another alpha, are you dominant or submissive?” Jimin finds himself asking,
with zero context offered for the alpha.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow so high he resembles a caricature cartoon character. “Why do you want
to know that all of a sudden?”

Jimin needs to know if it’s safe to ever let those two cross paths. When Taehyung falls for
someone, he does it hard and with overt passion. And Jimin doesn’t want Yoongi in his life for any
longer than absolutely necessary.

Jimin licks his chapped lips and lets his legs fall open a little. His tricks never work on Yoongi, but
it doesn’t hurt to try. “Please hyung? I was so nice telling about my friends and stuff.”

Yoongi grumbles low in his throat, and it sounds a lot like ‘nice, my ass’, although Jimin isn’t quite
sure if he heard correctly. He deems all hope lost, but then suddenly Yoongi meets Jimin’s eyes
with a sharp flick of his irises, and there’s yet another recalibration of their odd, lopsided dynamic.

“I suppose I’m usually the more submissive party with other alphas,” Yoongi says slowly, “but I
don’t enjoy bottoming in penetrative sex, so it’s a bit tricky sometimes, having an exclusive thing
with another alpha. For many of us the urge to stick our knots someplace warm tends to get in the
way eventually.” Despite his blunt choice of words, Yoongi doesn’t sound particularly bitter. It’s
painfully clear though that there’s a story hidden behind the neutral statement.

Jimin can understand, though, so he doesn’t pry. It’s not something he wants to make fun of lightly,
knowing how difficult same subgender relationships can be to navigate, both from a societal
standpoint with the constant judgement from traditionalists, but also in a physical sense. Sex
wasn’t a problem when Jimin dated another omega for a few years – what was lacking they could
easily handle with some toys and a pinch of imagination – but he gets the sense of longing Yoongi
is talking about. Biology can be a bitch sometimes, and alphas are by nature pumped full of
hormones that urge them to knot anything that moves. Even Taehyung, who is the bottommost
bottom to ever bottom, owns multiple fleshlights for when his ruts get really intense.

Yoongi walks over to the window and raises the blinds. It turns out that the sun is already high
above Seoul.

“Would you like to make a practice nest today?” Yoongi asks, perhaps to fill the awkward silence.
“Your heat is coming soon, and I thought it might be comforting to know where everything goes
and where you feel the most comfortable and safe.”

“You thought wrong, hyung. I’m not a small child trying to build a house out of sticks and leaves.
It’s just throwing a couple blankets on top of each other and fluffing some pillows,” Jimin scoffs.
He yawns and stretches his achy legs, thinking that he needs a magnesium fizzy tablet or
something. And an entire pot of coffee, which Yoongi makes expertly.

Yoongi glances in Jimin’s direction as if he thinks him completely deranged. “You don’t – you
don’t have the instinct to make everything perfect and safe and warm when you’re in preheat?”

Perfect nest? Perfect to invite a suitable alpha into?

“In heat? I just want to sink on a huge dildo and cry.” Jimin hopes the casual vulgarity is enough to
hide whatever the fuck was just threatening to burst through.

Yoongi looks a bit sad, a bit doubtful, so Jimin gets up on his wobbly feet a little too grandiosely.
He nearly falls forward, and Yoongi grips his elbow on instinct. The alpha’s hand burns like open
flame.

“Just because you’re unmated doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel safe and loved, or that you
can’t lean on others from time to time. You don’t always have to keep one eye open, Jimin-ah.”

“I do, actually. Holly might bite my nose off otherwise,” Jimin sasses back, but his vocal cords are
operating on fumes.

Yoongi’s hand disappears, leaving Jimin feel raw and unbalanced. The alpha goes to make coffee
his way, pitch black and bitter stuff which tastes so fucking good with a generous splash of milk.

•••

Jimin has been feeling incredibly weird for the past two days. Yoongi’s face and scent irritate him
more than ever, but he catches himself following the alpha around the house like a faux Holly,
bitching at him in one moment and wanting to run his hands through the soft curls of his hair the
next. Most times Yoongi looks impossibly soft, void of hard lines and jagged edges, and Jimin
can’t help but think it would feel nice to curl up in the crook of his neck and then go for the jugular
when the alpha least expects it.

They’ve fought a number of times, clashing on the subject of subgender as always. On top of that,
Jimin manages to escalate the conflicts to include pointless matters such as that one experimental
food Yoongi made when they were out of rice and soy sauce, and the way the alpha lets Holly claw
Jimin’s things full of tiny holes because he doesn’t have the heart to scold the kitten. Yoongi
responds with angry, heated looks and starts bitching about irrelevant things such as that one
incident from three days ago when Jimin stepped on Holly’s tail and didn’t show ’enough
remorse’.

Jimin presses and provokes Yoongi to the breaking point and retreats just before the altercation
threatens to turn physical in any way. The closest they’ve gotten was when Jimin spat in Yoongi’s
face midst a heated argument, and Yoongi wiped his cheek clean with violence gleaming in his
eyes.

The alpha is evidently and quite understandably confused by Jimin’s behaviour, so he locks
himself in his office which doubles as a music studio and avoids the living and kitchen like the
plague. But Jimin is a little too resourceful, an omega on a mission, so he finds a way to slither in
Yoongi’s space under the pretext of Holly crying for his daddy.

Jimin drops the kitten off in the alpha’s lap without a word and then simply refuses to leave when
prompted. The alpha’s office is cramped with music production equipment and shiny awards and
other random mementos from over the years. There are multiple framed pictures which include a
taller man, possibly an alpha, with dimples and varying degrees of awkward and tragic hairstyles.

“What do you want this time?” Yoongi asks suspiciously as Jimin fondles his beloved trophies and
leaves greasy fingerprints all over them. Jimin’s earlier evaluation seems to hold true. Yoongi is
the sentimental type to an extreme, but also an obnoxious materialist.

Jimin twirls the small trophy between his fingers and sticks one of his hips out. “You once said
you’d dominate me if I told you to,” he chirps, already tasting the irony tang of the looming
conflict on his tongue.

Yoongi clicks something on his computer and spins around in his chair. He’s wearing a bright
green shirt and a pair of loose jeans. Jimin pushes away the ridiculous urge to sit in Yoongi’s lap
and maybe bite his ear a little.

“Yeah, and?” the alpha sighs.

“You know there’s a problem, though,” Jimin says coyly.

The alpha grits his teeth, Jimin can hear his teeth crackle and grind together, enamel chipping
away. It would be kind of funny if Yoongi were to send Jimin his dentist bill after the six months
was up.

“I wonder what could possibly be the problem with that, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin flicks his hair back, noticing that he’s getting due for a haircut. He’s still enjoying a shade of
soft toffee brown that is gentler on his roots and scalp than a fully bleached platinum blond. And
Yoongi doesn’t deserve to see him in his full double bleached glory.

“How would you even dominate me without your teeth, without pushing me face down in the
mattress and making me take your knot?” Jimin clicks his tongue in a mockery of pity. “You’re so
small and puny I could probably throw you over my shoulder like nothing. I took martial arts
classes, you know?”

Yoongi looks away for a moment, and his earrings dangle and flash silvery under the bright studio
lights. There’s a small spike in the alpha’s scent, but Jimin isn’t sure what kind of change it is.

“You probably could. I’m not denying it,” he says slowly, searching for Jimin’s gaze. Jimin meets
his eyes, brown like molten chocolate, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from sassing
back or just – whimpering.

“Why do you feel the need to constantly provoke me, though? Is it that under all the bravado you
actually want me to force you, make you obey like a good omega, but you can’t bear the thought of
asking for it?” Yoongi draws in a ragged breath before continuing. “So you push my buttons and
use that vulgar language until I snap and become the bad guy in the tale of Park Jimin’s miserable
life and deeds?”

Jimin remains silent, clenching his hands into tight fists. Yoongi’s voice sinks into a lower register.
“I have never met anyone with this much pride.”
“Pride, ha. As if an omega would be allowed any amount of pride in this society.”

“Fuck the society, then,” Yoongi says in an exasperated tone. “But why are you so angry at me,
Jimin-ah? What did I ever do? Name a single thing I did to offend or belittle you, and I’ll gladly
apologise. In fact, I’ll shine your shoes with my spit if I have wronged you somehow.”

Jimin feels like his organs are caving in – lungs void of air, skin shrinking and stretching thin over
his bones. He hisses through his teeth, spit flying everywhere. It’s a primal kind of noise, one no
self-respecting omega ever produces.

Yoongi is clearly taken aback. “Are you hissing at me?”

“I guess I am. But I’m not getting feral, I’m just –“

Going insane?

Why is Jimin so angry at Yoongi? That is the real question here.

Yoongi’s eyes become a degree softer when Jimin can’t muster an answer. “I didn’t accuse you of
anything. I’m just a little confused by your extremes.”

“I’m quite the extreme person.”

“Or then you’re just an omega who –“

Yoongi never gets to finish his sentence, as Holly gets bored of sitting still in his lap and proceeds
to sink his little claws into the meat of the alpha’s thigh, drawing a pained grunt from him.

•••

When Jimin still was a pup with sparkly eyes and immense ambitions, he was certain he would
become a great performer once he grew up, a famous contemporary dancer who would bask under
bright stage lights and bathe in roses thrown on the stage in praise of him.

Instead he ended up sitting on his ass all day like the rest of the workforce and introducing little
children to the joy of dance on the weekends.

Despite the job being nothing like what Jimin imagined to end up doing, he doesn’t hate working
as a secretary. He likes his boss, who is a small business owner and an omega herself, and his
workload often is quite manageable. Although today Jimin would rather be anywhere else than in a
stuffy little room with whirring office equipment and endless Excel sheets.

For some reason Jimin has trouble seeing the computer screen in front of him – the gold-rimmed
glasses perched on his nose are doing little to help. The letters are blurring together and
disappearing under large blotches of white.

He seems to be developing a nasty migraine.

Jimin reaches for his work phone, but he eyeballs the distance all wrong and ends up grasping at
thin air and the edge of his stapler instead.

“My depth perception isn’t working,” he states out loud. “Am I having a stroke?”
Jimin’s boss raises her head from where she’s sitting. The door to her office is open, so she has a
clear line of sight to her secretary. She takes one good look at Jimin and inhales. “No, love. I think
you’re in preheat.”

“Whh–what? Right now?” Jimin stutters. As if on cue, his teeth start to clatter. Jimin touches his
forehead to find it hot and clammy with sweat. He’s getting a fever already, which is a symptom of
late preheat, just before sanity starts ebbing away.

It makes no sense. None at all.

“I thought you smelled sweeter than usual when you came in this morning. But now it’s getting
unmistakable.”

“My heat isn’t due yet, I just came off the suppressants,” Jimin objects weakly. He stands up,
knocking his knee on the leg of the desk which makes him whimper in pain.

Jimin’s boss tsks almost condescendingly. “You think your heat will notice it’s the wrong day and
decide to come back later? You need to go right now.”

It’s every omega’s blight to misread preheat symptoms as something else – as being tired or having
low blood sugar or coming down with the flu. It’s always the last thing on one’s mind that it might
just be the cycle getting messed up for one reason or another.

Jimin nods in defeat, hauling miscellaneous things into his bag with weak hands, trying to come up
with an emergency plan. He could take the bus in the opposite direction and go to his own home,
lock himself up. Surely Yoongi wouldn’t break down the door to drag an omega in heat across the
town.

Surely he wouldn’t be that cruel?

But Jimin has nothing back home – no energy-dense food and drinks, no fever reducers and pain
meds to take the edge away when his body starts screaming for an alpha knot it won’t be able to
have.

Jimin has never let an alpha serve him during a heat. He prefers to suffer alone in complete
solitude, as even betas and other omegas get impacted by the pheromones and Jimin’s involuntary
begging –

Oh god, the begging. He can’t control his tongue in heat, can’t filter out any of the filth that grips
his brain in a vice and makes him say all sorts of things he doesn’t mean. He hates it, hates himself
in those moments.

“You should call your alpha right now,” she interrupts Jimin’s inner ramble.

“No I’m okay I’m – a–hh okay,” Jimin says with a tiny whine when his stomach cramps. “As I told
you we aren’t really together. I can get home just fine.”

His boss looks highly disbelieving but decides not to call Jimin out on his shit.

“You’re still going straight to his place, right?” she asks instead. “Let him take care of you?”

Jimin bites his lip. He doesn’t want to be taken care of. Doesn’t want doesn’t want –

He shakes his head like a wet dog and yanks his tie looser on his neck, although he can’t do
anything about the collar suffocating him to death. “I’ll call you in a couple days, when I’m done.
It might take a while, because I haven’t – in a while, you know?”

She nods her head in understanding and wishes him good luck by pumping her fist. “Fighting!”

•••

Turns out Jimin can’t get home just fine, fuck his life.

On his way to Yoongi’s house, in an old, rattling bus that is bulldozing its way through heavy rain
and mist which somehow seeps into Jimin’s bones even through the windows, he experiences a
rapid decline in his condition. He has started to leak slick already, another symptom of late preheat.
His body is getting ready for the first cycle, for taking multiple knottings in quick succession. His
scent is all over the place as well, sweet and spicy and overwhelming, and he’s getting all sorts of
curious looks from the other passengers. Jimin wishes he had had half a mind to stuff a couple of
tissues in his underwear, but it’s too late now.

He’s going to leave a wet patch in the seat, isn’t he? God, that’s beyond embarrassing.

No one thankfully bothers him beyond a few unpleasant catcalls and unwanted pieces of advice to
get himself under his alpha and quit stinking up public places like that. The bus driver glances at
him every once in a while through the rearview mirror, and it seems to be part lust, part genuine
worry for his safety.

Once Jimin gets off the bus, the rising fever is already ravaging his body in long waves. The cold
rainwater in his hair and face makes him shiver uncontrollably. It’s not a great look on Jimin,
stumbling through the door for the second time in a row, yelling the alpha’s name to offer a
warning, make him brace himself maybe. He hears loud, thumping footsteps, and then Yoongi is
there in a blur of minty green, out of breath from those few steps alone, Holly skipping in tow.

Yoongi’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He looks positively horrified.

Jimin’s stomach cramps again right then, and his mouth contorts and scrunches from the stabbing
pain. His face feels hot, water sliding down his flaming cheeks.

“You were outside smelling like that? And you didn’t think it necessary to give me a call?” comes
a quiet, choked out question. Yoongi is barely breathing, and the muscles in his neck twitch with
some kind of effort.

Jimin squeaks, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. “I just took the bus and –“

A lightning flashes in the distance, lighting Yoongi’s face up for the exact moment when his
features fall from confusion to pure rage. “You took the fucking bus? In that state?” Yoongi has
never sounded more authoritative. Never more pissed off, Jimin thinks with a hazy mind. Slick is
coming again after a short moment of reprieve, thick and overpoweringly sweet like he has already
skipped past the preheat stage.

Yoongi braces his palms against his thighs and breathes heavily through his mouth. “Fuck, Jimin.
You can’t be this stupid,” he mutters.

“It’s late afternoon and the bus was full of people. I had my collar, too,” Jimin tries to explain, but
his brain is getting muddled as the alpha’s scent spikes. He wants to fall to his knees in a puddle of
rainwater and his own slick, wants Yoongi to forgive him for acting like a dumb omega.

He’s losing it.

He needs to act quickly.

“Yoongi hyung,” he calls out. “My heat is almost here, the fever just, it just came out of nowhere. I
might not be in full control of myself for much longer.”

Yoongi takes a step closer, and orange peel and leather fill Jimin’s nose, previously clogged by his
own lilac. The alpha swallows thickly – he must be affected by their scents blending together just
as much.

“What – what do you need from me right now?” Yoongi asks. The ire in his voice has faded,
replaced with overwhelming concern.

“Don’t listen to me,” Jimin whispers. “Whatever you do, don’t take my word for anything.”

Yoongi blinks, mouth agape. “Oh, do you get mouthy in heat, omega?”

He seems to catch his own words only after finishing, as his eyes get wider. He grabs Jimin’s
messenger bag which is still hanging off his shoulder. For a split second it seems viable that
Yoongi might pull Jimin close by the strap of his bag and break every promise he has ever given
him.

But they stay still, breathing and expelling pheromones, a summer thunderstorm ramping up in the
background.

Another lightning strikes, and multiple things happen at once. Holly meows loudly and scurries
across the floor and under the dish cabinet. Jimin gets another cramp, and some imaginary switch
gets flicked in his brain. He stumbles forward, breaking the fall with his hands and knees,
effectively presenting on the floor in front of Yoongi.

It would be so embarrassing if his brain wasn’t becoming slush, if he didn’t have the urge to turn
180 degrees and press his cheek against the floorboards. He looks up, meets Yoongi’s horrified
eyes at an odd angle.

“I might beg – I don’t know what I might do,” Jimin cries out. There are actual tears falling out of
his eyes, like a dam breaking from trying to hold it together for the duration of the bus ride.

Yoongi looks ready to rip out his hair, but he extends a hand to help Jimin up from the floor. “Shh,
Jimin don’t cry please. Let’s go and see the nesting supplies I have, see if anything catches your
eye.”

Jimin’s tears are salty as they roll down his face, slide into his dry mouth. He hugs himself as he
stumbles back to his feet, fighting the fever tremors and failing.

Yoongi seems utterly lost. His hands reach at the empty space between them and then flop back
against his sides, useless.

“I don’t know how to n–nest,” Jimin wails. It’s just his preheat brain spewing nonsense, he knows
it, but in that moment he feels like a broken omega. “I’m not a good omega, I’m bad,” he says out
loud.

“Shit Jimin, I hate I can’t touch and scent you right now.” The alpha scratches his neck. “Let’s get
you to bed for now, you need rest, okay?”

“Bed?”

“Yes, pup. A nice and comfy bed.”

It’s nice, Jimin hasn’t been anyone’s pup before. His brain is like a string of Christmas lights,
flickering out synapse by synapse.

“Will alpha come too?” Somewhere at the back of his mind Jimin is still able to comprehend how
cringy it sounds, but the omega in him preens at the prospect.

“I’ll see you to bed. See that you’re feeling nice and safe.”

That doesn’t sound right to Jimin. It includes the option of the alpha leaving, going far away and
leaving Jimin midst his own slick and the burning pain that won’t fizzle out for days –

“You smell very upset,” Yoongi says miserably and pushes open the door to Jimin’s room. “Come
here, come see these blankets for me, pup.”

Jimin goes because the alpha is there, in Jimin’s room. He kicks the door closed after himself to
trap the alpha in, so that he can’t leave.

Yoongi turns, holding a pile of blankets and pillows. “I’ll drop these on the bed so you can see –“
he stops speaking abruptly.

“Alpha, can you change my collar? I’m hot,” Jimin whines into the heavy silence. He’s no longer
cold and shivering. He has a radiator inside him, and he’s so wet. Even his slick is hot and sticky
between his legs.

Jimin turns around and puts a palm against the wall and sticks his hips out to present subtly. He’s
not even in full heat yet, but the thought of something inside, just fingers or a tongue sounds just
about perfect.

“Shit – ohh–okay,” Yoongi says, and Jimin can hear him swallow hard. There’s a dull thud of the
nesting supplies being placed on the bed, and Yoongi’s cool hands appear, making quick work of
the collar. The night collar appears out of thin air and slips on with a degree of finality despite
being relatively flimsy.

Jimin turns around to find Yoongi boring holes into him with his eyes. They wander lower to wash
over Jimin’s hips like a physical caress, and then trail back up to meet Jimin’s unfocused gaze.

With the last of his lucidity, Jimin pushes himself away from the wall and folds open a few
blankets, doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Most omegas spent hours and hours to perfect
their heat nest, but Jimin simply lacks the instincts. Even if he had the time, which he doesn’t have
right now, he would be useless with that stuff. Some omegas, like Jungkook, instinctively know
what’s right and wrong. Jungkook says it’s the most wonderful thing getting fucked into the
mattress in the middle of a well-structured nest, that it’s different and better than everything else.
Jimin needs to get out of his clothes, he needs Yoongi out of the room. He needs the alpha to bend
him over any surface and fuck him stupid and plug him up with a knot –

Jimin’s scent goes haywire, and his hole starts spasming at the strong mental image. “Oh fuck, I
think I’m actually go–“

Yoongi’s face falls as he realises the same thing. “Going into heat,” the alpha confirms.
How the fuck is it progressing so fast? Preheat should take hours, sometimes up to a full day of
domestic fuzz and general neediness.

This is no preheat, however. Everything in Jimin throbs in perfect sync – all the way from his scent
gland to the tip of his cock. He’s one continuous nerve ending to be prodded by alpha hands, and
left is only the need to mate and fuck.

And his primary target is still in the room, a deer caught in the headlights of a Ferrari.

Jimin pounces, and Yoongi breaks his movement with hastily extended arms, using the kinetic
energy to direct Jimin’s flight toward the bed instead. Jimin crashes against the mattress with force,
and before he can recover enough to get back up, Yoongi is hovering over him, using his arms to
cage him in against the mattress without actually touching his body very much at all.

Jimin trashes in Yoongi’s loose hold, tries to flip around on his belly to present better.

“Calm down, pup. Settle down, you’re okay,” Yoongi grunts.

Drool is escaping from the corner of Jimin’s mouth, dripping down his chin. “Ahh–alpha phh–
lease,” he splutters.

Perhaps if he showed his neck prettily, maybe Yoongi would take pity on him then.

He tries just that, neck arched to show the line of his throat and the aching gland there, dispersing
his lilac scent in angry, desperate bursts that burn even his own tastebuds. Jimin’s scent blends so
well together with Yoongi’s, they’re different types of sweet that layer on top of each other
perfectly.

Yoongi breathes through his mouth in a guttural way. It’s not a growl or even a rumble, but there is
something utterly primal about the way the alpha is looking down at him. The implications make
Jimin’s body tense up, slick trickling out of him in a steady stream. Pleased by the results, Jimin
whines and shows his neck again to the alpha. This time the effect is instantaneous. Yoongi’s hand
lands at the side of Jimin’s neck, applying minimal force over the fabric of his night collar.

“Stop presenting, Jimin-ah.” Yoongi’s voice is getting strained, which means Jimin’s plan is
working. He opens his mouth and lets his tongue loll out. Jimin knows people like his mouth, like
his soft lips and long tongue. They like to stick their fingers and cocks in there, and Jimin likes to
suck on whatever is offered. Even if Yoongi won’t give him his cock, he might get something.

Yoongi lets go of Jimin’s collar and takes an unsteady step back. Jimin’s hands shoot up to catch
the retreating alpha, but he’s too late. “H–hurts alpha. Please make it go away. It hurts so much.”

The heat is still not in full force, it’s still ramping up, but the emptiness is already agonising.
Instead of helping, Yoongi presses something cold and silicone in Jimin’s sweaty palm and closes
his fingers around the object. Jimin glances down, everything apart from the alpha blurry and out
of focus.

“I – I’ll step out for a moment, okay?”

“No alpha don’t go,” Jimin screams. He has never screamed like that. And still Yoongi goes,
almost slamming the door shut on his way out.

How did he go into heat so early?

How did he skip all of preheat just like that?

Why isn’t he getting a knot right now when he’s asking so nicely, when there’s a healthy alpha
right there?

Jimin takes the dildo in his trembling hand and starts shedding his clothes with the other. They
come off one by one, too slowly. He finds his cock hard and dribbling precum but ignores it for a
moment. Jimin hooks a hand under his thigh and whines when cool air hits his hole.

Angling the dildo proves difficult. It’s big and slippery and all Jimin wants is to be a pillow
princess and let an alpha with a huge knot take care of him. Yoongi’s knot ought to be small and
unsatisfying because of his size, but even that would do in a pinch.

At the mere thought of Yoongi’s knot slotting in, half-swollen from just the pheromones and quick
tumble on the bed, Jimin’s hole flutters open, and the tip of the hard dildo slides in. There’s a knot
imitation at the base, which he’s squeezing with his fingers to milk every drop of alpha cum inside.

Jimin starts crying again at some point, from frustration when it’s not nearly enough – and from
lacklustre pleasure when the fake knot slips past his rim.

He comes with a quick spurt of pearly white, one hand fisting his cock and the other rubbing the
ribbed edge of the dildo against his prostate. He closes his eyes and imagines it’s Yoongi’s pretty
fingers thumbing over his slit, Yoongi’s hips snapping against his ass in a controlled rhythm.

Much to his shame, Jimin comes three more times to that small fantasy alone, in the span of an
hour which is an impressive feat even for an omega with a shorter than average refractory period.

Instincts are a fucking bitch.

•••

Yoongi grabs his keys from the small ceramic bowl by the door and dashes out of the flat, almost
tripping over his untied shoelaces. His gums are itching, vision getting blurry and red at the edges.
As soon as the door is closed, he lets out the low growl he has been keeping inside, painfully
bunched up against his vocal cords. His whole body throbs with the need to turn around and go
back, to grab Jimin and bury his nose in the source of that maddening scent, lilacs and pure sex.

This is insane, he’s going insane. Something like this has never happened before.

Yoongi shouldn’t leave Jimin alone right now. The omega has his toys and blankets and three
different flavours of sports drink to keep him hydrated, but he still might need help, might get
scared when his fever spikes and more pain comes. The omega might stumble around the flat and
trip over something and hurt his head and die – –

Yoongi slaps himself on the cheek, so hard his ears ring.

What the fuck was he thinking in the first place? Why did he ever assume he could handle the
omega presenting like that – with that damn scent leaking out of Jimin’s pores and ass alike. It was
hard before the heat already, being in the same space with the omega and concentrating on fucking
anything at all. Namjoon has scolded him almost every day since Jimin’s arrival, saying that his
work performance keeps slipping.

Feeling miserable, Yoongi takes the lift up two storeys and rings the doorbell. He has nothing with
him except his phone and keys and mismatched clothes, so going out is hardly an option. When
there’s no answer within three seconds, he punches in the keycode and wonders inside on his own
accord.

The scent that hits Yoongi’s nose is soothing to him like nothing else – parchment and old books
and safety. It’s strong enough to know that the homeowner is somewhere in the flat.

“I’m a bad alpha,” Yoongi announces rather dramatically and throws himself on Namjoon’s couch.
The alpha’s scent gets amplified, but it’s not quite enough to mask the sheer intensity of an omega
in heat.

“Is your definition of ‘bad alpha’ by any chance the fact that you’re popping inappropriate knots
left and right?” Namjoon asks from behind the couch. He has snuck up on Yoongi with silent steps.
“I mean that omega of yours smells incredible, so you could cut yourself a little slack.”

Yoongi raises his head to see that the alpha is wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that give a nice
view of his muscular body. When Yoongi and him still were a thing, touching and feeling up those
muscles was one of his favourite things in the world.

“It’s not like me to react in this way. I mean he was presenting and begging like any other omega.
I’ve dealt with heats for a long time already.”

“I always said your little government side gig was going to cost you dearly at one point or another,
but did you believe me, hyung?” Namjoon says in a stern voice.

Yoongi shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. It’s a grave mistake, because Jimin’s
scent is even more potent in his palms, where he had to lightly hold him down.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll just go into rut in front of the poor bastard, and then it’ll be doubly
bad.”

“I wouldn’t! I have self-control. It’s just that Jimin’s heat came early, and I was surprised by how
potent his pheromones are,” Yoongi tries to explain.

“You can’t pretend to be a beta. You need to accept that you’re drawn to him – or at the very least
admit that the alpha in you desires him greatly.”

Yoongi wants to punch something, preferably Namjoon’s stupidly rational face.

“Yoongi hyung,” Namjoon continues, reaching over the back of the couch and putting a hand on
his shoulder, “every sentence you utter these days is about Jimin in one way or another. It’s always
about his scent, about how happy he looks when he gets to eat his favourite foods. You spend
hours of your day fussing over his diet and his health, who he meets and how late he stays out.
You’ve never done something like that for an omega under your care. Just admit that you’ve
finally met your match.”

Yoongi tilts his chin up to meet Namjoon’s calm eyes. “I just feel sorry for him. He’s so unhappy,
and he starves himself by accident or as some crazy form of self-punishment –”

Namjoon clucks his tongue and reaches to pinch Yoongi on his upper arm. When they were dating,
Namjoon liked to pinch and nip at Yoongi to rile him up, lure his alpha instincts out and then make
a big show of forcing him into submission. Yoongi liked that kind of play, loved pleasing Namjoon
and letting him take charge. But long term – it just didn’t fall into the proper place, their
relationship.
 Yoongi sometimes wonders if they had been more enraptured by the idea of being together than
actually happy with their relationship. They met as prepubescent pups after Yoongi’s family moved
from Daegu to Ilsan. They liked all the same things, went to rap competitions together and even
presented around the same time. Yoongi’s parents weren’t exactly the most supportive of his career
choice, and Namjoon’s family took him under their accepting wing.

They were alone in Namjoon’s room one day, sitting on his bed below a faded Eminem poster,
when the younger alpha grabbed Yoongi’s chin and planted a sloppy, unpractised kiss on his
mouth – and Yoongi’s heart did a somersault. Yoongi will always consider Namjoon his great first
love, an innocent and beautiful love that never grew full wings.

“Why are you even here, hyung?” Namjoon asks and interrupts Yoongi’s recollections. “You
clearly don’t want my advice nor my words of wisdom. Did you come here to get me to suck you
off because you can’t handle your own boner, is that it?”

Namjoon is joking, of course. They haven’t had sex together after breaking up, as it could’ve
jeopardised the fragile friendship they were building from the ruins of their short-lived romance.
But Yoongi is right on edge, and his dick twitches pathetically at the idea. Yoongi looks down just
to see the embarrassing bulge in his trousers.

The sex was always nice though, fast-paced and aggressive like it tends to be between two alphas,
easy to throw oneself into with no inhibitions.

God, Yoongi hasn’t had sex in forever.

Another low growl rips through his body.

“Goddammit Yoongi, don’t you dare cum in your pants on my expensive couch,” Namjoon
grumbles and storms back into his studio, slamming the door shut behind him.

Chapter End Notes

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 House of Cards
Chapter Notes

Part two of “Jimin and Yoongi are a collective mess” featuring everyone’s favourite
beta.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Round, spiral shapes dance at the edges of Jimin’s vision, orange and white like flames. He’s on
fire, burning alive, burning into fine ash that absorbs into the ruined bedsheets underneath him.

There’s a dildo lodged deep within him, between his trembling thighs which spasm with the effort
to milk the artificial knot to completion that never comes. Jimin wants to feel cum dripping out of
him, wants it wet and messy, but the knot he has always stays the same, lukewarm and lifeless.

One day has passed since his heat started, or at least Jimin thinks so. There are empty plastic
bottles littered all over the floor, and a half-eaten bar of chocolate on the bedside table. Jimin
doesn’t remember consuming any of that. He doesn’t remember Yoongi coming in either, but
there’s a fever reducer and a glass of water next to the chocolate bar, a new addition to his
unorganised collection, which means he must’ve fallen asleep for a short while at some point.

Jimin whines at the thought of the alpha coming to see him and not touching, not fucking Jimin
deep and hard as he clearly should.

The alpha is so mean.

Spurred on by his resentful thoughts, another fantasy forms and bubbles up in Jimin’s head. It’s of
Yoongi as always, the alpha storming in with predatory eyes and pulling the dildo out of Jimin with
a harsh tug with no consideration for Jimin’s comfort, only wanting to use what’s his.

Jimin pulls on the base of the dildo himself, working the knot part out as quickly as his stiff hands
allow him to replicate the feeling. His rim is so loose and puffy at this point that the small knot on
the dildo isn’t even a proper challenge anymore.

In his fantasy Yoongi would then replace the silicone with a couple of his fingers and work his
swollen and oversensitive prostate in steady rubbing motions. The alpha would put a hand between
Jimin’s shoulder blades and push him flush against the mattress so that Jimin couldn’t kick and
flail around, only lie prettily with his ass raised to take it. It would be so heavenly to fall into a
pliant headspace in the height of his heat, be coaxed into a constant hum of pleasure to drown out
the noises that tell him to jump or crawl in the direction of a knot.

Yoongi would make him come so much on those gorgeous fingers alone, Jimin is painfully aware
of it.

He starts idly rutting against the mattress to that thought, feeling the tell-tale tugs and twists behind
his abdomen which indicate that a fresh wave of heat is underway, ready to sink him even deeper
into madness. The friction on his cock is almost counterintuitive, though, as it has him even more
wrung up, more desperate.

And his alpha is useless, doesn’t give Jimin his knot or his fingers, doesn’t lick his gland to soothe
the burn inside him. His scent lingers in Jimin’s nose like a taunt, orange peel and sex.

It’s unbelievably embarrassing, but Jimin starts crying again in short, ugly bursts with snot flying
everywhere. He’s so empty. The dildo has slipped out of him with his fingers too numb and his
hole too loose to hold it in place anymore.

It makes Jimin feel like a fucked out whore with none of the relief.

A few minutes pass in uneasy silence, Jimin’s tears getting absorbed in the pillow. But suddenly
there are footsteps, footsteps that come closer and stop right at Jimin’s door.

Did alpha finally come back? Did he come back for Jimin?

Jimin raises his head to call for Yoongi, but the motion proves difficult with his scent gland so sore
and swollen from being left unattended.

“Jimin-ah, are you okay? Why are you crying?” Yoongi’s voice comes. It’s crackling and
distorting at odd places.

Jimin wipes the tears from his blurry eyes with his bare arm, but he still can’t see all that well.

“Alphh– alpha, you came back,” he croaks.

“Do you need more medicine? Are you thirsty?” Yoongi sounds incredibly nervous, like he’s
nothing but a misbehaving pup about to get scolded by a strict parent.

If only Jimin could tap into that stream of guilt and dig his regrettably small claws into Yoongi’s
alpha psyche – take him apart so that he would have to mend himself with pure dominance.

A plan forms in Jimin’s heat-ridden mind with terrifying ease. It truly is a masterful scheme.

His alpha has no chance.

Jimin clears his throat, feeling the strain and rawness which the constant wails of agony have put
on his vocal cords.

“Could I scent your wrist? Please, Yoongi hyung?” Jimin begs in an innocent tone, letting his lisp
flare up on purpose. “It hurts so much, and I think alpha’s scent would help?”

There is only deafening silence behind the door, a small spike in the alpha’s scent. But it’s not
rejection outright. Jimin reaches for the loose t-shirt he likes wearing for bed and pulls it over his
head to cover the most critical areas.

“I’m completely lucid now, I swear. I’m not – I won’t jump you or anything,” Jimin lies, proud of
the way he has willed his voice to sound even and rational.

Yoongi seems to be at least considering his request, the metal handle of the door sagging down
ever so slightly to suggest that the alpha is already pressing down on it.

Heat licks up Jimin’s spine, and he fidgets in anticipation as Yoongi slips into the room through a
tiny crack in the door, light from the living room spilling onto the hardwood floor of the bedroom.
Jimin’s eyes are sensitive, and he hisses and covers his eyes in automatic response.
“Sorry – sorry,” Yoongi mumbles and pushes the door closed. It clicks with finality, and Jimin
knows it’s time to set his plan in motion. He lowers one hand from his face to his neck and clamps
his palm over his gland to hide just how close he is to a fresh wave.

Oblivious to Jimin’s condition, Yoongi steps closer. The alpha has a deep frown of suspicion
marring his delicate features, but he starts rolling up his sleeve, pale, slender wrist on display.

Jimin wants to wrap his lips around it and suck the milky skin purple, just below the bump of bone.
His tongue is already hanging out by then, too eager to contain himself, and he can only pray that
Yoongi won’t realise in time.

The wrist is pressed under Jimin’s nose almost tenderly, and for a moment Jimin forgets his plan –
because it’s just so incredible, soothing like nothing else in the world. He grasps the alpha’s arm
and buries his nose into the smaller scent gland there, but it’s not enough, not enough alpha. Jimin
opens his mouth to give Yoongi’s gland a hungry lick –

Except he doesn’t get a chance, as the alpha pulls his arm away as though he has been electrocuted,
grumbling a non-verbal warning. The alpha is breathing shallowly through his mouth.

“No, pup. You didn’t consent to a full scenting before your heat, so this will have to do for now.”

Jimin pouts, eyes squared on his newly acquired target, which is now escaping, and in the hurried
haze of it all his hand slips from its position over his gland, releasing lilac and need all over the
room.

Yoongi gasps and staggers, and the heat is in Jimin’s heart now, piercing him vertically and
horizontally to make it all-consuming.

His arms shoot up, as it’s time to finally commence his plan.

•••

Jimin is strong, much stronger than he looks. The omega wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck
and yanks, making him lose his balance and collapse like a house of cards. Yoongi only has time
for one small yelp before he tumbles against Jimin, laid flush over his feverish body. Jimin has a
delirious grin stretching the corners of his lips as he cranes his neck, and then without a warning,
crashes their lips together.

It’s less a kiss, and more Jimin attempting to bite Yoongi’s lips off. The omega tastes sweet, so
sweet and inviting, and Yoongi’s mind goes into full panic mode at the contact, hands grasping at
nothing but linens completely drenched in Jimin’s slick. He finds his alpha strength an
embarrassing amount of time later and pushes Jimin back against the mattress to break the kiss off.
The omega’s heels keep pounding the mattress below, teeth snapping at the air, and Yoongi has no
other option but to hold him down, one knee pressing against Jimin’s middle and hands splayed
over his shoulders.

Yoongi’s alpha brain is trying to convince him to bite, a small nip to calm the fussy omega down,
but he can’t, and it kills him inside over and over again, seeing his pup so distressed while he’s
completely helpless, unable to fix the glaring problem at hand.

Yoongi still feels the imprint of Jimin’s lips against his own, the wet desperation on them, how soft
and smooth and warm they were. His lower lip tingles where Jimin managed to bite him, not all the
way through his skin but enough to leave a mark. Yoongi swipes his tongue frantically over the
small indents left by Jimin’s front teeth.

Yoongi is starting to feel weird, as if he has been injected with Jimin’s slick, the scent of it
encompassing him from every direction, blending his senses together to a point where he can feel
lilacs brushing against his skin and taste Jimin’s cries of desperation on his tongue.

The moment of synaesthesia stretches on, and the edges of reality start blurring as Yoongi keeps
pinning Jimin’s half-naked body into the bed. The urge to bite isn’t going away – in fact it’s only
increasing, the pressure in his gums getting unbearable. His body feels hot and tingly all over, as if
his skin is two sizes too small for him.

It’s an accident, but Yoongi growls, loud enough for Jimin to halt his struggles and blink up in
confusion. Both of them must detect the rapid change in Yoongi’s scent at the same moment. The
soft sweetness of orange peels is subdued while the heavier, leathery undernote of his scent
intensifies by a tenfold.

He’s going into rut.

Yoongi jumps backwards and lands on his butt on the floor, tailbone hitting the hardwood at a
painful angle. He knows he has less than five seconds to get the fuck out of Jimin’s room, so he
scrambles toward the door in an awkward crab walk with his socked feet slipping against the floor,
all the while Jimin whimpers and reaches for Yoongi over the edge of the bed. The loose t-shirt the
omega is wearing falls off one shoulder to show Jimin’s right clavicle, chest flushed such a pretty
pink from the high fever, and it’s so fucking close to being too much for him.

Yoongi stumbles into his own bedroom, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth to keep
himself from making a noise, from trying to attract Jimin to him. His bad shoulder objects with
sharp pricks of pain as he starts pushing his dresser in front of the door, effectively barricading
himself in.

Because apparently he’s that kind of alpha.

After a few seconds of pacing around the room and reigning his alpha in, Yoongi weighs his
options, and finds himself with only bad ones. He needs to call for help, needs to do it before his
mind stops working completely.

He first considers contacting Jimin’s omega friend, but even his hormonally incapacitated brain
quickly concludes that the omega’s mate would never let him come to a strange alpha’s home in
the middle of a rut, even when Yoongi is 99,9% sure he’s only a danger to poor Park Jimin. Mated
omegas are by default off limits to everyone except the most callous of alphas, and it’s pretty clear
what has caused Yoongi to sink into this state of abasement.

The second and even worse option is Jimin’s platonic alpha friend, with whom the omega seems to
be extremely close. But Yoongi can’t be sure the alpha would be able to resist Jimin’s pheromones
even if there aren’t any feelings beyond friendship involved in their relationship. It’s also a real
possibility that Yoongi would simply attack the other alpha on sight or smell. His ruts usually are
on the milder side, and he can remain mostly in control of himself, but this rut that crept up on him
months in advance, it’s different somehow – much more volatile.

Similarly to Jimin, he skipped most of the prerut stage filled with anxious dominance and flaring
protective instincts. It only took a sloppy brush of lips and one lungful of Jimin’s scent at the peak
of the omega’s heat cycle, and Yoongi was gone just like that.
Yoongi knows he’s left with only one viable option, so he pulls out his phone with slippery hands
and dials the number of the one person Jimin will absolutely loathe seeing. But Yoongi’s social
circle is relatively small and unintentionally skewed toward the more easily affected subgender, so
it will have to do. At least Jimin knows the person, and won’t have to process an actual stranger
coming to his space when he’s most vulnerable.

Yoongi is already hard, painfully so, leaking into his underwear like a broken faucet, but he wills
himself to concentrate on the beep of the phone line. Thankfully the person picks up.

”Yah, Min Yoongi! Now you dare call me? Do you happen to remember that the last time we met
you oh so sweetly promised to fix me a date with that handsome producer friend of yours, but you
never followed through with –“

Yoongi interrupts Seokjin’s ramble with a choked out moan.

Yes, an actual moan. Yoongi will hear of this for the rest of his miserable life.

“Hyung, help,” Yoongi pleads. His voice is raspy and crackly, like charred firewood.

“What – what are you going on about?” Seokjin snaps, probably not grasping the gravity of the
situation quite yet. The beta sounds distracted, and his voice is coming from far away as if he has
the call on speakerphone.

“You need to come to my place and make sure Jimin is okay. I’ll text you the door code, and
yeah…” Yoongi’s voice trails off pathetically.

“Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin says sternly, and Yoongi wants to whimper. And break something.

“Would you like to explain to me what’s going on? Why wouldn’t Jimin be okay?”

Yoongi bites his lip right where Jimin kissed him. Musky sweat is rolling down his temples in
large beads, and his teeth hurt so badly, gums tingling.

There’s a distressed omega right there for Yoongi to bite and claim and protect with his life, and he
needs to make sure Jimin is fine and then maybe sink knot-deep inside –

Yoongi squeezes his phone, clinging to sanity by pinching the sensitive scent gland on the inside of
his wrist.

“You’re a beta, and I don’t have that many friends,” he mumbles.

There’s a heavy sigh at the other end of the line, and the sound of water splashing.

“That didn’t answer my question. I’ve got to send like twenty emails tonight, and I have this live
flatfish wiggling in my sink because I was going to make sashimi. What could you possibly need a
pesky beta for?”

Yoongi feels ashamed, so ashamed he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to continue existing.

“I – I’m in prerut. Or it might be rut already, it’s all muddled.” Yoongi presses his eyes shut,
almost able to taste Jimin’s slick on his tongue. The omega is crying again in the other room,
desperate in the throes of heat, and the alpha in Yoongi howls.

“Fuck, are you serious?” The tinge of humour in Seokjin’s voice is gone in an instant.

“Jimin’s heat – he smelled so good, and when he tried to kiss me, I just –“ Yoongi’s words get
drowned in a growl that makes his entire chest vibrate.

Seokjin doesn’t reply right away. When he does, his voice is utterly disbelieving. “You’re telling
me you went into an early rut because of a client? The same Min Yoongi who got an
unprecedented hundred out of hundred points on the OWSC scent sensitivity examination?”

“Uh huh.” Yoongi weakly replies, cheeks burning with shame and the rut scorching him from the
inside.

Seokjin’s voice pitch rises by an octave and a half. “Wait, he kissed you? You didn’t do anything
to the omega, did you?”

Yoongi groans and throws himself over a blue quilt laid out on his bed. It smells like Yoongi
himself – the normal blend of orange peel and leather, but it doesn’t help much right now.

“No, of course not,” he barks, “I’m not a monster.”

Seokjin hums tensely. Yoongi can hear some clacking noises in the distance. It seems Seokjin is
busy executing his poor fish and getting ready to leave.

“Was it a close call, though?” the beta finally asks. Seokjin’s tone is matter-of-fact, a clear
indication that he’s not about to take any bullshit from Yoongi. There’s no doubt that despite his
subgender, Seokjin could make Yoongi submit to him if he really tried. Perhaps it’s a good thing, a
failsafe in case Yoongi somehow loses it while Seokjin is in his flat taking care of Jimin’s needs.

Yoongi notices that while waiting for a reply, he has absentmindedly stuffed the corner of the quilt
between his teeth and dug his canines into the fabric with so much force his jaw aches. He lets the
blanket fall out of his mouth like he’s a cat coughing up a ball of hair. It has gotten dark blue and
soggy with spit.

God, he’s a mess.

“I mean – maybe it was, just a little?” Yoongi says almost sheepishly, a fresh wave of despair
submerging him from head to toe in the cold and acidic pond of humiliation.

“Okay, shit. Hold tight, I’m coming.”

“You’d better,” Yoongi mumbles and disconnects the call. With the last of his strength he texts
Seokjin the key-code to his flat and a warning to not let Holly escape when he gets in.

Holly must be so anxious, poor little kitty. Yoongi saw a glimpse of him while escaping Jimin’s
room, the kitten’s hairs bristled in fright. Yoongi hopes Seokjin not only handles Jimin well but
also gets along with pets.

But imagining Seokjin inside his home and on his territory, strolling straight into Jimin’s heat nest
makes Yoongi think violent thoughts that include Seokjin bloody on the floor, even though the
rational part in him knows that the beta has had a lot of training and is much less affected by
pheromones due to his subgender.

And Yoongi really doesn’t have an option. His rut will take two days, possibly even longer than
that if the sheer intensity of the initial spike is anything to go from. Jimin’s heat will almost
certainly break long before that, and he’ll be vulnerable and exhausted and in desperate need of
calorie rich foods and reassurance.

All of which Yoongi would’ve loved to provide for him. He would’ve loved to see Jimin rise from
his heat-haze, all confused and cute and pliant for Yoongi to pamper with food. Instead Jimin will
have to bear the company of a beta who’s all too fond of dreadful puns, skirting around a growling
alpha who has had to lock himself inside his room and pee in bottles or some other gross shit like
that.

When the need to hunt Jimin down starts swelling inside Yoongi’s chest cavity once more, he
looks around for a new distraction, eyes landing on his bedside table where all of his rut toys are
neatly hidden. His personal favourite is a stretchy band of fabric to wrap around his swelling knot
to make it less jarring to have it hanging out in the cold air instead of being stuffed inside an
omega’s heat. For the peak of his rut cycle he uses a fleshlight modelled after male omega anatomy
(sue him for being drawn to what he’s biologically supposed to like), but he doesn’t tend to use it
all the time since it’s a bitch to clean properly, and in rut he doesn’t exactly have the brain capacity
to worry about the discomforts of dried up cum.

Without really even thinking about it, Yoongi’s hand has already sneaked below the waistband of
his trousers and wrapped around the base of his dick. The firm pressure around his length feels
nice, but it also prevents him from popping a knot too soon, which would be highly painful.

He doesn’t feel like masturbating, the thought of coming into his own palm utterly underwhelming,
so he just lies there idly with his legs dangling off the side of the bed, wallowing in his misfortune
and trying to decide what about Park Jimin is so damn special that he’s ready to pour his successful
government career down the drain. He comes up with nothing, only gets a heightened need to bite
and mark for his troubles.

Seokjin arrives in less than an hour, bless him and his resourcefulness. Holly starts meowing loudly
at the intrusion, and Yoongi finds himself getting out of a strange, trance-like state. At some point
his hips have started bucking into the air in rolling motions – a futile attempt to chase friction. His
alpha scent is filling the bedroom like thick theatre smoke.

In a matter of seconds, Yoongi’s rut brain goes into full protection mode. He slides off the bed in a
heap of limbs and starts crawling across the room with his half-swollen knot dragging him down
like a ball of iron. His extended fingers bump against the edge of the dresser, and only then does he
stop to think what the hell he’s doing.

It’s just his silly hyung. It’s a beta, Yoongi chants in his head, but to no avail, as another voice in
his head is much louder than reason. Jimin could be in danger, he could be taken away by this
cunning beta, claimed by someone else that is not Yoongi.

“No, no!” Yoongi yells in his broken voice. He starts pushing the wooden dresser aside.

“Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin calls out from the other side of the door. The familiar voice makes Yoongi
hesitate again, has him tilting his head in confusion. “I’ll handle you once I’m certain that Jimin is
doing fine. You need to stay put for me, alright?”

It doesn’t sound very good, staying still, even if it’s his hyung’s wish. If Yoongi stays here, Jimin
won’t be safe. He should put Jimin over his shoulder and carry him back to his room and swaddle
him in that blue blanket that’s drenched in Yoongi’s scent.

But Seokjin is gone by the time Yoongi is done thinking with his sluggish brain. Jimin yells
something incoherent, sounding angry and scared, and Yoongi’s heart breaks into thin splinters.

Yoongi is a bad alpha who couldn’t protect his omega.

Bad, horrible alpha.

He curls up into a ball and rocks himself back and forth, trying to drown the sounds out and failing.

Soon Seokjin is back, calling out to Yoongi, asking him to let him come in. Thinking that maybe
now he would be allowed to go to Jimin, Yoongi pushes the dresser fully aside, fine hairs bristling
at the back of his neck. He takes a step back and crouches into a fighting stance.

“Jimin is fine. He’s winding down from his most recent heat spike,” Seokjin says in a calm tone as
soon as he pushes the door open, palms raised in surrender. “I made him drink something.”

Yoongi’s alpha brain is confused by the sight of Seokjin. The beta carries a whiff of Jimin’s scent
on him, just from stepping inside the omega’s room, but underneath he can find only a smooth
layer of his nondistinctive beta scent. Yoongi wants a challenge, but there’s nothing to go against,
no dick-measuring contest of pheromone potency to be had. He starts fidgeting anxiously, but
Seokjin nails him in place with one sharp glance.

“I brought enough clothes for two days and stopped at the supermarket on my way here. I’ll lock
you in here so that you can’t go to Jimin,” the beta continues, pointing a finger at Yoongi’s chest.
“I’ll get forever scarred by having to listen to you two jerking off nonstop, just so you know that
you will never be able to pay this debt back.”

Yoongi knows at the back of his mind that Seokjin is trying to be funny, but it’s not registering
fully. He just blinks like an idiot and tries to stand in a way that wouldn’t make his raging boner
too noticeable.

Seokjin huffs in amusement at Yoongi’s efforts.

“Yeah, already scandalised. No need for that, tiny alpha.”

“Am not tiny,” Yoongi huffs and bares his teeth.

Seokjin rolls his eyes and throws Yoongi a bottle of sports drink, which slips right through his
fingers and clatters onto the floor. “I didn’t know you were such a baby in rut. It really doesn’t help
with your bad boy rapper image.”

Yoongi doesn’t have the strength to explain that all of this is Seokjin’s fault, that he’s acting weird
because the beta swooped in with his powerful presence and made him confused.

“I’m not even a rapper anymore.”

“Whatever you say, Agust D,” Seokjin says with a smile of surprising fondness and leaves Yoongi
alone to his suffering.

•••

Jimin’s heat breaks at one in the morning. It’s black and dark outside the window, and Jimin
smells rainwater even though stars are visible in the sky as faint blips. The blinds have been raised,
perhaps to give Jimin context of the time of day once he came back to his senses.

The small act of consideration is oddly comforting to him.

Jimin’s whole body is sore and exhausted, but there is no sense of relief to be found, only a low-
burning pain in his muscles and stale pheromones clogging his nose. His mind is clear in a way
that makes him wish for new oblivion.

He has come too many times to count, but there was never a period of reprieve long enough for
him to get into the shower and wash his body, so the layers of sticky mess remain all over his body
and the t-shirt he has been wearing on and off.

It has been undoubtedly the worst heat of Jimin’s life, although he hasn’t had that many due to his
heavy use of suppressants. He has gaping holes in his memory, hours that bleed together into pain
and need and omegan distress calls that were never answered.

Contrary to that, Jimin also remembers a lot of details he would rather forget. He remembers the
words he used and the way he begged while Yoongi remained steadfast. He remembers trying to
trick Yoongi, kissing him in a moment of madness, although his recollection of the events is
warped in a way that makes it seem like Yoongi was almost – kissing him back for a few fleeting
seconds.

Jimin shakes his head, ashamed of how immaculately his heat brain was able to map Yoongi’s
mouth and press into memory how nice it felt when the alpha’s soft lips parted at the intrusion.

The motion of his head rattles some faulty wires to reconnect, bringing another memory rushing
back. It’s one of Yoongi’s eyes getting wide and scared, the balance of his scent getting flipped
around just like that. The alpha going into rut and scrambling out of the room in horror.

How long ago was that?

Suddenly Jimin hears the sound of the microwave being turned on.

It doesn’t make sense. Heats and ruts last approximately the same amount of time, as many mated
couples have synced up schedules. Whenever it was, Yoongi’s rut must’ve started hours after
Jimin went into heat, so who exactly is handling kitchen equipment?

Jimin hates that his mind feels so sluggish and useless, and that his nose doesn’t work properly,
stuffy and overwhelmed due to the immense heaviness of his own scent.

He gets out of bed with the elegance of a three-legged cat and shuffles his feet to the door. He
opens it just the tiniest bit and peers through the crack.

He sees a back first, a broad back covered by a striped shirt. The stranger is standing astride at the
sink, washing dishes by hand, something nice-smelling spinning around in the microwave.

The scent of rainwater he detected earlier becomes more distinct. It reminds Jimin of something,
but he’s not sure what.

Right when Jimin is about to get his body to react in some way, hiss or shout or crouch, the
rainwater man turns around, smiling with a row of bright teeth visible between his plush lips.

Jimin gasps and tries to cover himself better, realising only then that his bare thighs are on full
display, and that there are streaks of cum on his shirt.

”Jimin-ssi, how are you feeling?” Kim Seokjin asks, setting a purple dishrag aside and leaning
casually into the edge of the sink.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jimin manages to ask.
Seokjin narrows his eyes, but his smile doesn’t falter. “I’ve been taking good care of you two fools,
and you repay my kindness by cursing me out, hmm?”

Holly appears out of nowhere and rubs his head against Jimin’s shin in a clear show of affection.

“When – when did you get here? Where’s Yoongi?” Jimin asks and crouches down to pet Holly
while making sure the shirt doesn’t ride up his thighs too much.

“He’s sleeping. The previous rut spike was quite… intense, as far as I heard,” Seokjin says,
disapproval evident in his voice. “I came here a day ago when Yoongi called me in panic. Just for
the record, he owes me sashimi and my lost innocence.”

Jimin knits his brows together, tries to remember.

He does recall getting scared at some point, terrified of a new scent. He remembers a hand pushing
a thermometer into his mouth, and then the same hand approaching, the lip of a plastic bottle being
tapped against his chin, coaxing him to take a sip even though he didn’t want to.

Jimin feels betrayed. “Why did it have to be you of all people? I never want to see you again,” he
says, skipping honorifics. “Are you friends with him or something?”

Seokjin clicks his tongue at Jimin’s banmal, but he humours him anyway. “I like to think we’re
friends, even though it’s mostly just me pestering him whenever I’m bored. If Yoongi would’ve let
another alpha into this house, the situation would’ve gone violent without a doubt. I’m guessing he
wanted to rip my throat open for setting food in this madhouse, too, but managed to hold back just
because my subgender doesn’t antagonise me as much.”

Jimin stands up, and Holly pads in Seokjin’s direction, meowing for attention from the beta.

“What will happen to Yoongi?” he asks carefully. Not that he cares about the alpha one bit. He’s
just mildly curious, that’s all.

Seokjin tilts his head in thought. “Quite frankly I can’t say. He could lose his license for
endangering your bodily integrity, but then again he has an immaculate track record and was able
to handle the situation without either of you getting hurt.”

Only now that Seokjin mentions it, Jimin realises that Yoongi could’ve mated Jimin then and
there, realises just how much worse the situation could’ve been had the alpha been incapable of
walking away.

His scent gland quivers at the thought, but Jimin forces himself to limp forward and settle to sit on
a stool in front of the island counter. He can clearly smell Yoongi’s heavy rut scent through the
closed door, and the alluring leathery mixture plays weird tricks on his mind even though he no
longer is a prisoner of his heat hormones. Jimin has to clench his hands around the edge of the
counter to keep himself from barging straight into the alpha’s room to show that his neck is still
smooth and unclaimed, that no one got to him while he was out of it.

It must be the dregs of the heat talking.

Without a word, Seokjin places a glass of water in front of Jimin, who drinks it down in large
gulps, now realising just how thirsty he was. The beta observes him intensively, but thankfully
there is no lust in his gaze.

“I made samgyetang with extra ginseng while the both of you were passed out,” Seokjin mentions.
It explains the appetising smell Jimin detected moments prior. “It’s quite a traditional post-heat
dish, but I thought it would do you good to have something warm and nourishing right now.”

It’s quite difficult to stay livid at the beta when he’s so consistently nice, Jimin thinks bitterly, and
shrugs his shoulders. Seokjin takes the tiny motion as a yes and places the steaming bowl of soup
in front of Jimin and commands him to eat.

Jimin finds himself complying just like that, picking up a spoon and tasting the broth with the tip
of his tongue. Usually his stomach disagrees with most foods right after a heat, but Seokjin’s
chicken soup is just amazing, like liquid comfort.

“How have you been, Jimin-ssi?” Seokjin asks, looking pleased at Jimin’s positive reaction to the
food.

“Don’t you like get reports from Yoongi or something?” Jimin huffs.

“I do, but I’m interested in how you’re feeling. I only know the facts.”

Jimin digs into his chicken leg. The meat falls off the bone beautifully. “What are the facts, then?
That I’m a useless omega?”

“No,” Seokjin quickly says. “Just that you’ve been struggling with the collar and the new rules.”

Jimin remembers suddenly that he’s wearing his night collar in front of someone who isn’t Yoongi,
and in his post-heat vulnerability it makes him a bit anxious. He also hopes there are no cum stains
on the dark fabric. That would be beyond embarrassing.

“Struggling suggests that I was actually trying to adapt in the first place,” Jimin says with a flare of
grandiosity to bury his hesitations. “I despise having to live here and listen to Yoongi’s bitching all
day long.”

Seokjin doesn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Yoongi isn’t a petty person as far as I know.”

“But I have a habit of bringing that aspect out in people,” Jimin smiles sweetly. “Remember,
useless omega?”

Seokjin mutters something incoherent and turns around. “I’ll go to sleep soon. I had to stay awake
to see your heat coming to an end,” he says a bit more clearly. “Yoongi might’ve murdered me if I
left you to your own devices.”

Jimin doesn’t know what to say to that, but his insides lurch and get tangled around each other.

“Oh by the way, your phone had died so I plugged it in. I didn’t look closely of course, but it
seemed you had quite a few unread messages,” Seokjin says over his shoulder.

Shit.

Jimin grabs the device from where it was inconspicuously lying on the countertop, and curses at
the twenty-five unread KakaoTalk messages and nineteen missed calls. Taehyung’s messages start
light-hearted as Jimin scrolls through them. He’s asking if he can let himself inside Jimin’s place
and borrow a shirt he likes, and then wonders if Jimin has been abducted by aliens with an
unnecessarily long row of UFO emojis at the end. The later messages are more and more frantic
until he’s in full panic mode.

Then there’s Jungkook saying that he’s going to tell his alpha and call the national police and the
fire department if Jimin fails to reply within three hours. The timestamp of the last message
 indicates that he has four and a half minutes left until the deadline.

Jimin whines in fear, but Seokjin is quick to shush him.

“Whatever you do, don’t wake Yoongi up from his nap. He has been a menace, and I just managed
to trick him into falling asleep,” the beta hisses, sounding exhausted. As Jimin starts cancelling the
extensive rescue operation launched by Jungkook and possibly half of the available emergency
services in Seoul, he's left wondering what exactly Seokjin did to Yoongi to make him pass out
during the height of his rut.

Chapter End Notes

Yoongi’s only hyung came to save the day ;-;

This whole combined heat/rut debacle was stressful as heck to write, so when Jin
pranced in I was ready to kiss his slimy fish.

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Tangerine Incident
Chapter Notes

Jimin plays some games and LOSES.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Yoongi emerges from the depths of metaphorical hell with the sun still high in the sky, sweat
clinging to him like a second skin. It’s disgusting, he feels absolutely filthy with the soles of his
feet producing a loud smacking sound on every wobbly step he takes.

The rut was – Yoongi has never experienced something like it before. Just wave after wave with
barely any reprieve in between, his alpha subconscious supplying him with endless plans on how to
break out of his room and get to Jimin. The denial has left his body achy and hollow, as if the alpha
in him carved his insides into a pumpkin lantern out of pure spite.

Yoongi is hit with the scent of freshly bloomed lilacs in the spring rain, which is in acute contrast
to the post-rut staleness of his own scent. Jimin is sitting at the kitchen counter, in the middle of a
phone call. His ear is pressed against his shoulder, pinning the phone to place and leaving both
hands free to peel a large tangerine. Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to the omega’s deft fingers which
are working the skin of the fruit off in one piece. Yoongi’s mouth waters in a rather Pavlovian
manner and makes him remember he hasn’t eaten anything substantial for days.

“– yeah, everything is just fine. The beta is still around, he just went down to the supermarket,”
Jimin says in a relaxed tone, but suddenly his shoulders stiffen. It seems that the scent of fresh
tangerine is no longer enough to mask Yoongi’s presence.

Jimin turns his head in slow motion. His hair looks glossy and almost blond under the kitchen
lights, and his skin is dewy like it wasn’t a few days ago. Post-heat glow still has the omega in its
gentle hold, it seems. As a direct result, Yoongi can’t breathe, can only stare with his pupils blown
so wide the bright lights hurt his eyes.

A soft-looking pair of trousers hug the omega’s hips at the perfect height, strip of his belly and
lower back visible, and in a moment of weakness Yoongi can’t help but think how it would look if
he just pulled Jimin’s shirt up and tucked the hem between the omega’s teeth to have more of his
smooth, golden skin on display.

Yoongi did see tiny glimpses of Jimin’s nakedness during his heat, but he tried his best not to look
too closely. Of course he saw some things – saw the dancer’s muscles on Jimin’s thighs, saw the
tattoo curling around Jimin’s ribs, saw how slender Jimin’s waist was, so tiny he could probably
wrap his hands around it. It’s odd how Yoongi never seems able to resist just looking, drinking the
sight of Jimin in like a sponge.

Jimin’s nose scrunches up as he does a double take of Yoongi’s dishevelled form, and he pops a
piece of fruit into his mouth, sucking on the flesh and making his cheeks hollow out.

It’s even less possible to look away now.

Jimin finally meets Yoongi’s eyes, swallowing in an exaggerated way which makes his throat bob.
“He just got up. Seems sane enough to me. You can come visit if you want.”

Visit? Yoongi’s home, when Jimin smells like a whole ass flower shop?

Fuck, no.

“Okay Taetae, see you in a bit… mmh, love you too.”

Jimin ends the call with a small tap and sets the phone down. He’s toying with another piece of
fruit. Yoongi steps closer on instinct, needs to feel close to him after days being apart, in pain.

Only then does he notice that Jimin is wearing his leathery day collar, the sight nothing out of
ordinary so it slipped his mind. Yoongi didn’t put that collar around the omega’s neck.

Jimin notices Yoongi’s frantic gaze and glances down with a sly smile. “Oh, this? Seokjin helped
me fasten it this morning. I had to visit the post office, and I thought it would be a bad idea to go
collarless, taking my state into account." Jimin cocks his head. Teasing Yoongi.

It’s unfair.

And thinking of Seokjin’s long fingers brushing against the omega’s nape is worse yet, imagining
that Jimin bent his neck in submission and thanked the beta for helping him –

Yoongi has somehow drifted even closer, so Jimin has to tilt his neck back to keep eye-contact
while sitting down, and it feels deceptively intimate, like an offer of some kind.

Jimin reaches for another wedge of tangerine and holds it up in the air between them. His nostrils
are flared and eyes intent, as though the small offering of food is a direct challenge.

Yoongi bends his head down and opens his mouth, and what the fuck is happening , Jimin places
the piece of tangerine on his tongue, fingers barely grazing the chafed edge of Yoongi’s lower lip,
which is bitten raw from holding in his growls.

“You must be very hungry,” Jimin whispers, which only deepens the odd state of trance they’ve
unanimously slipped into.

The door flies open with Seokjin barging into the flat with a loud greeting.

Yoongi’s jaws fall shut with a snap, and the tangerine in his mouth bursts into pulp, juice escaping
the seam of his lips in a sticky trickle which he can’t find the strength to wipe off. He’s still
hunched over Jimin, posture protective, a small warning growl stuck behind his teeth.

“I’m glad to see you comple– mostly in your right mind,” Seokjin says and drops a nylon shopping
bag on the floor. Holly dashes across the floor instantly, whereas when Yoongi came out of his
room, the kitten didn’t even lift his tiny head from his basket.

Yoongi struggles to swallow and then stands back, even though it causes him physical pain to do
so.

“My friend Taehyung is coming over pretty soon to check if I was lying through my teeth and have
my neck bitten bloody after all,” Jimin informs. His voice is even and rational, and it makes
Yoongi wonder if he somehow imagined the entire tangerine incident.

Seokjin nods and starts sorting through the groceries. There’s mushroom and pork and sweet soy
sauce, and Yoongi comes to realise the severity of his hunger.

“I think you should stay here at least until –,” Jimin stops mid-sentence and gestures toward
Yoongi.

Seokjin grins. “Until we’re certain Yoongi won’t snap anyone’s neck.”

It’s humiliating to be talked about like this, as if he’s not even there. Jimin may have hated Seokjin
on principle, but having a common object of ridicule seems to have done wonders for their
dynamic.

“I’m not in rut anymore,” Yoongi objects weakly.

Neither of them say anything, but Seokjin flashes him a tense look. It’s enough to bring back
memories of his rut – the beta walking in like he owns the place and Yoongi protesting with his
teeth snapping at the air, fire in his heart that spreads and spreads and spreads until there is nothing
left but the need to find his omega. A firm pressure on his neck, and his limbs turning into lead,
flopping over the edge of the bed. It seems Seokjin was one brave beta.

“You should go take a shower, hyung,” Jimin says flatly. His eyes are stuck somewhere around
Yoongi’s pecs as though he doesn’t want or bear to look all the way up.

“Do I smell that bad?” Yoongi tries to joke. He rakes a hand through his hair to find it a greasy
matted mess that makes him shiver in disgust. “Apparently yes.”

Seokjin tuts. “You smell very alpha right now.”

“Very,” Jimin confirms. The omega looks coy and a little blurry-eyed at the same time, and
Yoongi is at a loss – feels like he has stepped out into some alternate reality where Jimin acts like
an omega and Yoongi has lost all but one of his brain cells.

He clears his throat. “I’ll go do that, then. Jimin I’m –“

The omega looks at him expectantly, hands cradling the last few bits of his tangerine. His fingers
are small and delicate, and Yoongi gets the irrational urge to wrap his own around them to see if he
could fully cover both of Jimin’s hands with only one of his.

“I’m very sorry about all this.”

Jimin doesn’t reply, just blinks, and Yoongi’s world performs a nauseating barrel roll. It’s his fault,
he ruined everything, messed up his chance to help the omega.

“The situation got out of hand, and you could’ve gotten hurt. Without Seokjin hyung I – I don’t
know what could’ve happened. I understand perfectly if you want to report me to OWSC and
change to a different alpha,” he concludes with a lame huff.

Suddenly Yoongi almost feels like crying, days worth of anxiety and suffocated emotions bubbling
close to the surface. Jimin’s indifference makes his guilt worse, but it gives him the opportunity to
steel himself for the inevitable, for Jimin packing up his bags and walking away with Yoongi left
in his mind as an unpleasant memory of yet another alpha who broke all their promises.

“I’m going to take that shower now,” Yoongi says, defeated.

Jimin puts the last piece of tangerine in his mouth and starts chewing with a pensive expression on
his face. It’s too much for Yoongi who’s already in shambles, the lazy movements of the omega’s
mouth, the way he keeps staring at him all the way through.

Yoongi momentarily forgets Seokjin even is there in the same space, perhaps pretending not to
notice. Yoongi doesn’t look, either.

•••

The doorbell rings right after Yoongi gets out of the shower, having stood under the cool spray of
water for a short eternity, wanting to bang his head against the tiles until the last of his synapses
stop firing his worst moments of humiliation right back at him.

He’s barefoot in a pair of gym shorts with a damp towel over his shoulders, but he almost runs to
the door, desperate to assess the possible danger before letting his omega anywhere near another
alpha –

Fuck, Yoongi really thought the cold shower was going to be enough to suppress his wanton alpha
side for good, but no, it’s straight back to intrusive thought town.

As soon as the door opens enough to get a glimpse of the visitor, Yoongi wants to slam it back
shut. It’s of little help that he has met all sorts of handsome alphas through his work, rubbed
elbows with celebrities and even dated fucking Kim Namjoon. He thought himself to be mostly
immune to good looks by this point, but nothing could’ve prepared him to face the reality of
Jimin’s alpha best friend.

“Hello, I’m Kim Taehyung,” the man says with a bow, a fluffy cloud of reddish brown hair nearly
whacking Yoongi across the nose. Taehyung is just about the single most handsome person
Yoongi has ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Irritation swells inside him like a cheap water balloon ready to burst from the faintest touch.

“I’m Min Yoongi. Jimin’s alpha,” he all but spits out, nodding his head the bare minimum amount.
It’s a faint caricature of a bow, because he isn’t going to let the alpha out of his sight for a second
longer than necessary.

Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot up and disappear under his fringe, and Yoongi realises what he just
said, throat constricting in horror. Thankfully Jimin didn’t seem to hear the short exchange,
because otherwise choking on his own tongue would’ve likely been a less painful option than what
the omega would’ve had in store for Yoongi.

“Jimin’s alpha, huh?” Taehyung repeats slowly and puffs out his chest.

“T–temporary support mate , I meant.”

Taehyung scowls. “Right. Temporary.”

Yoongi feels the urgent need to retort somehow. A firm smack to the younger alpha’s solar plexus
ought to do the trick –

A heavy palm lands on Yoongi’s shoulder, making him flinch.

“Easy,” comes a quiet, drawn-out warning. It’s Seokjin, the useless beta who put a collar around
Jimin’s neck and made him soup or whatever.

“Jimin-ssi, your friend came to visit,” Seokjin calls out, and almost instantly, Jimin scrambles to
the door in a whirlwind of lilac, smelling like he should be hidden from the entire world. The
omega stops in his tracks somewhere behind Yoongi, and when he turns to look, Jimin is shifting
his weight from one foot to the other, hand clasped in front of him to give him the outer
appearance of a naughty pup. Yet another aspect of Park Jimin which Yoongi would’ve never in a
million years expected to find out about.

“I’m really sorry Taetae,” Jimin says in a soft and sheepish tone, and Yoongi can’t help but wonder
if it’s an act on Jimin’s part, his way of moulding the alphas in his life like wet clay.

He wonders how many times Jimin has already pulled the exact same move on him.

“The heat hit me really hard, and I forgot to text you. Please don’t hate me,” the omega continues
with a tentative smile. It makes Taehyung’s face soften in an instant, and the alpha seemingly
forgets all about his posturing match with Yoongi. He steps right past him and Seokjin, albeit with
a highly curious look cast in the beta’s direction, and proceeds to pull Jimin in a tight bear hug.
Apparently Taehyung has the right to touch Jimin anywhere he likes, brush his hands all over him
and even scent Jimin like he’s his mate –

Seokjin’s grip on Yoongi’s shoulder tightens before he can start moving.

“I don’t hate you, I just – fuck it was scary when you didn’t reply to our messages. We didn’t even
know your address, and had no way of knowing what had happened to you. We were going to force
the OWSC clowns to cough up the alpha’s address and then come here with Hobi hyung,
pitchforks raised.”

Jimin coughs softly. “The handsome beta behind you is an OWSC clown, just so that you know.”

Taehyung turns around, his cheek getting a healthy shade of pink in a matter of seconds. Seokjin’s
grip on Yoongi loosens a bit, as the beta gets evidently distracted.

Jimin blows air through his nose and seems relieved that the attention has been safely directed
elsewhere.

“So, you want to stay for late lunch or early dinner, Taehyungie?” Jimin asks, clapping his hands
together with all his might.

The sound rings in Yoongi’s ears long after, like a menacing omen of some kind.

•••

For dinner Taehyung does stay. The enthusiasm with which he accepts the offer doesn’t go by
unnoticed, but Jimin decides not to say anything. The alpha gets fed all the nicest pieces of pork by
Seokjin while Yoongi sits in quiet agony and looks like he’s trying to find back the alpha identity
that slipped out of his ear like a crusty ball of wax at some point during his rut.

The whole ordeal feels like a nightmarish family dinner, with Taehyung grasping Jimin’s elbow in
an awkward pincer grip, Yoongi staring at the point where their bodies are connected with
venomous intensity, and Seokjin looking like he wants to ruffle Taehyung’s hair and possibly eat
him alive after the fact.

Jimin can’t really blame the beta – Taehyung is naturally submissive and strikingly handsome, and
he even passed Holly’s vibe check with flying colours when the kitten came to sniff his hand and
started purring almost instantly.

Despite Jimin’s firm and unwavering dislike for Seokjin, having the small distraction of this
budding tension between his best friend and his government agent is a relief to Jimin. So he
doesn’t say anything witty even when Seokjin cracks horrible jokes and is overly curious about
where Taehyung got his hair permed, and what’s his favourite type of gimbap. It’s cringy and
makes Jimin want to make gagging noises, but he sits quietly just because it’s so damn weird again
with Yoongi. He was almost back to his normal, snarky self, Yoongi’s scent contained in his room
with the beta handling everything to make sure Jimin could stay far away and recover from his
heat in relative peace.

He heard some of the noises of course, Yoongi grunting and huffing in a way that made it sound
like he was humping a pillow – which he probably was – but he could brush it off as a minor
annoyance, just like his whole life had become a grievance overnight when the damn letter arrived.

What he can’t brush off as easily is the way his stomach flips over its own axis whenever the alpha
so much as breathes in his direction. He’s all too affected by the micro-expressions on Yoongi’s
face, and by the way his scent fluctuates after the rut, hormones and pheromones in search of their
normal balance.

Whenever the conversation strays too close to either Jimin or Yoongi, he tries to deflect the topic
with some forced jokes and change course to another subject. If someone notices his efforts, they
don’t bring any attention to it.

“How’s Kook doing?” Jimin asks straight after Taehyung brings up the subject of Jimin’s scent,
complimenting it, which has Yoongi trembling in his seat and Seokjin looking alarmed all over
again.

Taehyung seems oblivious, a blocky smile stretching his jaw wide. “Uhh, Jungkook is fine. When
you were still MIA, he threatened to walk out the door and go search for you all over the city.
Hoseok hyung had to be pretty strict with him, and it made him feel really guilty… you know how
he is,” Taehyung adds with a sigh. “Jungkook cried a lot, but I bet at least half of those were
crocodile tears to make us feel even worse, so don’t worry.”

Contrary to Taehyung’s instructions, Jimin feels really bad about possibly creating tension between
the happy couple. Hoseok isn’t one to discipline his mate, outside of the bedroom at least, as Jimin
has seen Jungkook on his knees for Hoseok only once or twice. Even that was in the beginning of
their relationship when the omega was constantly prodding and pushing his boundaries to see when
Hoseok would push the brakes and act as a much needed safety net for his fidgety and absent-
minded mate. Jungkook on the other hand hates when he’s denied something, or when something
gets taken away from him. He has been very particular about his possessions since he was a pup,
which means that losing one of his prized possessions and then being told no would’ve set the
younger omega off very easily and explosively.

It’s doubly worse since the whole ordeal could’ve easily been prevented had Jimin been coherent
enough to send a single text message, or asked for Yoongi to handle it in his stead for that matter.
Now that Jimin thinks about it, Yoongi seems a bit guilty about it too, poking his food with a sour
expression on his doll-like face.

After the dinner Seokjin announces that he’s going home to drown in work he's missed due to
Yoongi’s antics, threatening to send an extensive invoice to get compensated for his lost time. On
his way to the door he very accidentally gets hold of the back of Taehyung’s sweater and drags him
along with him, because “those two need to work over some shit”, to quote the beta’s words.

And just maybe it’s also because Seokjin wants an opportunity to intimidate Taehyung into giving
him his phone number. Seemingly everyone wants Taehyung, but the alpha is very particular about
who he dates. Jimin isn’t sure Seokjin stands a chance, but then again his friend did play along
with the beta’s flirting quite openly, which is rare to see. Seokjin also happens to be ridiculously
attractive himself, so maybe they would be a nice match after all.

Not that Jimin hopes they would get together or anything.

When the door closes behind them, Holly meows in protest, as if he’s worried that his primary
owners will just keep neglecting him. Yoongi scoops the kitten up in his arms and gives his head a
few reassuring pats while Jimin stares at the alpha’s hand sliding along the fur, curled elegantly at
the joints.

Neither of them make any effort to do anything or go anywhere. They seem to realise that they
should probably talk, should do something to release the immense pressure that has been building
up between them for days, crackling like heated ozone.

But Jimin can’t come up with anything to say, can only eat a tangerine in a sexy way and hope it’s
enough to make Yoongi blow up for the both of them.

Unfortunately that experiment was a total failure.

“I didn’t know Tae was into betas too, but he seemed to be quite in awe of Seokjin,” Jimin says
slowly, shaking his head in mimicry of amusement or fondness or some other human emotion apart
from pure terror, as there’s not much else to do than fill the gaping void between them with idle
chatter.

“Well, Jin hyung is a particularly assertive beta. And he is quite handsome, too,” Yoongi says in a
slightly bitter tone, twisting Jimin’s earlier words against him.

“I only said that to tease Taehyungie, I’m not interested in –,” Jimin stops talking and swallows
audibly. Conflict always is such an easy solution, a copout. “Why am I here trying to appease your
possessive alpha brain? I could go and fuck Seokjin tomorrow if I so pleased.”

“Do you want to fuck Seokjin, then?” Yoongi asks in a gravelly voice. The curve of his lips is
sardonic, but there is something even more sinister burning behind the alpha’s eyes.

“No, I don’t want to fuck him,” Jimin replies evenly, head held high despite his rampant thoughts.
“Haven’t sunk that low yet.”

But he could, couldn’t he? Sink so low he would have to be rescued by a whole fucking team of
excavators.

And that is the scariest part of all this – whatever this is.

Jimin catches a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror by the door. His skin is a little flushed
from the warm weather, with bright pink spots high on his cheekbones like dots of blusher.

Yoongi’s eyes bulge out a tiny bit as he stares at Jimin.

“You could sink –? What did you just say?” the alpha asks with a frown.
“I said that out loud?” Jimin deadpans, opting for offence once more while digging himself an
even deeper hole.

“You did,” Yoongi replies slowly, the verb ending sticky like pudding.

Jimin’s heat is over, and he has no excuse, nothing to blame but himself – but he still wants, is left
so raw and needy after yet another heat without completion.

And Yoongi is right there, a knot on legs. Jimin could take advantage, could use Yoongi to let out
some of his frustrations.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Jimin-ah?”

“Like what?” Jimin breathes. The way Yoongi says his name every time, so intimately – it makes
Jimin crumble to bits and then get assembled back together in the incorrect order.

“Like you want to rip my neck open and feast on my blood,” the alpha states, his lower lip
trembling.

Jimin wishes he could pulverise right now, turn into flakes like Spider-Man and leave no trace
behind.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Jimin asks instead, the words empty and boisterous as they ring through
the room.

Yoongi steps forward, and Jimin only then realises how close they already were, close enough to
claw at each other, to make out, to practise judo throws. It’s almost a perfect re-enactment of the
moment Yoongi stepped out of his rut chamber.

Holly starts squirming, and Yoongi lets him down. His huffs of fondness hit Jimin’s right cheek.

The kitten runs off to his food bowl, and then it’s just the two of them, in thin clothes and souls
bared unwillingly. Jimin doesn’t understand what happened. Doesn’t understand anything.

“I’m sorry I kissed you while in heat. It was a mistake,” Jimin whispers, just because he feels the
obligation to say something.

“I know pup. It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry for sending you into early rut.”

Yoongi tilts his head, nose scrunching up slightly. “I’m pretty sure it was my own fault much
more than yours.”

“Why did I make you go into rut?” Jimin croaks. “Be honest with me this once, and maybe we can
go back to how things were, to wishing each other an early demise and plenty of chewed gum stuck
to our soles.”

Yoongi bites the air, his canines glinting white. He has beautiful teeth. “You want me to be honest
with you, Jimin-ah? You really want that?”

Jimin nods resolutely. He focuses his gaze on the silvery earring hanging from Yoongi’s earlobe,
the sight of the alpha’s eyes too much as it often is.

“I want to – you make me want to bite you and knot you. You were right all along, Jimin-ah. I’m
just a filthy alpha like the rest,” Yoongi admits, breathing heavily through his nose. “I have no
right to be anyone’s support alpha.”

Jimin feels heady with the power he holds over him, so he grabs the ends of the drawstring on
Yoongi’s shorts and tugs, until the fabric tightens around the alpha’s waist. He’s holding Yoongi as
if he has the alpha on a short leash. Yoongi seems unable to move Jimin’s hands away, just stares
at the point of contact with glassy eyes as utter defeat rolls off him in sour, leathery waves.

Jimin pulls, just to see what happens, and Yoongi inches even closer. They’re exactly the same
height, Yoongi’s pink lips perfectly level. Air is going from Jimin lungs into Yoongi’s and then
back until there is no oxygen left to share.

It’s sweet and suffocating.

And Yoongi is so close, leaning in with his nostrils flared to scent, and Jimin needs to present so
badly. His hands are so clammy with sweat his hold on the drawstring slips, and his arms flop
uselessly to the sides. Jimin’s eyes are half lidded, head bent to welcome anything Yoongi is
willing to give him.

The alpha makes one final move, which means there are no more molecules between them,
nowhere for Jimin to run, even though running away is the last thing on his mind right now.

Don’t kiss me, don’t kiss me, Jimin chants in his head, because it would be too much to bear.

Yoongi doesn’t. His arms wrap around Jimin’s waist just below the hem of his purple sweater,
where his skin is bare and hot, pulling him flush against his chest. The hands slide even lower, cup
the backs of Jimin’s thighs, a wordless cue to jump up. Jimin’s legs tangle around the alpha’s waist
for support, and then they’re moving somewhere, toward the couch maybe. Jimin is breathing in
Yoongi’s scent straight from the source, and it’s so sweet and nice, making him wet in seconds
even though his heat ended only a day ago.

Yoongi must feel the dampness through the clothes, must smell it too. Jimin whimpers in mild-
burning embarrassment at just how easy he is – but then again he can feel Yoongi half-hard against
his stomach, only moments after his rut ended. As if stamina means nothing to them in that
moment.

“Seokjin probably didn’t think this when he asked us to work through our shit,” Jimin mumbles as
he’s laid out on a soft surface. He still isn’t sure whether it’s a couch or someone’s bed, doesn’t
really care that much either.

Yoongi is already clambering on top of him, gym shorts hanging low on his hips, but Jimin sees
that the alpha has a deep grimace on his face.

“Stop talking about Seokjin,” Yoongi says in a strained voice, hand wrapped around Jimin’s wrist
to keep him pinned to the bed.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Jimin breathes out. It smells so much like him, and he
finally realises they’re in his own bed, surrounded by all of his things he used during his heat.

“I – I don’t know,” the alpha grits out, knee-deep in some internal struggle or perhaps an entire
existential crisis.

But Jimin feels cruel to care, too indifferent to Yoongi’s suffering to feel actual empathy. He bucks
his hips up and grinds himself against Yoongi’s erection. He’s hard as well, leaking into his
underwear out of both ends.
“Are you going to fuck me like the filthy alpha you claim to be?”

“Shit Jimin, just shut your mouth already,” Yoongi pleads. His façade of civility is peeling off in
large chunks.

Jimin digs the fingers of his free hand into Yoongi’s side, making the alpha hiss and shudder. “All
throughout my heat, every single moment I pleaded for you to come. But you didn’t come, did you
hyung? I was left so empty I had to take the matter into my own hands.”

Yoongi groans, the sound rippling through his body.

Jimin arches his body off the bed, the small of his back rising up to find Yoongi’s hardness again.
This time the alpha’s composure falters, and his hands grip the hem of Jimin’s sweater, pulling it
up, up, up until it gets tangled around his neck.

It’s a frantic occasion, them wiggling out of their clothes like two caterpillars about to undergo
metamorphosis. Yoongi’s chest is broad and pale as he cages Jimin in once more. His body is a
mouth-watering combination of firm and soft, so very fitting for his pretty face.

Jimin also feels a trail of wetness on his thigh. Glancing down is a grave mistake he doesn’t get to
regret properly – Yoongi’s cock is hard and dripping wet between his legs. It’s big and veiny and
blushed bright pink at the tip. Even with the knot fully deflated there is no question about Yoongi’s
subgender.

“What are you looking at, pup?” Yoongi asks darkly. The sound pierces Jimin right through his
chest cavity.

Jimin wishes he had rolled over so that he wouldn’t have to face Yoongi. That he could pretend
this to be any of his meaningless fucks. Instead he has to meet Yoongi’s eyes, the lust in them that
he put there himself, with his scent and teasing words.

“I thought you’d be small,” Jimin says. “Thought I’d barely feel anything after using all my
dildos.”

“Oh yeah?” Yoongi huffs, and suddenly there’s a hand on Jimin’s ass cheek, spreading him open.
The scent of his slick is deafening, and it makes Yoongi choke on his own spit.

“Going to lie there all pretty for me while I prove that’s definitely not the case?” the alpha
grumbles.

Jimin played the role of the great seducer too well, lost at his own game by inviting the alpha in
Yoongi to the forefront. He can only nod in agreement.

Although Yoongi isn’t moving his hand, he’s waiting for consent like he should. The notion makes
Jimin shiver violently, knowing that even in the grips of lust Yoongi is coherent enough to not just
dive in, to wait for permission.

“Go ahead, dumb alpha,” Jimin says – the magic words – ones that have Yoongi burying two of his
fingers inside Jimin with a wet squelch. He clenches around the intrusion in surprise, but Yoongi
isn’t easily fazed.

Jimin’s toes curl when the alpha looks for his prostate and finds it with little effort, pressing down
with enough force to make Jimin’s neglected cock spurt a few drops of precum onto his own
stomach.
“Don’t prep me any more than that,” Jimin manages to gasp, writhing, fisting the sheets. “I want to
feel the stretch, I need it hyung.”

“You don’t decide these things, omega,” Yoongi says sternly and keeps opening Jimin up with
meanly precise fingers. “Let’s see how you feel about prep once you’re properly seated on my
cock.”

Fuck.

What did Jimin manage to unleash? Where in Yoongi’s collection of pastel-coloured knitwear was
a beast like this hiding all along?

Jimin spreads his legs weakly and can only wish that the alpha has mercy on him, that he’s going
to fuck him like no dildo ever could.

That they can do this and be finally done with the ridiculous tension between them, and go back to
their respective lives.

Yoongi takes Jimin’s cock in his fist but doesn’t start stroking, just holds it with a thumb pressed
against his slit. Jimin quickly understands that he’s supposed to rut into the channel like a wanton
puppy.

It’s so humiliating, but Jimin does exactly that as Yoongi keeps fingering him at an irregular pace,
never letting Jimin get used to any single sensation too well. Just as Jimin is about to cum, his balls
tightening, thrusts getting erratic, Yoongi lets go of his cock with a tiny huff. Cold air hits Jimin’s
heated flesh in the most jarring fashion, and he cries out in pure madness, sees white and shades of
grey as the almost-orgasm washes over him like thousands of small needles pricking his body. His
cock, now angry red and sopping wet with his own slick that Yoongi used as lube, jerks and
twitches pathetically against his abdomen.

Jimin lets out dry sobs of frustration. “Fuck you Yoongi, fuck you.”

Whilst Jimin is still consumed by his denial-induced rage, he doesn’t notice how Yoongi lines up
with his hole without a word, pushing the very tip of his cock in.

“Wh–what?” Jimin splutters at the faint sensation.

“Are you ready, Jimin-ah?”

Orange peel and leather are turning the air into thick slush, absorbing into the pillows, mixing in
with Jimin’s tears that slide from the corners of his eyes to his open mouth.

Jimin nods, biting down on his lip and maybe drawing a bit of blood.

Yoongi pushes in, all the way to the base until the patch of hair over his pubic bone is rubbing
against Jimin’s crotch. It takes less than five thrusts to tip Jimin over the edge untouched. He
comes all over himself, over his straining abs, biting into his hand to deny Yoongi the pleasure of
hearing just how hard the edging made him orgasm.

Although he must feel it around his cock, must feel how tightly Jimin is clenching down on his
thick cock.

Yoongi allows him a few seconds of reprieve, but then the alpha starts moving again, in deep,
precise thrusts that rub over Jimin’s prostate, which is already incredibly sensitive after a full heat
and a recent orgasm.
Instead of fighting the intrusion, it’s easier to flop against the pillows and just let it happen, arms
wrapped around the alpha’s broad back, fingers grazing over something that feels like bumpy scar
tissue over his shoulder blade. Jimin’s spent cock twitches in interest, though, and sparks of
electricity are surging through his body whenever Yoongi snaps his hips with intent.

God, he’s going to come again at this rate.

Jimin tries to spread his legs even wider, to get Yoongi even deeper inside.

It’s not submission, it’s him taking advantage, Jimin tries to remind himself, but the voice is a
weak echo somewhere between his cortex and skull.

Jimin is quickly lulled into a pleasant state, a second orgasm building in his abdomen in spite of
him being mostly soft, cock flopping against his thigh on every thrust. Yoongi’s knot starts
swelling soon, which only adds to the pressure inside him, the promise of more pleasure. The alpha
is panting, only seconds away from finishing, and Jimin – Jimin panics.

Because Yoongi is about to knot him.

“Wait, stop!” he shrieks and scrambles away from under the alpha, banging his head on the
headboard of the bed so hard he sees spots of white. Even in the middle of popping a knot Yoongi
is able to let him go, clearly sensing and smelling the sudden discomfort. The alpha groans, on all
fours over the spot where Jimin was lying seconds before.

“No no, oh fuck,” Yoongi gasps.

He had been too close. The alpha’s face contorts in pain and surprise, and he wraps a hand around
the base of his cock, squeezing to emulate an omega’s heat, but it’s too little too late. Yoongi’s
cock twitches against his abdomen, angry red, and spurts sad ropes of cum all over the sheets and
himself.

The ruined orgasm compiled with the interrupted knotting has the alpha wailing and shuddering,
and Jimin can only gawk at him in horror and feel the other’s pain in his own gut alongside the
dregs of his own orgasm that was denied at the last moment.

“I’m s–sorry I just couldn’t –,” Jimin tries to explain, legs clamped together as slick keeps pouring
out of him in a humiliating quantity. The thought of being stuck to Yoongi for an unspecified
amount of time, so close and so submissive – it was simply too much.

“What the fuck was I thinking?” Yoongi gasps with spit falling down from the corner of his
mouth. “Fuck Jimin, I’m so sorry –“

Jimin wraps his arms around his naked body, curled up into a tiny, trembling ball.

Yoongi is backing off with his palms raised, reaching for clothes, and for some reason that only
heightens Jimin’s panic, makes him nearly hyperventilate.

“Don’t go,” he squeaks so quietly he almost doesn’t hear himself.

But Yoongi does. He stops moving, kneeling on the bed, boxers in hand.

“Stay – I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Yoongi grips a chunk of his sweaty hair and tugs like he wants to rip the strands off by the roots.
 “What can I do for you, Jimin-ah?” he asks, or pleads rather.

“Just stay,” Jimin repeats one more time.

Yoongi takes Jimin’s blanket, the one he used while in heat, and silently wraps it around his
shoulders, engulfing him in his own scent. The alpha sits back at a respectful distance, listening to
Jimin’s breathing as it grows more even in the silence of the room.

They hold no eye contact, no physical touch.

But for some reason Jimin has never felt closer to another human being than just then.

Chapter End Notes

Ahh gahh I struggled so much with this chapter, but I think they’re finally realising it’s
not just the heat hormones drawing them together like magnets.
Also note that everything happening in this chapter was consensual. They wanted each
other and were no longer affected by heat/rut ^^

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Seeking Normalcy
Chapter Notes

This chapter is all shy boy Suga with some budding Sope friendship feels.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Yoongi has never been more disappointed in himself, disappointed at his alpha side that usually
lies nearly dormant, only raising its instinctual head under immense stress or whenever he can let
his aggressive side take over in a controlled environment.

It has never happened like this, on a whim, just hoisting an omega up in the air and throwing them
on a bed to do with whatever he pleases. It doesn’t matter that Jimin taunted him all the way
through, because in the end it was Yoongi himself who initiated the sex, it was Yoongi who tried to
knot Jimin without his consent and made him cry out in fear.

He shudders at the thought of just how wrong that was, how unbelievably messed up, unable to
look at Jimin who’s smelling of a conflicting mixture of turned on and disgusted in the aftermath of
everything that just happened.

And yet, Jimin says he doesn’t want him to leave the room, begs him not to go and thanks him
when he doesn’t. It’s perverse.

“I’m glad you’re here, hyung,” he says, and Yoongi thinks he managed to break Jimin somehow.

Jimin lets the blanket fall off his shoulders. It’s very warm in the room, and the dips above the
omega’s collarbones glisten with cooling sweat. Yoongi has his underwear on, but his other clothes
are in a heap at the foot of the bed, and he doesn’t want to disturb the fragile peace of the room.
His swollen knot keeps throbbing painfully in perfect sync with his heartbeat, making his thoughts
clouded and irrational.

“Did I break you, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi mumbles in a thin voice, the filter between his vocal cords
and frontal lobe completely gone.

Their eyes meet for the painfully long period of time that is three quarters of a second.

“Break me? You think highly of yourself,” Jimin replies, sounding tired.

Yoongi doesn’t have it in him to joke back. “I – I’ll hand in my resignation first thing in the
morning. You don’t have to worry about anything.” The words leaving his mouth make him feel
like he’s being ripped in half like a piece of paper, leaving only jagged edges behind.

Jimin shakes his head. “You won’t do such a thing.”

The omega’s voice is much more even than just minutes ago. There’s no layer of instinctive panic
anymore.

“Why not?” Yoongi sighs.

Jimin glances at Yoongi, his face pale and grim. “You don’t get to have sex with me and then
discard me on some other alpha’s doorstep to alleviate your own guilt. How do you think it would
make me feel, getting collared by yet another stranger while everything I feel on my skin are your
hands?” Jimin sucks in a harsh breath. “Take some responsibility for your actions, hyung.”

“Responsibility,” Yoongi repeats in a small, stifled voice. “I can’t just sweep my sins under a r–“

Jimin interrupts him. “You can and you will.”

Yoongi clenches his fist.

“But for the record, if that makes you feel any better, I think I wanted that more than you did,”
Jimin says, pointing at the damp patch on the sheet. The omega’s eyes are shiny with unshed tears.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Yoongi says.

“I pushed your buttons, I wanted you to snap and have your way with me so that I wouldn’t have to
admit to anything myself.” A single tear rolls down Jimin’s face, along the side of his nose, and the
alpha in Yoongi wants to touch and soothe and lick the salt away.

“I thought I was just blowing off some steam, riling you up to sink into unearned oblivion – but it
didn’t work. It just didn’t work, hyung.” Jimin’s last words come out strangled, stuck at the back of
his throat.

Yoongi tries to process Jimin’s words, but it’s proving difficult. “How are we going to act from
now on? I don’t think I can go back to living with you like your subgender doesn’t exist. My
instincts are going crazy every second I spend with you.”

Jimin simply nods, as if he’s fully agreeing with the statement.

But neither seems to have an answer to the question, so they go and shower separately, washing
away the visible remnants of their encounter.

•••

Over the next few days, Yoongi and Jimin try to find a new normal of sorts, balance amidst chaos.
Jimin goes back to work, back to his regular work-filled schedule, but he always remembers to text
Yoongi if he’ll stay out late, and he does his part of the household chores with minimal complaints.

They don’t bring up their miserable attempt at having sex, but its effects linger in the background
of everything they do. During dinner Yoongi needs to hold back when he gets the urge to feed
Jimin, a highly common thing for an alpha to do for their omega as a bonding activity. It can be
done at the table, although usually it would involve the omega on the floor, sitting prettily on a
comfy pillow while given food straight from the alpha’s plate – only the very best pieces of course.

One day they accidentally get really close to that when Yoongi picks up a nice strip of meat in his
chopsticks and starts to lean over the the table without thinking. Jimin opens his mouth on instinct,
eyes fixed on the prize, and only then Yoongi realises what he’s doing, yanking his hand away.
The omega whines pathetically at the loss and then slaps a hand across his mouth in
embarrassment.
Another similar incident occurs when Jimin is sleepy and grumpy one morning, trying to avoid the
collaring by burying himself under a mountain of blankets. Yoongi grumbles in irritation, which
makes the omega squeak and peek out from under what is starting to look a lot like a haphazardly
constructed nest, baring his neck and scent gland to Yoongi.

Following that, they hardly speak to each other for the rest of the day, and Yoongi doesn’t have the
heart to mention to Jimin that the omega may be harbouring some nesting instincts after all.

In his incident report Yoongi writes that he went into rut due to Jimin’s pheromones, but that
nothing happened as a result, which is technically correct. The committee gives him a written
warning, and the lack of repercussions gives Yoongi repeating nightmares where he turns into a
huge grey wolf and finds Jimin running through a thick forest, dressed in a red cloak. Jimin tries to
say no, but Yoongi devours him anyway and gets put down by an angry Seokjin holding a hunting
rifle.

He always wakes up at that point, grasping at his chest where the bullet pierced him, unable to find
out whether Jimin was saved by Seokjin or not, or if the wolf and the omega simply perished
together under the beta’s watchful eyes.

Yoongi has tried to come to terms with the fact that his disposition toward Jimin has changed
drastically, and that the change implies things about Yoongi and his alpha side he thought to be
nearly impossible.

Emphasis on the word ‘try’.

Even though Yoongi is a romantic at heart, he has a layer of black, invisible ice around his most
vital organs, a safety barrier he has grown to trust over the years, but Jimin rips him wide open with
one fleeting glance and picks the bloodied pieces up with his bare hands. It flips his world upside
down and makes him drown in a puddle of his melting identity.

Yoongi’s behaviour has become questionable to a point where even Namjoon has grown
increasingly suspicious of him. The younger alpha often is clueless to a point where it’s infuriating
instead of adorable, but apparently even he has a limit of how much nonsense he’s willing to take.
Yoongi has been wasting work hours writing song lyrics for a project that doesn’t even exist,
bittersweet and moody with abstract metaphors instead of his usual, politically charged, hard-
hitting lines with clear messages embodied in few words.

The female artist who was threatening to cancel her contract stayed at the label in the end, but her
continued dissatisfaction with their work is when Yoongi hits rock bottom and tells Namjoon to
just fire him.

Needless to say, Namjoon doesn’t take kindly to the self-deprecation.

“Hyung, get a grip, or alternatively go and propose to that omega. Or just fuck him or something.
Anything at all, because clearly you’re miserable right now,” the alpha growls in Yoongi’s face.

In a flash of panic and furious blushing, Yoongi denies all accusations, but then another disaster
strikes straight after the fact when him and Namjoon are getting home from the studio at the same
time, and Yoongi walks out of the lift backwards, blocking the view just in case Jimin decided to
get out of the flat at that exact moment and saw Namjoon, and heaven forbid – Yoongi would have
to explain that he lives in the same building with his ex like the pathetic loser he is.

Not to mention that his ex happens to be a hot, single alpha. That only screams trouble.
The lift doors close in front of Namjoon’s flabbergasted expression.

Jimin sometimes comes home carrying the sweet scent of Taehyung on his skin, and Yoongi does
everything in his power that the atoms he consists of don’t split into neutrons and electrons with
the need to shake Jimin and ask a million inappropriate questions.

He can’t ask if the scent is there just to keep him safe out in the dangerous world, or if he’s
masking someone else’s scent underneath, because almost slipping his knot inside someone once
doesn’t give him the right to know anything about the omega’s sex life, and it most certainly isn’t
enough to put any sort of claim on Jimin. Even then he can’t help but lean closer than normal when
he’s taking Jimin’s collar off at night, drinking the blend of scents in to try to detect a stranger. He
never finds anyone but Taehyung or Jungkook’s alpha, and then lies in bed afterwards, guilt-ridden
and unable to fall asleep.

But there are good moments, too. Sometimes Yoongi comes out of his studio, shoulders tense and a
mild headache developing behind his left eye, just to find Jimin sleeping cosily on the couch with
some cheesy comedy blasting in the background. Even if there are crumbs on his favourite quilt
and all over the sofa, Yoongi will just tuck the snoozing omega in tighter and lower the volume on
the TV, his headache immediately alleviated by the calm scent of peaceful sleep.

One time Jimin comes home in his dance instructor gear, form fitting tights and a hoodie with the
logo of the dance studio on the back. He gets down on the floor and starts doing some kind of
stretching routine that involves splits and other impossible poses, and Yoongi’s head swims with
admiration and something else, too, which he barely manages to repress in time. Jimin catches
Yoongi staring and goes on to complain loudly how uncomfortable it is to dance in his collar and
how it weighs him down like a ball of iron.

In the evening, with Yoongi foolishly thinking that Jimin has already gone to bed, he opens his
laptop and does meticulous research on aerodynamic collars that mated omega athletes use. He
ends up ordering a few embarrassingly expensive ones, just in case.

That’s where Jimin catches him. The omega has a glass of water in his hand, and his cheeks
are flushed pink from the warm temperature.

“What did you buy?” Jimin asks over Yoongi’s shoulder. He looks tired but alert, squinting at the
order confirmation number on the screen, which thankfully doesn’t reveal the contents of Yoongi’s
order.

“Co– col– colanders. No – cold cream. For my shoulder,” Yoongi says so quickly the words blur
together, gesturing at his shoulder.

“Has it started hurting again? Is it the low air pressure?” Jimin asks, sounding more concerned
than Yoongi expected. “I think another thunderstorm is coming.”

“No, why would it hurt?” Yoongi replies without thinking, like the immense idiot he is.

“Why are you buying cold cream, then?”

Yoongi shakes his head forcibly. “No, I actually bought colanders. You know, for draining pasta
and stuff.”

Jimin huffs, annoyed, and stretches his limbs up like Holly on a hot Sunday morning, shirt hiking
up to reveal his toned abs for a moment. The movement makes the water in Jimin’s glass spill over
a little and fall on Yoongi’s head and neck.
“Yah,” he says with a hand on his damp hair.

“You’re being kind of weird tonight, hyung,” Jimin smiles.

Yoongi groans. “It’s late, Jimin-ah. Go to bed.”

The omega doesn’t obey, because why would he. Instead he skips around the couch and sits next to
Yoongi, and in that time Yoongi quickly exits the browser window.

Jimin scoots deeper into the couch and wraps his arms around his shins. It’s a common pose for the
omega – half defensive, half domestic as he often appears.

“I meant to ask you something,” Jimin starts again, plump bottom lip sucked between his teeth.

Yoongi waits, drumming his fingers against the lid of his MacBook.

“A couple nights ago I was having some soju with Taehyung and Jungkook, and I might have
mentioned – in the heat of the conversation it might’ve become known that –,” Jimin’s voice trails
off, and in the dim glow of the living room his skin looks rose gold with mild, simmering shame.

Yoongi perks up. “You couldn’t have possibly told them that – uhh that we –“

Jimin interrupts him straight away. “That we fucked.”

Yoongi’s whole posture deflates, as if his spine has turned into rubber.

“I’m not sure what came over me, I think – maybe it was after Jungkook told this funny story about
how he was having sex with Hoseok, and they were trying out this new position, but then Hoseok’s
knot got kind of stuck, unable to deflate properly –,” Jimin inhales, eyes flashing in panic, probably
spilling way too many details of his friend’s sex life.

The omega looks away, his cheeks now cherry red and so round Yoongi has the urge to pinch
them.

“Anyway, I was a bit tipsy and said that at least his alpha was able to knot inside.” Jimin smiles
sardonically. “They wouldn’t drop the subject until I confessed there was no mystery alpha in my
life, and that it was in fact just… you.”

Yoongi groans with white-hot humiliation sloshing inside his gut. “How much time do I have until
they come to lynch me? I need to sort my will first.”

Jimin touches Yoongi’s shoulder with featherlight fingers. They don’t touch each other very often,
so even the smallest graze sends jolts of electricity down Yoongi’s spine, simultaneously
heightening and dampening his shame.

“They want to meet you,” Jimin says. “Give you a chance to prove you aren’t some traditional
alpha who thinks an omega’s place is to spread his legs and carry pups. We were going to have this
small get-together on the weekend at Jungkook and Hobi hyung’s place, as we often do, and
Taehyung suggested you should come along this time.”

Yoongi realises Jimin and his friends are offering the ultimate olive branch he doesn’t really
deserve. His second thought is irrational excitement over the chance to spend a bit more time with
the omega. He has never been anywhere with Jimin, their lives completely separate outside of the
private confines of Yoongi’s flat.
“And you – would you be comfortable with that?” he asks.

Jimin nods a bit hesitantly. “Me and my big mouth brought this down on myself. And besides,
you’re going to be in my life for many months to come, and I dislike excluding the people closest
to me like that. So yes, I think it could be good for you to meet them.” Jimin combs a hand through
his hair, and Yoongi notices that the omega’s roots are getting dark. The tiny imperfection
somehow makes him even more attractive in Yoongi’s eyes.

“You told me to take responsibility, didn’t you?” Yoongi muses. His voice sounds scratchy to his
own ears. “Is this it?”

“Might as well be,” Jimin nods. The omega starts getting up, and his sweet scent travels to
Yoongi’s nose again. He allows himself to briefly imagine how it would be like to grab Jimin by
the waist and pull him over his thighs, have a lapful of sleepy omega all for him, getting to press
his nose in the crook of Jimin’s neck and inhaling the lilacs straight from the source.

He’s filled with dread of Jimin’s eventual return to his own life, with Yoongi left alone with his
thoughts and his cat and flat that is too large for one person.

“Sleep well, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi sighs.

“You too, hyung. You look really tired.”

He is tired, he’s so tired his eyes might just fall out of their sockets from being too weary of
observing the world around him.

But maybe tonight he’ll sleep like a pup.

•••

Yoongi doesn’t have anything to wear.

Nothing at all, he’s seriously fucked.

Everything seems either too formal or too casual, too soft or too alpha-like. In the end he goes with
a black and white chequered shirt and a pair of jeans with a nice belt, but even fully dressed and
ready to go, he can only stare at himself through the mirror with insecurity. Maybe the pattern of
his shirt is too loud and obnoxious, and Jimin’s friends end up subconsciously disliking him…

There’s rapid knocking on his door. “Are you dressed? I forgot to look at the time and we’re really
late now, hyung.”

Yoongi yanks the door open. “I’m sorry I was just –“

His jaw clacks open as if it’s made of an incomplete set of Legos. Jimin is wearing the same shirt
in yellow with a similar pair of distressed jeans with rips at the knees.

“We’re wearing the same outfit,” Jimin helpfully observes. “Should one of us change?”

Yoongi forcefully shakes his head. “No, I mean – we really should go, I don’t want to keep your
friends waiting.” It’s the last thing he’d want to do, come across as an arrogant alpha with no
consideration for other people’s time.
“We’re going to look like one of those cringy couples, hyung,” Jimin whines, shuffling his feet to
the door, but thankfully the omega starts lacing his shoes anyway.

The alpha in Yoongi rejoices at the possibility of others viewing them as a mated couple, but he
manages to keep his mouth shut.

They make their way downstairs and to the metro station, and it might be just Yoongi imagining
things, but he feels like people are giving them looks, side-eyed glances of wonder and envy. Envy
of the fact that Yoongi has been allowed to collar such an omega.

The rings on Jimin’s collar glint in the warm sun drawing attention to his pretty clavicles peeking
out of the loosely buttoned shirt. In the beginning Jimin used to pull on the collar all day, adjusting
it and trying to pull it a little looser, but he seems to have grown to tolerate it a little, at least enough
to get through his day.

Yoongi was really concerned about it in the beginning. He even called the OWSC to ask if there
could be some kind of exception made for Jimin, that the omega would have to wear his collar only
outside, but the safety guidelines were extremely strict on the subject. Jimin was even classified as
a high risk case due to his history of no dominant partners whatsoever and his habit of skipping
appointments.

Yoongi is once again weak to his own imagination, so he pictures Jimin with a thin, pastel-
coloured collar with a cute tag hanging off the D-ring. Thin enough to reveal much of Jimin’s
pretty, pale throat, something light and inconspicuous that would be easy to hide or remove if the
omega got flustered or uncomfortable, more like a tasteful choker instead of the full training collar
he has to wear for now.

Something that would still scream Yoongi’s from a mile away and make Jimin proud to wear it.

As if.

“– – hyung?”

Yoongi snaps out of his domestic fantasy and sees that Jimin has already passed the gate while
Yoongi is just standing there blocking the way and making people grumble impatiently behind
him.

Blood rushing to his cheeks, Yoongi scrambles through the gate. He hits his knee on the metal
pole at the side and has to grasp Jimin’s arm for support to stop himself from falling over, tears of
pain spilling out of the corners of his eyes.

“You’re an embarrassment to your entire subgender, hyungie,” Jimin says, and for some reason it
sounds distinctly affectionate. The omega supports Yoongi even on the escalator, letting him lean
into his strong shoulder to keep most of the weight off his throbbing leg.

On the train Jimin sits right next to Yoongi, their thighs rubbing together whenever the train car
rattles and turns. The omega doesn’t seem to be in the mood for a conversation. He’s getting more
and more nervous as they get closer, and when Yoongi gently asks about it, Jimin seems reluctant
to reply.

There’s only one thing Yoongi is able to squeeze out of him. “They just know me too well, my
friends.”

Yoongi isn’t sure if he should feel happy or worried over Jimin’s sentiment, so he keeps anguishing
over it for the rest of the trip.
The alpha-omega couple Jimin is friends with resides in a quiet little neighbourhood quite far away
from the inner city. They’re late, but fortunately only about fifteen minutes, just little enough not to
make Yoongi seem like the rudest, cockiest alpha in existence.

He squeezes the neck of the wine bottle he bought as a gift with both hands as they go up the few
flights of stairs, and then with his hands getting slippery with sweat, he almost drops the damn
thing as they wait for the door to open.

“Wah, you fuck once and you’ve already advanced to couple outfits. Good for you,” Taehyung
laughs as he opens the door.

Jimin hisses at his friend, sharply, but it does little to stifle the alpha’s amusement.

Even with the rut hormones long gone from his system, Yoongi has to fight not to square his
shoulders to appear taller. Before leaving the flat, Jimin gave him a firm talking to Yoongi and
threatened him with the possibility of being thrown out of the third floor window at the first sign of
posturing. He can only hope that the same rules apply to the two other alphas.

A man with dark brown bangs and kind eyes appears behind Taehyung’s wild mop of hair. The
alpha’s scent is uncomfortably familiar as Yoongi breathes it in. There’s an aura of complete ease
about the alpha, as if the man is all joint and no hard bone, someone who is just pleasant to be
around. At least two thirds of Yoongi’s apprehension melts away just like that.

“Jung Hoseok,” the man says with a quick, tactile bow which Yoongi scrambles to replicate, “and
this is my mate, Jungkook. I kind of weaselled my way into their friend group after getting mated,
but thankfully they tolerate me being around sometimes.”

Hoseok’s voice is a bit raspy but pleasing to listen to. The alpha seems to have a peculiar sense of
style, some kind of blend of street fashion and apparel suited for an outdoorsy dad. He has a
slender frame like Yoongi, but whereas Yoongi has gotten a tiny bit pudgy at unflattering places,
Hoseok is all lean muscle under his loose clothes.

There are piles of bucket hats in all sorts of colours and designs on the rack next to the door, and
underneath lies a mess of expensive-looking sneakers, slides, and – quite surprisingly – combat
boots.

The mystery is short-lived, though.

A whirl of black cloth appears from somewhere behind the two alpha’s, calling out Jimin’s name
in a soft voice and grasping Hoseok’s arm. The tall omega clinging to Hoseok’s side is not at all
how Yoongi had pictured in his head. Jungkook has large doe-eyes and silky black hair that almost
reaches his shoulders, but he also has a full sleeve of tattoos visible under his black t-shirt, and
loose-fitting cargo pants that must go well with the leather boots. There are multiple hoop earrings
hanging from his ears with a black tunnel piercing stretching his earlobe on one side. Even his
right eyebrow is pierced.

In spite of his intimidating appearance, the omega seems to be very comfortable submitting to the
alpha, head bent a little to appear shorter than him as they stand side by side, hands clasping his
alpha’s arm. Jungkook bows low at Yoongi, following the proper customs, but Yoongi makes sure
to match the angle. He dislikes when omegas have to get lower than alphas just for traditions’ sake.
Jungkook has a clean and soapy scent, mellow and thoroughly blended with his mate’s.

“My name is Min Yoongi, nice to meet you,” he mumbles in the most awkward and rigid way
possible.
“Aren’t you a small thing,” Hoseok says with a smile, looking at Yoongi up and down. “How
hasn’t Jimin eaten you alive yet?”

Jimin makes a nasally noise of disapproval and pokes Yoongi between the shoulder blades,
ushering him into the flat which is decorated in a pleasantly warm colour palette.

Yoongi doesn’t know if it’s a rhetorical question, or if he’s actually supposed to answer – but
luckily he doesn’t need to humiliate himself any further.

Because the humiliation just comes to him.

“Min Yoongi, you say?” Hoseok muses as he starts setting the table. “Jimin told us you work in
the music industry. Have people ever gotten you mixed up with that famous producer?”

Yoongi looks over his shoulder, trying to signal for some kind of help, but it’s in vain. Jimin is
standing behind him, mouth agape as if the omega is only now connecting the dots between the
countless awards on Yoongi’s shelves and his questionable amount of creative freedom to lounge
around the house all day tending to his kitten and still have an endless stream of people willing and
eager to work with him.

Yoongi doesn’t blame the omega, though. As much as he likes getting recognition in the music
sphere, outside of that comments on his work make him uncomfortable, like he’s putting himself
on a pedestal above others by accepting a bit of impromptu praise.

But right now Yoongi can’t really downplay himself further. “I – I am the producer,” he says
quietly enough that Taehyung and Jungkook in the kitchen can’t hear him.

That effort goes down the drain as Hoseok claps his hands together with the force of the summer
thunderstorm that still hasn’t come despite the suffocating weather.

“Jimin-ah what the hell?” the alpha laughs brightly, “you didn’t feel like mentioning that your
boyfriend is a member of the freaking Copyright Association?”

“Yah, for the last time he’s not my boyfriend, and I have no idea what that even is,” Jimin barks,
looking like an angry little bee in his yellow shirt and black collar.

“Learn to use Namu Wiki,” Hoseok retorts, pointing at Jimin’s head with a single chopstick. “Your
boyfriend is a goddamn genius.”

Jimin blows air through his teeth so fast it makes an accidental whistling sound. “You’re lucky that
Jungkook likes you as much as he does, because otherwise –“ he pounds his tiny fist against the flat
of his hand.

Jungkook materialises yet again out of thin air and loops his tattooed arm around Jimin. “Don’t
threaten my mate, Hobi hyung is fragile and you know that,” he snarls playfully, Jimin still in a
chokehold with his neck bent all the way back.

Jimin apologises profusely, with breath wheezing in his throat. Yoongi notices that the older
omega doesn’t even attempt to break out, so it seems there is at least one person in the world Jimin
is completely soft for. Hoseok doesn’t even flinch at being called fragile. He meets Yoongi’s
curious glance.

“I cry pretty easily,” the alpha says with a shrug. He then focuses his warm, chocolatey gaze back
on his mate. “That’s enough, Kook. You two play fighting will be the death of me I swear.”
Jungkook lets go of Jimin in a split second, his hands flopping down to his sides. He has a simple
black leather collar around his throat, thin enough to showcase one half of his mating mark. The
omega pouts a little but goes to help the alpha with setting the table. The wine Yoongi brought
with him is placed on the table as well.

Just before settling down to eat and have some drinks, Taehyung grabs Jimin’s arm and pulls him
aside. While they’re gone, Hoseok asks Yoongi questions about his work, while Jungkook seems
to be battling with a sudden bout of shyness, his eyes trailing past Yoongi every few seconds but
never stopping for long enough to meet Yoongi’s own.

When Jimin and Taehyung come back, Jimin appears to be going through a small-scale crisis, his
mouth a thin line with mild amusement and irritation behind his eyes. Taehyung on the other hand
is almost skipping in his wake, and Yoongi can quite easily guess what their little heart-to-heart
was all about.

Their lives are becoming more and more interconnected, and the both of them are helpless in front
of that change.

•••

Yoongi has a bottle of beer in his hand, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. He's feeling the
slight buzz from the couple of beers, and he’s outside, leaning against the glass railing of the
balcony. The cool surface feels heavenly against his sticky nape.

Hoseok is sitting next to him, legs splayed out and a drop of sweat glistening on his upper lip,
above a small mole. Hoseok and he got shooed out the living room as the trio was starting to play
some elaborate drinking game that had more rules than chess, and none of them was eager to show
Yoongi and Hoseok how to play.

So they have to dodge bloodthirsty mosquitoes out here, in their private exile, listening to the
sounds of the city, wondering what they might have done wrong in a previous life to deserve being
treated like unruly mutts.

A loud laughter breaks out behind the glass sliding door, and Hoseok smirks with one half of his
face, taking another sip of his beer. The alpha doesn’t seem to be that distressed about their
predicament.

Yoongi thinks he likes Hoseok very much. He doesn’t usually like people, the loud and
unpredictable beings they tend to be, but something about Hoseok screams the contrary. Their
conversation is terse, but even the stretching silences in between manage to give Yoongi strength.

The low level of intoxication, the glint in Hoseok’s eyes, the moon peeking out from behind a few
clouds – all that makes Yoongi’s heart light and heavy at the same time. The other alpha tilts his
neck, showing his scent gland with the imprint of Jungkook’s teeth marring the smooth skin in a
ring pattern.

“Don’t you ever think you’re a horrible person, Hoseok-ssi, just because you’re an alpha?” Yoongi
huffs out. He has never asked that question aloud, not anyone, not even Namjoon.

Hoseok doesn’t answer straight away. He takes a look at the moon, smiling wolfishly. The creases
around his eyes deepen and his lips curl almost downwards.
“Do I think myself a toxic by-product of millennia old patriarchy? Is that what you’re asking?”

Yoongi hums in response. His mouth feels dry from drinking nothing but alcohol, from awaiting
Hoseok’s answer.

“Sometimes,” Hoseok says slowly, as if he’s weighing the word on his tongue like a bar of twenty-
four carat gold.

“At first I was worried I’d make Jungkook agree to things just because I’m an alpha, just because I
requested those things.” Hoseok doesn’t look Yoongi in the eye. “But my omega isn’t someone
who lets people just walk over him on the basis of subgender. He follows my lead only as far as it
points in the direction he wants to go in. It’s no wonder he’s friends with people like Tae and
Jimin.”

“Do you feel guilty when you get off from Jungkook submitting to you?” Yoongi continues. The
questions burn behind his tonsils, deep in his throat like old bile. Jimin hates to submit to an alpha
like him, but he does, time and time again at the most improbable times, and it goes straight into
Yoongi’s knot.

“No, I don’t,” Hoseok simply says, refusing to elaborate. A bus passes the house with a loud
rumble.

Yoongi must be looking incredibly unsure, since the other alpha takes pity on him. ”Surely you’re
thinking about two different things. I refuse to make my private life gender-political.“

Yoongi sighs bitterly. “Hoseok-ssi, I’ve never been with an omega outside these rigid contracts
that tell exactly what I’m allowed to do and – I don’t know where I should even start if I ever met
one –“ he hears his own voice die off, get lost in the night breeze.

Hoseok huffs out a laugh, and a few droplets of beer dribble out of the corner of his mouth, sliding
down his chin.

“Spare me the silly excuses, Yoongi-ssi. If you’re asking me for some kind of approval of your
relationship with Jimin, you might as well be an alpha about it and say it to my face.” Despite the
harsh words, Hoseok’s tone remains calm and polite.

“I’m not supposed to want him. I hold authority over him, so it’s wrong,” Yoongi reasons. There’s
a potted tomato plant next to Yoongi’s leg. The fruits have gotten fat and ripe under the sun,
almost obscenely so for such a small pot.

Hoseok smacks his lips. There’s music playing inside, but Yoongi can only hear the bassline,
which reminds him of something…

“You think your relationship with Jimin should be a set of guidelines copied from a dusty old
government handbook? Isn’t that kind of relationship much more political? The things we do to
omegas in this country – I think it goes way beyond safety,” Hoseok challenges. “But I truly doubt
you hold much authority over Jimin, government contracts or not. Authority and dominance are
two entirely different things.”

Hoseok is smart, and Yoongi feels inadequate, in awe of the other alpha’s wisdom.

“Jimin hates you, right?”

Yoongi nods, still eyeing the biggest tomato, which looks like it’s just about to fall off its stem.
“He hates you so much he fucks you. Then he wears a matching shirt and makes sure you sit at the
farthest end of the table so that he’s the only one able to touch you – all that is courting at its
finest,” Hoseok explains with a grin. “When I tried to woo Jungkook, I took him out to eat
pancakes and churros at an all you can eat buffet, and after that I dragged him to this cheap and
gross love hotel to have sex with him, mostly because I was young and stupid and couldn’t keep it
in my pants. I thought he would never want to talk to me again after such a shitty excuse for a date.
And yet somehow we stumbled across each other at a café the next day, and Jungkook confessed
to me right then and there, so red and cute cringing into his iced americano.”

The other alpha is staring at the tomatoes, too, perhaps picturing the sight of his red-cheeked mate
confessing his attraction to him.

“But with me and Jimin it was different from the beginning –“ Yoongi tries to argue.

Hoseok tsks. “Dating an omega is messy, no matter the circumstances. It’s hormone-addled and
outright nonsensical at times. It’s about spreading yourself wide open and letting your omega shine
a flashlight at your insides until you have nowhere to hide.”

“Jimin doesn’t want to have anything to do with my guts, I’m sure –“

Yoongi’s words are cut off again, almost cruelly so. “Where do you think all the boyfriend jokes
are coming from? You two idiots attempting to have sex was just the tip of the iceberg, I can assure
you.”

Yoongi lets all air escape his lungs, words of protests stuck under his tongue. It’s his fault after all
for bringing it up, putting himself under scrutiny like this. Hoseok knocks back the dregs of his
beer at the end of his monologue and stands up with his dancer’s knees cracking at the joints.
Jimin’s legs are the same, battered and moulded by years of hard work and mild injuries.

Hoseok extends a hand. “This pep talk is over. I may like you and your work, but I have little
patience for excessive self-pity.”

Yoongi smiles inwardly, thinking just how much Hoseok reminds him of Namjoon. He takes the
hand. Surprisingly Hoseok’s palm is dry and soft. Yoongi’s ankles keep itching with the mosquito
bites he wasn’t able to avoid, but his head feels clearer than it has for a while.

”Yoongi-ssi, may I call you hyung? If you don’t mind?” Hoseok asks all of a sudden.

Yoongi blinks, feeling incredibly un-hyunglike, like a foal that is barely standing up straight
between its mother’s legs.

“S–sure,” Yoongi stutters. He thinks he might be blushing all over again, but at least he can blame
it on the Asian glow.

“Oh that’s cool,” Hoseok beams. “Please talk to me informally from now on.”

He’s so smooth. Yoongi might be in love.

The alpha reaches for the sliding door, and Yoongi’s face falls in horror, and he starts backing
away from the door until his back hits the railing.

“– – My seat is business, yours is economy, forever behind me kissing my ass – –“

They’re the lyrics of Yoongi’s angry and ambitious past, an echo of the time when he was trying to
come to terms with the fact that things didn’t work out with Namjoon, that his shoulder was
busted, that his parents weren’t proud of him – wanting so much to show the world and the music
industry that he could. Everything is out in the open, blasting from the living room speakers. The
music video is spread out on the TV is showing him tied up, spit flying out of his mouth as he raps.
His hair is a home-bleached, ratty mess, and there are cheap accessory chains hanging from his
slender neck like Christmas ornaments.

Taehyung and Jungkook are jumping around to the beat while Jimin looks mildly amused, eyes
fixed on the young Agust D on the screen.

“I think you’re flustering the guest,” Hoseok says but then proceeds to join the other two with
some freestyle moves. Jimin steps out into the balcony where Yoongi still stands, frozen in place
like a cat stuck in a tree, and suddenly the sounds of his youth blur and fade into the background,
into the hum of the city. Jimin’s eyes glitter in the moonlight, and Yoongi notices for the first time
that the omega is wearing something shimmery on his eyelids.

Jimin is almost caging Yoongi in, one hand on the railing, their chests all but pressed together in
the cramped space. Jimin’s breath smells sweet and a bit alcoholic.

“I’m not going to lie, you looked kind of hot with that platinum blond hair, Agust D.”

Yoongi grimaces. “Quit playing around. I’ve experienced enough embarrassment for an entire
decade in the span of one night.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Who says I’m playing around?”

“You always are,” Yoongi whines. Jimin is so beautiful under the night sky it physically hurts to
be crowded against the railing by a man like him.

Yoongi could probably kiss Jimin right now, under the moon and the stars and with his old music
video still playing in the background. Jimin wouldn’t turn his head if he did. It would be sweet and
wet and tender so unlike their first kiss that was even worse than their first time having sex.

As Yoongi hesitates, the quasi-magical moment is lost. Jimin turns around and leans into the
railing next to him. “You know, Taehyung and Jungkook are ecstatic to have a celebrity hyung.
I’m pretty sure they’re going to forcibly marry me off to you at this rate.”

It’s obviously meant as a joke, but something hitches in Yoongi’s throat, possibly his integrity.

Jimin doesn’t wait for a reply. “Thank you for coming tonight, I’m sure it was a bit weird for you.
And I’m sorry about the music video, Tae found it somehow, and we got curious –“

“No, don’t keep apologising. I – I kind of prefer when you bitch at me. This –,” Yoongi gestures
vaguely at Jimin “– whatever this is, I don’t know how to handle.”

Jimin laughs airily with his teeth gleaming in the light spilling out on the balcony. Yoongi has to
fight off another wave of need to kiss the omega, lick into his mouth until he comes undone.

He tucks his hands in his pockets instead, to contain himself or something.

“We should probably leave soon. It’s getting late,” Jimin suggests, the words blurring together a
little due to his lisp that seems to get stronger whenever he’s drunk – or when he wants something
from Yoongi.

He scans the omega’s face for some kind of confirmation, for a signal that Jimin means the exact
opposite of his words, but he finds nothing but clear eyes and sweaty hair.
 “It is late,” Yoongi agrees slowly and walks back inside.

Chapter End Notes

Happy muster eve folks, I’m already setting up my daechwita prayer circle

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Snail's Sprint
Chapter Notes

Biology happens again?

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

While the others are distracted with some random variables, Taehyung digs his unfortunately sharp
nails into the meat of Jimin’s arm and starts pulling him in the direction of the bedroom. After
hearing about Yoongi’s job, Hoseok hasn’t been able to stop gushing about the art of music
production, showing an alarming lack of consideration for the other alpha’s personal space.
Jungkook is busy fiddling with the wine bottle Yoongi brought along. The omega has been acting
shy and a little starstruck, but he’s trying his best to screw the cork open despite his trembling
hands.

Taehyung doesn’t relent his grip even when Jimin shoots him an annoyed glance and digs his heels
into the floor. He just helplessly slips and slides on his socked feet as the alpha drags him into
Hoseok and Jungkook’s bedroom with cruel indifference, pushing the door closed behind them
using his foot, because apparently he’s afraid that Jimin would try to run away if he released him
for one second.

Jimin has seen the mated couple’s bedroom a couple of times, but Jungkook’s nest always takes
him by surprise. The younger omega likes to maintain and add to it even out of heat, and Hoseok
isn’t one to discourage such a domestic habit, which results in their room being a perpetual,
organised mess of pillows and blankets and Jungkook’s scent with the slightest dab of the alpha
somewhere under that. The bedroom clearly is the omega’s domain, and Hoseok’s only job is to
adapt and take as little space as humanly possible.

Taehyung flops down to sit on a fluffy pillow, uncaring of its meticulous placement. Jungkook
must’ve spent so long perfecting everything, making sure things are in their proper places, for him
and his alpha to be safe and comfortable –

A distinctly omegan sense of discomfort swells inside Jimin out of nowhere, and he has to clasp his
hands behind his back not to try to correct the situation somehow. Sometimes Jimin forgets that
Taehyung is an alpha and has no concept of these things, no sensitivity for omegan concerns.

Jimin also nearly forgets that not long ago he wouldn’t have had either.

He wouldn’t have cared about the placement of some decorative pillow.

What the hell is happening to him?

Taehyung grins up at Jimin a little sheepishly. The alpha’s permed hair has gone down a bit in the
damp heat, clinging to the sides of his scalp, showcasing his flushed ears.

Jimin squints, even though he’s secretly grateful for the distraction “What are you smiling at?”.

“Jimin, you know how much I love you, right?”

“Tae, no.” Jimin crosses his arms. He needs to nip Taehyung’s excitement in the bud, or he’ll have
no chance.

The alpha kicks his legs against the edge of the bed, looking like a pup begging for a lollipop.
“You could very easily engineer some kind of event which I could attend out of consideration for
my old friend,” Taehyung starts, eyes dreamy. “I would arrive fashionably late of course, dressed in
that pair of slacks that make my ass look extra nice, make him work a little for me.”

Jimin frowns, pointing a scolding finger at his best friend. Taehyung retorts by snapping his teeth
at Jimin, ready to bite, but he manages to pull back and save his finger just in time.

“I barely know that beta,” Jimin says. He was the handler in my case, which mean he’s in cahoots
with the fucking committee and probably a horrible person to boot. I’m not going to hand you
fucking Kim Seokjin on a silver platter. If you want him so badly, go nag Yoongi hyung about it.”

Jimin sees Taehyung’s eyes light up with a dangerous amount of hope. He’s suddenly unsure if
Yoongi would have it in him to resist Taehyung’s charms after all.

“Wait, scrap that. Don’t go to bother him, either.”

Taehyung pouts. “I think he genuinely liked me. He complimented my hair and everything. He
even gave me his number in the lift. It was cool and a little romantic,” the alpha adds with a dorky,
self-congratulatory smile.

Jimin smooths down the edge of the duvet and sits down next to Taehyung. He places his chin on
the alpha’s firm shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent, trying to judge Taehyung’s mood. It betrays his
irritation, having an uncharacteristic edge of sourness to it. Taehyung doesn’t push Jimin away
though, only leans into Jimin’s touch, the master manipulator he is.

And Jimin’s heart is eternally weak for Kim Taehyung, he doesn’t know how to deny him
anything, his alpha pup and soulmate. He might hate himself later, but that is a problem for later
Jimin to deal with.

“What’s the real reason you won’t text him yourself?” he asks. “Are you afraid it could get
awkward because of your respective subgenders?”

Jimin asks the question because he knows Taehyung has never been with a beta before. It might be
awkward for him, the thought of submitting to someone who from a biological standpoint should
be lesser. It’s even more taboo than submitting to another alpha, as such a role reversal is
considered borderline perverse.

Taehyung tries to play it cool at first. He scoffs and throws himself back to lie flat on the bed.

“Just be upfront about it if you’re concerned. There’s nothing to lose,” Jimin says softly, looking
down at his friend. Taehyung’s jaw is tilted up in defiance.

“There’s much to lose,” the alpha objects with a sigh. “Didn’t you see his face, Jimin-ah?”

“You’re too shallow for your own good.”

“And you only think about your pride,” Taehyung snaps back, but he seems to instantly regret his
words. He lifts his head to search for Jimin’s gaze, to detect any signs of upset.

Jimin shakes his head. “I’m not made of glass, Tae.”

He feels tired all the way to his bones. Tired of the bickering, tired of having to be on his toes.

Taehyung smiles with his mouth closed, relief flashing past his handsome features.

“Wash that smug smile off your face, though. I’m still not getting you that date.”

Taehyung’s jaw snaps open. “Jimin please, I’ll do anything you want. I can make Yoongi really
jealous of you, or assassinate him, or – or I could slip all your favourite kinks into casual
conversation, spice up that boring old sex life a bit?”

When exactly did Jimin become so weak for his friend? When did that happen? Was it in high
school, when Taehyung saved him from a group of bullies coming to harass him in the omega
bathroom? Or was it when Taehyung spotted him on the first day of primary school, cheeks plump
like dumplings, sporting a pair of bright blue Velcro shoes and a yellow cap. He came up to Jimin
and grabbed him by the back of his shirt and said: “would you like to be friends with me?”

When Jimin said he would love to, Taehyung grinned and brought Jimin a live snail as a
‘becoming friends gift’. They fed that snail all the nicest leaves and named it Shooky because its
little tentacles would go up and down whenever they tried to approach it with treats.

Jimin hushes Taehyung, feeling the looming defeat deep in his gut. “Please don’t do any of that. I
see what I can do, if it really is that important to you.”

Taehyung lifts his legs and wraps them tightly around Jimin’s waist before he can even register
what’s happening. Jimin topples over the alpha, air escaping his lungs with a surprised gasp.

Taehyung presses gross and sticky kisses on his cheek, and Jimin thinks the baby alpha has some
serious guts, because if Yoongi were to come searching for them right now and saw them sprawled
out on the bed, limbs tangled and faces mushed together, no amount of explanations would be
enough.

The chance of misunderstanding fills Jimin with irrational dread, and he pushes off Taehyung,
blaming his unwillingness to cuddle on the hot temperature.

Taehyung notices, though, as his lips curl into a knowing smirk.

•••

Taehyung seems to be listening to Jungkook’s stories with mildly drunken envy, sipping his third
drink of the night. It’s a clear sign that the alpha doesn’t currently have anyone to actively sate his
high libido with. Jungkook and Hoseok are very experimental and comfortable with each other, and
Jimin knows for a fact that their alpha friend likes to imagine himself in similar predicaments, even
though he doesn’t have quite as much experience.

Jimin himself isn’t usually bothered by Jungkook’s kinky adventures – he takes them with a
generous pinch of salt as the younger omega is known for blowing things out of proportion. But
something about this night; Taehyung’s dedication to land a date with Seokjin, Jimin’s weird urges
to keep Yoongi in sight at all times… It’s just a weird night, and Jungkook’s enthusiastic recounts
make his head swim with unknown emotions.

Jungkook finishes his story about Hoseok tying him up and blindfolding him to tease and edge him
with toys he couldn’t see coming. Taehyung’s eyes are glittering with interest, but Jimin shivers
from head to toe. He smoothly hides his reaction behind the rim of his glass of sangria they made
with the leftover wine.

“Jimin hyung,” Jungkook suddenly says, focusing his almond shaped eyes on him. Now that
Yoongi is safely out of sight, his confidence is fully restored. “Your alpha is pretty handsome, I
must say.”

Jimin scrunches his nose up. “How did we end up from blindfolds all the way to Min Yoongi?”

“Well it’s not exactly a lie,” Taehyung pipes up, not helpful at all. “I can see why you like him.”

“I don’t like him,” Jimin says all too loudly. “It was a simple mistake, both of us were frustrated
after spending heat and rut alone without a partner, and it just happened, a one-time thing, you
know how it is.”

Jungkook and Taehyung exchange weighted glances, ones Jimin feels very much excluded from.

“It was just sexual frustration, nothing more than that?” Taehyung says in a questioning tone, his
jaw twitching with something that is somewhat close to a smirk.

“Why is he here tonight, then?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin lets out an exasperated sigh. “Because you two idiots demanded to meet him.”

“You could’ve easily ignored us, could’ve never even told him about the request. The Park Jimin
we know would’ve absolutely done just that,” Jungkook argues in a calm voice.

Taehyung nods in agreement, cradling his drink with his long fingers. “We still remember when
you dated that Hyunjin guy for almost two years, and we met him what – one and a half times?
The second time was an accident, might I add.”

“That was different,” Jimin shrieks, “we were younger, and I had never been in a relationship
before, you can’t possibly compare that to Yoongi hyung –“

The excuses sound stupid even to his own ears. But Jimin doesn’t know what else to do than to
fight back, doesn’t know what he’s even trying to cover up. There have been weird close calls over
the past week, situations that keep him awake at night and, playing over and over in his head with
different outcomes.

“Jiminie hyung,” Jungkook says softly, interrupting his derailing thoughts. He places his tattooed
hand on Jimin’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “You jumped straight into the deep end with
your alpha. Why don’t you take a step back and try something more basic, something less sexual.
Perhaps simple kneeling, or letting him feed you?”

Panic swells behind Jimin’s sternum at the thought of performing such omegan acts, submitting
without the promise of pleasure to take the worst edge of shame off.

Jungkook blabbers on, uncaring of Jimin’s inner turmoil. “It doesn’t always have to be about sex, it
can be about feeling safe and protected and loved. It’s not about having to submit to an alpha ‘for
your own good’, like OWSC seems to think, but rather letting go on your own terms, giving the
alpha exactly the amount of leeway you’re comfortable with. I can only speak for myself, but when
I feel jittery and anxious, there is nothing else that will help me except going to Hoseok hyung and
letting him guide me into a calmer headspace. It’s not wrong nor a sign of weakness to sometimes
crave that kind of attention.”
Jungkook’s words are so ridiculous that Jimin finds himself dumbly nodding to them, his
imagination going wild in all the worst ways. Jimin on the floor, or on the bed, Yoongi’s pretty
hands on his chin, tilting it up to make him meet his even prettier eyes. Yoongi’s soft words
coaxing him into that hazy place he usually reaches during particularly intense sex. Feeling so
floaty and detached and somehow still perfectly grounded.

Jimin aborts his nodding and turns the momentum into shaking his head.

“I think he’s a bit flustered,” Taehyung says.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Jungkook agrees.

Taehyung giggles, suddenly excited. “I know, we should check what Naver says about Jimin’s new
boyfriend. Maybe he has had a scandal with an idol or something!”

•••

On the way home Jungkook’s words keep haunting Jimin, replaying in his head over and over
again. The words slither under his skin, conjuring up fantasies and fears he didn’t know to even
have.

Of course he has craved that, from time to time, has had these short flashes and urges to get down
on his knees, to be good. Those have been easy to brush off as irrational little thoughts produced
the prehistoric part of his brain, not yet atrophied due to evolution. Like an appendix or tailbone,
but inside his head. When Yoongi comes to give him his collar in the mornings, Jimin often
experiences an odd wave of satisfaction. When Yoongi puts food on his plate and urges him to eat
well, Jimin wants to never stop eating the food prepared by the alpha’s hands.

But now that Jungkook has brought the subject up, he can think of nothing else than what it would
be like to briefly let that urge take hold of him and just go with the flow.

He also thinks about the weird moment of tension they shared on the balcony, with Yoongi’s eyes
glittering like the Milky Way, the tip of his nose flushed pink from the alcohol. Yoongi looked like
he was holding back something, actions or words, but Jimin got cold feet before he could peel off
the alpha’s defences with a few expert motions. He could’ve done it, so easily. Yoongi wouldn’t
have resisted one bit.

Jimin has long ago determined that there’s no malignancy behind any of Yoongi’s actions, the
alpha categorically incapable of causing deliberate harm. It doesn’t necessarily make Yoongi any
easier to be around, nor does it make Jimin ready and willing to throw his entire life in the alpha’s
hands, but it makes him think.

Makes him wonder.

“You remember what you told me the first day?” Jimin asks, tapping the edge of his collar,
because apparently he can’t help himself.

Yoongi hums in a questioning tone, leaving Jimin to carry the entire conversation on his ill-
equipped back.

“When you first collared me?” Jimin continues with an exhale. The train car is almost empty, as
it’s the last service of the night. It smells faintly of disinfectant, and there’s a drunk businessman
sleeping in his seat, safely out of hearing range.

“Yes?” Yoongi says, sounding a bit absent. He’s picking the edge of the seat with his slender
fingers.

“You s–said I wouldn’t have to submit any more than –,“ he swallows painfully, “unless I wanted
to.”

Yoongi perks up in his seat as if someone just inserted a steel rod into his spine. The alpha’s mouth
hangs slightly agape, lips pink and wet-looking.

“And now?” the alpha asks breathlessly.

“I was just thinking about something Jungkook said to me, that’s all,” Jimin dodges, focusing his
eyes on a partly torn advert next to the sliding doors.

“Something Jungkook said?” Yoongi repeats, his ability to form words of his own seemingly gone.

Jimin feels dumb and small. “He talked about the same things – the things you mentioned you’d
sometimes do with other omegas.”

Yoongi isn’t replying, he’s waiting for Jimin to force the rest of it out of his mouth, probably
enjoying Jimin’s suffering.

Oh, how he hates the alpha in that moment.

“You know, training things. Ss–submi–“

The last word gets stuck in Jimin’s throat, like he’s trying to swallow a whole kiwi with the skin
intact.

“Jungkook said we shouldn’t have any more sex for now,” Jimin says, fast and quietly, slurring the
words together on purpose. He takes a big gulp of air as the train rolls onto a quiet station. The
announcement instructs people to get off the train on the right hand side. Thankfully no one boards
their car. Jimin couldn’t bear the awkward silence just now.

Yoongi huffs a tiny laugh as the doors close with a burst of air. It’s more like a dry cough than
anything. “I didn’t know that was even on the table.”

“It wasn’t,” Jimin almost snaps. “But we still have months to go. And there’s always the
possibility that –,“ his words trail off pathetically, and the air between them grows still and dense.

Yoongi stands up. The next stop will be theirs. “You actually want me to dominate you? Are you
sure?”

The alpha’s pensive eyes present additional, no less relevant questions: Did you slip on an empty
beer bottle and bang your head somewhere? Did aliens replace your brain with Jungkook’s?

Jimin feels ridiculous under Yoongi’s gaze.

But he also doesn’t know how to go on as they have. Everything they do seems like a quick fix, a
temporary solution slapped together with duct tape and chewed bubble-gum.

They do that, when in reality they would require industrial grade superglue to fix the disintegrating
chaos they’re wading through.
Is Jimin really asking Yoongi to act like an alpha, like his alpha, as he was meant to do from the
very beginning? In hopes that it would make things better somehow, make Jimin more comfortable
in his own skin and their tragically matching clothes, and the collar that looks ugly as hell but is a
necessity in the fucked up society they’re living in.

They arrive at their station, the station closest to Yoongi’s house – because Jimin is living with
him against his will, a fact he seems to have forgotten as of late. Jimin shakes his head, inhaling
the stale air pushed through dusty scent-neutralising filters.

As they make their way back up on ground level, Jimin realises he never answered Yoongi’s
question.

“I want to try. See if it makes me feel any different,” he says.

Yoongi understands the context and nods. They walk side by side, in the same, short strides,
shoulders almost rubbing together but not quite. It’s not a long walk home. To Yoongi’s home. To
the place where Jimin very temporarily resides.

“Different how?” Yoongi asks after a few silent moments. His voice is scarily even, as if he’s once
again holding words inside, to spare Jimin of something, to make Jimin feel less like he’s
exploding in small consecutive blasts until there’s nothing left of his personality and his sense of
self. Make him less likely to attack Yoongi lips first when that pressure unavoidably builds up
again and boils over like pasta in too much water.

Jimin says he needs to think of a good answer, and Yoongi doesn’t pry. The alpha does steal a few
glances at him, though, whenever the yellowish light of the street lights hits Jimin’s face at a
certain angle. His face must look gaunt and disproportionate under the harsh lighting, like a cubist
painting.

The alpha opens the door for Jimin, and they are hit with pleasantly air-conditioned air.

“Is this about your friends teasing you, calling me your boyfriend and stuff? You know I don’t
think like that, I don’t expect anything from you, Jimin-ah.”

The small LED screen reveals that the lift is currently travelling all the way to the highest floor, so
it might take a while.

Jimin clicks his tongue impatiently. ”Not everything is about you, hyung. This is about me.”

Yoongi nods like he understands, even though he possibly couldn’t.

It would probably be much easier to push Yoongi against the wall and tug his jeans and underwear
down in one go, relieve the crackling pressure between them whenever it got unbearable. He
probably should do that, should suck Yoongi off and be done with it.

But he doesn’t say it, doesn’t act accordingly.

The lift arrives with a metallic whirr and then starts its journey back up climbs up the floors at a
snail’s pace.

1–2–3–4–5…

Jimin thinks he looks pretty in the dented mirror, looks like he fits right next to Yoongi, the only
alpha who is even prettier than him. Yoongi is blinking in a lazy pattern, but his jaw is clenched
and lips curled inward in a way that is highly typical of him, not quite a full smile but something
meant to reassure Jimin. Their eyes keep accidentally meeting through the mirror.

Or maybe it’s intentional.

The lift doors open with an electronic voice announcing their arrival, and Jimin is instantly faced
with a peculiar sight. A tall man is just exiting Yoongi’s flat, wearing some kind of improvised
pyjamas with socks and slides. Everything about the stranger’s posture and appearance screams
confident alpha, even when his trousers have pictures of puppies on them, and his glasses sit a bit
crooked on top of his nose bridge.

Yoongi stops breathing, eyes widened in horror as the stranger approaches, hands tucked into the
pockets of his loose trousers. A bright smile starts spreading on his face, and Jimin now recognises
him as the man from Yoongi’s framed photos. He’s just older, handsomer, and much less –
scrawny.

Jimin catches a whiff of the man’s scent, which is unlike anything he has ever smelled. It reminds
him of an old university library, one that has those reading rooms with individual, mahogany desks
for each visitor. He definitely is an alpha, the layers of masculinity noticeable under the soft layer
of yellowed books and lowered voices.

“See, now everything makes perfect sense,” the alpha states, eyes fixed on Jimin.

“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi grumbles, his head turned to the side to hide his expression from Jimin. He
steps forward as if to block Jimin out of the man’s view.

Taehyung’s thorough research coming in handy for once, as the name sparks recognition in Jimin.

“Oh, you must be Kim Namjoon, Yoongi hyung’s –“

“Ex-boyfriend, yes,” Namjoon says in an unnecessarily loud voice. “I’m surprised he would’ve
mentioned my name. Hyung seemed quite unenthusiastic to let me meet you, as I was banned from
entering the house right after you moved in.”

Jimin’s jaw drops to the floor with an imaginary clatter, and Yoongi stops walking forward.
There’s an instant domino effect – Jimin bumps his shoulder into Yoongi’s and they both stagger.

“I was going to say colleague, but I guess – I guess that works too,” Jimin squeaks.

Yoongi looks at Jimin over his shoulder, eyes wild and a little desperate, a little murderous as well,
although it’s easy to guess the latter emotion is reserved for Namjoon, who only keeps smiling.

“You have your ex-boyfriend at your beck and call wherever your cat needs to be fed?” Jimin
attempts a mischievous tone, but for some reason it falls a bit flat.

Yoongi shakes his head furiously, but Namjoon already has an answer at the ready. “Yoongi
bought a flat in the same building where I live just so that he could continue to take advantage of
my goodwill.”

Jimin acts before he thinks, which is becoming quite usual for him, and steps in front of Yoongi
like a human shield, tilting his chin back a little to showcase his collar, Yoongi’s stake on him.

Really, Jimin?

Kim Namjoon is objectively hot, all muscle and dimple and attractive alpha scent, and if that’s
Yoongi’s type, Jimin has no chance in hell –
Not that Jimin wants a chance, but hypothetically speaking.

Yoongi comes to stand at Jimin’s side, a hand hovering behind the small of his back but not quite
touching. Jimin instinctively leans into the open palm, and Yoongi doesn’t waste time curling his
fingers around Jimin’s side, just below the ribs.

“You two are definitely something,” Namjoon huffs, “cute outfits, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Jimin says. His tone is steely cold.

Namjoon narrows his eyes ever so slightly. “I might have broken Holly’s water bowl. It slipped out
of my hand and fell into the sink, but I guess there are only a couple of cracks at the top –“

Suddenly Jimin feels a pinch on the soft skin of his waist, hard enough to make him wince even
through his clothes. Yoongi starts walking them to the door rather determinedly, making Jimin feel
like an oversized doll hanging off his side.

“It doesn’t matter, he has other bowls,” Yoongi mutters as he punches in the keycode.

“Don’t forget the meeting tomorrow, hyung. Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Jimin-ssi,”
Namjoon calls out after them, but Yoongi is already pulling the door shut with a considerable
amount of force.

“I kind of like him,” Jimin remarks idly, taking off his shoes, although irritation is still bubbling
beneath his skin. He doesn’t really mean his words.

Or maybe the rational part of his brain does.

“You told him about me?” Jimin continues as Yoongi stays silent and miserable.

“I did,” Yoongi admits. “We’re still good friends.”

Jimin hums as he crouches down to greet Holly. The little kitten is ecstatic having his owners
backs so soon after the clumsy guest left. He purrs and licks Jimin’s hand while Yoongi goes to the
kitchen to check the damages. Holly’s bowl is in three pieces at the bottom of the sink, which
seems like more than a few cracks, but the alpha doesn’t seem too concerned over his lost
possessions. He’s still eyeing Jimin up with a flare of dramatic possessiveness, and it makes
Jimin’s irritation simmer down.

It makes him believe that Namjoon no longer has a chance. He has been demoted to a cat feeder,
after all.

Namjoon may be a celebrity music producer and Jimin a part time secretary.

He may be a capable alpha and Jimin a useless omega.

But Yoongi didn’t care about that and wanted to be alone with Jimin instead.

Soon they’re standing in front of the door to Jimin’s bedroom, Holly at their feet, skipping around
them. It’s getting past both of their bedtimes, and Yoongi should probably take Jimin’s collar off,
but he doesn’t reach for his neck.

“You said you wanted to try –?” Yoongi starts in a tentative tone. His eyes flicker downward,
suggesting wordlessly what Jimin should do next. It seems to be that he’s too hesitant, too timid to
give the command out loud.
Jimin blinks. “Oh, right.”

Suddenly he doesn’t feel at all ready, but standing upright takes too much energy as well. And he
kind of wants to show Namjoon that he’s not entirely useless, even if it’s a ridiculous sentiment.

Jimin doesn’t know how to be graceful about it, he’s not like Jungkook for whom it’s easier than
breathing. He hesitates, knees bent a little and lips spread into a conflicted grimace.

“You don’t have to – if it was just a fleeting thought, we can forget about the whole conversation,”
Yoongi says.

The alpha’s offer makes something warm slosh inside Jimin, like affection or something akin to it,
but it also makes him more competitive.

He might be doing it for all the wrong reasons, out of peer pressure and will to give Yoongi
something his ex never could, but he slides down onto the parquet floor, limbs oddly shaky as he
folds and tucks his legs under himself as neatly as he can, without much fanfare. There’s a rush of
endorphins trailing up his spine, like some kind of floodgate rushing open after being rusted shut
for decades. He lets his head fall with a sigh, the nape of his neck and the buckle of the collar
nicely exposed.

Yoongi curses softly, and then his hands are on the collar, working it off in oddly sensual motions.
Jimin can feel the tug on his windpipe when the tail end of the collar slides out of the buckle
holding it in place, can feel the added pressure when Yoongi pulls it farther back to release the pin
out of the hole. Jimin attempts to swallow his frothy spit down, but it gets stuck at the back of his
throat.

His head already feels lighter than before, like he’s drunk but not intoxicated, like he’s drifting off
to sleep but still wide awake. The collar is already gone, but Jimin holds the posture, frozen in
place in this strange state of oxymoron.

The image of Kim Namjoon fades into the background, alongside all the burning embarrassment
from the day. It’s just Jimin and his loose, pliant body, and Yoongi’s soft breathing. The alpha’s
hands felt so good on him, so comforting, even if they didn’t touch him directly.

“Jimin baby, you fell so fast.” Yoongi’s voice is coming from somewhere close, probably
crouching over him. The alpha has never called Jimin that. Only pup, or just Jimin-ah.

Jimin wants to be good, somehow, stay still for Yoongi and wait for the alpha’s instructions.

It should be absolutely frightening to find out that Jimin has been teetering on the edge of a
submissive headspace for a while. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to slip into this state in a
matter of seconds. It should be horrifying, because it proves the committee’s concerns right, that
Jimin was in some ways denying himself things his body needed. It suggests that he was nothing
but yet another omega too weak to control himself.

Because this isn’t what Jimin himself wants, it’s just his stupid omega body shutting down and
going dumb and pliant for any alpha. Even the spike of self-hatred isn’t enough to bring him back
to the surface, though. He only wants to slip further, deeper, be better for Yoongi.

The alpha places his large hand on top of Jimin’s head and pets him lightly. “You can stay like this
for a moment if you need to, but I’m worried you’ll hurt your knees without a pillow.”

Jimin really doesn’t know if he’ll be able to walk anywhere right now, and Yoongi seems to sense
his nonverbal reluctance. The alpha is gone for a second, just enough for Jimin to grow restless
without his comforting scent and presence looming over him – and then there’s something being
placed next to him with a heavy thud. Yoongi’s hands come to tightly grip Jimin’s waist, and then
he’s being lifted like it’s nothing, manhandled onto one of the sofa cushions now laid out on the
floor.

The soft, padded surface feels heavenly against Jimin’s knees, battered and strained from years of
dance and injuries of varying severity. He has mentioned it to Yoongi only in passing, and yet the
alpha remembered.

Yoongi sighs above him. “Why do I always feel like I make all the wrong choices when it comes to
you, Jimin-ah? I try so hard to not do anything until one of us snaps, and we end up doing way too
much all at once.”

Jimin makes a pathetic noise in response, no more than an open vowel.

There are featherlight fingers under Jimin’s chin, and he lifts his head easily, so responsive to the
barely dominant touch. Yoongi looks a bit scared and pink-cheeked from the effort of lifting Jimin.
He smells so good, like leather and sweat and alpha.

Yoongi slips the stretchy night collar over Jimin’s head as they keep the near painful eye contact.

“Alphh- Yoongi hyung,” he whispers, “need more.”

He doesn’t know what he’s asking for – for more dominance, more touch, or perhaps help
snapping out of this odd headspace so foreign to him.

Yoongi puts a hand over Jimin’s nape and gives it a firm squeeze, emulating the gentle bite an
alpha might give to a struggling omega to help them unwind after a hard day, ease them deeper
into the pleasant haze most omegas enjoy so much.

Yoongi won’t bite him, not really, Jimin made it painfully clear that he didn’t want the alpha to use
his teeth on him. But in that moment, satisfaction and submission sliding down his spine like warm
oil, he bares his neck for Yoongi to nip and bruise, make him bloom purple like the lilacs his scent
so closely resembles.

“I’m so sorry Jimin-ah, for not realising at all. You must’ve been struggling so much,” Yoongi
says. His grip on Jimin’s neck stays in place, but the alpha uses his free hand to gently comb
Jimin’s fringe to the sides, off his sweaty face.

Jimin kind of wants to object – It’s hardly Yoongi’s fault when Jimin himself has no clue what the
fuck is happening to his own body. He expresses the sentiment with a tiny whimper, leaning back
against Yoongi’s hand to chase more touch.

“How did you go down so beautifully, all on your own no less?” Yoongi ponders aloud, rubbing
circles on Jimin’s scalp. “Poor pup, needed to let go that badly, hmm?”

A single tear, one Jimin didn’t know had welled in the corner of his eye, rolls down his face. It’s
his shame and disbelief condensed, his rational brain telling him how wrong it is for him to want
this, how it makes him so fucking weak.

Yoongi wipes the tear away faster than it can fall, the soft pad of his thumb pressed under Jimin’s
cheekbone.

There’s a growing patch of white noise and film grain at the edges of Jimin’s consciousness, but
Yoongi remains a clear focal point even then. For an unknown reason the knowledge makes him
feel safer, makes the visual and auditory disturbances less intimidating to him.

Without a word, Yoongi picks Jimin up from the floor with a single huff, and Jimin wraps a hand
around his neck, over the alpha’s good shoulder. Jimin is once again reminded of the fact that
despite Yoongi’s small size, he’s an alpha with physical strength to match.

“Hold on tight for alpha, okay?”

Jimin finds himself nodding. His limbs feel like solid chunks of lead.

“You’re so strong, Jiminie, you just keep amazing me,” the alpha praises mindlessly as they make
their way into Jimin’s bedroom. “So brave telling me what you needed when I wasn’t up for the
task.”

All that doesn’t sound very brave to Jimin, but he doesn’t have the energy to argue.

Jimin is placed between a few pillows and covered with a blanket. He probably should be taking
his makeup off, but he can only think about Yoongi curling up in bed with him and holding him
down with those large hands, scenting him all over.

But Yoongi is pulling away, and that won’t do at all.

Jimin whines in protest, tongue pressed flat against the roof of his mouth to raise the pitch. It’s a
distinctly omegan sound, something one would use to attract nearby alphas in heat. It’s pretty
much a cheat code, irresistible to most alphas. As expected, Yoongi’s head snaps back to Jimin,
nostrils flared and hands grasping air just above him.

It would be an opportune moment to find his voice again.

“Hyung, it’s not like I’m in heat. I’m in my right mind and everything,” Jimin manages in a hoarse
voice.

Yoongi hesitates, the muscles in his throat twitching.

“I’m already embarrassing myself by asking. You could do me a favour… help me out this once.”

Yoongi seems to understand what Jimin is asking for. He climbs on the bed in slow, steady
movements so that Jimin can predict every motion, and finally lies down on his side, next to Jimin
but just far away enough to prevent their bodies from touching.

Taking into consideration the fact that they fucked in this exact spot not long ago, the alpha’s
determination to be polite and respectful comes off as somewhat endearing.

Yoongi offers Jimin his slender wrist in a rather chaste manner. There are some bracelets around it,
thankfully thin enough not to cover the scent gland below the juncture of his thumb, where his
pulse flutters. Yoongi smells so good and so alpha as Jimin buries his nose where the scent is the
strongest. It reminds him of his heat and the small moment of reprieve he experienced when
Yoongi allowed him to take his wrist just like this.

Jimin darts out his tongue to drag over the thin skin, as gently as he can, and Yoongi trembles a
little in his hold. Maybe he’s ticklish?

Jimin continues to lave his tongue over the small gland, coaxing more of the rich, sweet scent into
his mouth. This time, Jimin out of heat and able to consent, the alpha doesn’t pull away, allowing
the more intimate scenting to happen.
 The only problem remaining is that he needs Yoongi to reciprocate the scenting, yearns for it
desperately. Satisfied, nose full of Yoongi, Jimin lets his head fall to the side, exposing the full line
of his throat.

Yoongi freezes.

“Neck, please,” Jimin breathes out.

There’s still no movement, but he stubbornly keeps his neck bared. He wants Yoongi to straddle
his hips and press down, his scent like a promise on Jimin’s skin, a promise to keep him safe when
he’s vulnerable like this.

Slowly, in tiny increments that show as micro-expressions on his face, Yoongi caves. He doesn’t
get on top of Jimin, but he leans closer from the side, presses the hot tip of his nose against Jimin’s
pulse point and just holds it there for a moment. Jimin can feel his own heartbeat in his stomach, in
his inner ears, on his neck just below the skin Yoongi is slowly tracing.

The alpha inhales, almost apprehensively at first and then with more intent, and Jimin melts into
the sheets with a deep sigh of submission. Yoongi places one tentative hand on Jimin’s collarbone,
a dominant gesture meant to hold him in place, and the omega in Jimin preens and purrs in joy.

Yoongi must sense the shift in Jimin’s attitude, the scales tipped to allow the omega side to the
forefront, and he answers it with a tiny lick over Jimin’s scent gland, which feels incredibly
sensitive, sending sparks of – something flying all over his body.

The alpha brings his other hand to cup Jimin’s jaw oh so gently, holding it to secure his access to
Jimin’s gland, and then nuzzles deep in the crook of his neck.

Jimin has never been scented like this, so sensually, so purposefully – with the clear intent to make
Jimin feel good and safe and appreciated.

Jimin’s eyes start falling shut in the afterglow of the thorough scenting, and he knows he’ll fall
asleep in a matter of minutes, with makeup caked on his face and teeth unbrushed.

He’s half asleep already when he vaguely registers someone touching his face with a mildly
scented makeup-wipe in gentle, circular motions.

Then the familiar weight is back, cradling Jimin from behind and making him the little spoon.

Jimin lets his eyes close again. He feels at peace.

Chapter End Notes

Some AU info if you’re interested:

How I imagine a/b/o in this fic is that most omegas biologically require some form of
dominance in their life, or they face possible health repercussions (as mentioned in
chapter 1). However, this dominance doesn’t have to be sexual in nature. People can
form packs, and for example an omega/omega couple could seek platonic dominance
from their pack alpha. If you’ve been reading between the lines, you might’ve noticed
that a platonic OT7 pack dynamic is the endgame for this fic as well!

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 It's a Ruse
Chapter Notes

There’s some fantasy medical jargon and mentions of needles in this chapter, so keep
that in mind in case you’re squeamish about that. Also, if you’re a fellow Hopekook
appreciator, there’s a little treat for you at the end of the chapter!

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jimin wipes the crust of sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand, and he sees the steel grey
light of early morning hit the floor from the slit in the closed curtains. His bed is warm and there’s
a sheet crumpled and wrapped around his middle from rolling over in his sleep. And his leg is
propped up over something warm and solid.

Jimin tilts his chin down in mild curiosity, just to see Yoongi’s slim thigh poking out from under
his leg. The alpha is sleeping diagonally on the bed like he owns the damn place, which he
technically does, and his jaw is lax and open to let out little huffs of air that aren’t quite full snores.
The alpha’s hair is shaggy, but it looks so soft, and all Jimin wants to do is comb his fingers
through the silky bangs.

While Jimin is debating if he should, just a little, Yoongi blinks his eyes open. His gaze is soft and
unfocused, pupils blown wide in the morning twilight.

“Hello there,” Yoongi says, and fuck if his voice isn’t low and rough, as if the alpha has gulped
down a tumbler of whiskey in one go. Yoongi licks his lips and clears his throat, and his thigh
twitches under Jimin, but neither of them tries to move away.

With clarity coming to him in bits and pieces, Jimin takes in his own state of dress, the jeans from
last night still clinging to his legs while Yoongi is in his boxers and an undershirt.

Jimin bites his lip. “I fell asleep by accident… I’m sorry, I never meant to –“

When Jimin swallows the tail end of his explanation, Yoongi’s fingers graze over Jimin’s knuckles
in a silent response, movements slow enough for Jimin to pull away and break contact if he so
wishes. He doesn’t.

Instead, Jimin raises his free hand to his face, to touch the warm skin of his cheek which feels
clean and tight. Until now he was pretty sure the memory of Yoongi removing his makeup was
merely a hazy fever dream, something no one would really do for him completely unprompted.

Jimin doesn’t know what to do with the information.

While he’s at a loss for words, Jimin scoots a little closer to the alpha, inhibitions still lowered by
the blissful memory of the scenting, the memory of Yoongi holding him.

“What are you thinking about?” the alpha rumbles, and Jimin can feel all the way in his gums how
the vibrations emanate from deep within Yoongi’s chest.
“Your scent, I guess,” Jimin admits quietly. “It’s such an unusual combination.”

“Is that a compliment?”

Jimin shrugs with the shoulder that isn’t pinned against the mattress. “I just think – it helped me
calm my mind or whatever. After I crashed.”

Yoongi is fighting back a huge gummy smile. He eventually loses the battle. “I’m glad I could
help. For the first time I feel like I did something remotely correct.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Jimin says and pushes himself into a sitting position, back against
the headboard. Yoongi looks up at him with the remnants of his spontaneous grin still visible at
the corners of his eyes, even though the alpha has managed to school his face neutral again. The
line of his throat is exposed like this, long and pale and enticing, and Jimin has to rip his eyes
away.

“I won’t,” Yoongi promises, “I’m just so happy you felt safe enough with me to go down and be
vulnerable in front of me, even if it was only for a brief moment. So, thank you for everything,
Jimin-ah.”

Jimin has always thought that letting down one’s guard comes with certain risks, that it’s willingly
putting yourself at harm’s way.

But with this alpha the stakes don’t feel all that high.

“Yeah, well I – I don’t know what you’re thanking me for, but you’re welcome, hyung.” Jimin
draws in a quick breath. He might be blushing, because his cheeks feel hot. “I’m going to shower,
and then you can put my collar on, okay?”

Yoongi yawns with his nose scrunching up, and he looks even cuter than before if possible. “Sure
thing, pup. Take your time.”

•••

Jimin’s follow-up appointment at the OWSC is approaching in a matter of hours, and it’s enough to
sour Jimin’s peaceful mood from the morning. Yoongi makes them omelette rolls for breakfast and
coyly asks if he would be allowed to accompany Jimin to the centre. The alpha argues that it could
be helpful for him to get a direct briefing on the state of Jimin’s health to better cater to his needs,
so Jimin relents. The alpha would find out everything in the reports anyway, so it doesn’t matter.
Jimin couldn’t care less, really.

And Yoongi smiles so brightly that Jimin gets heart palpitations from just how luminous the alpha
can be when the mood strikes him.

Before leaving the house, Jimin puts on a pair sunglasses and a dark baseball cap like a celebrity on
his way to a plastic surgery clinic, while Yoongi, the actual celebrity in their household, holds his
head high and proud as they walk into the shiny OWSC building, snickering at Jimin’s attempts to
fly under the radar.

“Every omega in this country probably has visited one of these centres at least once or twice in
their lifetime. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the alpha says in a brisk tone that echoes in the
lobby to make Jimin’s humiliation even worse.

The person at the front desk immediately recognises Yoongi, and they exchange pleasantries while
Jimin awkwardly stands in the back, shoulders hunched and cap pulled deep over his hair that is in
desperate need of a recolour.

Thankfully Yoongi stays in the waiting room when Jimin has to get blood drawn by an especially
grumpy nurse who pulls the tourniquet painfully tight around Jimin’s arm and jabs the needle in
with little care for his comfort. He’s then led to a gynaecologists office even though there were no
appointments scheduled for him. It’s apparently a precaution due to his early heat and should be
nothing out of the ordinary, but Jimin isn’t too thrilled about the turn of events.

Going to the doctor’s tends to bring back memories, of puphood and puberty, and Jimin finds
himself almost longing for Yoongi, for some distraction in the form of their never-ending banter.

It was in fourth grade health class when Jimin first learned about what makes alphas and betas and
omegas so different from each other. Before that he had always found it odd how school bullies in
films would call their daintier classmates “bitches” and tell them to “get pupped”.

Jimin was quite the naïve pup with parents who didn’t talk much about subgender. Maybe they
could guess what Jimin would present as and wanted to protect him from the pain of knowing. Or
perhaps it was out of generational shame.

“This is a male omega’s reproductive system,” the teacher said, tracing the lines of her own crude
drawing with the wooden chalkboard pointer. Young Jimin was listening with bated breath. “The
eggs are developed in the ovaries, and the act of insemination usually happens in the fallopian
tubes, which are considerably thinner than a female’s and thus more prone to dysfunction.”

“That looks like an elephant,” a small pup with a constantly runny nose piped up, making everyone
laugh.

“Ew, is the elephant’s trunk in his butt?” another pup chimed in, and it was like this huge inside
joke Jimin was excluded from, because the pictures only made him anxious and caused a ghostly
pang deep in his stomach.

“I know, Jimin will be an omega, right? Because he’s small and pretty,” the same pup said with a
pointed finger, and Jimin wanted to die of embarrassment.

“You can’t predict anyone’s presentation beforehand, and it’s rude even to attempt to do so,” the
teacher scolded. Although at the same time her eyes flickered over Jimin’s slumped form, and
Jimin just knew she didn’t mean her words.

“The biological features of male omegas are dormant all the way up to presenting,” the teacher
continued, still taking glances at Jimin. “Their wombs are the size of a raisin, but all those intricate
organs develop over the course of a few days, during their first heat. It’s often a painful and
confusing time for young pups, but it will be over faster than you can imagine. And when you get
older, you will find a suitable alpha or even beta to spend your heats with, and the heats will be a
breeze after that.”

Jimin didn’t dare look up again after that, but he could feel the gravity of the teacher’s gaze on
him, full of meaning he didn’t want to detect but couldn’t escape.

It came as a surprise to absolutely no one when Jimin presented as an omegas some years later, and
the sheer predictability of the event made him a little mad. It would’ve been fun to see everyone’s
faces, arriving at school one day with an alpha’s posture, canines sharp and scent musky and
strong, basking in the respect and status that automatically come with those things.

Unfortunately Jimin started his presentation cycle at school – during lunch no less – which meant
there were hundreds of curious pairs of eyes on him and his misfortune. Jimin was clinking his
spoon against the metallic tray that held his lunch. Nothing seemed appealing to him, the smell of
the food wrong and the textures too lumpy and grainy and weird. Suddenly he realised that his legs
were sticking against the seat of his chair, as though he had just wet himself, and the air smelled
like bouquets of flowers, strong enough to make him gag.

A few seconds passed, and then some alpha teacher was clamping a hand on his shoulder and
practically growling in his ear that he should go and see the nurse because the older alpha students
were getting agitated by the scent. Jimin’s omega scent. To make matters exponentially worse, the
teacher’s more than paternal grip sat dangerously close to his nape, and there was a notable spike
in his wet rag scent which made Jimin even more nauseous.

Jimin remembers only humiliation and pain from the rest of the day. His stomach was cramping so
badly he could barely walk straight, vital organs trying to accommodate the rapid rearrangement of
his insides. After Jimin begged and pleaded, the nurse gave him half a gram of paracetamol, which
barely helped at all.

His heat kicked in soon after that, and he was locked inside a small room, barely more than a
broom closet with one of those foldable plastic chairs that frequently give you static shocks. He
had to wait there for a guardian to escort him home.

Because Jimin’s mother was working long hours at the time and couldn’t have her phone with her
while working, Jimin had to stay in that hellish place, clawing and pawing at the door in hopes of
an alpha passing by and smelling his desperation. When his mother finally came to pick him up,
frazzled and frightened and still dressed in her work apron, Jimin was lying on the floor with his
legs splayed open and whines spilling out of his mouth in a string of “please” and “alpha”.

His mother apologised to him, on multiple occasions for leaving his pup alone and scared, but the
trauma of that day never fully faded. Jimin considers his presentation one of the key moments in
his life that shaped the partial contempt for the omeganness of his nature and all the bad things that
come with it.

In the present time Jimin is instructed to put his calves on the stirrups in front of him, and he bears
the invasive examination with a clenched jaw. The gynaecologist seems thoroughly bored as she
sticks some sort of speculum inside his body and twists it open.

“Did you have a partner during your abnormally occurring heat?” she asks, the frame of her glasses
flashing under the fluorescent lights. “Your cervix is dilated by two millimetres. It’s almost as if
you had someone serve you.”

Jimin keeps a blank face and tries not to think about Yoongi and his knot waiting down the
hallway. Apparently having sex almost to completion immediately after a heat is enough to set off
the doctor’s slut sensors. Truly amazing.

“I didn’t have anyone,” he states and turns his head to the side, pretending to examine the label on
a bottle of medical grade lubricant.

“Huh,” the doctor says and moves over to grab the ultrasound machine. “Let’s see how your womb
is faring, shall we?”
The machine makes a quiet whirring noise as Jimin is inspected through his rectum. It’s not
particularly uncomfortable, but the speculum keeping him open is cold and unyielding.

“Everything seems normal. I was informed that your assigned alpha fell into early rut as well with
a partially synced heat-rut cycle. Did you know that is something mated couples tend to experience
after years of living together?”

Jimin’s tongue feels too large for his mouth. “What an odd coincidence.”

The doctor, a beta judging by her mild and citrusy scent which reminds Jimin of cough drops,
squints her eyes and retracts the ultrasound probe. “A coincidence indeed. But the most important
thing is that the suppressant abuse doesn’t seem to have affected the tissues of your womb. So
there still is some hope in case you wish to carry pups at some point.”

Jimin isn’t sure if it would be easier, less anxiety-inducing to be deemed completely infertile at the
ripe age of twenty-six – a lost cause. The committee is battling declining birth rates to ensure a
steady supply of future taxpayers, and if he still has the ability to get pregnant, even in theory, they
will never fully stop harassing him.

But even then – knowing he still might be a whole omega after years of depriving his body of
everything it craves, makes his thoughts race in odd patterns.

The doctor goes on to explain other things, to talk about fertility testing and family planning and
other foreign-sounding concepts. Jimin barely hears any of it over the loud buzz in his ears.

Would Yoongi care if he was fertile or not?

Would he look at Jimin differently if he knew he might be broken like that, beyond repair?

Why does he care so much, anyway?

Jimin re-joins Yoongi after getting dressed. He finds the alpha pacing around and fidgeting in the
waiting area, thumbing a useless pamphlet about omegan heat cycles and all the things that can go
wrong with them.

He clearly tries to appear calm and collected, but he walks up to Jimin in steps that are too hurried
to pull it off, and his arms shoot up to guide and shoot before he can clench them against his sides.

“Did it – did the doctor’s appointment go well?” Yoongi stammers.

“Yeah, I mean it’s never fun having a stranger cram various objects inside you, but – I managed.”
Jimin isn’t sure why he’s putting on a brave face.

Yoongi fixes his eyes at the clock on the wall as he pushes a chilled bottle of water into Jimin’s
open palm. The plastic crinkles under his fingers as Jimin unscrews the cork and takes a long sip.
Because for some reason he thinks it would please the alpha if he did that.

“We have an hour before your blood test results are back and we’ll have a chat with Seokjin hyung.
Should we go for a coffee in the meantime?” Yoongi suggests quietly.

The echoey corridor, which smells of antiseptic and floor wax, suddenly seems suffocating to
Jimin, so he agrees with a nod.

There’s a small cafeteria next to the lobby serving snacks like vitaminised drinks for pregnant
omegas, and protein rich energy bars for recently presented omega pups who are still in recovery
after developing new organs. Jimin settles for a cup of coffee which tastes like burnt dishwater
more than anything, and Yoongi seems equally displeased by his watered down iced americano.
They share an odd period of calm together, as if Yoongi is on Jimin’s side, against invasive exams
and poorly brewed coffee.

The hour passes almost too quickly, and Jimin finds himself outside Seokjin’s office all over again
in no time, palms sweating and mouth dry after his coffee.

It’s weird seeing Seokjin again like this, with a desk between them and Yoongi seated awkwardly
in the corner, present but not allowed to take part in the conversation without Jimin’s explicit
permission.

“How did the gynaecologist’s appointment go?” Seokjin asks as soon as they’re settled down. The
beta doesn’t seem to be in the mood for excessive courtesies, which Jimin can kind of understand –
after all Seokjin saw him naked and in pain, begging for an alpha to come and help not that long
ago.

Jimin picks at his cuticles and tries not to think about the fact. “I didn’t pay much attention, to be
honest. It was something about slick production response and post-heat womb position.”

He expects Seokjin to tease or scold him, but the beta only smiles, perfectly white teeth on display.

“That’s very good. It seems you’re a very healthy omega again, Jimin-ssi,” he says, and there’s an
odd layer of warmth to the beta’s voice.

Yoongi breathes in, sharply, as Jimin bites down on his lip.

Seokjin’s eyes glimmer. “Last time we talked about the hormone imbalance in your body, and
there was even a possibility that hormone replacement therapy would be needed, but everything on
your blood test results is perfectly normal again. Congratulations.”

Jimin glances down at his lap. There’s lint on his shorts. “Thanks, I guess.”

Seokjin hums approvingly. “You even gained three kilograms and moved from the mildly
underweight category to your ideal BMI. That surely has nothing to do with your support mate’s
cooking skills,” Seokjin adds. Jimin glances over his shoulder to see Yoongi trying to hide his
smile, jaw twitching with the effort. Jimin knows that expression by heart now.

“Does this mean we can just end this dumb arrangement early?” Jimin asks, even though uttering
the words makes his skin crawl. Going home, to his small flat with no one’s scent but his own
coating the surfaces, no nest with soft blankets, no alph–

Jimin bites his tongue, hard enough to send pricks of pain shooting down the muscle, down his
throat.

Seokjin shakes his head. “These are merely the short-term results. We’ll evaluate your progress
again at the two month mark and at the end of the programme as well.

“Oh – okay,” Jimin squeaks, and he can’t look at Yoongi right now, because what if the alpha
knows what he’s thinking about, what if–

Seokjin starts blabbering about something else, which is enough to break the vicious spiral of
Jimin’s thoughts. As the beta keeps talking, he almost forgets about Yoongi sitting in the back,
observing and monitoring everything. He’s asked a few questions by Seokjin, about his rut and
recovery from that, but it’s clear that Seokjin is downplaying the subject and completely letting the
alpha off the hook.

As Taehyung said, corruption is alive and well in this country.

When they’re done and Seokjin has reminded Jimin about his fertility testing, Jimin clears his
throat and glances at the alpha. “Yoongi hyung, would you mind stepping out for a moment? There
are things I’d rather discuss privately with my handler.”

If the alpha is hurt or surprised, his face gives away none of it. Yoongi stands up and runs a palm
through his hair, eyes downcast as he walks over to the door.

“Take as long as you need, I – I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby,” he says.

Jimin hums, trying to smile but ends up grimacing instead, the awkwardness he’s about to inflict
upon himself already a heavy weight on his shoulders. He’s grasping at the straws of his dignity as
the door closes behind Yoongi, eyes directed at Seokjin’s middle.

“I take it there was a specific reason for Yoongi’s banishment?” the beta says in a light tone.

“Yeah, I mean it has nothing to do with me,” Jimin says with a hollow laugh.

“Oh?” Seokjin sounds amused, the bastard.

Jimin crosses his legs. “Kim Taehyung. Remember him?”

There’s a tiny twitch at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth. Premature triumph flashes past his eyes as
the beta nods.

Jimin promptly decides to throw subtlety in the well. He can face his friend’s wrath later.

“He told me he isn’t calling you any time soon,” Jimin says, enjoying immensely the way
Seokjin’s face falls a little.

“Ah, if I was being too forward, I must pass on my sincere apologies. I’m probably not the most
eloquent person when it comes to voicing my –“

Seokjin looks too flustered and miserable even for Jimin’s liking, so Jimin raises his hand. “It
would be Taehyung who is resorting to schemes in order to avoid a simple phone call. He has quite
the flare for dramatics, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean, Jimin-ssi?”

Jimin huffs out a dry laugh, feeling slightly heady with the power he holds over Seokjin and his
best friend. “I was supposed to fabricate something that would ensure the two of you meeting
again, so that Taehyungie could play hard to get, but I decided against it because I’m more
concerned for his wellbeing than indulging his quirks.”

“So, Taehyung-ssi isn’t aware of this discussion?” Seokjin muses.

“No, he’s not. I’m totally backstabbing Taehyung right now. But I’m not about to act as his
personal cupid if I already have to do all the dirty work for him.” Jimin flashes a mean smile. “I
can arrange something where you can meet and chat and flirt, but on my terms. Are you okay with
that?”

Seokjin blows air through his nose, clearly taken aback. “I uhh – yeah, I’d love to get to know him
more.”
Jimin’s protective instincts decide to flare up out of fucking nowhere, and he squares his shoulders
to appear slightly larger. A part of his brain that seems to grow larger by the day – the dumb
section to be exact – is getting annoyed that he made Yoongi leave the room, because surely the
support of an alpha would help his cause remarkably –

“You need to know a few things about Kim Taehyung before running headfirst into what could
develop into an actual relationship if you’re not careful,” Jimin grits.

Seokjin looks like he wants to say something, perhaps explain his intentions, but Jimin isn’t feeling
all too benevolent at the moment.

“Taehyung wears his heart on his sleeve and gets hurt because of it. People promise him the moon
and hand him a dirty coin off the sidewalk instead. And then it’s on me to make him feel like he’s
worth a damn again. Taehyungie might seem all soft and sweet and easy to handle, but he’s an
actual alpha like the rest of his kind. If you want the perfect pet, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”

Jimin catches himself leaning forward, chest over the desk and hands gripping the edge of the
tabletop with bone-white knuckles. Despite their deep, mutual affection, he has never considered
Taehyung a pack member, has rejected that line of thinking as nonsensical – because what need
does he have for a pack, something founded on hormones and primal impulses and blind trust?

But even Jimin isn’t delusional enough to deny that what he’s doing right now blurs the lines of
friendship in a novel way. He has never questioned Taehyung’s taste in partners, nor has he really
cared about whom his friend sleeps with, simply because Taehyung is an alpha and thus more than
capable of looking after himself. Apart from a few heartbreaks, nothing has ever happened to
Jimin’s best friend on his romantic adventures.

Seokjin’s eyes get impossibly wide for a second – a small victory – and Jimin has the urge to hiss
and show his teeth for good measure, to complete his wordless threat with a very omegan way to
demand an overbearing stranger to back off. Jimin resists, opting to drag his fingernails over the
table to convey the same message in a less pugnacious manner. He ends up regretting that decision
immediately, as Seokjin is infuriatingly quick to get past the state of initial shock. The beta
observes him with a subtle smirk spreading on his stupidly plush lips, as if he knows exactly what
is going through Jimin’s mind at the moment.

“You seem to think very little of me,” Seokjin says in that same non-committal tone from earlier.
“Is it because I’m an OWSC employee, or because I’m such a prominently dominant beta, and the
notion frightens you?”

Jimin presses his lips into a thin line. “I just don’t want Taehyung to be disappointed again. You
decided to work for this blasted organisation, so you must sympathise with some of the
misogynistic shit they endorse and enforce.”

“I do like to entertain the idea that some of the things I do actually are beneficial to the people I try
to help, and even that small number of successes is enough for me to keep trying,” Seokjin
counters with a thoughtful expression. “I once had a client very much like you. He was nearing
thirty and packless, truly a lone wolf. One day the man was brought into the ER for trying to gnaw
at some poor passer-by’s leg. He bit to the bone, and the victim required three surgeries to recover.
My client was so far gone that the doctor had to sedate and restrain him, and when he finally came
to his senses, he told me and the police that a strange alpha had come to him to ask for a lighter,
and something had just snapped in his head, a fight-or-flight reaction of sorts, due to feeling unsafe
and alone when that stranger invaded his personal space.”

Jimin gulps down dry air, feels like he needs to argue. “But isn’t it still baseless prejudice to
automatically expect me to end up the same way?”

“It just might be, I could be the real villain here, but I want to save lives, Jimin-ssi. You had all the
same signs in your blood-work, the same kind of background. I had to put you in a programme
regardless of your negative feelings, just in case. There wasn’t room to consider your preferences.
In the same vein, if I somehow ended up dating Taehyung, and he got the biological need to push
me against the nearest available surface, I would submit easily to keep his instincts sated. My ego
wouldn’t be bruised for yielding a little. It’s just instincts, nothing more.”

“You make it sound so simple. Like it’s nothing to throw months of my life away just because my
body might malfunction.”

Seokjin sighs, but he doesn’t look mad. “Would you truly have preferred expensive medications
that don’t always work? Is Yoongi hyung that terrible to be around?”

The discussion has derailed from Taehyung faster than Jimin anticipated. Even though he really
shouldn’t be surprised. “It – it doesn’t matter whether I like Yoongi or not. It’s about my basic
rights as a human being.”

“And I truly apologise that I had to make that decision on your behalf,” Seokjin says, ”but if I had
to, I would undoubtedly make the same ones all over again.”

Jimin should call Seokjin out on his crap. “You’re a man of principles, I see.”

“That l am. Do I pass the test? Will you allow me to court Taehyung?”

“I suppose. But you know nothing of this conversation.”

“Naturally,” Seokjin confirms.

They shake on it.

•••

Jimin has mercy on the alpha on the way home. Yoongi hasn’t asked about his private
conversation with Seokjin, hasn’t really spoken about anything, but the alpha looks like he’s about
to jump out of his own skin any minute.

“I’m planning a ruse,” Jimin says, only partially paying attention because he’s trying to order
bleach and toner with one day shipping. He can no longer ignore the sorry state of his hair, even if
annoying Yoongi with his shabby appearance has been fun. If his plan succeeds, he will need all
weapons in his arsenal against a certain alpha who just happens to live right next door.

“A ruse?” Yoongi repeats with an unsettlingly adorable pout on his lips.

Jimin taps something with four point seven stars into his cart.

“Mm. You don’t have many friends, I assume?”

“Can’t say that I have, no,” the alpha admits.

“Have you recently won any shiny trophies? Or have you placed number one on the Gaon chart or
something?”

Yoongi looks baffled, and his lips are so pretty and pink even in a confused frown, like rose petals.
Jimin has to blink a few times to recover his composure.

“Anything that might work as an excuse for throwing a party,” he says lamely.

“You know very well that I’m not someone who throws parties, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi immediately
objects. The metro train is quite full today, and a group of European tourists is making a ruckus,
which means that the usually soft-spoken alpha has to raise his voice a little.

“That’s irrelevant. You just need to come up with an excuse and invite all of your friends, and I’ll
handle the rest. It’s a ploy to get my friend laid – my alpha friend to be exact.”

As expected, Yoongi perks up at the possibility of getting Taehyung paired off with someone who
is not Jimin. The alpha nature and the jealous streak that comes with it might for once work in
Jimin’s favour.

“I mean, perhaps I could – You know IU by any chance?”

“What kind of question even is that? Of course I know her,” Jimin snaps.

“Well, that summer song that plays on the radio fifty million times a day, I co-produced it. It just
had its fourth consecutive music show win, so I guess that could work. I don’t know.”

Jimin’s jaw drops against his will and stays wide open, tongue nearly lolling out with a line of spit.
“You’re – IU’s producer? What the actual fuck? I thought you made some cringy rap stuff where
the lyrics are all about that alphas’ knot-measuring crap.”

Yoongi smiles, cheeks round and puffed up. “You see, I’m quite versatile.”

“Not in bed, though,” Jimin jokes before he can get a hold of himself.

Yoongi grimaces, but even the curl of his lips is gleeful. “Very funny, pup.”

Jimin focuses on his screen again and picks a platinum blond toner. Because he’s worth it.

“What are you buying?” The alpha asks, trying to take a peek over Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin presses
his phone against his chest and blows air through his teeth.

“Colanders. Leave me be.”

Yoongi doesn’t leave him be, he wraps a hand around Jimin’s waist and tickles.

Jimin yelps, getting odd looks from other passengers, but somehow he can’t find the energy to get
mad or even think twice about Yoongi’s unusual behaviour. He just takes it – like an omega.

•••

“Hobi hyung! Hyuuuung!! Alpha!”

Jungkook’s voice travels closer, accompanied by frantic footsteps. It’s one of those days, it seems.
Hoseok’s omega and accidental love of his life barges into their bedroom, cheeks red and splotchy
with excitement. Hoseok just about manages to set down his comic right before Jungkook climbs
over him, muscular thighs caging him against the bed and hands splayed out on his bare
collarbones that peek out of the loose collar of his tank top.

Hoseok adores that Jungkook is a little bigger and bulkier than him, that he likes to play rough
when it’s just the two of them, because it makes it doubly fun when their positions eventually get
flipped and the omega ends up face down in the mattress, begging for all sorts of things Hoseok
loves to deny.

And Jungkook goes down so beautifully, too.

“What has gotten you so worked up, baby? Did you win at your game?” Hoseok hums, stroking
Jungkook’s back with an open palm.

Jungkook presses a wet kiss to Hoseok’s temple. ”No, it’s better and worse. Jimin and Yoongi
hyung are hosting a party soon.”

Ah, it makes sense Jungkook would get keyed up at the opportunity to meet the music producer
again. Hoseok lifts his hand to Jungkook’s heated cheek. A smile is tugging at the corners of his
lips, but he tries to play it cool.

“That sounds fun. What kind of party is it, Kookie?”

“They’re celebrating hyung’s hit song. And that’s why –” Jungkook swallows excess spit and
wriggles a little on top of Hoseok, “– that’s why his producer friend is also invited. You know the
one you showed me a picture of.”

Suddenly Hoseok understands. His hands grip Jungkook’s waist on instinct, firmly enough to make
Jungkook’s eyes lose focus and have him panting in anticipation.

“Kim Namjoon, hmm?”

“I mean, he’s so hot and talented and I’m literally going to die if he’s there,” Jungkook babbles,
and it’s enough to make Hoseok snap, because when it comes to his mate, he’s a rather weak alpha
and an even weaker man.

Hoseok digs his nails into Jungkook’s mating bite to remind the omega of his physical claim on
him. He lets out a tiny growl, too. Just to be sure.

Jungkook seems to be fighting Hoseok’s dominance, tensing his shoulders and baring his teeth,
which means the omega wants him to go harder on him. It’s one of his moods Hoseok is more than
happy to indulge, even if his mate is an absolute menace.

“Is it fun teasing your alpha like that? Does it make you wet, Kook-ah?”

Hoseok of course knows the answer already, with Jungkook’s scent blooming to new heights as he
speaks, but he wants the omega to admit to it, to submit.

“Ah–alpha, it’s not fair.”

Hoseok grins at Jungkook’s pout, flicking him on the forehead. “Not fair, you say?”

“Can we at least make him fall in love with Taehyungie hyung or something? Please, hyung? I bet
he smells so nice. Alphas like that always do. I want hiiiim.”
Just as Jungkook wanted, Hoseok gets instantly pushed over the tipping point, past the point of no
return.

“You’re awfully confident now, baby. In real life I’m sure you wouldn’t even dare say hi to him,”
Hoseok coos, gripping Jungkook’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss, a teasing brush of lips.

“Uh-huh, probably” Jungkook confirms against his lips, trying to lick his way into Hoseok’s
mouth.

He can’t have that, oh no.

Not before the omega has suffered a little from his wrongdoings. He pulls Jungkook back by the
neck, so that their noses are almost touching. Jungkook’s eyes are wild and lips wet with spit.

Hoseok wants to absolutely ruin him.

“What isn’t fair,” he says, punctuating his words by grinding his hips up against Jungkook’s ass
with purpose, “is that you come here and talk about other alphas so carelessly, with the obvious
intent of making me jealous, wanting me to fuck you so hard you would remember the alpha you
truly belong to whenever you sat down on that pretty ass of yours. My little omega would like that,
wouldn’t he?”

The words have an instant effect on Jungkook. The omega whines pathetically and ruts against
Hoseok’s middle, small cock already tenting his trousers proudly.

“Use your words, omega,” Hoseok commands harshly, because he knows the tone only adds to his
mate’s arousal.

“Yes, alpha. I was bad and tried to make you jealous. I’m very sorry, alpha.”

“Are you really sorry, or do you still think you’ll have things go your way, little one?”

That strikes genuine concern in Jungkook’s eyes, the thought that maybe he isn’t getting fucked at
all, that maybe Hoseok can control himself just like that and leave him to fend for himself.

It’s not true of course, Hoseok would never turn down a good knotting, but it’s still satisfying to
see the flicker of doubt in Jungkook’s blown-out pupils.

Hoseok flips Jungkook over with a quick roll of his hips, and the omega crashes against the
mattress between his favourite pillows. Hoseok grabs a third one from the side and slides it under
the omega’s hips before Jungkook can lie down flat on his belly. Jungkook doesn’t resist the
manoeuvring, but he doesn’t help either, letting his mate do all the work and simply enjoying the
showcase of alpha strength.

Next Hoseok pulls down the omega’s trousers and underwear in one fluid motion and swats him on
the inner thigh, an order to spread his legs for his alpha, which Jungkook does without a fuss.
Hoseok reaches for Jungkook’s cock to pull it down between his legs, the reddened tip visible and
leaking between his thighs. He doesn’t want the omega humping a pillow to chase his own
pleasure and making a mess without permission.

Jungkook starts shivering uncontrollably as Hoseok presses down on his shoulder blades to have
the omega’s upper half pressed down in the sheets and ass raised for attention. Jungkook is
incredibly wet, slick running down his thighs and pooling on the sheet.

Hoseok tsks in mock sympathy and gives Jungkook another slap, harder this time. “Aigoo, how
come you are this wet, is it because you thought about that other alpha?”

Jungkook whimpers and shakes his head. “Nn–no alpha please, only you. Only want you.”

His cock leaks more precum, angry red at this point and so cute Hoseok wants to swallow it whole.
Despite his evident desperation the omega doesn’t dare move to chase friction on his cock.

“I bet you just want me to push my cock inside without prep. Make it hurt a little to remind you of
your place, that you’re mine to use. How does that sound?”

“Good, sounds good, hyung. Please, give me your knot.”

“But you’ve been so bad, baby,” Hoseok croons. He blows cool air over Jungkook’s hole, which is
clenching around nothing at Hoseok’s sweet threats.

The omega would probably do anything for even a single finger right now. Hoseok himself is hard
as well, but it’s still quite easy to ignore his own needs.

“I can be good, hyung. I can – just, phh–please.”

“You beg so fucking prettily, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok praises and traces Jungkook’s glistening rim
with one finger, applying only the faintest pressure over the muscle.

The omega tries to buck into the touch, and Hoseok pulls away with a mean chuckle.

Jungkook always says it is what attracted him to Hoseok in the first place, his stark duality as an
alpha. Hoseok tends to be all sunshine and happiness, the gentlest alpha in the world to be around,
but in the bedroom, behind closed doors, he gets consumed by a sadistic streak, which his mate
thoroughly enjoys, even if he complains and whines about it non-stop.

“You can be good for alpha if you work extra hard,” Hoseok says. “Hold yourself open for me
darling, let hyung see.”

Jungkook scrambles to obey, spreading his cheeks wide with tattooed fingers digging into his own
skin. The omega’s hole gives in and gapes a little, and fuck if it doesn’t look enticing.

“Hurts, alpha. Want your fingers and your tongue, please,” Jungkook demands, voice high-pitched
and loud, something Hoseok really had to coax out of him back in the day.

Hoseok gives a third spank to where Jungkook’s leg meets his ass, and the poor pup cries out, skin
already turning a rosy shade of pink.

“Aren’t you a greedy little thing,” Hoseok says fondly, but his composure is starting to crumble,
because Jungkook is sniffling and balling his fists, and it’s just about the most beautiful sight in the
world.

Without a warning, he slips two fingers inside his mate and curls them in a way he knows
Jungkook to like, searching, searching until Jungkook goes tense like a wrung up coil, back arched
and shoulders pushed against the mattress to balance himself.

Hoseok grants the next part of the omega’s request and presses the flat of his tongue against his hot
rim, keeping the fingers buried deep inside.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook starts babbling incoherent things, clenching around Hoseok’s fingers
which stroke his prostate over and over again, the dual stimulation too much for the omega even
when he was the one to ask for it.

Even while overwhelmed, Jungkook is a good boy who stays still as much as he can, and that’s
another thing Hoseok adores about his strong-willed mate. Jungkook wants to be good for Hoseok
because it brings them both pleasure and happiness, makes their dynamic thrive.

Hoseok scrapes his fingernails over the spot he spanked earlier, and Jungkook shudders
uncontrollably.

“You want to know how much you’ve affected hyung, baby?” he asks, letting his breath ghost over
Jungkook’s sensitive skin for a moment. He then moves to press his own erection against the back
of Jungkook’s thigh. “See how you manage to drive your alpha wild, just by lying there like a
pretty pillow princess?”

He nips at Jungkook’s shoulder for good measure, draped over his omega to make him feel small
and safe, just as Jungkook likes it.

“Yes alpha,” Jungkook breathes out, the obedient little thing. The omega’s thighs are shaking with
the effort to continue staying still, and he’s stifling little whimpers into the sheets that smell like
them.

“I’ll give you two options, Kook-ah. Choose wisely.”

The omega nods shakily. Hoseok knows how much his mate likes games where he can only lose
and Hoseok win. It’s more fun that way.

“I can keep eating you out and spanking you just like this,” Hoseok says, demonstrating the offer
with another harsh slap, “but whether you come from that or not, I’ll knot you right after. And we
both know how sensitive you’re after coming, so just imagine my knot pushing against that abused
prostate. It should hurt quite a bit.”

Jungkook gasps and trembles at Hoseok’s words, but they both know the omega would probably
end up coming on his knot, too. Jungkook is no stranger to getting off on pain.

Hoseok strokes Jungkook in soothing motions. “Or I can just spank you, thirty times for trying to
make me jealous. I’ll jerk you off afterwards if you don’t manage to come from the spanking
alone, and you can have those nipple clamps you like, as well. ButI I won’t knot you today, I’ll just
come on your face instead.”

Jungkook turns his head to the side, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. “Not fa–fair.”

“I think we already talked this through, baby. You need to choose.”

“I – ahh, the first option, please.”

Hoseok isn’t particularly surprised. Jungkook is a slut for knots and pain alike. The promise of
overstimulation is merely a plus.

In the end, Jungkook comes with Hoseok’s tongue buried deep in his ass, and it doesn’t seem like
the omega was even attempting to hold back, riding the waves of his orgasm in ecstasy. Hoseok
pushes his cock inside, right in the afterglow to make Jungkook regret his decision even a little.

“Who is your alpha?” Hoseok gasps as he pounds into Jungkook with all he has. He meets no
resistance whatsoever, everything is for him to take.
 “You,” Jungkook sobs.

“Say my name, Kookie. I want to hear you say it.”

“Jj–Jung Hoseok,” Jungkook finally cries out, and Hoseok almost comes on the spot, he has to still
his hips for a second and will his knot to stay deflated.

The omega is soon reduced to a babbling, drooling mess who tries to present the gland which has
already been claimed by Hoseok’s teeth. It’s a natural reaction, a subconscious attempt to make the
sheer amount of sensation less overwhelming.

When Hoseok bites down on his mate’s neck, teeth finding the familiar imprints, Jungkook comes
a second time with a broken shout. His little cock dribbles a bit more cum even though it’s still
mostly soft and spent from the last time.

Hoseok keeps fucking Jungkook into the puddle of his own come, although he monitors
Jungkook’s blissed out expression with a close eye, careful not to let his mate slip too far down.

The amount of trust they have, Hoseok thought he would never have something like that,
something this good.

Hoseok’s knot catches on Jungkook’s rim, and a tiny moan escapes the omega’s lips.

He can’t wait to see his cum dribble out of Jungkook.

Maybe Hoseok should eat him out again later, just for the fun of seeing his baby squirm.

Chapter End Notes

I felt like writing some smut, and Yoonmin isn’t quite there yet, so Hopekook was my
unsuspecting victim. I hope you enjoyed the little glimpse into their daily life.

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Toast to That
Chapter Notes

Taehyung fails successfully. Jimin succeeds… failingly?

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Bleaching one’s own hair is a risk that sometimes doesn’t pay off. Thankfully this is not one of
those times.

Jimin is towelling his hair dry after a generous application of platinum blond toner, and the damp,
silky strands fall over his forehead in a billowy fringe. His features look softer but somehow more
pronounced with the light-colored hair framing his forehead.

He has another towel clinging to his hips, revealing his flushed chest and stomach. Jimin used to
hate how he had this certain roundness to him no matter how much he worked out – plump cheeks,
round ass and hips suited for childbirth. In recent years he has learned to appreciate his features,
complimenting them with the right clothes and allowing himself to stop the rigorous workout
regime that no longer brought him joy.

He may look incredibly omegan with his small frame and pretty blond hair, but all of that is
meaningless when he has a thick collar around his throat and aerosolised flowers oozing out of his
scent glands. He blow-dries his hair and enjoys how it gets lighter and lighter until it almost
gleams silver under the bright bathroom lights. He slaps on some BB-cream and lip balm as well
and dresses himself in nice clothes, not too festive but something a bit special.

Jimin has planned for the party over a couple of days, buying food and drink and planning for …
Yoongi has mostly stayed out of the way, cooped up in his home studio with Holly while Jimin
kept moving furniture around because it didn’t ‘feel right’ and looking up recipes online and
failing spectacularly at executing all but a few of them. The kitchen has been a mess as a result, an
impenetrable land of spilt flour and dirty utensils, and Yoongi has long since resigned to his fate
and ordered takeout on most nights.

When Jimin went to the supermarket to get the final batch of groceries needed, Yoongi tried to slip
him his credit card, quite sneakily too by putting it in Jimin’s bag when he was fussing over his
shopping list in front of the fridge, counting how many more eggs he would have to buy to make a
cake and still have some for spare in case he fucked up the first batch of batter (the chance of that
was quite high, unfortunately).

In the end Jimin paid for everything out of his own pocket, even if he looked at Yoongi’s sleek
matte black card with a degree of longing as the cashier rang up the third box of fresh raspberries.
He reminded himself of the fact that Yoongi never wanted a party, that it was all a ruse. If Jimin
got lucky, he might get Taehyung to foot some of the bill later, if he were to intimidate the baby
alpha enough.

On the second attempt the cake turned out edible, at least upon a visual inspection. Even Yoongi
stepped foot into the kitchen and pointed out the same thing, Holly tucked safely in his arms
because earlier Jimin had suffered a minor accident involving a bag of sugar and as a result left a
used whisk lying on the floor, and Holly had managed to lick some of the sugary cream out of the
metal loops. Yoongi had gone on a passionate lecture about how cats could get a bad tummy ache
from consuming dairy, and that Jimin was an inconsiderate pet owner and the worst cook he had
ever encountered before storming off with the kitten.

Jimin did feel quite guilty after the fact. He spent half an hour on various veterinary websites trying
to deduce if Holly was in dire need of a gastric lavage or some other drastic operation but had to
forfeit when the cake he was baking burned to a crisp and Holly was found happy and healthy in
the kitchen, skipping curiously around the smoking oven.

Jimin cups his hand under the faucet and brings some cold water to his lips. The difference in
temperature after a hot shower stings in his gums, but he drinks like a parched man. That’s
probably because Jimin has been so stressed about the preparations that he forgot to stay hydrated.

Silly omega.

Yoongi asked if he could help, tried to carry things around on his own, but Jimin hissed and shooed
him back into his studio. For some reason it felt fitting that he would die on this ridiculous hill
alone.

Exiting the bathroom, Jimin straightens the collar of his new silk shirt he splurged on at a trendy
second-hand shop. It’s a peculiar shade of blue which reminds him of myosotis flowers, and it goes
really well together with his new hair colour.

Right at that moment Yoongi decides to stroll around the corner, humming to some tune he has
been working on, and literally jumps backwards upon seeing Jimin, eyes wide and round. The
corridor in front of the bathroom is suddenly all orange peel and leather, almost pungent in its
intensity.

“Jimin, fuck,” the alpha says.

Jimin raises an eyebrow at Yoongi’s uncharacteristically vulgar choice of words. They stare at
each other for a moment that stretches over rips in the space-time continuum, ones caused by too
frequent awkward silences.

“You look –,” Yoongi starts but then chickens out. His tongue is partly hanging out of his mouth, a
drop of saliva glistening at the tip. It should be gross, but Jimin’s mouth only waters in response.

Then Yoongi’s rigid tone goes through to his brain, and a wave of insecurity washes over Jimin.
He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing the strands out. Yoongi’s scent is strong, but it’s not
clearly pleased nor happy. Just – very intense.

“Does it look funny? I thought it was fine when I checked in the bathroom mirror.”

“That’s not it,” Yoongi quickly spits out, swatting his hand at the air in a nondistinctive pattern.
“It’s just that… you look fine. Handsome.”

Yoongi looks a bit exasperated, probably at himself, a sallow blush rising on his cheekbones.
‘Handsome’ is not a word very often used to describe an omega. Some might even take offence if it
comes from an alpha.

“You like it?” Jimin says in a questioning tone. His earrings sway and hit the edges of his cheeks
as he turns his head to let Yoongi see it from all sides. “There aren’t any weird spots I missed, are
there?”
Yoongi’s gaze is heavy yet weirdly sensual as it travels over Jimin, like iron feathers caressing his
body from all sides. The alpha shakes his head, finally closing his jaws with a clack of teeth.

“Okay,” Jimin mumbles and shifts his weight onto another foot. “Are you going to wear that?” he
adds, pointing at Yoongi’s black slacks and patterned shirt with grey and dusty pink details. It
looks luxurious as hell, and Jimin wasn’t even aware that Yoongi owned clothes like that.

Yoongi pulls on one of the large silver hoops hanging from his ears. His hair has gotten even
longer, sticking out at the back and brushing against his shoulders. Jimin would’ve thought mullets
to be extremely uncool, but Yoongi manages to only look expensive.

“Is it too something?” Yoongi asks and glances down at his own shirtsleeve. “Namjoon told me I
should have something fancier to wear out when mingling with music people. I can change, too.”

“No,” Jimin rushes to say, “it’s a pretty shirt. Very pretty.”

Jimin isn’t sure if he’s calling Yoongi or the shirt pretty at this point, and maybe it doesn’t make
much of a difference.

“The first guests should arrive soon. Jungkook seemed excited at the possibility of meeting more
celebrities, so he will naturally drag himself and his mate here at least twenty minutes early.”

Yoongi hums with a small but genuine smile. Jimin remembers that the alpha was quite fond of
Hoseok despite their opposite personalities. The alpha takes Jimin’s collar out of his pocket and
makes a circle with his pointer finger, and Jimin dutifully turns around.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi says as he fastens Jimin’s collar. “I already made Holly a small nest at the
bottom shelf of my closet, because he will probably get frightened by all the new people.”

Jimin nods in approval, and Yoongi hooks one of his fingers in the middle loop of his collar and
gives it the tiniest tug, a gesture of affirmation. Jimin would never admit how nice it feels when the
smooth leather digs into the edge of his scent gland.

It only takes five more seconds for Jimin’s psychic skills to kick in and the doorbell to start ringing
in a demanding way. He walks up to the door to let in Jungkook and Hoseok who are grinning like
two criminals conspiring a bank robbery together. Jungkook is wearing all black, as he does, and
Hoseok is dressed in orange, funky yellow-tinted glasses low on his nose to complete the look. The
two of them are quite the sight wherever they go together.

“You came early,” Jimin huffs, feigning annoyance even though their enthusiasm is more than
endearing to him.

“Did we really? Silly us,” Hoseok says in a neutral tone, waving his hello at Yoongi at the back.

“You dyed your hair,” Jungkook observes. His mischievous smile isn’t fading. “Did your boyfriend
appreciate it? I bet he did. I think you look awesome whenever you decide to go blond.”

Jungkook is all too brave when he isn’t directly facing Yoongi.

So, naturally Jimin steps out of the way, causing bright pink spots to bloom high on Jungkook’s
cheeks.

“What do you think, Yoongi hyung?” Jimin asks. “Want to answer Kookie?”

Yoongi pouts a little and pushes his hands into his pockets. “I already told you.”
“Fair enough,” Jimin sighs dramatically. “Just go into the living room and wait. Yoongi hyung
might torture you with cat trivia, but that will be on you since you barged in here with no
consideration for the schedule.”

•••

Taehyung is a relatively simple creature, even if he’s not the most typical alpha whose identity
revolves around his knot. He knows what he wants, and usually he gets it. Quite easily. He has had
many hurdles in his life, many of which were more or less tied to his ineptitude to take the position
of the head alpha of his family, a position which was held over him like a threat rather than a
promise. When he inevitably had to reject the offer, he became ostracised by most of his family,
became the black wolf of his clan.

He and Jimin are kindred souls, were from the very beginning. They rejected the stereotypes
pushed on their subgenders, paved their own ways. Jimin had sex with absolutely everyone in
university, and then laughed at people’s faces when he was called an omega slut or a common
bitch. Horrible names like that. Jimin always smiled brightly, but sometimes Taehyung could see
that a portion of that grin was fake. He was the same, experimented with older alphas in bar
bathrooms, dropped to his knees and accepted what they would give him.

Just like Jimin he left the South as quickly as he could and moved to Seoul. He racked up a
crippling amount of debt and worked four part time jobs, but unlike Jimin he pulled through and
graduated. Now he has a stable job as a graphic designer, has his shit together as an adult should.

It’s nearly a miracle that none of the Kims ever caught onto his preference to spend his nights with
other alphas. They assumed Taehyung was some kind of lone alpha, a recluse, who didn’t have all
the right instincts in his head. If they had known his instincts pushed him to spread his legs and
open his mouth to welcome another alpha’s knot, it might’ve been doubly worse.

He still wants to spread his legs, but his standards have only gotten higher.

He wants to be wined and dined on occasion, wants to be called pretty by someone, wants to be
called a good baby alpha when he’s being railed from behind. He doesn’t want to be called an
omega, because he isn’t one. He wants to yell from the rooftops that yes, he is a submissive alpha,
just look it up on Naver if you don’t believe it’s real. He has gotten comments like that before.

Those things shouldn’t be too much to ask, but it’s not easy to find someone for whom his eager
submission is more than a fetish or a fleeting curiosity.

Until very recently he thought he was probably gay, that he couldn’t get romantically nor sexually
interested in any other subgender apart from his own. But when Kim Seokjin accidentally strolled
into his life, that part of his identity came crashing down, inducing a mild crisis.

Seokjin is broad-shouldered and handsome like a drama actor, he smells like asphalt after a
rainstorm. He can cook, and maybe he would like to feed Taehyung and make him feel good, too.

But he’s a beta. Betas are supposed to be malleable, soft. They can be selfless to a fault. Seokjin
seems the perfect balance of greedy and giving, however, and Taehyung really doesn’t want to fuck
this up even if being into a beta warps his sense of self and shakes him to his core.

Jimin has organised some sort of party in Yoongi’s honour, something about his achievements as a
music producer. His friend’s resourcefulness is often surprising.

The door opens and Jimin’s familiar if not a little stressed out scent hits his nose, lilacs parched in
the blazing summer sun. Underneath he can detect Yoongi’s curious blend, intertwined in Jimin’s
clean sweetness and giving it richer undertones.

Last time they saw each other their scents were still separated, Taehyung notices, trying not to
smile.

“You smell different,” he says out loud as he removes his shoes and changes into a pair of brown
guest slippers. Jimin has bleached his hair again, it’s a stunning shade of platinum blond, fluffy at
the top and trimmed on the sides. Jimin comes in for a hug, and near his pulse point Yoongi’s
silent claim is even more apparent. Taehyung wonders if they’re regularly scenting each other
now.

“It’s the stress of throwing this damn party. If I smell like a rancid bouquet of flowers, it’s all your
fault.”

Taehyung lets Jimin dodge the question, because he has ample time to humiliate his friend later. He
pats him on the back instead, and Jimin’s shoulders feel bony through his thin button-up, but the
omega is also warm and healthy-smelling.

“Hoseok hyung and Kookie are already here. They’re talking to Yoongi’s friend Namjoon, and
Jungkook looks like he’s about to shit his pants. Go save him, would you. I need to make sure the
appetizers are still holding together.”

Jimin slips out of Taehyung’s hold and flees without explaining why there even is a risk of the food
falling apart. Taehyung is left with the sight of a flustered Jungkook peeking out from behind
Hoseok’s shoulder, mumbling something to a tall alpha with glasses and a dark purple dress shirt.
He can only see the man’s side profile from his position, but it’s evident from his posture that he’s
feeling relaxed and confident.

Jungkook spots Taehyung and nearly cries out in relief. It seems that his mate hasn’t been giving
him too much support.

“Taehyungie hyung, over here,” Jungkook uselessly calls out, waving his hand. Taehyung
approaches a little warily, fiddling with his cufflink that has gotten a little crooked at some point.

Jungkook emerges from behind Hoseok and reaches to grab Taehyung’s arm, pulling him closer to
the other two.

“This is alpha Kim Taehyung. He’s an artist too, PDnim,” Jungkook says, blinking rapidly.

“I already asked you to call me Namjoon, Jungkook-ssi. There’s no need for such formalities, I
assure you,” the alpha says in a low, melodic voice that is like honey drizzled over something
sweet. His scent is equally rich and comforting, reminding Taehyung of those sprawling archive
rooms at the library where you have to crank the shelfs apart using a lever.

Kim Namjoon turns his head toward Taehyung, and fucking hell.

Taehyung decided to comb his hair out of his forehead tonight, thinking it would look sleek and
nice. But nothing could compare to how Namjoon has his hair effortlessly styled up. It’s parted in
the middle with a fine comb, not a single hair out of place. The look screams ‘sexy professor meets
runway model’.
“An artist? That’s exciting.”

Taehyung frowns at Jungkook before trying his best to meet Namjoon’s demanding gaze.

“I’m hardly an artist. I work for an advertising company and design posters for music shows and
concerts and things like that. Graphic design is my passion and all that,” he adds with a nervous
laugh. He isn’t sure if Namjoon got the reference, because his face remains neutral.

“You must be quite a visual person, then,” Namjoon says, crossing his muscled arms over his
chest. There’s an unusual aura of calm around him, and Taehyung isn’t sure if it’s only a façade of
some kind. With alphas you should never let a mellow outer shell fool you.

“I guess I am,” Taehyung shrugs, trying not to inhale any more of Namjoon’s intoxicating scent. “I
consider myself one of those side products of late capitalism, artistic vision and expensive higher
education used for drawing in impressionable consumers.”

Namjoon laughs with his entire chest vibrating. His canines look sharp and capable, and Taehyung
has to shake his head a bit. He may be greedy and vain, but even he has sense not to try hitting on
two potential doms at the same time, even if both of them are ridiculously attractive.

Not to say that this rich celebrity alpha would necessarily want Taehyung, but his flirtatious tone
definitely leaves some room for such an interpretation.

“I bet it’s up to graphic designers like you that those concert tickets get sold,” Namjoon says in a
gruff voice. “I should personally thank you for supporting our work.”

Yup, that’s definitely flirting.

Taehyung can’t handle that right now, just doesn’t have the brain capacity for it.

“Hobi hyung, have you seen the hero of the day?” he asks, to make himself not look at the illegally
sexy alpha with thick arms that stretch the fabric of his shirt to its limits, or how his posture is pure
dominance, legs astride, or how he nails Taehyung down with those narrow eyes –

“I think he went to look for something in his studio with his friend… Kim Seokjin was his name, I
think.”

Namjoon glances at the expensive-looking watch strapped to his wrist. “Yes, and he’s missing all
the talk about capitalism. Hyung would be devastated. It’s his favourite thing to bitch about.”

Right at that moment Seokjin steps out into the living room, looking so ethereal that air is punched
out of Taehyung’s lungs in one go. He ends up coughing in dry huffs, and Namjoon smacks him on
the back. The touch burns like a brand, and damn, Taehyung isn’t going to survive the night, is he?

Seokjin is already there, faster than light. He cups Taehyung’s cheeks just like that and asks if he’s
okay or if he needs some water while Namjoon still has a hand on his back. It should be a little
embarrassing, but it mostly feels good being fussed over by two handsome men. Taehyung has
never shied away from being the centre of the attention, after all.

“Would you like to have a little chat while we wait for the rest of the guests to arrive?” Seokjin
suggests as he passes Taehyung a glass he has seemingly whipped out of thin air. Taehyung finds
himself nodding before he can remember that he was supposed to play hard to get.

Namjoon tenses behind Taehyung, but it’s only for a fraction of a second. Apparently the lopsided
balance of mild beta pheromones and Taehyung’s unusually sweet alpha scent are enough to put
him at ease.

Although Taehyung doesn’t miss the way Namjoon and Seokjin exchange looks, as though they
have some sort of silent pact, which doesn’t make sense as the two don’t even know each other,
not to Taehyung’s knowledge at least. Namjoon watches them as they sneak into Jimin’s room
without blinking once, like a pack alpha watching over his pups.

Taehyung shivers at the thought.

“Are you alright, Taehyung-ssi?” Seokjin asks again as the door closes behind them. Jimin’s
bedroom is nicely decorated and smells like the omega. There’s a small bundle of pillows and
blankets on top of the twin bed, the beginnings of a full nest, but it’s crude and experimental even
to Taehyung’s untrained alpha eye, as if Jimin isn’t confident in his own nesting skills yet.
Taehyung should show this to Jungkook and have him give some tips to Jimin. His friend deserves
the comfiest nest in the world, and in the best case scenario Taehyung could get an invitation as
well. Even if he doesn’t want to date an omega, every alpha has the innate desire to curl up in a
nest prepared by skilful omega hands, to be trusted with such intimate and personal matters.

Even if Yoongi killed him in the process, it might be worth a shot.

Taehyung realises he hasn’t answered. Instead he has his arms wrapped around his arms as if he’s
cold despite the warm temperature, staring at Jimin’s baby nest with a little too much intensity. He
tells his brain to snap out of it.

“I – I’m good. Nice to see you here. Didn’t know you were coming.” The lie is quick and easy on
his tongue, and Seokjin seems to eat it up, smiling brightly even if his concern still shows
underneath.

“Yoongi is too soft for me to deny me anything,” Seokjin says with confidence.

“Huh, you must be really close,” Taehyung says, willing his voice even and neutral. Close up
Seokjin is even more beautiful, soft lines, hard angles, smooth skin.

“I’ve known Yoongi for a number of years. We have this weird dynamic where he only calls if he’s
in dire need of something. He’s like a stubborn old pack alpha who won’t go to the doctor’s even if
their guts are hanging out of his body, just because someone else might have it worse. I’m the only
person who can force him to do anything. Or I was before Park Jimin.”

Seokjin tilts his head and inhales Jimin’s scent. “I’m happy for them. Are you, Taehyung-ssi?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

Weren’t they supposed to be talking about them?

“You must’ve known Jimin for a long time. I’m just curious if you feel protective of him, for
example.”

Taehyung takes a gulp of water from the glass he’s still carrying around and sets it down on a side
table. “I was in the beginning, I guess, had my own prejudices about someone in that line of work.”

Seokjin flashes a crooked smile. “About someone like me, too?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Taehyung huffs, and they both chuckle a bit.

“And now? I kind of expected you might call at some point, just so you know.”
“I thought about it,” Taehyung lies again. Sweat beads on his exposed forehead, because the
evening sun hits his face straight on through the closed window. He kind of wishes Seokjin would
touch him again, take the initiative. He tilts his jaw back, just a little bit to expose his neck. It feels
a bit wrong, much more so than with another alpha, but Seokjin’s awed look of desire helps him
repress the urge to snap his teeth at him.

“You make me want to say silly things,” the beta says slowly. “You are very pretty, did you know
that, Taehyung-ssi?”

“Yeah, I do.” The slightly bratty response slips from him automatically, but he tries to soften it by
baring more of his neck.

“Sweet little thing,” Seokjin coos, “so eager to please beta, aren’t you?”

A small whimper escapes Taehyung’s throat. His instincts are telling him to show his teeth, make
the beta back off, but he also wants to get down on his knees and be praised again.

Featherlight fingers graze the column of Taehyung’s throat, but even that feels possessive. “You
would look even prettier with a collar around your neck, pretty brown suede, I think. Something
soft like you.”

Taehyung cries out and his knees buckle, and he rushes to slam a palm over his mouth. No one has
ever voiced their wish to collar Taehyung, it would be considered absolute humiliation for most
alphas, because alpha’s aren’t meant to be tied to other people, they’re supposed to be independent
and strong, the ones who protect and claim.

Seokjin takes a step back, looking flustered. “I apologise if I was being too forward, it was just –
I’m sorry. I really want to get to know you, Taehyung-ssi, not scare you away again.”

Taehyung takes a deep, shaky breath. “You aren’t scaring me, it’s more of a me problem, I think. I
was flustered even before,” he points at the door, hoping it would be enough to imply the strange
effect Kim Namjoon had on him.

Seokjin nods warily.

“Sometimes I wish there were no subgenders, that I could be a sub in peace and not think –“
Taehyung curses his big mouth that would be more useful sewn shut. His cheeks feel blazing hot,
and that has nothing to do with the sun hitting his face.

“Would you like to start again from the beginning?” Seokjin asks in a surprisingly smooth tone.
“Want to give your number and let beta text you sometimes?”

Seokjin referring to himself in third person shouldn’t be hot – but it is, so hot Taehyung feels like
his insides are boiling into jjigae. He reaches for his phone with stiff hands and initiates a
KakaoTalk chat with him, sending him a silly animated sticker. Seokjin takes his own phone out
and smiles.

“There’s a good boy,” he says and replies with another sticker which is even sillier. “Oh how I’m
going to tease you from now on, granted that you allow it, of course.”

Taehyung’s face falls.

“You might end up loving it, though. Me asking if you have eaten dinner, me telling you to hold
off and not jerk off even if you’re feeling horny and frustrated, learning to be patient. But I’m sure
we’ll have plenty of time to negotiate things like that,” Seokjin concludes smoothly, as though he
was talking about weather the entire time.

Taehyung is reduced to a dangerously balanced blend of arousal and mortification. In a world with
no parties and schemes and a little more privacy he would probably bend over the bed and beg for
something more than just teasing words and promises.

But he has already dug his own grave too deep, so he just nods, flashes of hot and cold running
through his body. In spite of all his mental preparation, it feels like Seokjin repeatedly pulled the
carpet from under his feet, made him stumble and fall but was graceful enough to pick him up each
time.

“Very well then,” Seokjin huffs, and his warm, minty breath hits Taehyung’s cheek. “We should
probably go back to the living room. Taehyung should explain that his knot might be a tiny bit
swollen and he needs some time to recover, but he can’t get a word out of his mouth.

So he lets the beta drag him back out where Namjoon and Hoseok and Jungkook are, along with
other scary-looking music folk who have arrived whilst they were gone.

Jimin appears out of nowhere with a tray of champagne glasses, and Seokjin takes two drinks and
hands one to Taehyung, not letting go until Taehyung’s fingers are safely curled all the way around
the flute. Even that feels slightly dominant to Taehyung’s over-attuned brain.

Namjoon is talking to some stranger with round glasses and a weirdly shaped nose, and he’s
smiling and laughing, but then he spots Taehyung and Seokjin and just – stares at them again, like
they’re paintings at an art appraisal. Taehyung focuses his gaze down, on Namjoon’s pecs, which
is not the best idea, but Seokjin faces him head held high. When Taehyung gathers the courage to
take a peek, he sees the beta smiling freely, tilting his head. It’s not submission nor is it an attempt
to stake a claim.

“Do you know Namjoon-ssi?” Taehyung whispers, because he’s simply too curious.

Seokjin shakes his head. “Met him once, only briefly. I can see why Yoongi was so crazy about
him before.”

Taehyung takes a fleeting glance at Yoongi who is talking to a middle-aged beta with a goatee.
The alpha is gesturing wildly with his hands as he speaks.

“Those – two?”

“Yeah, way back in the day,” Seokjin says under his breath. “I’m sure Jimin knows as well, he’s
been shooting murderous glances in Namjoon’s direction since he arrived.”

Getting confirmation that Namjoon is into other alphas is like a canister of fuel being poured into a
campfire. He’s worried that he’s scent will spike, the sweet layer on top fading into the
background and being replaced by a muskier blend. It would be beyond embarrassing.

It has been one strange evening, and the party has barely even started yet. Seokjin doesn’t seem
mad that Taehyung can’t tear his eyes away from the alpha. He doesn’t demand all his attention on
himself. Instead he’s indirectly calling Namjoon hot, almost encouraging Taehyung’s behaviour.

Fuck.

Taehyung needs to get home and knot his hand and take three cold showers and then maybe jerk
off some more, although not even that will probably help.
 •••

Jimin gets up to his feet to go check if everyone has their glasses when he accidentally clinks the
foot of his champagne flute with a cake fork. All heads in the room snap in hid dreiction with
curious expressions and encouraging smiles.

Waiting for Jimin to give a toast.

Jimin had kept the supply of alcohol pretty low for multiple reasons – for once he wanted to give
Taehyung and Seokjin an opportunity to really talk without alcohol clouding their judgements and
possibly making them say and do things they would otherwise regret. He also wanted to avoid
ending up in an awkward position such as this, out of clumsiness caused by inebriation, but
somehow misfortunes always have a way of finding Jimin, alcohol or not.

Taehyung and his beta-to-be are standing near the window. Seokjin is tactically leaning against the
windowsill, arm outstretched behind the small of Taehyung’s back. They were somewhere out of
sight until now, and Jimin can only hope that nothing happened between the two, especially if it
was his bedroom they used as a hiding spot. Another curious observation is that Kim Namjoon
keeps throwing rather intense looks in the pair’s direction, instinctively shuffling closer even
though he’s still talking to one of their producer friends. Yoongi introduced Jimin to each of them,
calling Jimin his friend or something vague like that, never using Jimin’s subgender as an easy
conversation point.

All of them were nice to him, no one questioned why Jimin even was there. Even Namjoon showed
little interest in being his mortal enemy. The alpha complimented Jimin’s clothes and the food and
asked about Jimin’s work like a normal person.

Jimin hopes Namjoon won’t try to fight Seokjin for Taehyung’s attention. Unfortunately it
wouldn’t be a first, even if Seokjin’s status as a beta is a wild card. Jimin just wants to spare his
friend from the possible drama and heartbreak.

Jimin clears his throat and forces himself to stare at the wall.

“I… sort of figured I should probably make some sort of toast, you know, as the most
inconsequential person in this room.” The self-deprecating joke feels good, it makes Jimin feel
more in control.

“You see,” he says, pressing the glass of knockoff champagne against his chest, the drink still
sparkling happily in the tall flute, “I had no idea Yoongi hyung was a famous producer. In fact, I
initially thought he was just an incredibly uncool person with weird manners and more love for his
cat than the whole of society.”

Some people laugh, but Yoongi looks mildly horrified. In a backwards way it fuels Jimin’s verbal
panic.

“First I was certain we would have absolutely nothing in common and would end up despising each
other. I mean we do, or did, but there are some redeeming qualities about him. For one he’s rich
and famous and –,” Jimin grimaces, realising how deep a hole he’s digging himself with that
sentence, “– but he’s still incredibly humble, in his own way. Hyung asked me if I happened to
know who IU was, and that short conversation finally brought me to understand the scope of my
misunderstanding."

Jimin holds a pause, letting his gaze travel over the small crowd.

"Some time ago I accidentally found about his past as an underground rap artist. The music wasn’t
quite my usual style, but I appreciated the raw emotion conveyed by the lyrics. A true modern-day
poet with a fragile heart, perhaps? Who would've known? And this entire speech is much more
about me than it’s about Min Yoongi, isn’t it?” Jimin adds with a forced laugh.

He needs to stop, needs to knock back his sparkling wine and shut the fuck up, but much to Jimin’s
dismay his mouth is operating completely on its own accord. “Most of you probably know Yoongi
hyung also has a second job of keeping troubled omegas like me in line. So, instead of IU who
probably is shooting her new drama someplace cool right as I speak, he got me and my colourful
band of friends pestering him instead. But he never complains, because he’s such a nice guy,
right?”

His colleagues nod, eyes gleaming with amusement. Yoongi looks small and red.

“In fact he’s so nice it’s really hard to find anything to make fun of. So you just end up praising
him by accident, praising his work ethic and consideration for others. Even his sense of fashion
seems to be improving, although that might be courtesy of Namjoon-ssi and his style advice,”
Jimin adds, gesturing at Yoongi’s slumped form on the couch.

Namjoon raises a brow, but his eyes are lit up in a repressed smile.

“I propose that we raise a toast in the honour of producer Min Yoongi of Genius Lab, a multiple
Daesang winner, an industry-renowned hitmaker, and also my alpha.”

For an unknown reason Jimin omits the last part about Yoongi being his temporary mate. It was a
tiny slipup, just a weird choice of words, he tries to convince himself.

When Jimin dares lift his gaze again, Yoongi’s mouth is agape, and his eyes glisten with
something wet. Jimin looks at Taehyung for support, but the younger alpha is grinning too widely
for that to help. Jungkook is smiling as well with his two front teeth peeking out.

They raise their glasses and drink to that, drink to Jimin calling Yoongi his alpha, the person who
put a collar around his neck and made him fuzzy and incomplete inside. Made him feel like an
omega.

At least the wine is decent, Jimin thinks with a fond kind of bitterness.

•••

Getting the last guests, namely Jungkook and Hoseok, to leave is a hurdle. Hoseok wanted to see
all of Yoongi’s Daesangs, and Jungkook tried to talk to Namjoon whenever he could, even though
it was mostly nervous mumbling. Thankfully the alpha accommodated Jungkook’s fanboying
kindly, even signed an autograph and promised to send Jungkook an album he was producing at
the moment.

As far as the ruse went, the party was a great success. Taehyung left with a spring in his step, and
Seokjin suspiciously exited the flat right after him. Even the cake was edible, and Jimin got
compliments and back pats for his nonsensical speech.

The only problem remaining is that Yoongi has been avoiding Jimin like the plague since the toast,
having conversations with his colleagues and Hoseok and barely sparing Jimin a fleeting glance.
Jimin knows he has to confront Yoongi about it as soon as they’re alone, and it kind of makes him
want to throw up. He can’t even remember all the things he said during the toast, doesn’t know
what could’ve offended the alpha so much.

So when Yoongi slips back into the kitchen after checking on Holly, and they’re finally alone, with
nothing to do except wash some dishes and take out the trash, Jimin wants to scream at Yoongi’s
silence.

“What? Are you mad at me for something?” he asks, tone far colder than he was intending.

Yoongi’s eyes flash with something and then he’s right there, a split-second later, almost pressing
his nose against Jimin’s.

“Why must you torture me like this, omega?” Yoongi asks in a broken voice. He draws in a shaky
breath which turns into a laugh at the end.

“Not giving me even the shortest break? You must know how hard it is for me to let you retreat to
your own bedroom every night, how hard it is for me not to touch you when I want to, and then
you do all this just to throw me off even more. Isn’t that quite cruel of you, Jimin-ah?”

“I – I haven’t said you can’t touch me. You made that rule yourself,” Jimin says. His voice is just
as unsteady.

Yoongi hauls a handful of Jimin’s hair into his fist and tugs. There’s not much force behind it at
all, but Jimin’s scalp is still a bit tender after the bleach, and he can’t help but wince. Yoongi
releases his hold immediately, but it’s kind of too little too late, because the tiny twinge of pain was
enough to set off Jimin’s submissive reaction. He whimpers and tries to present his neck in the way
Yoongi was holding him before, trying to be good.

He’s probably getting a little wet as well, only a small trickle but an ample amount to cause an
embarrassing spike in his own scent. He feels like prey, feels like he should run. But another
instinct urges him to freeze, to give in.

It’s always instinct and pheromones. It’s always Yoongi.

“What do you want from me? How do you wish to touch me?” Jimin asks with a whisper. He still
feels Yoongi’s fingernails on his scalp like a ghostly burn. He wants the touch back.

“God, I don’t really know, Jimin-ah. Want to kiss you, I guess. Want to treat you well,” Yoongi
murmurs, dazed, eyes like two little panes of fogged up glass.

“Are you saying cheesy things because you like my new hair?” Jimin attempts to joke, cocking his
head to the side. Yoongi’s eyes fixate on Jimin’s scent gland partly obscured by his collar.

The alpha’s veiny hands fly up to his neck and start tugging at the buckle without a warning. Jimin
experiences a whole-body shudder at the sensation.

“Need – need to get this off,” Yoongi chants, ignoring Jimin’s question as he works the collar
open, “need to see you, need access –”

Jimin feels boneless in Yoongi’s hands. The strip of leather falls to their feet with a thud, and
 Yoongi’s fingers are all over Jimin’s bare skin in an instant, swiping over his gland and pulse
points. The alpha is licking his lips as though he’s just about to kiss him senseless, make him
whimper.

“May I kiss you, Jimin-ah? I want to feel you. Please.”

The alpha does beg prettily.

“Was it the hair or me listing your achievements? Or when I called you my alpha? Tell me and I’ll
let you,” Jimin teases. He brings his hand up and taps at the seam of Yoongi’s lips. The alpha
looks wild, feral, like he’s about to bite Jimin’s fingers off if he keeps playing with fire.

“Everything. Everything, just phh–please.”

“Kiss me then, alpha. You can.”

Yoongi sighs in contentment, and he presses their lips together in a kiss that is sloppy and tender at
the same time, lots of tongue and teeth but minimal force. Yoongi’s mouth is open and wet, and
Jimin feels like a drowning man, chasing Yoongi’s lips as the alpha leans back, hauling Jimin into
his arms, into his embrace. They might lose balance like this and fall to the floor in a heap of limbs,
but Jimin hardly cares, he wants to make out forever, sprawled out on the floor, against the nearest
wall.

This kiss is very much them, too little and too much at same time, a careful exploration of each
other’s mouths with a pressing urgency behind every action.

Yoongi’s hand wanders down to Jimin’s ass and squeezes, and more slick gushes out of him
perfectly on cue. The kiss turns almost filthy, lots of spit and the tart aftertaste of sparkling wine on
Jimin’s tongue.

“Omega,” Yoongi growls against Jimin’s mouth, “omega, Jimin, Jimin.”

Jimin likes the sound of that. He wants to try, too.

“Alpha. Yoongi. Mine.”

Chapter End Notes

You know what happens in the next chapter..

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Ask For It
Chapter Notes

They have sex.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The silence is fruity and light this time, not as overbearing as usual.

Or maybe Jimin is just that aroused that he no longer gives a fuck.

“I think I’m pretty wet,” he remarks almost casually, as if he didn’t just call Yoongi his.

The alpha’s hand freezes, and there’s a growl, small at first but something that bellows and soars
rapidly. Yoongi is momentarily blinded by his instincts, made dumb and pliable. So Jimin takes
advantage – taps Yoongi’s forehead with the pad of his finger and takes a step back.

As expected, the alpha is instantly in on Jimin’s game, standing still but in a crouched position,
knees bent and teeth slightly bared.

“I’m going to bed. You can follow me in five minutes, if you’d like,” Jimin says and turns on his
heels.

He half expects Yoongi to simply scoop him up like a sack of potatoes and force Jimin’s soul open
with his knot against the nearest available surface.

But the attack doesn’t come. The alpha looms, he stalks from his vantage point as Jimin takes a
few steps toward his bedroom.

“No,” Yoongi suddenly says. He’s breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling, tongue darting
out to taste the air.

“No?” Jimin repeats in a breathy voice. His heart feels as if it’s pinned between the walls of his
throat. He experiences another pressing wave of fight or flight.

“My room, omega. Go to my bed instead.”

“Oh,” Jimin says. He’s on fire, must be red like a boiled beetroot, but it’s not shame that’s causing
it, not apprehension. He only wants to have Yoongi close.

Jimin goes, but he stops at Yoongi’s door, hand on the cool metal of the door handle. He feels a
presence behind him, a void. “I said five minutes, hyung. I need – I need a moment.”

Yoongi doesn’t move, there’s just more of his alpha scent permeating the air, demanding space
that is already scarce between them.

“When I’m walking through that door, you’ll be right behind me, won’t you?” Jimin says. It’s not
even a question.
Yoongi groans in reply, and Jimin wishes he could see Yoongi’s face from his position, the wild
look in his eyes. It must be magnificent.

Jimin lets out a tense sigh. “You’ll fuck me when we get there? I will spread my legs and ask for it,
and you’ll take good care of me?”

“Yes,” Yoongi finally says. It sounds wet somehow, as though the alpha’s mouth is full of saliva.

“And if it gets too intense, you’ll stop when I ask you to? Even if – it was just my scent that went
sour, would you stop even then?”

“You already know the answer, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin’s head swims, words like breed and fuck and submit running frantic circles at the edges of
his conscious mind, closing in at every circuit. He pushes the door open and sees that Yoongi’s
room is dimly lit, neat. It’s an alpha’s den, Jimin’s primal brain screams.

“Have you imagined bringing me here?”

“Every day,” Yoongi confesses, “drove me crazy, pup.”

“Tell me how exactly you’d have done it. I want to hear.”

Yoongi lets out a small whine. He closes their distance, at last, hands circling Jimin’s waist from
behind, pulling him close enough for Jimin to feel the alpha’s erratic heartbeat.

“Is a long recount of my dirty fantasies an instant turn-on for you, or do you simply wish to
humiliate me?” Yoongi asks. He takes Jimin’s earlobe between his teeth and explores his way up,
nibbling gently.

Jimin shudders. “It’s both, I think.”

He realises that he has gotten fully hard from nothing but a few sloppy kisses, like an
inexperienced virgin.

“When I come to take off your collar at night… that is always the most difficult part of the day for
me,” Yoongi whispers right into Jimin’s ear. “You’re all sleepy and tired from work, and you smell
exhausted but so sweet, always so sweet, Jimin-ah. Want to lift you up into my arms so that you
don’t have to walk another metre on your tired feet, want to take you to my bed right where I can
see you. Where nothing can hurt you, except for me.”

More slick gushes out of Jimin, and he catches himself leaning back into Yoongi’s tight embrace.
The alpha’s chest is so broad and safe.

“Th–that doesn’t sound all that naughty, you know that right?” Jimin says hoarsely.

“It doesn’t?” Yoongi murmurs, his voice like molten chocolate. “How about the part where I flip
you onto your belly and fuck you unconscious. And then I’ll watch over you as you sleep like a
princess, plugged up tight with my knot.”

Jimin takes a wavering breath. “Getting there. But that’s kind of creepy, too. Weirdo.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly. His large hands travel down in a symmetrical pattern, stopping just above
Jimin’s cock. “Well, you asked. And I’m just crazed enough to confess.”

Jimin tries to rock into Yoongi’s palm to get some friction, anything, but it’s too high up, and he
makes a sound of frustration. Yoongi pinches Jimin’s helix between his teeth and steadies Jimin’s
hips in response.

“You said something at the door, about spreading your legs and asking for it. I want you to.”

Jimin saw a glimpse of Yoongi’s silver tongue during their partially failed attempt at sex, but
nothing could’ve prepared him for this, for the uncompromising nature of Yoongi’s actions, the
way he spills filth from his pretty petal lips in such a casual way.

Yoongi’s nose grazes Jimin’s scent gland, and he sees shooting stars. It feels swollen and
oversensitive like it would in heat.

“Will you be a good boy for alpha, hmm?”

Fuck.

That’s it for higher brain function.

Yoongi’s hands are gone all of a sudden, giving Jimin space to get on the bed and spread his legs,
just as Jimin said himself.

Jimin fumbles with the small tortoise shell buttons of his shirt, still not daring to look at Yoongi
who hopefully is getting undressed as well. The quicker the better. Jimin’s shirt is cut in a
masculine design, but the fabric is sheer like a woman’s blouse would be. It slips off his shoulders
with sensual ease. He pops the button of his slacks, too, but the fabric gets rolled around his thighs
and he almost trips and falls. Yoongi is there in a flash, steadying him. The alpha’s trousers are
gone, and Jimin can feel his growing hardness and the warmth of his bare chest against his back,
between an undone row of buttons.

“Look at me, omega.”

Jimin shakes his head, pressing his eyes shut like a small child pretending that he can make the
world disappear. Clearly displeased with Jimin’s defiance, Yoongi licks a wet stripe along the line
of his throat, right over his gland, and Jimin produces a sound two octaves above his natural range.

“Why not,” the alpha croons.

“Might jump you. Forget all about being good.”

“Oh no we can’t have that.”

“Might want to kiss you again, too.”

Yoongi spins him around faster than humanly possible, and Jimin sees swirls of pink and grey, the
intricate patterns on Yoongi’s shirt. Then they’re kissing again, wet and messy, teeth colliding.
Yoongi is trying to get rid of his shirt without breaking the kiss off, grunting against Jimin’s mouth
at his slow progress.

When they finally part, both of them are panting, squirming, desperate to get off. And this time
they have absolutely no excuses. There are no lingering hormones from their cycles making their
scents more potent. They aren’t drunk out of their minds. It’s just Jimin and Yoongi, Jimin and
Yoongi.

Jimin tugs his boxer briefs down. They’re drenched in slick and precum and land on the floor with
a wet thud. Yoongi watches him with insatiable hunger as he mirrors the action.

The alpha takes his cock in his hand, weighing it in his palm. It’s so pretty and pink, and the tip is
leaking profusely.

“You have a big dick,” Jimin breathes out with a quiet laugh.

Yoongi’s long fingers circle the base of his shaft and squeeze, hard.

“You’ve seen it before, silly,” the alpha answers, grinning from ear to ear. With his small mouth
it’s a bizarre, unfamiliar sight.

Jimin takes a step back, eyes still on Yoongi’s cock. He kind of wants to sink to his knees and force
it down his throat to see just how much of it fits, but he does the opposite. Jimin backs away until
his calf hits the edge of the bed, and he flops down with a bounce.

“How do I look in your bed?” he asks in a coy tone and sucks a part of his bottom lip into his
mouth.

“Like you’re meant to be used,” Yoongi replies.

Used.

Fucking hell, Min Yoongi.

It’s really hard not to show how affected he is by the simple dirty talk. Jimin’s hole clenches wildly
at the thought of Yoongi just plunging in, no prep, a hand fisting his bleached hair without concern
for his sensitive scalp.

Jimin licks his lips and shakes his head to get the aggressive fantasy to fade into the background.
He lifts his legs on the bed and tucks them under himself, getting up on his knees. Yoongi stares at
him, still fisting his cock with the head beading with copious amounts of precum.

Sex is something he can do, Jimin reminds himself. He’s really good at it.

Jimin braces his palms on the bedsheets and arches his back a little. His cock hangs hard and heavy
between his legs, throbbing, begging to be touched. He ignores it for now, flutters his lashes, flicks
his head to the side just enough to tease Yoongi with a clear view of his scent gland. He feels his
own scent at the back of his nose, burning. It must be even stronger to an alpha’s nose, even more
inviting. Yoongi’s level of self-restraint is astonishing.

“You smell amazing, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi decides to comment right at that moment. The alpha’s
thick cock is getting an angry shade of purple.

“Thank you. But how come you’re just standing there?” Jimin asks quietly. Slick is dripping down
his clenched thighs, and one trickle has already reached his ankle, seeping into the mattress.

“I’m still waiting for you to – how did you put it – spread your legs and ask for it.”

Jimin hisses out a curse under his breath, because he did dig himself into that particular hole. It’s
bizarre how Yoongi can slip in and out of feral alpha mode as he pleases, how he can just wait.

Aiming for grace, which is mostly a hopeless effort, Jimin turns 180 degrees and lets his head hang
low, the back of his neck bared. He slides his knees apart, so wide he’s practically presenting his
hole for Yoongi.
Controlled chaos.

Yoongi chokes on his spit somewhere behind Jimin.

Jimin knows why Yoongi is doing this – the alpha is giving Jimin all the keys, all the power to
stop whatever is going on between them – but it’s almost scary how much Jimin wants to keep
going, even if it means he has to beg a little.

“Hyung, come here,” he says in a mousy voice, the vowels short and thin between his vocal cords.

“Nicely, Jimin-ah. Ask nicely.”

Jimin’s mind starts to blur, his world narrowing down, but the wills the familiar fog to clear up. He
wants to remember, all of it. Wants to remember Yoongi’s gasp of relief as he finally sinks in knot-
deep, his fingers digging red crescent moons into Jimin’s skin as he comes.

Wants to remember hanging off Yoongi’s swollen knot like a toy.

Where the fuck did that thought come from?

Jimin wiggles a bit on the bed, desperate for a distraction. “Ahh–alpha. It aches, and I’m so wet.
Will you please come and make it better?”

Yoongi is silent for three and a half seconds, which Jimin diligently counts in his head. “Yes, pup.
I sure will.”

“All you do is make empty promises. Hurry up.”

Yoongi tsks. “Impatient.”

But the alpha obeys. He climbs on the bed, making the mattress dip, making Jimin whine. Two
long fingers slide into Jimin just like that, and he lets out a surprised yelp, clenching around the
intrusion on instinct. Yoongi’s tongue is back at the nape of his neck, spreading saliva over the
spot where an alpha might nip at their omega to settle them. Jimin can almost feel how his limbs
would go limp, how his head would bleed out of everything but pure sensation.

Jimin hasn’t been bitten by an alpha in years. Not after he realised how vulnerable it left him.

Yoongi’s free hand closes around Jimin’s cock without a word and starts slowly, meticulously
jerking him off, twisting his wrist for added stimulation. The fingers of his other hand stay
unmoving inside Jimin, only brushing against his walls by accident.

“Are we going to bicker every time we try to have sex? Are we those type of people now?” Jimin
grunts and tries to fuck into the tunnel of Yoongi’s hand, but the alpha’s touch in turn becomes
lighter and more teasing with every thrust of Jimin’s hips.

It’s hell, Jimin’s thighs quiver, and his scent gland is on fire.

“We can bicker, we can stay silent. Anything you want, pup. But it won’t change the outcome.”

Yoongi lets his fingers slip out of Jimin, and the emptiness is even more horrifying than the static
pressure of Yoongi’s fingers just being there. The alpha shifts behind him, rustling the sheets, and
then he’s entering in a slow, unrelenting push that punches air out of Jimin’s lungs.

“Hnnhh– so you’re not for vanilla missionary with the lights switched off?” Jimin wheezes whilst
trying to keep his balance.
“I like missionary, too,” Yoongi gasps. He’s so deep already, fully slotted in. “And we didn’t
bother with switching on the lights, as you can see.”

The alpha starts moving, thrusting into Jimin at a steady pace. There’s slick everywhere under
Jimin, and the damp sheets are sticking to his knees.

“And yet all this doesn’t feel all that vanilla. You made me beg, and o–ohh fuck.”

Yoongi kisses Jimin’s neck with an open mouth. “You made me beg first. Cunning little omega,”
he adds in a fond tone.

There’s smile in the alpha’s voice, too, smile and lust. The thrusts become more forceful, and
Jimin tries his best to meet them in the middle, slowly sliding toward the headboard as Yoongi
fucks him across the bed.

“You look so hot like this, Jimin-ah, all spread out for me,” Yoongi blabbers. Some of the
phonemes falling out of his mouth are nigh incomprehensible at this point. “I’m so fucking weak
for you.”

Jimin’s teeth rattle, and he’s just full, too full to form a response.

His toes curl as Yoongi changes the angle a bit so that he’s hitting his prostate dead-on instead of
crazing it accidentally. Jimin lets out a broken sob at the heightened pleasure and moves to stroke
himself. Yoongi doesn’t stop him, but he closes his own fingers around Jimin’s, using his stubby
fingers like an improvised fleshlight.

Controlling the pace.

Jimin squirms in too much, but the alpha is relentless, pleasuring Jimin with quick, purposeful
tugs. When the slide becomes drier, the precum not enough anymore, he simply pries Jimin’s palm
open and spits into it, and then goes on like nothing happened.

“Fuck, that’s – gonna come soon if you don’t –“

“Come for alpha. If it feels good, just let go.”

Jimin arches his back and comes with a sharp cry, spilling his watery cum into his own hand, damp
and warm between Yoongi’s fingers. As soon as he’s finished, Yoongi guides his hand to his open
mouth, cum-covered fingers pressing against his bottom lip.

Hesitation lukewarm in his gut, Jimin lets his jaw go lax. Yoongi guides Jimin’s fingers into his
own mouth, dragging the cum all over his tongue. The taste isn’t horrible by any means, omega
cum is pretty bland, and Jimin’s diet is on the healthier side these days, but the sheer humiliation
of having to suck his own fingers clean whilst Yoongi is still rutting against his ass, cock buried
deep inside – it’s heavy and acute and Jimin kind of wants to die.

With gentle force, Yoongi nudges Jimin to tilt his jaw back, to accept the fingers deeper into his
mouth. Jimin can’t see Yoongi’s face from his position, but he’s sure that the alpha is driving
himself crazy, staring at the way Jimin’s chubby fingers sink between his lips. He must be trying to
guess just how far down he could force his cock before Jimin would choke and gag. To dampen
his shame and to give Yoongi a good show, he makes obscene slurping noises and lets the tips of
his fingers press against the back of his throat, a sure-fire way to get his throat to convulse.

Yoongi pants at the sight, and Jimin can feel the alpha’s cock twitch inside him.
When Jimin’s fingers are thoroughly clean, Yoongi releases his hand and wipes his own digits on
the corner of Jimin’s mouth without care, as if Jimin is nothing but his personal cum rag. But then
the alpha takes Jimin’s saliva-slick chin between his thumb and forefinger and guides it to the side.
Much to Jimin’s surprise, Yoongi doesn’t hesitate crashing their lips together, claiming and
possessive. The kiss turns open-mouthed, and Yoongi ends up eating the rest of the cum off
Jimin’s lips, like he’s hungry for it.

And he compliments the fucking taste, too.

Despite the awkward angle, Jimin can’t think of a time where he would’ve been this turned on by a
single kiss. His spent cock, soft and sensitive between his legs, twitches with the effort to harden
again, and he can feel slick escaping from his hole, sliding down to coat Yoongi’s balls as well.

“Tell me when you’re ready to continue. Or if you want to stop here, that’s also an option.”

“You enjoy a ruined knotting that much?” Jimin asks with an airy laugh.

Yoongi snaps his teeth in the air just above Jimin’s nape. He shudders violently at the tiny burst of
air. The sound goes straight into Jimin’s cock.

For a moment Yoongi just breathes against his neck, inhaling Jimin’s scent, basking in it, but then
he reaches a hand below their joined bodies and finds Jimin’s cock that is filling rapidly again. His
fingers trail over his sensitive cockhead, and Jimin tries not to whimper.

“You’re such a brat. I never knew I would enjoy having a brat,” Yoongi says fondly. “Maybe I
should fuck your thighs instead and knot you right there,” he emphasises his words by tapping at
Jimin’s taint and making him jolt, “let you feel my knot swell with no way of getting any pleasure
out of it.”

Jimin shakes his head, mouth opening to form an objection, but Yoongi presses a finger to his lips.
It smells of Jimin’s slick, sweet and heady.

“I want to see your face, omega. You keep hiding from me and I don’t like it,” he whispers, and
Jimin’s insides do a wild somersault.

Yoongi grabs Jimin’s middle and rolls him onto his back, grabbing his thighs to press them up, out
of the way. Jimin bends in half with the agility of a dancer, and Yoongi is already pushing back in,
calling him good omega, praising him for taking all of him so well.

Jimin keeps his eyes open, enjoying the sight of Yoongi on top of him, flushed and pretty and so
eager to be inside Jimin.

Yoongi fucks him with intent, every snap of his hips meaningful, aimed at Jimin’s prostate. Jimin
feels like he could come again at any moment.

It’s glorious.

But suddenly Yoongi seems to hesitate, his hips rolling in more languid, shallow motions. The
alpha’s nose is scrunched up, and his brows are knitted together in concentration. Jimin is all too
familiar with the look.

“Are you close?”

“No,” Yoongi gasps after a suspiciously long silence.

“You’re this close to coming, aren’t you?” Jimin repeats in triumph, clamping down on Yoongi’s
cock with everything he’s got.

“Haven’t – had anyone in a while,” the alpha pants against Jimin’s neck, exhales heavy and wet.
“J–just fuck my hand in the shower, quick and easy, nothing left to clean up. But –”

Jimin blows his sweaty fringe out of his eyes and squirms on Yoongi’s cock. “Bet you want to
make a mess in me. On me?”

Marking territory, what an alpha thing to desire. Predictable, Jimin thinks.

Yoongi puts hands on Jimin’s shoulders and pushes until Jimin is pinned against the mattress,
unable to move at all.

“Maybe,” Yoongi answers with a tiny growl. The alpha’s face is so close, and his scent gland is
right there too, and Jimin’s gums are on fire, teeth aching. He cranes his neck to reach it, reach the
source of alpha, until his vision gets narrow and only his target remains. Yoongi tilts his neck
easily, low noises escaping his open mouth. They get even louder when Jimin digs the tip of his
tongue into Yoongi’s gland. Sweetness explodes on Jimin’s tongue, and the need to bite the alpha
intensifies by a tenfold.

If he did, Yoongi would bite back until they’d both be purple and raw all over, bleeding into each
other’s wounds. They wouldn’t know how to stop. Omegas don’t usually bite their alphas outside
the mating ritual, and even then it’s the alpha who initiates it, claiming the omega first. The alpha
in Yoongi would force him to push Jimin into submission, and in the end Jimin would go down.

“Are you going to knot me now?” Jimin asks to distract himself from the terrifying realisation. He
licks over his teeth to soothe the pain in his teeth, but that only makes the ache worse. Yoongi
seems to be in a similar predicament, eyes glossy on the surface. His canines look so long and
sharp, and his breaths are coming out ragged.

“One of these days,” Jimin says in a dark, smooth tone he manifests out of nowhere, fuelled by his
frantic inner monologue, “I’m going to tell you to fuck your hand like you normally would, and I’ll
watch those pretty fingers wrap around your knot in a desperate attempt to make it good for
yourself, all the while I’m right there, a nice, warm hole you could be using instead.”

Yoongi cries out at Jimin’s filth, and his knot starts swelling at a rapid pace. The alpha is growling
louder in response, making most of his capacity to still thrust in and out, hard enough to make the
bed rattle and squeak in its wooden frame.

The hazy headspace Jimin has been fighting all the way through washes over him, forcing his
muscles to go lax in Yoongi’s firm grip. The alpha forces his almost-filled knot out of Jimin and
then plunges back in, and the surge of pain from the stretch has Jimin seeing little sparks of white,
has him coming for the second time with a sharp howl. His cum spills onto his stomach, spreading
between their bodies in a layer of white.

His orgasm milks Yoongi’s knot, and the alpha’s mouth opens into something that sounds a lot like
a bark. Yoongi’s teeth snap at the air over and over again, and his back is arched as he comes
inside Jimin, warm gush after the other, head tilted back to reveal the muscles of his throat. Sweat
glistens on his collarbones, on the dip below his lower lip. Jimin’s thighs are clenched, and he’s
clawing at the sheets.

They’re like two wolves in a frenzy, crazed by the rising moon.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you, Yoongi?” Jimin cries, honorifics omitted. There are
actual tears in his eyes, blurring his vision.

“Yes, yes pup. Anything, everything,” Yoongi chants. He’s still coming, knot throbbing inside
Jimin. It’s never-ending, and it proves that Yoongi is a virile, good alpha.

Suitable.

Jimin starts crying in earnest, liquid salt sliding down his face and into his mouth, and Yoongi
panics, calling out his name, asking if he hurt Jimin, if he did something wrong.

Jimin shakes his head, but he just can’t stop crying – he’s out of order, sticky with cum and mind
clouded in fog. Yoongi’s knot feels so good pressing against his insides, hurts so perfectly when
Jimin wriggles his hips, trying to adjust to it being there, in the too-small space that has been
forced to stretch, to accommodate Yoongi’s girth.

The alpha dries Jimin’s tears off with his velvety tongue, licks his cheeks clean whenever new
tears appear. He rocks into Jimin idly as new waves of orgasm hit him, but the focus is no longer
on his own pleasure, it’s on monitoring Jimin’s condition.

And Jimin can’t escape, can’t shy away. Can’t turn it into a bitter joke, because they’re literally
tied together, and Jimin asked Yoongi to do that to him.

“Alpha, I’m so full,” Jimin whimpers, turning his head to the side.

“I know, little one. It’ll take a while. Are you crying because it’s too much? Is alpha hurting you?”

“No, it’s – hurts a bit, but I like it. Feel like I could get hard all over again.”

“Good. And don’t even think about it,” Yoongi chuckles in a breathy tone. “I don’t have the
stamina right now.”

“Sure you don’t,” Jimin mutters, letting his eyelids flutter shut.

“Hmm.”

A minute or two passes, Jimin is dozing off, legs wrapped around Yoongi’s waist to make himself
as comfortable as possible. Yoongi’s breathing grows steady after he finishes, but his knot is still
huge, it doesn’t feel like it has gone down one bit.

“Do you want to talk now or after?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin forces his eyes to open. The tip of Yoongi’s nose is almost touching Jimin’s. “Talk about
what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi scolds. “You know we have to talk, even if you meant
nothing you said, even if it was just a heat of the moment thing, I – we deserve an honest
conversation.”

“Fine,” Jimin agrees, dread already swelling inside him. “After a shower. I want to be fully clothed
for this.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.”

 •••

They’ve seen each other’s naked bodies before, touched, fucked – but showering together, shiny
with soap and complaining about the other hogging the water is an unheard of level of intimacy
between them. Yoongi’s elbows glow pink as he shampoos his hair. The alpha washes himself
almost sensually, keeping eye contact all the way through.

He asks if he can wash Jimin’s hair as well, but Jimin refuses, saying he just did that before the
party. The alpha suggests washing Jimin’s back, too, saying he wants to feel useful somehow, to
care for the omega he just ravaged. Jimin blushes furiously at Yoongi’s choice of words, he can
tell because there’s a huge mirror above the sink.

But he agrees, because there really isn’t a reason not to. Yoongi’s warm, slippery hands on him feel
heavenly, and after a while Jimin gives in, spreading his legs, and asks Yoongi to clean him down
there as well. He has always disliked that part.

The alpha hums gleefully as he spreads Jimin’s cheeks and sinks a couple fingers in without
mercy.

Jimin is kind of sore, unused to getting knotted because the alphas he deems trustworthy enough
are few and far between. And Yoongi certainly wasn’t particularly gentle with him.

And yet, somehow despite the humiliating and painful circumstances, Jimin’s dick decides to chub
up in a fraction of a second. Yoongi is cleaning the cum out of him with almost clinical precision,
purposefully avoiding his prostate, but it’s already too late. Jimin is humping the air like a wanton
puppy as the warm water keeps splashing him.

Without a warning Yoongi hooks his finger inside Jimin’s rim and tugs, making Jimin gasp in
shock. He glances down and sees his half hard cock flushed red. He wants to jerk off so bad.

“Keyed up all over again, are you little omega?” Yoongi murmurs. “Need help with that?”

Jimin shakes his head but immediately changes his mind. “Yeah, please.”

“Okay, sure pup. Hands on the wall. I’ll stop if you touch yourself.”

Before Jimin is even done obeying, Yoongi’s hands are back down, spreading him wide open. The
alpha is kneeling on the tiles behind him, and fucking hell – he’s eating his own cum straight out
of Jimin’s ass.

Jimin understands why Yoongi told him not to touch, he would be exploding in a matter of seconds
if he had even a couple fingers wrapped around himself. This type of pleasure is meant to be drawn
out, to be let simmer.

Jimin almost bites his tongue off trying to hold in his moans as Yoongi’s slick tongue slides over
his rim over and over again, slipping inside the ring of muscle with ease.

“You’re so puffy here, so loose and pliant for alpha,” Yoongi comments. The alpha sounds proud
of his accomplishments, high on omega pheromones and the mixture of slick and cum in his
mouth.

Jimin briefly wonders if Yoongi used to eat Namjoon’s cum too, if that’s his thing. The thought
makes him shudder violently, and Yoongi must steady him with a hand on the back of his thigh.
Yoongi’s nails dig into his flesh, an imitation of a settling bite.

“Can you come from this?” Yoongi asks. He’s still giving Jimin’s rim tiny kitten licks between
words, teasing.

“I don’t ahh– know. Probably not, I mean – fuck, hyung.”

“You want to fuck, pup?” Yoongi laughs. Jimin can hear that he’s smiling. “But we’ve got to talk.”

An idea flashes through Jimin’s mind, him fucking Yoongi’s throat, hand fisted in the alpha’s dark
hair – or him fucking Yoongi’s pale and pretty thighs while the alpha stares at him with his feline
eyes, urging Jimin to continue. Would Yoongi like that even if he’s not into penetration?

Jimin’s head swims with sexy visuals, and he’s so hard it hurts, which shouldn’t be physically
possible after two mind-blowing orgasms.

“Just make me come, dammit, and I’ll recite you the entire dictionary if you want,” Jimin hisses,
and suddenly Yoongi is an alpha on a mission, fucking Jimin with his tongue, deep strokes that
leave him quivering. The alpha reaches an arm around Jimin and starts stroking him in quick,
synchronised motions. Jimin comes quickly, cum splattering onto the tile wall, too quickly for his
brain to keep up, and he slumps backwards so that Yoongi has to support most of his weight.

The shower is turned off, and Jimin is wrapped in a fluffy towel.

“We wasted a ton of water,” Yoongi sighs as he pats Jimin dry, as if he’s a small child who can’t
do that himself.

They get dressed in silence, in joggers and loose shirts, and then they settle down on the couch.
Jimin tucks his knees against his chest and stretches the fabric of the shirt over his legs. Yoongi
puts his feet up on the coffee table and tucks an arm under his chin. Only then Jimin notices that
his collar isn’t on, not even the night collar he wears for bed. It makes him almost queasy, because
it implies that Yoongi has already made some decisions on his own. Made up his mind.

“You wanted to talk?” Jimin starts, hesitating, but he also wants to get over with it. It’s astonishing
how quickly the mood shifted, how they were happily having the best shower sex of his life fifteen
minutes ago.

The alpha nods. He looks a little pained, but the frustration is barely there, only a little twitch at the
corner of his mouth. He asks if Jimin wants tea. If Jimin is hot or cold or hungry.

Only after Jimin has convinced the alpha of the fact that he’s just fine, does he continue.

“The sex,” Yoongi says in a voice that is too loud for the space, too clear, like he’s over-
articulating every syllable, “was it just – that? Sex?”

The alpha breathes like a fish on land, in desperate gulps. He doesn’t give Jimin the opportunity to
answer.

“If it was just fucking, I don’t know if I can – if I’m able to detach myself enough to–“ his voice
flickers and then dies out, and the alpha rubs his cheek which is getting pink. “But I don’t know if I
can keep playing house, either, if I can collar you in the morning and send my falsified reports and
not want – just everything I can’t have.”

“Why do you assume it was just fucking?” Jimin asks, trying to sound neutral even though there’s a
horrible churn in his gut.
“Because you’re stuck with me,” Yoongi says, “someone you hated from the start, unable to spend
the night out having sex with people you actually want, so you could’ve just, I don’t know, settled
for me?”

Jimin wants to smile, but he only manages a slanted grimace. “I hate many things, hyung. I hate
having to wear a collar outside just to not get raped by a stranger. I hate that my body is bound to
malfunction without submitting. I can hate things, with great passion, but I’m not a person who
settles for things. Omegas don’t settle. It’s in our biology to only submit to the most suitable
alpha.”

Yoongi puts his leg down with a loud thump.

“I mean, I don’t even know what a relationship with an alpha would look like. I don’t know if it
would even work out when I’m the way I am. I might be barren, I might not ever want to get mated
the traditional way, I don’t know. Mating bites scare me. I would also be a horrible boyfriend, I
think. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been in love, but I can get jealous and annoying. There are only
negatives here, really,” he concludes with a dry chuckle.

Jimin can’t look at Yoongi, not now, possibly not ever. He’s blabbering on, unable to stop himself.
“Everything I said in that improvised speech was true. I can lie, but not under that kind of pressure.
And the sex we had was some of the best I’ve ever had, just FYI.”

Yoongi touches Jimin’s knee through the fabric of his shirt.

“So, you want to be my boyfriend, but not my omega, at least not yet, not until you figure out if
that’s for you? You want to continue to have sex with me, and you want to be exclusive because
you can get jealous. Oh, and you’ll wear your collar out of societal necessity, not because you like
what it represents. Is everything I said thus far correct?”

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath at Yoongi’s bluntness. He’s still not looking at the alpha’s face.

Boyfriend is a heavy word, too. Jimin has only had one boyfriend, if you don’t count his failed
courting with Taehyung.

“I guess that would be the gist of it.”

“Okay. look at me, pup.”

Jimin doesn’t.

“Do you not like when I call you that?” There’s more alpha in Yoongi’s voice, then.

“I like it,” Jimin almost whimpers. “It’s nice.”

“Are you embarrassed? I really need you to work with me here, because I’m scared shitless.”

Jimin finally looks up, and he does see the fear in Yoongi’s eyes, but there’s also brightness, the
alpha is practically glowing from within. And all that is reserved for Jimin.

As though Jimin is worth that much.

•••
[11:18pm] Seokjin: *sent a GIF*

[11:33pm] Baby alpha: that’s so bad, hyung. You’re so old

[11:39pm] Seokjin: I’m old, but I have good skin so it doesn’t count.

[11:39pm] Seokjin: Goodnight ^^

Today:

[10:11pm] Baby alpha: how’ve you been ?? u didn’t text me last night

[10:13pm] Seokjin: I mean you could’ve just as well texted me… I always send you funny dog
pictures and you just reply with a facepalm emoji.

[10:20pm] Baby alpha: that’s not true, once I sent a heart back.

[10:21pm] Baby alpha: It was the labrador puppy with blue eyes. I can take a ss and send you
proof :((

[10:23pm] Seokjin: I don’t know what ss means. What did you eat for dinner?

[10:25pm] Baby alpha: didn’t yet. work’s been piling up

[10:27pm] Seokjin: you should take better care of yourself. Are you hungry, taehyung-ssi?

[10:28pm] Baby alpha: no

[10:28pm] Seokjin: don’t lie to beta

[10:30pm] Baby alpha: Don’t get bossy, beta,,

[10:32pm] Seokjin: how about i make you dinner? tomorrow? ^^

[10:32pm] Baby alpha: I could be persuaded ig

[10:34pm] Seokjin: japchae

[10:35pm] Seokjin: and a blowjob.

[10:35pm] Seokjin: On the condition that you won’t tell silly lies anymore

[10:36pm] Baby alpha: oh but that’s coercion.

[10:37pm] Seokjin: and you deserve to be coerced

[10:38pm] Baby alpha: lemme ask you something

[10:38pm] Baby alpha: do you always flirt this aggressively?

[10:44pm] Seokjin: are we flirting?? I never noticed.

[10:45pm] Baby alpha: I should prob come back with something sassy, but I kinda want that bj
 too

[10:46pm] Seokjin: any overt sassiness will automatically cancel the blowjob. It’s good you know
your place already

[10:50pm] Baby alpha: and your place is on the floor between my legs

[10:51pm] Baby alpha: okay instant regret. it was a joke. j o k e

[10:55pm] Seokjin: oh you *will* regret that :)

[10:56pm] Baby alpha: I’m sorry, betaaaa

Chapter End Notes

I’ve never written and edited this much smut in one go oh my god. I hope it was nice,
maybe?

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Baby Blue Side
Chapter Notes

Jimin practices cultural reappropriation. Seokjin tries to be a cool dom beta.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Yoongi never wanted to be famous, never wanted strangers to expect things from him. He wanted
his belly full of jajangmyeon, wanted to afford a reasonable place to live.

He wanted to impress his father who wouldn’t look at Yoongi in the eye for years, his failure of an
alpha son, no mate nor pack, and no career to speak of. He did poorly at school and got constantly
in trouble for zoning out in class and drumming beats into his desk. In the depths of his depression,
Yoongi couldn’t see any of the care and support around him, the way his brother would call him
just to remind him to eat, or how his mother would fuss over the bags of sleep deprivation under
his eyes.

Meeting Namjoon was simultaneously a stroke of luck and a complete step in the dark, a future
without a foundation. Yoongi will never forget the day he signed that contract. It was 2010 at the
time, and Namjoon had put in a good word for him, given him a chance to pursue music as a
career. Three years later he was finally working on a full studio album for a hip-hop group, his
personal debut in a way.

The years in the loose noose of the fledgling company were nerve-wrecking to say the least. There
were lots of hopeful young people, and a skewed number of male alphas who did everything to
impress the big bosses.

Namjoon was admired by many, but people were jealous of his good standing with the
management, too. He started acting as some sort of informal mediator whenever fights broke out,
which was almost daily, even if the subject of said fight was himself. One time Namjoon was away
for half a day, and a young, hormone-addled alpha, no older than fifteen, started talking smack
about him behind his back, saying he was a ‘fucking sell-out’. Yoongi, who was young and a little
rash himself, took the pup’s neck between his jaws and tried to pin him to the floor in order to
deescalate the situation.

The pup was really strong and unwilling to submit to Yoongi, so the younger alpha wriggled out of
his grip and pushed Yoongi down a flight of stairs they were standing right next to. Yoongi
dislocated his shoulder and hobbled into his room to lick his wounds.

That’s where Namjoon found him a couple hours later, face frozen in horror as he took in his state.
They took the bus to the ER where they barely took a look at what was wrong despite Yoongi
being in terrible amounts of pain.

The doctor said it’s normal for young alphas to play rough, that there was nothing to worry about.
Yoongi is still bitter about it sometimes, bitter that the other alpha didn’t even get fired from the
company.
Namjoon’s worry was the most difficult to accept in the whole situation, the way the younger alpha
shed tears in Yoongi’s stead as though Yoongi’s pain was his own to bear. Yoongi has thought
ever since that Namjoon would make a good pack alpha one day, someone people would follow
blindly. He’s surprised he’s still a lone wolf.

But then again they’ve worked like crazy for the last decade, like dying men on a mission. There
hasn’t been time to go on blind dates, nor has there been time to cultivate a tight-knit group of
loved ones needed for the initiation of a pack bond. That’s why Yoongi started working as a
support mate for the government, just to get some real human contact without the complications of
attachment.

Jimin huffs in his sleep next to him, rolling over so that his cheek is mushed into a patch of drool
in the pillow. This is a thing now, the two of them falling asleep in the same bed, sharing warmth
and silent moments together. Usually Yoongi lets Jimin decide, waits for the omega to come to
him all cute and needy for affection. Jimin will often come after bedtime when they’re both
drowsy and unfocused, but Yoongi can smell his slick despite that.

Jimin leaks and leaks into his underwear until he falls asleep, it’s a nightly routine of blissful agony
for Yoongi’s alpha side.

But the relationship they’re starting to explore is fragile, raw, and it has felt right not to jump back
into rabid fucking. It’s much more tender like this, quiet sighs and simple touches and simmering
arousal.

Yoongi knows they’re in a bubble for the time being, in this blurry half-bliss that won’t last
forever. Yoongi is in a position of power over Jimin, responsible for him, and yet he’s completely
bare and open before the omega. And in the middle of it all, amidst blood and tendon and snapped
bone, lies Yoongi’s heart, exposed for Jimin to prod at, to hold in his palm like a peeled quail egg.

If and when the bubble does burst, Yoongi will be left lying in a puddle of excess love that oozes
out of his orifices, love he has never been able to give. Yoongi stares at the ceiling above,
breathing in shallow lungfuls, in and out, in and out. The shadows cast by the curtains are dancing
on the surface as the curtains sway in the night breeze. They lull him to sleep as his hand finds the
warm skin of Jimin’s arm.

It feels good to know he’s – there.

•••

In his dream Yoongi is back at the company dorms, sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk of a
bunk bed. Jimin is there, too, lounging on a half-deflated beanbag chair. His hair is dark, and
there’s youthful roundness to his face that has since melted away almost completely. Maybe Jimin
did really look like that as a pup, or maybe it’s just his imagination playing tricks on him.

“I presented as an omega, can you believe it?” dream Jimin asks with a pout. His brows are knitted
together, and his jaw twitches with defiance. Yoongi raises his arm and realises it’s thinner than
Jimin’s. He’s all skin and bone, hasn’t eaten properly for days. Jimin smells nice, though, he kind
of wants to eat him.

“Want to be my omega? One day I’ll have a house and a cat, I promise. I’ll make it.”
Jimin dangles his legs off the beanbag chair, pretending to think. “I don’t want to be a kept omega.
Or maybe I do. Wouldn’t that be ultimate empowerment, in a way? I would suck you dry,” he adds
sweetly, kicking the edge of the beanbag. Some of the filling falls out from the tear at the side.

“So, you accept?” Yoongi asks with a dry mouth. He’s leaning forward, leaning toward Jimin,
teeth bared. He catches an ankle, and the omega hisses.

“Bite me, and you’ll see. I dare you.”

Yoongi’s mouth is full of saliva. Jimin’s plump lips part into a grin, he’s extending his foot for
Yoongi like a ballet dancer.

“Hyung, go for it,” he taunts.

Yoongi knows it’s a dream, at the very back of his mind he just knows it doesn’t make any sense
for Jimin to be in that tiny dorm room with him, but he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into the
soft, smooth skin.

And gets kicked square in the jaw.

Realisation comes to Yoongi in one nauseatingly brief second as he recoils with a blinding surge of
pain. Yoongi finds himself upside down, torso hanging off the bed and legs clinging to the sheets
damp with his sweat.

“What the actual fuck, hyung?” comes a sleepy yet thoroughly scandalised voice.

Yoongi forces his body to co-operate and uses his abs to get back on the bed. Jimin is cradling his
ankle, but Yoongi can see faint indents of his teeth on the otherwise unmarred patch of skin.

The mortification sets in approximately three seconds later, washing over him like a bucketful of
ice water.

“I – I had a dream, I’m sorry Jimin-ah.”

Jimin laughs, and it sounds like the metallic noise of a wind chime. “You had a dream? Our first
kiss was botched by me, and having post-heat sex was a joint mistake. So it only makes sense for
you to mess up the first bite as well. You could’ve chosen a sexier spot, and I wouldn’t have been
as mad, but this is just a special brand of miserable.”

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck and tries to look away, but Jimin snaps his fingers.

“Tell me you dreamt of biting me and not someone else, because that would make it even worse.
Like by a lot.”

“It was you, we were bantering or something, and then you started taunting me, and I just felt
hungry and alpha and –“

Jimin flops back on the bed and lets go of his leg, which is definitely going to bruise. “Cannibalism
is not a healthy kink to have, hyungie.”

“You know what I mean,” Yoongi sighs. He smooths out the blanket and lies next to Jimin, even
though he’s not sure if he’s still allowed to. When Jimin doesn’t flinch or leave, he lets some of the
tension release from his limbs and puts a hand over his eyes.

“I know. All jokes aside, this was bound to happen eventually,” Jimin says, touching Yoongi’s arm
with the tips of his fingers. “I just wish we could’ve been adults about a lot of things.

“Me too, Jimin. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin huffs, irritated, and pries Yoongi’s hand off his face. Their eyes meet in the dark, and for a
few seconds the world is still, unmoving. Then, Jimin takes Yoongi’s chin between his fingers and
kisses him on the mouth. It’s hardly more than a peck, but they’re both breathless when Jimin pulls
away.

“This is me being an adult and accepting my instincts,” Jimin explains in his husky voice. “If and
when we have sex later, you can bite me if the urge gets too much. On the condition that you let
me do the same thing, because my gums can only take so much.” The omega grimaces at his own
words.

“We’re having sex later?” Yoongi asks. He knows he has no ground to stand on, no right to tease
after the stunt he pulled, but he can’t help himself. He’s only human, after all.

“I sure hope so,” Jimin answers with an exasperated smile. “Before that bite, I would’ve probably
bent over for you just about anywhere.”

Yoongi groans, and Jimin winks at him. “Now that I know you’re a perverted ankle enthusiast, I
might have to reconsider.”

Jimin takes a glance at his phone and sees it’s five thirty in the morning. He complains that it’s
way too early for alpha nonsense and rolls over, facing away from Yoongi, blankets drawn up to
his ear. All things considered, it’s a rather gentle reprimand.

Jimin falls back asleep in a matter of minutes, tired from his long work week, and for some reason
that is enough to pull Yoongi back into a deep, dreamless slumber as well.

•••

The embarrassments don’t stop there, unfortunately.

The lack of labels and the uncertainty are easy enough to understand for Yoongi’s logical mind.
They’ve known each other for a short while, and it’s messy and problematic to even attempt what
they’re attempting – but the alpha in Yoongi grows restless and clingy as the days roll by. He keeps
fussing over Holly to keep his protective instincts in check and Jimin’s sanity intact, but there are
certain – slipups.

A new problem arises when Yoongi is met with a new set of primal urges he has to reign in –
namely the burning need to hold Jimin’s hand in the most random situations, just to make sure the
omega is there, safe and accessible as he should. Jimin has surely noticed his involuntary twitches,
but the omega is merciful enough not to comment on it. It’s still highly embarrassing, and Yoongi
kind of wants to jump out the nearest window every time it happens.

The custom collars arrive in the mail just in time for Jimin’s weekend dance classes. Yoongi
doesn’t know how to go about it. He takes them out of a fancy white box that looks like the
packaging for a smartphone. One of the collars is baby blue and as thin as a choker with a delicate
yet sturdy d-ring for pendants or even a leash – not that Jimin would ever agree to being dragged
around by Yoongi. The other one is brown leather, one and a half fingers wide, but just as light and
breathable as the first one. It’s easy to see now why they cost a small fortune.

On a whim Yoongi got an engraved tag with his order – it was a complimentary gift so why not,
but he quickly deposits the tag with his own initials in a locked drawer of his desk without even
looking at the damn thing. It would be wishful thinking, anyway, for Jimin to want to wear
something that is equal parts cheesy and patriarchal.

“Hyung, I’m leaving,” Jimin announces from the other side of the door, and breath hitches in
Yoongi’s throat.

“W–wait, I have this –,” he stutters.

Jimin pushes the door open and peeks his head in, eyes narrowed in irritation. “You have what?”

Yoongi has the collars shoved behind his back, but the inconspicuous white box is still on the
table.

“Did you get one of those fancy electronic masturbators, or did your phone break?” the omega
teases. The door opens a bit more, revealing Jimin in his tight workout gear, huge duffel bag slung
over one shoulder.

“Neither,” Yoongi quickly answers in a dull, humourless voice, which makes Jimin frown.

“You remember,” Yoongi tries again, “a couple weeks ago you said the collar makes it harder to
dance, because it’s too heavy.”

Jimin hums. “It throws me off balance sometimes when I spin, but I manage. You know I just
teach little kids.”

Yoongi feels heat rushing to his cheeks, feels dumb.

“It’s nothing, then, I – I was merely under the impression that –,” Yoongi can’t come up with
anything suiting to finish the sentence with, so he stands up so fast his blood pressure doesn’t quite
catch up in time, making little black spots appear in his field of vision.

“Could you kneel for me for just a moment?” he blurts out while still feeling a little lightheaded.
Jimin’s brows shoot up in a comical manner. Yoongi isn’t sure why he requested that, they don’t
even do that most of the time. He expects a fight, an objection, but Jimin just slides bonelessly to
the floor, knees landing on the plush carpet in Yoongi’s studio. Jimin tilts his chin down to bare
the back of his neck, and Yoongi isn’t sure if it’s instinct or rehearsed, with Jimin it could be either.

It feels like cheating, but Yoongi makes quick work of Jimin’s day collar and puts the blue one on
to replace it.

“This is technically a violation of our contract, I’m not supposed to, well you know, give you
anything else to wear,” Yoongi rambles as he pulls the new collar tight. The instructions said not to
leave any looseness for optimal aerodynamics.

Jimin swallows audibly, and his fingers grasp the edge of the collar, grazing over Yoongi’s
knuckles. When he speaks, his voice comes out choked, suffocated.

“You bought me a collar?”

“Two, actually. They’re made for omega athletes. You shouldn’t even notice it while dancing and
exercising.”
“Wah,” Jimin says, standing up unprompted. There’s nothing submissive about his demeanour
today, so his willingness to kneel for Yoongi was a surprise in and of itself.

The omega looks at himself in the mirror on the wall and tilts his neck. “It feels kind of expensive.
I like the blue.”

“You do?” Yoongi sighs in relief.

“You wear a lot of blue, it’s kind of your colour,” Jimin remarks, hauling his bag up again. “I’m
going to be late, so I’d better be off.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the implication of Jimin’s words, but he doesn’t know what to say back. He
wordlessly shows the omega the other collar.

“Cool,” Jimin says in that same, even voice. “I like having options.”

“You’ll still have to wear the black training collar if there’s a risk of running into OWSC people,”
Yoongi reminds, feeling a phantom pain in his limbs and at the back of his throat. It’s probably the
innate need to grab Jimin and never let go.

Just as Jimin is about to leave, Yoongi realises that everyone can see the lack of mating bite on
Jimin’s neck now – the thin, delicate collar only draws more attention to the fact.

“Wait, pup,” he says and scrambles awkwardly in Jimin’s direction. The omega is frozen in place,
eyes blown out in curiosity.

Yoongi raises his arm and slowly presses his wrist against Jimin’s scent gland, rubbing small
circles, giving Jimin time to pull away if he gets uncomfortable or overwhelmed.

“Staking your claim, tiny alpha?” Jimin mutters with a lopsided smile. His eyes are getting
unfocused as the scenting progresses.

“Is this okay? May I –?”

Jimin nods.

Yoongi presses closer, crowds Jimin’s personal space and licks a wet stripe over his gland. The
omega tastes like bottled heaven, and Yoongi doesn’t want to let him go, he needs to bite –

Yoongi takes a quick step back and focuses on breathing through his mouth, and unfortunately
Jimin seems to notice his inner turmoil. The corners of Jimin’s lips curl upwards, and his hazy
expression is replaced with crackling flames that lick Yoongi’s body up and down.

Yoongi is a lost cause, a doomed alpha walking.

Cause of death: Park Jimin’s sly smile.

“It’s very cute when you try to reign in your possessive streak, even if it’s a hopeless effort,” Jimin
says in a nonchalant tone, turning around. The blunt end of his duffel bag punches air out of
Yoongi’s lungs in the process.

“See you later, hyungie. Maybe we can watch a film or something in the evening, if you’re up for
it.”

“Yeah – I’d like that, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi gasps, hand clutched over his abdomen.
Jimin nods and leaves, and Yoongi is glued to place, head full of lilacs, and the ache of a hopeless
romantic a painful throb in the left chamber of his heart.

Jimin’s voice comes from the living room and ruins the tender moment. “Holly-yah, go to daddy!
He’s in the bedroom. Maybe daddy will have time to play with you instead.”

Fuck.

Jimin is a force to be reckoned with, a bright flame dancing on the graves of his foes.

And Yoongi loves getting scorched, apparently.

•••

That night Yoongi is working on a beat in his studio when Jimin calls out for him. The kitchen is
hot and steamy, and Jimin is standing in front of the stove, arms braced against the edge of the
induction plate. The omega’s bangs are matted over his forehead like after sex.

Yoongi stalks closer, knowing that either way it’s going to be a challenge to resist Jimin’s body in
his skin-tight outfit, post-dance sweat mixing in with his scent to form a heady combination.

“I’m trying out this garlicky pasta I saw trending online,” Jimin informs in a proud voice, stirring
something in the pan. The concoction looks slightly burned, but it smells nice, like fresh herbs and
braised garlic.

“Are you now?” Yoongi hums curiously.

Jimin is so pretty when he’s fully concentrated on something, it’s as if his entire posture changes,
confidence flowing freely.

The omega takes a glimpse at him, and Yoongi’s resolve breaks. Jimin in his collar, cooking for
him is straight out of some domestic fantasy with a pastel pink filter slapped on top. Yoongi
reaches his arms around Jimin to wrap them around his petite waist, resting his chin on his
shoulder. Jimin is seemingly unbothered by the display of affection, continuing to cook and only
stopping to scold Yoongi when he clings too much or makes it hard for Jimin to use his arms
effectively.

“Did you have a good day?” Jimin asks after Yoongi has quickly filled Holly’s water bowl, the one
left after Namjoon broke the nice ceramic one.

Yoongi is back to pestering Jimin with his need to be tactile. He drags the tip of his nose along
Jimin’s shoulder, getting closer to his gland but avoiding it to keep the omega operational. He still
can’t quite comprehend that he’s allowed to do all of that, and that Jimin isn’t pushing him away.

“Yeah, ‘m just a little tired,” he mutters.

Jimin clucks his tongue. “It’s the weekend. You work too hard, alpha.”

“So do you,” Yoongi counters, even though the casual address stirs something warm deep in his
gut. “We’re just a bunch of perfectionists, aren’t we?”

Jimin lowers the heat a notch, a good decision seeing that the onions are starting to char black, but
he refuses to answer. The omega is still sporting his new blue collar, and when he turns his head to
flash Yoongi a tiny smile, Yoongi’s heart skips a beat. There’s a small gold accessory hanging
from the D-ring, a small flower by the look of it. Jimin sees Yoongi’s eyes trailing down, and he
pouts.

“My eyes are up here, hyung.”

Yoongi swallows painfully, digging his fingers into Jimin’s hips to stop himself from taking the
small pendant in his hand. “How was the collar? Did it feel more comfortable?”

Jimin licks his lips, tongue pink and wet. “It was. I walked past this shop selling collars and
engraved tags after class, and I bought this little flower thingy because it happened to be on sale,”
he says, toying with the gold pendant. “I guess this is cultural reappropriation or something. Makes
this feel less like a vessel of oppression and more like a fashion piece.”

Yoongi’s heart melts into a puddle that seeps right through his body. “That’s really nice to hear,
Jimin-ah.”

Jimin hums uncommittedly and raises a wooden spoon to Yoongi’s lips. Yoongi darts his tongue
out for a quick taste.

“It’s good. Could use more salt,” he says.

“Noted.”

There’s a brief silence, a comfortable, smooth one. Jimin uses wooden chopsticks to prod at the
contents of the frying pan.

“You’ve been talking to Jungkook’s mate a lot, haven’t you?” Jimin asks in a different tone
altogether.

Oh, the betrayal.

“Who told you that?” Yoongi splutters. They’ve just been late night conversations about life, about
music, about alpha things. nothing special. Nothing to write home about, especially to the omegas.

“Jungkookie did, he caught Hoseok being all lovey-dovey with you on KakaoTalk. Are you
possibly dating me just to gain access to my friend group?”

It takes Yoongi approximately twenty seconds to fully comprehend what Jimin just said, while the
omega continues cooking in smug silence.

“Hoseok is just – we see things eye to eye. He’s easy to talk to. He’s positive where I can only see
the blue side, you know?”

“Sounding awfully a lot like you’re dedicating an entire sonnet to the guy,” Jimin chuckles. “But
worry not, you two have our blessing.”

“How very thoughtful of you, letting us text and everyth–,” Yoongi starts in a dry tone, but Jimin
cuts him off, as if the matter has already been settled.

“Speaking of Hobi hyung, we were placing bets on which of you would win in a fight, Jungkook
and I,” Jimin smiles.

Something electric runs through Yoongi’s body – the words are like bait to his alpha side, making
it stir and rumble restlessly.

“Whyever would you do that?” he asks in a hollow voice.

“You know when packs are formed, the alphas need to decide on the hierarchy in case there are
more than one. My ex-boyfriend joined a pack of eight people, and the three alphas had to fight
each other into submission, because they weren’t able to negotiate it rationally. One of them
sprained a wrist if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi crosses his arms, thrumming with want, the need to show off. Although he isn’t exactly
thrilled at the mention of Jimin’s ex, even though according to Hoseok’s intel, the relationship
never was that serious.

“What conclusion did you arrive at, then?” Yoongi asks, trying to sound casual, only vaguely
interested.

Jimin spins around to grab the salt from the other counter. He has to extend and arm around
Yoongi to reach it, and suddenly they’re incredibly close, chests pressed together. Saying that
Yoongi wants to lick Jimin from the neck down would be an understatement.

Jimin smirks and turns again to face the saucepan. “Sixty forty in Hoseok hyungie’s favour.”

Yoongi could theoretically pin Jimin against the nearest countertop and make him sorely regret his
words, but he kind of wants to hear about the method of calculation they used.

“You are broader and older, I must give you that,” Jimin explains, and Yoongi can hear from his
tone that he’s barely holding in his laughter. “But Hoseok is more agile, and Jungkook tells me
he’s a sight when he lets his alpha side take over. I think he just might pin you to the floor.”

Yoongi shivers, the alpha in him trashing in its societal confines, threatening to slip out, teeth
bared. “You’re playing a dangerous game there, pup.”

Jimin pokes Yoongi on the nose, which makes him let out an involuntary growl. “I’d treat your
battle wounds like a good omega, of course.”

“Where is this all coming from?” Yoongi groans. His hips are making movements that are out of
his control, rutting against Jimin’s backside just the tiniest bit.

“It was just a thought experiment,” Jimin says with a breathy laugh, “we agreed that I would make
a good pack omega because I’m feisty like that.”

“Aren’t pack omegas traditionally the ones who can carry the most pups for the pack alpha?”

“But this would be a progressive pack, you see. I would be responsible for the maknaes instead.
Keep them in line.”

Much to Yoongi’s embarrassment, blood is rushing south at an extremely fast rate, but he can’t
bear to let Jimin go. “Who would be the pack alpha in this cute little scenario of yours? Hobi
then?”

Jimin laughs, sharply. His shoulders tense up. “This was all Jungkook’s idea, let’s make that clear,
you know how he is. But Kim Namjoon. We figured you would submit to him even without a
fight.”

The worst part is that there’s no way Yoongi can challenge Jungkook’s flawless logic.
An alarm goes off on Jimin’s phone, and the omega proceeds to shrug Yoongi off his back, briefly
glancing at where Yoongi is half-hard and confused inside his trousers. The omega takes a
colander out of the cabinet, not even sparing Yoongi a glance as he drains the pot of pasta with a
tight smile.

Yoongi thinks it’s Jimin’s way of saying thank you for the collar without having to sink himself
into such humility.

•••

Sometimes Seokjin gets irritated by common beta stereotypes. His subgender is seen as the least
sexual of the three, balanced and steady, eager to put the needs of others before them. Betas often
stick with other betas because it’s easier, less of a hassle.

The worst part is that in some ways they do hold true at least for him – Seokjin isn’t quite as eager
to stick his dick inside anything that moves, and there are no ruts or heats to pull him into a
mindless frenzy.

But for some reason, Seokjin kind of likes the hassle.

A large part of his sexual gratification comes from sweet humiliation he inflicts on his partners,
feeling like he’s in control of the situation, on top of everything unlike the more instinctive alphas
and omegas he sleeps with. He loves when they lose their minds to him, trust him enough to guide
them through every little step.

His favourites are alphas, because they’re so entirely at the mercy of their biology. Even gentle
alphas like Yoongi and his friend Namjoon have a streak of aggression bubbling up beneath the
surface at all times – and Seokjin is a master in setting those urges off in seconds.

Although sometimes Seokjin has needs too, and that’s why the stereotypes get under his skin.
There is nothing passive and mellow about him, he’s strong-willed and decisive like the more
dominant subgender, and he certainly wouldn’t settle for missionary under the blankets. He’s way
too kinky for that.

Upon first meeting Kim Taehyung, Seokjin wanted to instantly drag him into a quiet room and
tease and prod the little alpha into a crying mess, arrange him just for his own pleasure. He wanted
to feed Taehyung expensive foods and dress him up in pretty lingerie and then come on his face.

Those fantasies supplied him for weeks, even if he felt a little ashamed by jerking off to a practical
stranger who didn’t even bother to contact him again. Not being able to reach the alpha or know
what he thought about Seokjin was excruciating. Under his boisterous and confident exterior there
lies an introverted, tender soul after all.

Thank God for Park Jimin.

Seokjin meets Taehyung at a chain café during lunch hour. These little dates, breaks from their
busy work schedules, have become a habit in the past week or so. Taehyung’s curls have gotten
less pronounced in the humid summer heat, and the alpha is in loose clothing and expensive-
looking loafers that have been tucked in at the heel without mercy, turning them into makeshift
slides.
Seokjin tuts in fond distaste at the destroyed shoes as he settles down in a chair with his iced
americano in hand. He remembers Taehyung saying that he doesn’t like bitter things, so he gets the
alpha a soda. Taehyung drinks it straight out of the can despite the tall glass right next to him.

Seokjin has had many play partners over the years, even short-term boyfriends and girlfriends, but
he has never been quite as infatuated as with Taehyung. The alpha is full of little quirks – he’s
volatile, loud, in some ways the exact opposite of Seokjin himself. It’s almost impossible to predict
what he’ll say or how he’ll act in a certain situation. Taehyung loves to tease over text, loves to
make Seokjin work for every little crumb as though it’s some kind of competition.

Today the alpha doesn’t seem all that confident, though. Taehyung’s shoulders are slouched, and
he’s practically hiding behind his bangs. It’s all because Seokjin suggested they talk, oh the horror.

“About the last time we met –,” Seokjin starts after taking a big gulp of his coffee. He’s a talker,
always has been, and Taehyung is a person who acts. They have to work on it a bit, it’s okay.

Taehyung blushes the prettiest shade of pink, glancing over his shoulder. The café is full of people,
but the background noise works in their favour. No one is paying any attention to them.

“What about it?” comes the curt reply.

“Well, we drank some wine, had a nice time, don’t you think?” Seokjin says, leaning back in his
chair. He feels on edge, has been for days now. Sucking Taehyung’s dick awoke something primal
in him, and he’s not sure what to do about it yet.

“We did,” Taehyung agrees. “The – the food you made was great.”

Seokjin flashes him a crooked smile. After dinner he slid to the floor and took the alpha’s cock out
of his trousers and ordered him to be good and stay completely still. Taehyung tried so hard, the
poor pup, thighs clenching and unclenching with the effort, biting his own hand to keep the sounds
in. Seokjin was delighted to find out that Taehyung has a huge cock even for an alpha. It means he
can make fun of his big, useless cock later, which is clear win in Seokjin’s book.

Even if it made him gag quite a bit. He can live with that.

Seokjin made a big number out of swallowing Taehyung’s cum, after which he stood up to kiss
him to make the alpha taste the remnants of himself on Seokjin’s tongue. Taehyung whimpered
and begged for Seokjin to let him tend to him in return.

Feeling shaky and out of control, Seokjin denied him, said it would be good to talk first about their
kinks and preferences before going all in. Being manhandled by a beta must be new for Taehyung,
and he feared he would’ve been too rough, too eager to grab the alpha by the hair and force him all
the way down on his cock.

Taehyung probably would’ve managed, the eager pup he is, but Seokjin didn’t want to take any
risks.

Seokjin is at a loss for words for a few moments, staring at his plastic cup with a striped straw
sticking out.

“I like you, Taehyung-ssi,” he says lamely.

The alpha huffs out a tiny laugh. “I like you too.” Taehyung’s tone is amused but sincere. Seokjin
lifts his gaze to study his face with great care.
“I want you to be my submissive, but I need to know how far I can push your alpha side, how much
you can take without reaching your limit.”

Taehyung flicks his fingers impatiently, looking around once again to see if anyone is listening in.
“If I’m in the right headspace, almost anything. Biting, pinning me down, verbal stuff. I just don’t
want to be called an omega, everything else is fair game.”

“And how do I recognise that headspace?”

“I think you know,” Taehyung insists.

“I know this is frustrating, but we need to think this through. You haven’t been with betas before,
right?”

Taehyung pauses and then shakes his head, sheepish and cute. Seokjin wants to squish his cheeks.

“I can’t just fuck and bite you into submission, not by sheer brute force like another alpha could,
anyway. I’m strong but nothing compared to a young and healthy alpha like yourself. What has
worked with other alphas might not with me.”

Taehyung nods, eyes wide.

“You might be more inclined to fight back when I try to exert authority over you, even if you as a
person, as Taehyung, are more than willing to submit during a scene or even for just some vanilla
sex.”

“I know that, but I can be good for you, I promise” Taehyung says with an expression that
resembles a sad terrier puppy.

“And you will. You already are, so good for me,” Seokjin sighs. His heart is swelling, expanding
past the confines of his chest cavity. “But in the beginning it might be overwhelming for you, and
it’s okay. We can figure it out together.”

Taehyung doesn’t reply, but Seokjin can hear rusty cogs turning and grinding together inside the
alpha’s brain.

“You said you aren’t completely opposed to the idea of wearing a collar for a scene,” Seokjin says
slowly, carefully. It’s a touchy subject.

“I’m willing to try it out,” Taehyung says with a bit too much force to appear completely natural.
He’s shifting in his chair, vibrating with nerves and anticipation. “I don’t know if – if it would feel
weird. Like wearing a skirt or something.”

“You would look wonderful in a skirt, though,” Seokjin says without thinking.

Taehyung blushes violently. He was getting pink before that already, but now he’s getting a deep
shade of magenta. But behind the superficial shame lies interest.

Seokjin decides to try to tap into that. Taehyung’s embarrassment is so pure, rooted in the conflict
of his peculiar existence. It should be easy to scrape off and replace with something more positive,
at least with enough time.

“Do you really think a collar would make you an omega, or a skirt would miraculously transform
you into a woman?” he asks.
Taehyung pouts. “No. Of course not.”

“There’s my clever alpha,” Seokjin chuckles, which makes Taehyung blush even more. “But we
can drop the subject for the time being. There are other things I can use to compliment my natural
dominance. Have you ever worn a knot ring before?”

Taehyung’s mouth falls open, and he repeats the word a bit too loudly. “A knot what?”

Just then a young man with an unflattering bowl cut passes their table, and Seokjin shushes
Taehyung with a raised hand. The stranger doesn’t even take a glance in their direction.

“Makes it near impossible to pop a knot when I don’t think you’ve earned it,” Seokjin says, letting
his hand flop back on the table. “I get off on control, as you’ve probably guessed by now.”

He feels the tips of his ears grow hot, but somehow his voice remains neutral, tone conversational.

Taehyung lets out an incredulous huff of laughter. His long fingers rap against the side of his soda
can. It’s melon-flavoured. Having Taehyung drink something so sugary and artificial doesn’t sit
right with Seokjin, but he represses the urge to confiscate the can altogether.

“Yes, that sounds – okay yeah. I’ll probably enjoy it because I can see you being into it. Not that I
wouldn’t myself, but yeah…” Taehyung’s voice trails off, but the tension between them remains
like a taut string. Seokjin can see that the alpha is thinking about it, imagining how it would be.
He’s avoiding Seokjin’s gaze, biting into his lower lip.

“Sounds painful?”

Taehyung nods.

“How are you with pain?”

“It’s – it depends, I guess.” Taehyung flashes a tiny smile at his own answer, and it makes him
look incredibly handsome, like a renaissance portrait of a saint.

Seokjin gets the urge to take Taehyung’s chin between his fingers and force him to lock eyes with
him, just to see what would happen, if he would even attempt to resist. He kind of wants Taehyung
to growl at him, to try to fight back so that he can establish their power dynamic once and for all.

It’s a pity they’re in public.

There’s one more pressing matter to talk about. Also, the lunch hour is almost over, and Seokjin
needs to get back to sorting things for a poor omega who attacked her abusive boyfriend after a
night of drinking and ended up in jail for assault. It’s a tricky case, which means he needs to call up
Minho from the legal department for a consultation –

Seokjin shakes his head, trying not to lose focus.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at him, gulping down the rest of his melon soda.

“Taehyung-ssi, before I go… we should probably –,”

“Banmal, please,” Taehyung corrects.

Warmth pools in Seokjin’s gut. “Taehyung-ah, this sseom, or whatever we have going on… I don’t
want to mess this up by assuming things, I’ve done that all too much in the past. But in the case
that I’m not capable of fully satisfying your needs, would you…”
 It’s so fucking hard to say, and Taehyung isn’t giving in an inch. He’s staring at Seokjin, mouth
agape. The collar of his work shirt is slightly crooked, and Seokjin wants to reach over the table to
straighten it.

“Would I what?” Taehyung asks a little breathlessly, as though the oxygen in the air isn’t quite
reaching his lungs. “Already wanting to loan me out, beta?”

Seokjin experiences an alarmingly sharp spike of arousal, and suddenly all he can think of is sitting
somewhere comfortably, giving out instructions as two alphas drive each other wild for his
viewing pleasure.

Two very specific alphas.

But that is probably just a hopeless fantasy, he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

Seokjin wasn’t quite aware of the intensity of his voyeurism kink before this, but he isn’t exactly
upset by the discovery. As long as Taehyung isn’t.

“You’re a devil,” Seokjin laughs, equally out of breath. He might have a boner, in the middle of a
busy café. His body is numb, so he isn’t quite sure if that’s the case.

Suddenly Taehyung gets up, knocking over the empty can in the process. Seokjin grasps
Taehyung’s hand when he realises that the alpha never answered his question. His knuckles are
warm under his touch, fingers long and elegant.

Taehyung understands, because he leans in, just a little bit, so that his breath tickles Seokjin’s
cheek.

“I’m willing to do lots to please you, I think,” the alpha whispers, in a voice so quiet that for a
moment Seokjin thinks he’s hallucinating.

Then, it’s all gone, Taehyung back to his easily flustered self. He has his suit jacket slung over his
arm, tactically covering his crotch area, which suggests that their conversation didn’t solely affect
Seokjin. As he stands up, Seokjin is thankful for the long hem of his shirt which is just enough to
conceal the semi he appears to be sporting like an utter fool.

He hasn’t felt more like a hormonal pup in years.

He wants to see Taehyung crumble.

Chapter End Notes

Sseom ( ) is a flirtatious relationship that is not quite dating but something more
intimate than a friendship (source: Namu Wiki)

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 To Build a Nest
Chapter Notes

cw // consensual somnophilia

Jimin gets a new blanket (it's blue). Jungkook carpools to work.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jimin isn’t sure how they ended up here in this situation, and quite frankly, it doesn’t really matter.
He can always pin the blame on Yoongi if need be.

Jungkook is sitting cross-legged on the rug in Jimin’s bedroom, observing, fiddling with the corner
of a decorative pillow while Jimin groans in frustration as the blanket he’s folding just won’t co-
operate, the edges ending up crooked no matter what he tries.

But whenever he’s about to give up, Jungkook springs to his feet at the speed of a tactical missile
to swat his ass with a firm hand.
Who knew the omega was such a strict teacher?

“You just need to stop thinking, hyungie,” Jungkook repeats for the millionth time. “Your body
knows what feels good and safe, let your inner omega guide you.”

Jimin snorts at Jungkook’s old-fashioned manner of speech. In history people used to believe that
there was an actual wolf attached to each person’s soul by magical symbiosis, and that the wolf
side was the stronger of the two, untameable. But science has proven time and time again that their
omega side isn’t some separate being even if instincts and rationality sometimes collide. That’s
why no one talks about inner omegas and alphas anymore, apart from the few nutcases who roam
the woods drinking animal blood and howling at the moon and probably getting a sore throat and
food poisoning in the process.

“My inner omega is guiding me to kick your ass,” Jimin says, flashing a sweet smile.

Yoongi decides to swoop in right at that moment, carrying a silver tray full of cookies and what
looks like either piss or apple juice. Jungkook’s eyes lit up at the promise of a treat, but Jimin
groans into his hands.

“We’re not five,” he complains as Yoongi hands the delighted Jungkook a huge chocolate chip
cookie.

“Do you need to be five in order to enjoy treats?” Yoongi rumbles and gives Jimin a hard look.
“Besides, you’re behaving like a moody kindergartener. I promised Hobi to keep an eye on you
two, so please refrain from threatening and injuring the guest.”

So, this was the alphas’ evil plan from hell. Conspiring behind Jimin’s back to make him look
stupid.

Jungkook has somehow managed to devour his cookie in two enormous bites, and is now
observing them with subdued amusement, playing with a silver hoop in his ear.

Somewhere deep within Jimin stirs the need to urge to show Jungkook, show that he can be a good
omega like him if he simply wants to. He picks up a cookie from the tray with delicate fingers and
takes a small bite under Yoongi’s watchful eyes. It’s divine, buttery smooth and the right amount
of crumbly to make it dissolve on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Yoongi whispers so quietly Jungkook can’t hear. He then raises his voice before
Jimin has the time to blush. “I’ll go down to the corner store to get some cat food. Can you play
nice until I get back?”

“Just go,” Jimin grumbles and whisks the blanket back on the bed. It physically hurts to have it
messing up the harmony of the nest, and even Jungkook winces at the disarray in omegan
compassion.

Yoongi glares at Jimin one last time, but Holly needs his food, and Jimin needs his space. It’s a
process, okay?

As soon as the door closes behind the alpha, Jungkook’s smile widens, eyes bunching up into tiny
slits.

“My alpha would’ve put me over the knee if I was being that rude to guests.”

Jimin throws himself on the bed, smushing his face into the soft pillows. “But it’s hardly a
punishment when you like it so much, you horny bastard.”
Jungkook only raises his volume at the accusation. “I’m going to tell alpha you called me names.”

“But Hoseok hyung would just agree with me.” Jimin grins into the pillow at Jungkook’s annoyed
huff and lack of a witty comeback. He doesn’t even get hit, which is a plus.

“I don’t have all day,” the omega says after a moment, clearly aiming for a pompous tone. Jimin
rolls onto his back and sees Jungkook looming over him, hands on his hips, staring at the offending
blanket that is still crumpled under Jimin.

“Let’s try to go for volume,” Jungkook decides, “you need to get the walls of the nest high enough
so that it’s safe. Right now something could attack from the side, and you and your alpha would be
sitting ducks.”

Jimin lifts his forefinger in protest. “What do you think would attack me in the middle of this
sprawling metropolis?”

It goes to show that he has zero self-preservation instinct. Trying to stop Jungkook’s lecture with
cold logic is a terrible idea, as reason hardly works with omegan matters.

Jungkook swats Jimin again, this time on his thigh. Jimin cries out and clutches the spot where a
red mark will be blooming in no time.

“A tiger, obviously. Or a great white shark. It doesn’t matter, but this won’t do at all. If the nest
isn’t built properly, it won’t be safe. Do it again.”

Jimin pushes himself up by getting his elbows under himself, wondering what exactly went wrong
in raising Jungkook. He used to show them a little respect, used to be humble.

But as insufferable as the omega is, he knows his nests.

As Jimin gets to his knees and takes a look at his fledgling nest from this new angle, he suddenly
sees a pattern, a logic that wasn’t there before. There’s something missing, that’s why the blanket
would never fit properly. He slips off the bed without a word and goes to the door, because his
nose seems to know where he’s supposed to go. Jungkook even doesn’t bother asking where he’s
going – he just takes his phone out and tells Jimin to take as much time as he needs.

Jimin sneaks into Yoongi’s bedroom, and something catches his eye immediately. A sweater lies
discarded at the foot of the bed. It’s light pink, the same colour as Jimin’s new fleece blanket
bought specifically for nesting purposes, and it smells so strongly of the alpha that it’s almost as if
Yoongi had scented and left it out in the open on purpose… but surely not…

Before finishing the thought, Jimin gets distracted by a soft grey t-shirt Yoongi sometimes wears
for sleep to preserve their modesty. The fabric is worn thin, and it carries the heavy, comforting
scent of sleep with it. He takes both items and slinks back to his bedroom where Jungkook is
scrolling through Twitter.

“You know that only courting or mated couples tend to switch items like that?”

Jimin puts Yoongi’s sweater down hesitantly. “What are you even implying?”

“It’s just peculiar that you instinctively want hyung’s scent all over your nest. I bet you felt it’s
unsafe without, that the nest remains incomplete in your mind.” Jungkook doesn’t even meet
Jimin’s eyes. He just keeps tapping his phone in rapid patterns, playing some dumb game no doubt,
the little devil.
“Well, Yoongi isn’t my mate. He’s just – his scent is –“

“Home?”

Jimin grimaces but tucks Yoongi’s clothes into his nest anyway, into the very core where he can
always smell the orange peel and leather just as prominently as his own lilac.

“I guess we’re just physically compatible,” he argues.

Jungkook tosses his phone on the rug and smirks. “We can call it that if it makes you feel better,
hyung.”

•••

It takes two more hours to get the nest fully done and up to Jungkook’s meticulous standards. The
finished construction is a whirl of colour and texture, every piece carefully scented by Jimin to
drive out any stray scents from laundry detergents and Jungkook’s guiding hands. The younger
omega has his head tilted to the side as he conducts the final check.

“It’s adequate,” the omega proclaims, and Jimin can’t help but sigh in relief. The nest pales in
comparison to what Jungkook has back home, and it’s not quite as harmonious as the nests Jimin’s
ex used to build for them. But it’s made entirely by Jimin, and as cliché as it seems, he feels a
fraction of pride.

“Let’s see what the alpha of the house thinks.” Jungkook cups his mouth with a devilish grin.
“Yoongi hyung! Come here!”

Jimin panics, because bow that he looks at it, the nest is all bad and crooked, and it’s dumb that
they’re looking for external validation –“

Yoongi is there in a flash, peeking his head in. “How are you pups doing?”

“We pups are just fine, splendid,” Jimin squeaks, trying to tactically stand between Yoongi and the
nest.

Unfortunately the great traitor Jungkook yanks Jimin to the side by the waist. “Jiminie hyung
wants you to see the nest he made all by himself. Well, I helped a lot, but still.”

Yoongi doesn’t seem to find his words for a moment, eyes trailing over Jimin’s messy creation.

Jimin leans into Jungkook, feeling a little faint. It’s stupid, he’s sliding dangerously close to that
omegan headspace.

“You did well, pup,” Yoongi finally says. There’s so much warmth in his voice it leaks over.
“Thank you for your help, Jungkook-ah.”

“It was my pleasure,” Jungkook says. It’s amazing how quickly the omega has grown comfortable
with Yoongi, calling him hyung and being his slightly obnoxious self around the alpha.

“You should probably take the new nest out for a test drive,” the omega adds with a wink, fondly
patting the topmost blanket, which is a fuzzy blue one, the same colour that is on Jimin’s collar.
Jimin squints, and Yoongi goes a bit more rigid.

“What do you mean by test drive?”

Jungkook is very good at acting all innocent when it benefits him, lowering his eyes and cocking
his head. The omega clasps his hands behind his back, and Jimin misses his warmth already. “You
know, take a nice nap – possibly without pants.”

“Jeon Jungkook!” Jimin shrieks before Jungkook can elaborate any further. He starts ushering his
friend out of the bedroom.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going. I need to head to work, anyway,” Jungkook says in an exasperated tone.
“You used to be fun, hyung. Yoongi hyung turned you into a prude, didn’t he?”

“I’m not a prude,” Jimin objects. Sex just didn’t mean quite as much as it does now, he adds in his
head.

Then he stops in his tracks. “Wait, hold on… you got a new job? Why didn’t you tell hyung
sooner?”

Jungkook has been between jobs for a few months after the shop he worked at went out of business
all of a sudden. Jungkook is brilliant and resourceful, good at virtually anything he tries out, but he
gets easily distracted with new things and new challenges. Jungkook has always struggled to find
his place in the society which favours long university degrees and unwavering dedication to big
corporations.

“It happened only yesterday, so I didn’t want to jinx it by being too enthusiastic about it,”
Jungkook admits. He sounds so sheepish and unsure that Jimin wants to scoop him up and nuzzle
to death.

“What kind of job is it? Another sales position?”

The omega shakes his head, beaming. “The tattoo artist who did my sleeve saw some of my ink
sketches and asked if I was interested in an apprenticeship.”

Jimin’s heart is about to burst into splinters. This is how Jungkook gets away with murder, he’s
just way too adorable for this grim world.

“Sajangnim is so cool. I think I’m going to learn a lot from him.”

“I’m sure you will, Kook-ah,” Jimin says. “You should hurry, I don’t want to be the reason why
you were late for your first shift.”

Jungkook nods and then turns to bow to Yoongi, thanking him for the snack, and then barely
bothers to tie up his shoelaces before bolting out of the door.

“What are we going to do with him?” Jimin sighs, rubbing his temple.

Yoongi lets out a tiny huff of laughter. “I’m glad he’s mated, because I kind of want to pamper the
fuck out of him, and that would probably make you jealous.”

Jimin ignores the comment about jealousy. He’s not one to get jealous, not in the slightest.

“That’s how he operates, though. It’s all intentional, don’t be deceived. First you bake him a tray of
cookies, and the next thing you know he’s leeching off you for five course meals.”
“What does it make of me if I kind of look forward to it? It’s so nice that he no longer looks like
I’m threatening to eat him alive?”

“It makes you an alpha. By nature you don’t have any resilience for omega tactics.”

“Oh, do you use omega tactics often on me?”

Jimin hums knowingly. “Want to come to my nest or not?”

Yoongi chokes on his spit, it’s highly endearing. The omega tactics work wonders even when
they’re all out in the open. Jimin knows he’s smiling like the village idiot, but he can’t seem to
stop.

“What – what are we doing in your nest?” Yoongi splutters. “Because you should totally decide,
it’s your nest.”

“Hmm. We could just have sex on our maknae’s orders,” Jimin says, tone light and innocent,
intentionally fluttering his flashes.

Yoongi, who just barely managed to swallow his saliva down, enters another coughing fit, snot and
tears sliding down his face.

Jimin pats him on the back for show. “You know I haven’t – nest sex would be all new to me. I’ve
only seen it in porn.”

It’s usually found in the romance section – soft, shaved omegas wrapped in swathes of blankets,
high keens and whines fucked out of them by big and burly alphas. It’s a narrow frame of reference,
and in reality Jimin has no clue.

No clue what it would feel like to give into the instinct so utterly .

It doesn’t seem that Yoongi does, either. The alpha fidgets and swallows, throat bobbing up and
down.

“You don’t have to – you can just enjoy it by yourself for as long as you want, get accustomed to it
–“

“But I want you there, because I built it to fit two people, so it might feel too empty otherwise.”

Built it all for you is omitted, Jimin’s pride can be only bent so much before snapping.

Jimin leads Yoongi to the bed with a hand at the small of the alpha’s back. He hesitates, desperate
to take off some of his clothes to feel the softness of the nest against bare skin. But Yoongi
remains so rigid next to him, unmoving.

Does the nest not please him?

Has Jimin done a poor job with the blanketwork?

The sleeve of Yoongi’s sweater pokes out of the pile, and Jimin turns his nose to it, inhaling the
alpha’s scent. The balance is all wrong, there’s too much Jimin and not enough Yoongi.

“I’m content just holding you, or sitting at the foot of the bed, or just watching you from here, if
you prefer.”

Does Yoongi not want him and his nest? Jimin feels tears welling rapidly on his waterline. He
sniffles, trying to absorb the wetness back into his body by will. He’s dangerously close to the
headspace. The rejection only draws him deeper into the haze of needing to turn Yoongi’s head, to
make the alpha accept his offer.

Jimin gets on the bed and shuffles his way into the nest, regrettably clothed. He lies down on the
mattress and blinks up at Yoongi’s strained expression with the entire line of his neck exposed to
the alpha.

“Alpha, please grace my nest with your presence.”

At the back of his mind Jimin is aware of how silly it sounds. It’s some kind of archaic phrase he
has read in a book somewhere. An explicit consent for an alpha to enter the nest of an unmated
omega.

But it’s all that comes to his blank mind that screams empty, empty, empty. Empty nest.

Yoongi growls in response, the sound would be near terrifying if Jimin wasn’t so far gone. The
alpha grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one go. Through his haze, Jimin drinks
in the sight of the alpha’s well-built frame, as he has only seen it a handful of times, and it never
ceases to amaze him.

Yoongi doesn’t wait for additional encouragement. He dives headfirst into the nest, careful not to
shift the position of any of the intricately placed elements. His hands fly to the drawstring of
Jimin’s joggers, and it’s clear that the alpha is in some kind of headspace as well. He doesn’t even
wait before starting to pull them off Jimin’s muscular thighs, tugging and tugging until he’s left in
his briefs and an oversized t-shirt, the perfect nesting outfit.

“Is that better, omega?” Yoongi purrs as he rubs his cheek against the side of a pillow like an
overgrown house cat, spreading his scent everywhere and making the omega in Jimin preen.

Jimin nods, tugging at Yoongi’s clothes with shaky hands. He needs access to skin, and he needs it
now. The nest is huge and all-encompassing around them, heightening every huff of breath, even
the tiniest graze of skin. When Yoongi’s trousers are gone and their legs are tangled together, both
half-hard and panting, Jimin feels as if he’s seeing yet another layer to the alpha, a deeper plane of
his psyche he has only seen glimpses of before.

The nest has awoken something else other than pure, unhinged lust – there’s no need to fuck like
animals with hands on each other’s throats even when arousal is washing over them like seawater –
but there is a pressing, urgent need for closeness.

But no matter how close they are, no matter how snugly Jimin presses his head into the crook of
the alpha’s neck, something is missing. He starts tugging the waistband of Yoongi’s trousers down
with the hand that isn’t pinned somewhere under them, but Yoongi stops him with a displeased
grunt when Jimin goes for his boxers.

This shouldn’t be as big a deal.

They have a sexual relationship as of now, even though it’s a new development. A few days ago
Jimin was peacefully napping on Yoongi’s bed as the alpha stormed in, stressed out by some
prickly PR manager of his client. He came over to the bedside with a predatory gait and rumbled
his request in a low, soft tone, asking if he could rut his problems away, just this once. When Jimin
was too dumbfounded to react right away, the alpha clambered on top of him to straddle his
middle, and then he begged again, so prettily with his wet mouth wide open and pupils blown so
wide they were like two black holes.
Jimin tried to make it good for him, let Yoongi cage him in against the bed and fuck his hands and
the soft meat of his belly, let him even scent-mark Jimin with his cum to satiate his need for
control and order. After that Yoongi collapsed on the bed, sweaty and still half-dressed in his work
clothes, knot twitching under Jimin’s expert fingers.

Yoongi apologised for his rash behaviour right after his mind cleared up a little, said he didn’t
know what exactly had gotten into him, but then Jimin took his hand and placed it on his own
crotch. The alpha jerked him off with his pretty fingers whilst whispering filth into his ear, and just
when Jimin was about to cum, he bent his cock all the way up to ensure their release would mix on
Jimin’s abdomen.

Present Yoongi, who is no less driven by instinct, drapes himself around Jimin like an extension of
the nest itself. Hr uses his free hand to move a few stray hairs out of Jimin’s face. He trails his
hand down, touches the small scar over Jimin’s eye, maps the line of his cheekbone and jaw with
featherlight touches. Yoongi’s cock is out in the open now, hot against Jimin’s hip – the waistband
of his boxers has somehow ended up tucked behind his balls, but there’s still the thin fabric of
Jimin’s underwear between them. Both of them are still, trying to ignore how precum dribbles
between them to form a sizeable patch of wetness.

“Is this what nest sex is like? The porn I’ve seen got it all wrong,” Jimin whispers. If they had sex
now, it would be incredibly tender, something that couldn’t even be described as fucking.

Jimin also wonders how it would be if he was in heat right now, if it would be pleasant and safe
instead of painful, if Yoongi would fill him up so well and praise him for taking every inch.

Jimin reaches behind himself to lower his boxers. The slick feels cool and tacky around his hole,
and there’s lots of it. Yoongi can smell it, too, Jimin knows by how the alpha’s nostrils flare
incredibly wide.

“Hold on, I’ll –,” Jimin mumbles out, and then he turns around to lie on his side, legs curled in to
make him the perfect little spoon. “You can slip right in if you wish.”

Yoongi’s hand on his waist are iron tight as he hauls Jimin closer. His cock rubs between Jimin’s
cheeks for a moment, smearing the old slick everywhere and coaxing more to gush out, but at the
quietest whine of protest from Jimin he lines up and starts pushing in.

Jimin is fully relaxed because of the cocktail of soothing pheromones, but there’s still the delicious
burn of an alpha’s cock entering him without prep. Yoongi doesn’t relent either, huffing wet
breaths into Jimin’s nape as he drives his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt.

Jimin tries not to clench too much around Yoongi’s length, tries to stay pliant for the alpha to do as
he pleases. The smell of the nest is like a potent aphrodisiac, making Jimin lose control of his
limbs and mind. He curls his fingers in the sheets and closes his eyes, cock leaking a steady stream
into his boxers that somehow still cling to him.

There’s a soft flick of tongue on Jimin’s neck, tasting his scent straight from the source. “Are you
doing alright, sweetheart?”

Jimin whimpers a quiet yes and hauls the fuzzy blue blanket to his arms to hug and scent.

“Feeling quiet and calm?” the alpha rumbles, pulling out just a bit to tentatively plunge back in.
Jimin notices his back arch and toes curl, but it’s as if his consciousness is detached from all that.

He just wants to let go, for a tiny moment.

To trust that the alpha will take care of him.

“Want to cock warm me for a bit? You can sleep too, if you’re tired. We’re in no hurry today.”

Fuck, that sounds good. Drifting off on a pink cloud of arousal, Yoongi buried deep in him to
ensure that the alpha won’t go anywhere, won’t leave Jimin.

Jimin purrs in approval as Yoongi makes sure he’s properly seated, arms wrapped around the
omega to keep them secured.

“Can you wake me up by fucking me?” Jimin mumbles, going for seductive but failing due to his
groggy voice.

Yoongi’s scent spikes in keen interest, and he lets out a tiny growl. “We should probably talk about
that more before –“

“What does it matter if you fuck me now or half an hour later?” Jimin tries to reason. Waking up
like that, already on the verge of coming, safe in his own nest – it would be magnificent.

“I want it so much. Please.”

“Okay, pup,” Yoongi relents, his scent so incredibly strong and musky, “if that’s really what you
want.”

“Want,” Jimin repeats with his tongue lolling out. His spit is wetting the blanket underneath, but he
can’t find it in himself to care all that much.

“Can you bite me, alpha?”

Jimin isn’t sure where the question came from, but he hears himself pronounce the words and finds
himself fully agreeing with his mouth.

If Yoongi bit him now, he would crash so hard, instantly black out. Jimin thought he would always
hate losing control, but now he wants nothing more.

The alpha lifts his arm until it’s up against Jimin’s face and he’s inserting his wrist between his
slack lips. It’s an offer for reciprocation.

“Go ahead,” Yoongi whispers and then buries his teeth in Jimin’s shoulder, far from where a
mating bite would go. It hurts, but it’s a distant kind of hurt that will register only later. His mouth
opens wider on reflex, and he tastes Yoongi’s citrusy sweetness on his tongue. He bites down
blindly, like a pup with milk teeth, sloppy and uncoordinated. Yoongi hisses close to Jimin’s ear as
something warm and wet slides over the bite mark, but Jimin is already falling so rapidly there’s no
time for concern, no care for the alpha’s inner conflict.

Jimin is simply taking what’s already his.

•••

It’s probably the best and worst day of Jungkook’s life, simultaneously.

If that’s even possible.

Like a dumb little pup with no care in the world, Jungkook ran straight into the lift, not paying any
attention to the fact that there was already someone else inside.

“Your shoelaces are untied,” Kim Namjoon says in a soft voice that is like molten cane sugar.

In an extremely unflattering manner, Jungkook produces something between a scream and a whine.

Namjoon lifts his glasses higher up on his nose but doesn’t react to Jungkook’s unreasonable
outburst. The alpha is wearing a blazer and a pair of faded jeans that hug his thighs, and his scent is
so strong and so alpha that Jungkook wants to roll on the floor and lift up his shirt to show his
belly.

“Nice to see you again, Jungkook-ssi,” Namjoon says, nodding, when he receives no verbal
answer.

“Ah–alpha. I mean, hello Namjoon-ssi.” Jungkook bows, a little too late to go perfectly to
etiquette.

Namjoon looks at him with a frown, his gaze washing up and down Jungkook’s baggy clothes to
the piercings in his ears. Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s a look of disapproval or not, and it drives him
crazy.

But then Namjoon sinks down to one knee on the dirty floor and starts tying Jungkook’s laces with
nimble fingers.

“You shouldn’t walk around like this. You’ll trip and fall and hurt yourself. What would your alpha
say if he saw, hmm?”

Jungkook’s knees buckle, but he somehow stays upright, holding onto the metal railing for dear
life.

“He’d probably scold me,” Jungkook blurts out without thinking. He glances at himself in the
mirror to witness a deep pink blush creeping down his neck.

Namjoon tuts, but it doesn’t sound particularly condescending. He stands up to his full height, a
little taller than Jungkook, just as the lift doors open at the ground floor.

They walk out into the sunny weather, and Jungkook is relieved that he can hide his embarrassed
face behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You were visiting Yoongi and Jimin, then?” Namjoon asks in a conversational tone. Jungkook
doesn’t understand why the alpha is still bothering with him when he could just – go.

“Yeah, I was teaching Jimin hyung how to ne–“

Jungkook bites his tongue so hard it must leave indents. It was supposed to be a secret.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Jungkook-ssi.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how to take the compliment, so he averts the alphas gaze, feeling hot and
prickly.

“Yoongi hyung is terribly in love with your friend, it seems.”

It’s not a question but a simple statement.

Jungkook knows he’s supposed to say something, but he missed the social cue.

Namjoon smiles brightly. It would be so nice to kneel at this powerful alpha’s feet and bask in his
acceptance, have his large palm running through his hair.

“Does Jimin dislike me very much?” he asks, and Jungkook is snapped out of his submissive
fantasy.

“Hmm what? No, I don’t think so. He thinks you’d make a good pack alpha. I do too, for that
matter.”

Jungkook definitely wasn’t meant to say that.

Abort mission.

“What?” Namjoon laughs incredulously. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Jungkook bites his lip. They’re slowly walking through a small park next to Yoongi’s home, in the
direction of the metro station. “He’s sometimes worried that he’s not enough for Yoongi hyung
after – you.”

“He told you that?”

“No, but I’m smart.”

Namjoon laughs again, before Jungkook can even get properly mortified at yet another slip of the
tongue.

“Tell me, Jungkook-ssi – whyever would someone get intimidated by me? Is it because people
fear I might drop something heavy on their toes?”

It’s probably the scent.

Or the honeyed voice that could get the most callous of people to jump off a bridge without
hesitation.

“What about my scent?” Namjoon asks, perplexed.

“I said that out loud?” Jungkook squeaks. They’re standing at the curb, Namjoon is fumbling his
pockets for car keys, a brand-new Tesla.

“You did. I’m really sorry if I’ve somehow managed to make you uncomfortable, Jungkook-ssi. I
can assure you that I have no ill intentions, and that I fully respect your mate bond.”

Jungkook shakes his head in panic, gripping the edge of his collar for mental support. “It’s not that,
it’s just me who’s terribly awkward. Please accept my apology. I can leave now, so you can go on
with your day.”

The car doors start sliding up into the air, and Namjoon throws his bag on the back seat, eyes still
fixed on Jungkook’s trembling form.

“Where are you headed?”

“Sinsa-dong,” Jungkook blurts out without thinking. He really should consider starting to do that.
“I work there. Or I’m a trainee. Or something.”
“Our office is just around the corner in Cheongdam. Yoongi hyung forced me to attend an
afternoon meeting with some European copyright regulators, because he was apparently busy
tending to his omega. Fancy a ride?”

Sweat beads on Jungkook’s forehead, and he opens and closes his mouth a couple times.

“Only if you want, of course. I would hate to step on your toes if getting in a strange alpha’s car
isn’t something you’re comfortable with.”

Jungkook notices Namjoon doesn’t mention Hoseok like most alphas would, doesn’t ask if Hoseok
has allowed him to hang out with alphas without his oversight. Namjoon says he doesn’t want step
on Jungkook’s personal autonomy.

It feels nice. Liberating.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, swallowing his social anxiety down. “No, I would appreciate it.
Thank you, alpha. I mean Namjoon-ssi.”

Jungkook sits on the passenger seat, grimacing internally, and belts himself in as Namjoon fiddles
with the air-con and manoeuvres the car out of the narrow parking spot.

“I didn’t get a license until last year, so forgive me if it’s a bumpy ride.”

“Why did you decide to buy a car?” Jungkook asks because it sounds like a safe topic.

“Maybe it was a late quarter life crisis, or a very early midlife one,” Namjoon chuckles. “Or maybe
I’m just vainer than I would like to admit.”

“I think you’re the opposite of vain, though,” Jungkook mutters under his breath.

“How so?”

Namjoon never lets stuff hang in the air. There’s always a next question, an interpolation. Genuine
interest toward what Jungkook has to say, however silly it might be.

Jungkook wrings his hands in his lap. The car is completely silent under them, the only
background noise coming from the radio that is playing an English song on low volume.

“You are a little oblivious to how your scent and presence affect people around you. Everyone
agrees with me, it isn’t just an omegan caprice.”

Jungkook isn’t sure where the sudden confidence is stemming from, maybe he’s channelling
Jimin’s spirit.

Namjoon takes a right turn in busy afternoon traffic, concentrated on the road ahead despite the
fancy self-driving feature, which grants Jungkook an opportunity to watch the alpha’s reaction to
his words.

It’s subtle.

Namjoon’s voice is a little different when he speaks again, rawer somehow. “If – if I may ask you
this, have you ever thought about joining a pack, before or after getting mated?” the alpha
eventually asks. The sun hits his face from the side, makes his golden skin positively glimmer.

“Me?”
“Yes, Jungkook-ssi. I know it’s an odd thing to ask. In a pack setting our roles would most likely
be reversed. You as a mated omega would be near the bottom, whereas me as a single alpha would
probably take on a more prominent role in the hierarchy.”

Jimin would’ve probably gotten offended by Namjoon’s words, called him a filthy traditionalist.
But Jungkook can’t bring himself to hate the idea of both being underneath Hoseok in status, but
also someone who gets pampered and protected by the rest of the pack mates. It’s not at all a bad
future.

“I’ve thought about it before,” Jungkook says quietly. “But it’s a complicated process where so
much can go wrong. You might lose friends, or the bond might not catch properly. And at the end
of the day I’m content just being able to have my alpha.”

Jungkook tugs the seatbelt lower on his shoulder as he waits for Namjoon’s reply, the coarse touch
of it too much on his sensitive skin.

“Hmm. I must’ve thought about it in a selfish way, once again.”

“Surely not,” Jungkook objects.

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “I want to give, protect. But I’m also greedy, I want to take what’s
mine. That’s the alpha in me lurking around, ready to strike. And if I had a pack, I would consider
all of them mine, would fight and bleed for them. It’s a scary thought.”

He stops talking then, a blush spreading downwards from his temples, reaching his prominent
cheekbones. Jungkook wonders if Namjoon’s greed extends to other things, too. It didn’t go past
him how intensely the alpha was eyeing Taehyung and Seokjin at the party.

At least the alpha has his standards set appropriately high.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. There’s just something – I feel comfortable around certain
types of people and overshare. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

Jungkook turns in his seat so that he can face Namjoon properly. Seeing him like this, the great
strong alpha all flustered, gives him strength in a backwards way. “It makes sense, because modern
society has double standards when it comes to instincts. It’s cool and hot and sexy, but at the same
time everyone is expected to disregard their nature whenever it’s convenient, like a switch you can
flip on and off. Vocalising that an alpha wants to dominate and lead, and that an omega wants to
submit and be taken care of is considered a ridiculous sentiment in its own right. But I think we
should be asking these questions more often. These dynamics need to be fully crystallised for a
pack to function.”

Namjoon smiles tensely, correcting his grip on the steering wheel. “Right. What is a pack,
anyway?”

“Love.” The word slips off Jungkook’s tongue. He sees Hoseok’s beautiful face in his mind,
surrounded by other, blurry yet warm figures. “It’s just love. And good food, because I need lots of
it to function.”

“Maybe I need a pack, after all,” Namjoon sighs. “I have the emotional skills of a baby
earthworm.”

Jungkook chuckles under his breath.

“Can I buy you a coffee, Jungkook-ssi? As a thank you for this much needed pep-talk you were in
no obligation to give?”

Now they’re speaking Jungkook’s language. He can be greedy, too. Painfully so.

“Can I have ice cream too?” he barters. “It’s a big day for me since I’m starting at a new job.”

Namjoon throws his head back and laughs, and Jungkook can see with his own two eyes how the
tension melts off. “Of course, Jungkook-ah. You can have as much ice cream as you want.”

Namjoon doesn’t even seem to notice he has started dropping honourifics at the verb endings. It
has been a subtle shift until now.

“Are you using banmal because I’m younger, or because I’m an omega?”

It’s kind of exhilarating to see breath hitch in the alpha’s throat, see the microscopic flash of panic
that precedes profuse apologies.

Jungkook is a simple creature, deriving pleasure from the things around him.

But he isn’t cruel.

“I’m used to being the maknae, Namjoon hyung,” he says, tentatively, searching for the alpha’s
gaze. When he gets no adverse reaction to the title, he goes on. “Being the omega maknae is
probably the best position there is. It’s a permanent get out of jail free card. Quite frankly I don’t
envy alphas one bit. You go grey early because of all the stress of herding your pack mates
around.”

“Were you always this comfortable with your subgender?” Namjoon asks in awe.

“Hell no,” Jungkook snorts, “I owe everything to Jimin hyung. These days we might have different
views on what it means to be an omega, but I learned everything from him, love and self-respect,
sappy things like that. He taught me I’m worth something.”

Namjoon glances at him, briefly. “He’s a good person, Jimin-ssi.”

It’s once again not a question, but Jungkook nods anyway. The alpha is looking out for Yoongi,
that much is clear. Assessing whether a troubled omega like Jimin is good for his friend or not.
Jungkook can understand, perfectly, so he doesn’t call the alpha out on it.

They’re on a bridge that crosses the Han river over to Gangnam. The skyscrapers look like
enormous icicles growing off the ground, reflecting the afternoon sun off their glass exteriors.
Jungkook presses the button that makes the window slide all the way down, and he sticks his head
out a little, enjoying the breeze on his skin and hair. It makes him feel like he’s re-enacting that
one scene from Coffee Prince, revelling in the exhilarating feeling of being entirely himself.

Kind of.

A few moments later Namjoon tugs him back inside and gives him a stern look. It’s too dangerous,
he says, even while he’s smiling. Namjoon doesn’t seem to know what he should do with
Jungkook, whether he should scold him like a misbehaving pup or give him a lolly to make him sit
still.

He’s going to make a good pack alpha someday, that’s for certain.
 •••

Jimin wakes up to a series of novel sensations. For one, Yoongi is fucking into him in deep,
languid thrusts, a hand steadying him at his shoulder blades quite close to where the bite mark still
stings sweetly. Jimin has been flipped onto his stomach at some point, manhandled to the alpha’s
liking, and the weight of Yoongi’s palm is pushing him deeper into the nest.

Jimin is half-hard, and his underwear is varying stages of dried up and disgusting, making him
whine in embarrassment and need.

Yoongi halts his movements for a short moment and touches Jimin’s earlobe, as though to check up
on him. “Sleep well, pup?”

“Uh huh,” Jimin slurs, still partly paralysed by the pheromone overload and daytime dozing. His
cock is chubbing up fast, probably turning pinker and redder the longer it goes untouched. “Was I
out for long?”

“Twenty minutes or so,” Yoongi says in a husky voice, rolling his hips. “You woke up a minute
into me – well, you know.”

“Prude,” Jimin giggles breathily, and Yoongi responds by slamming his hips against Jimin’s ass
with renewed vigour.

“Make me cum, alpha.”

“Be patient.”

“Never.”

Jimin comes untouched, embarrassingly fast. Yoongi reaches a hand to cup Jimin’s groin through
the damp fabric of his boxers, and applies some pressure behind his balls just as he’s about to
knot.

Jimin wails and trashes weakly as his cum soils the front of his briefs even worse than before,
sticking absolutely everywhere.

They collapse in a heap, tied together, and Yoongi feeds Jimin little sips of water from a bottle he
has manifested out of thin air.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t last longer,” Jimin mumbles, already feeling content just lying in the nest
with a sated alpha by his side.

“I love when you can’t be patient for me,” Yoongi says and draws Jimin closer, until there is no air
between them once more.

Overall, the nest is a moderate success.

•••
Namjoon and Jungkook sit down on a park bench close to Jungkook’s workplace, ice creams and
plastic coffee cups in hand. The sun is sweltering on their necks, but the cold ice cream all but
makes up for it.

Namjoon has made sure that there’s a small gap between their thighs, even though it means he’s
crammed all the way to the edge of the bench while Jungkook can sit comfortably. He must be
worried about transferring his strong scent onto Jungkook’s skin and clothes.

The thoughtful gesture makes something warm flicker inside Jungkook’s belly, even if he kind of
wants to wear the alpha’s comforting scent like a thick scarf. He has never smelled anything quite
like Namjoon’s blend of soft and masculine, intense and mellow.

The ice cream is good because it’s free, and the conversation flows more easily now. Jungkook
asks about Namjoon’s work, and the alpha tells the album he’s working on has had some internal
delays. He’s pissed, and Yoongi is pissed. It’s a real mess.

Jungkook wants to say Namjoon can call or text him any time to vent, that he would love to offer
his support, but that might sound imposing.

The last thing Jungkook wants to do is to impose.

Namjoon asks about Jungkook’s new shop, and Jungkook tells things he hasn’t even mentioned to
his mate, about the concerns he has, the insecurities he still carries on his back from years of
underperforming by societal standards.

‘Searching’, Namjoon calls it instead, on multiple occasions.

The alpha says his entire career has been blind searching with accidental successes thrown in. From
anyone else Jungkook would think the words hypocritical, would say it’s easy to fumble in the
darkness with a bank account full of money, but Jungkook can see the sincerity shine from his eyes
as he speaks.

They say their goodbyes in front of the tattoo parlour, Namjoon still smiling like the sun, Jungkook
bowing so deep his nose might touch his knees like he has seen Jimin do from time to time. The
alpha wishes him good luck with the job, after which he realises he’s terribly late for his meeting
and the company bosses are going to murder him.

It’s all very adorable.

Inside, Changbin is there to welcome him with a bright smile. A bell rings somewhere inside the
shop, and Changbin is there to welcome him with a bright smile. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled
up to the elbow to reveal an impressive mosaic of black tattoos, traditional Korean patterns mixing
seamlessly to western styles. He was a huge inspiration for Jungkook when he designed his own
sleeve.

Changbin is another alpha Jungkook feels very safe around. He’s always doused with a assortment
of scents from his pack mates to make his own alpha scent less obtrusive, and he never makes
snide comments on Jungkook’s subgender.

“Good to see you, Jungkook-ssi,” the alpha says enthusiastically, clapping his hands together.
“You haven’t met any of my pack yet, have you?”

Suddenly Jungkook detects another scent, a faintly familiar one, lotus flowers and something
slightly tart mixed in. A slender figure appears at the doorway leading to the backroom. He has
long hair and a wide mouth, model-like features that would be impossible to forget about.
 “This is Hyunjin. He’s in a relationship with another omega in our pack. He sometimes helps me
with the accounting, so you will get to know each other, I’m sure.”

The last time Jungkook checked, Seoul was a megacity with a population of almost ten million
people.

“We’ve met,” Hyunjin says with a small, repressed smile.

“Oh, you have? That’s fun,” Changbin says, not fully paying attention because he’s busy sorting
through his tools.

Yes, he’s just the omega who sparked the entire pack debate in his brain, the one who left Jimin
for seven other people just because it felt right to him, like it was instinct and destiny combined.
That’s how Jimin always described their breakup.

That it was out of their hands.

It left Jungkook wondering what it would be like to feel that pull himself one day.

Jungkook bows shallowly. This time blood rushes to his head at the slightest motion.

“How is Jimin hyung?” The question is genuine, almost concerned. Changbin turns his head in
surprise, the name must be familiar to him as well.

“He’s doing really well,” Jungkook replies in a meek voice. He doesn’t know why he feels so
nervous when Hyunjin wraps his arm around Changbin’s tattooed shoulder in a loose hug.

Good for him and his perfect little found family.

Good for them.

“He has an alpha now, by the way. Jimin does."

Chapter End Notes

I'm very soft for this namkook soulmates agenda I have going on.

Also, all of the tiny cameos are members of the boy group Stray Kids :)

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 (Un)lucky Thirteen
Chapter Notes

Taehyung and Seokjin have a scene.

Yoongi and Jimin accidentally cause a scene.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Laid out on the bed with his legs spread far apart, Taehyung vibrates with nervous energy –
whereas Seokjin is smooth as a pond at the most peaceful twilight. The beta has his hands clasped
behind his back, and his left brow is arched in assessment of Taehyung’s performance.

Nothing new under the sun.

“Beta?” The word is barely more than an exhale.

“Yes, Taehyung-ah?” The way Seokjin utters his name, with easy confidence, sends a swarm of
butterflies fluttering beneath Taehyung’s skin. There’s a light touch under his chin, coaxing him to
look up into Seokjin’s eyes. The movement makes the thick leather collar around his neck much
more noticeable. It feels secure, tight. Just like Seokjin.

“Tell beta what it is you need.”

Taehyung shudders at the little attention he’s granted because everything is magnified to the
extreme, every touch and whisper like being dipped into mild acid. He has no clothes on, so he
can’t hide behind any external barriers. Seokjin likes it that way, to keep him bare and exposed to
touch at his leisure.

Seokjin splays his open palm on Taehyung’s inner thigh, dangerously close to his cock.

Taehyung lets out a pathetic, pleading noise, and Seokjin smiles. “Is the collar too much for my
handsome alpha? Hyung can take it off.”

Taehyung shakes his head and raises his hands up to cover the collar, feeling protective over the
strip of leather. The buckle that was a cold and foreign presence against his nape has warmed up to
match his skin temperature, morphed into a pleasant weight instead. Seokjin grabs his rogue hands
with gentle force and places them back against his hips. Taehyung isn’t allowed to touch anything
without permission because tonight is all about patience. Seokjin thinks Taehyung has much too
little of it.

“I like the collar,” Taehyung whispers in a broken voice he barely recognises.

Seokjin smiles even more brightly at his words, the beta is almost too pretty to exist. He flicks
Taehyung’s nose playfully and retracts his hand, standing up to loom over Taehyung who is
splayed out on the bed.

Seokjin said they should go slow, ease into this.

Taehyung thinks it was a bad idea to comply.

“Beta,” he tries again.

“Hmm?”

The teasing touch remains on Taehyung’s inner thigh, drawing little circles and symbols into his
hypersensitive skin. At the fourth repeat Taehyung recognises the first symbol, their shared family
name, and realises that Seokjin is scribbling the syllables of his own name into the swell of
Taehyung’s thigh.

Over and over again, the beta is marking Taehyung as his own, as his property to collar and play
with.

Taehyung is combusting, bursting at the seams. He needs something to steady his rampant mind,
so he rips his eyes off Seokjin’s ethereal features and lets them flicker aimlessly, focusing on the
dimly lit background that seems so far away from his position on the bed.

Seokjin’s home is objectively beautiful just like the beta himself – light tones and crisp lines,
moonlight spilling through the open blinds and hitting Taehyung’s skin in silvery stripes. It makes
him feel like a piece of art on a pedestal, a nude statue of a lustful god, something carnal and
hedonistic, presented for Seokjin’s hungry eyes to devour.

The slightly crooked fingers of Seokjin’s left hand wander closer to his crotch, brushing the side of
Taehyung’s cock with manicured nails. The touch is barely there, so light it stings.

“Wolf got your tongue?” Seokjin croons as Taehyung fights to catch his breath.

“Phh–please.”

“Please what, Taehyung-ah?” The tone is mocking. Seokjin plays the role impeccably, or maybe
this is just him. Just Seokjin.

“Touch me?”

“I’m already touching you,” Seokjin says softly.

Taehyung has to bite back a sad wail. His knot is a little swollen at the base from being in a
constant state of arousal for so long – it throbs and aches even at the slightest movement. If Seokjin
won’t give him a hand or even a clothed thigh to rut against, coming is going to be horribly painful.
If he’ll be allowed to come at all.

Taehyung kind of anticipates it anyway, arousal lurching in his stomach when he just thinks about
letting go in front of a grinning Seokjin, fighting against the sobs of utter humiliation as cum
trickles out of his slit and down the side of his cock. In his own experiments and with previous
partners he has managed to both come without forming a knot and knot without having an actual
orgasm – the latter of which has happened only once, though.

Taehyung was in prerut at the time, burdened by the same internal conflict he goes through every
single cycle before the haze of the rut comes and washes his inner discordance away. He decided
to distract himself with his brand-new vibrating dildo, thinking a good orgasm could expedite his
rut. Unfortunately, the lingering effects of a conflict he’d had with his parents just hours prior was
enough to keep his orgasm at bay, but his prerut-induced knot didn’t get the memo.

Whatever Seokjin is doing to him now has a similar effect without the emotional burden.
Physically Taehyung is nowhere close to coming, having had no direct stimulation at all, but he’s
so aroused that it’s enough to fool his knot into twitching to life prematurely.

Taehyung must be grimacing in terror, because Seokjin wraps his fingers around Taehyung’s knot
with a sigh of faux disappointment. His hold is too loose to really do anything for him, to cause any
real pleasure, but it’s exponentially better than nothing.

“Rut,” Seokjin commands like he would a misbehaving pup, eyes sharp with scorn.

Rut against what? The side of Seokjin’s hand that barely touches him?

The air?

Taehyung isn’t sure, but he has no other option than to be good for Seokjin. He drives his hips up,
knot slipping through Seokjin’s fingers and the head of his cock weeping in the punishingly cold
air, wetting the beta’s fist with precum.

Seokjin takes his sweet time cooing at his hopeless efforts, looking down at Taehyung who has
been rendered dumb and helpless by the smallest of actions, before bringing his other hand to
Taehyung’s lips.

“Lick,” he says, in that same, scarily even tone.

Taehyung lets his tongue loll out of his mouth and laps at the hand presented to him, operating on
pure instinct. Seokjin’s palm tastes salty, but the skin is soft and smooth, and the beta’s fingers curl
to gently pet Taehyung’s cheek.

“Good alpha, good boy,” he hums in approval.

Then the hand is gone, pressing down on Taehyung’s painfully hard cock. He’s instructed to rut
again, this time against a slick, solid surface. It feels like heaven and hell combined, too little and
so much friction at the same time.

Seokjin’s other hand, which used to cradle Taehyung’s knot, trails down, past his balls and taint all
the way to his hole that has gone unused for quite some time.

Because Seokjin hasn’t fucked him yet.

He has talked about it, at length and in excruciating detail, but nothing of the sort has happened
despite Taehyung’s overflowing enthusiasm.

Seokjin didn’t want to do scenes like these in the very beginning, nor did he want to jump straight
to the deep end with sex. He didn’t think Taehyung could handle it. Said his alpha side would need
some time to adjust to the new dynamic.

Taehyung objected vehemently even though he knew he would get what he wanted eventually,
when Seokjin deemed him ready. He just wanted more, everything Seokjin had the power to give
him.
Right now he’s glad they waited, though. Taehyung from three weeks ago would’ve imploded
right away, too unused to holding off like this. Seokjin told him not to jerk off prior to their scene,
said he wanted full control of Taehyung’s orgasms for the day. Taehyung would be willing to give
them up permanently if it meant getting to come undone for the beta like this, over and over, so wet
and so desperate.

“Am I going to come tonight?” Taehyung gasps as Seokjin’s mostly dry finger circles his rim.

“Hmm I don’t know, Taehyung. Are you?”

It could be a rhetorical question, a mean one at that, but it isn’t. Seokjin is giving him an
opportunity, but only if Taehyung can get off on the miniscule amount of friction the beta is
granting him.

A part of Taehyung is begging for him to speak up and call the whole thing off, to growl like an
alpha and make Seokjin bend to his will. But a considerably larger portion is at peace with the idea
that he might leave Seokjin’s home tonight with a severe case of blue balls, and that he’s going to
thank and praise the beta all the same.

There’s the distinct sound of a lube bottle being clicked open, something Taehyung has grown
highly familiar with over the years. He lets out a pleased sound, foolishly thinking that Seokjin will
soon indulge him and fuck him into the mattress, or at least milk him until he cries.

Of course it would be all too easy that way.

Seokjin coats one hand with lube, makes it so wet it looks like it’s omega slick dripping down his
crooked fingers. The other one he leaves dry, just Taehyung’s spit there to smoothen the drag of
skin against skin.

“Hold your legs open for me, keep your hands there… good, just like that. Don’t clench, just let it
all happen.”

A single tear wells in Taehyung’s left eye and slides down his cheek as Seokjin eases a finger
inside his body at an agonisingly slow pace. When the beta curls the digit inside him with mean
precision, Taehyung wants to clamp down on it so badly, wants to kick his feet and demand that
more of Seokjin’s pretty fingers fill him to the brim.

The beta is fully hard in his trousers, but his self-restraint is admirable, he’s not even palming
himself to relieve the pressure. Taehyung wouldn’t be half as stoic if Seokjin only let him move.
He wants to cup the beta through the coarse fabric, wants to mouth at his cock until Seokjin’s
trousers are soaked in spit and his self-control is in splinters.

Seokjin catches him staring, a smile spreading on his shiny lips. “I know exactly what you’re
thinking about, but you’ll have to keep being good for me.” He pumps his finger in and out of
Taehyung, whose thighs quiver with the effort to stay spread open and remain in the straining and
humiliating position.

Seokjin thumbs Taehyung’s slit for a few seconds, coaxing beads of precum out before
straightening his palm again. “Keep rutting, beautiful. Show me how much you want it, how horny
you are for beta.”

Taehyung whines and throws his head back, lets his hips do the thinking. With the added pleasure
of a single finger he actually feels like he might be able to cum for real.

Before Taehyung can fully process the combination of sensations, Seokjin throws him further off
balance by leaning in for a hungry kiss. They’ve kissed before, all romantic and sweet, but this kiss
is different, heat and hellfire and tacky spit. The beta’s tongue slides into his mouth with no
hesitation, hot and urgent, stealing Taehyung’s breath away.

“Please,” Taehyung moans into Seokjin’s mouth, no shame left in his body. “Please, beta.”

Seokjin leans back, gorgeous and out of breath.

Frazzled, all because of Taehyung. All for Taehyung’s eyes to see.

“What are you asking for? For permission to touch me or for permission to cum? You can’t have
both, darling.”

Taehyung moans again at the words, because how could he ever be able to choose? Seokjin’s
finger is still inside him, resting against his prostate without applying pressure, and his knot has
swollen even further. Coming would feel amazing.

But then his eyes drift toward the tent in Seokjin’s trousers. The beta has such a pretty cock, a cock
Taehyung doesn’t see nearly as often as he would like. His mouth opens reflexively as Seokjin
adjusts his position.

“Is that your answer?”

Taehyung blinks up, searching for Seokjin’s eyes, trying to decipher what is the right answer.

But there isn’t one. He has to choose.

“Please, give me your cock,” he rasps, desperate.

Seokjin clicks his tongue in silent approval and slides his finger out immediately, standing back.
The loss is devastating. Taehyung’s hole flutters around nothing, so empty, and his cock leaks
copiously as though to compensate for the lack of contact.

Seokjin doesn’t stall any longer, much to Taehyung’s relief. He removes his belt and pops the
button of trousers with grace, lets them pool around his ankles. He grabs a fistful of Taehyung’s
hair without a word and guides his mouth over his still clothed cock. Taehyung whimpers and
reaches forward to lick over the spot where Seokjin’s cockhead is pushing against the fabric of his
underwear.

“So eager,” Seokjin huffs. When Taehyung looks up, the beta is even more flushed than before,
and the corners of his lips are stretched in something between a grimace and a smile. “You like my
cock, don’t you?”

Taehyung hums happily and tries to take his length into his mouth through the barrier formed by
the fabric, tries to make it wet and a little disgusting. Seokjin’s hand is back gripping Taehyung,
the same one that was inside him only a moment ago. Taehyung shivers, and Seokjin uses the
opportunity to push his head back and free his cock.

“No teasing, and absolutely no teeth,” the beta warns before letting Taehyung take him into his
mouth. Seokjin’s cock is the perfect size, hot and heavy on his tongue. It slides so easily to the
back of his throat, too. Blowing Seokjin and hearing his little gasps and moans always feels like
such a big reward.

Lube is trickling out of his hole and down the backs of his thighs, but Taehyung tries not to think
about how much he wants something back there. His cock hangs heavy and red between his thighs,
begging to be touched, but he can’t do much about it, either.

Seokjin pets Taehyung’s hair. “Want to try something new?”

Taehyung hums in curiosity around Seokjin’s cock, and a bit of drool drips past the seam of his
lips.

“Messy baby,” Seokjin scolds softly and runs his fingers through the mess. “Lie on your back for
me, head off the edge of the bed.”

Taehyung scrambles to obey. Blood is already rushing to his head and he’s not even upside down
yet. Seokjin could get so deep from this angle, could use Taehyung’s throat like a simple toy.

It also leaves his chest and cock exposed, and –

Seokjin trails his fingers over Taehyung’s left nipple and gives it a sharp pinch and a tug and
laughs when Taehyung snaps his jaws shut. It’s vulnerable being like this, belly up and dangling
off the bed so daintily. Seokjin hooks two fingers under Taehyung’s collar, and it finally pulls a
low warning growl out of him.

“Do you need to safe word?” Seokjin asks quietly, attentively.

“No,” Taehyung says, swallowing the tail end of his growl. Those tiny reactions come and go, he’s
still on top of everything. He’s fine.

“Do you need to adjust the scene? Want me to avoid something?”

This time Taehyung all but cries out his objection. “Just fuck my face already, gosh.”

“Tsk tsk. Beta is trying to be kind and all you do is run your mouth like a disobedient little brat.
Have it your way, then.”

Seokjin rubs his cockhead against Taehyung’s bottom lip, smearing precum everywhere. As soon
as Taehyung’s mouth falls open, he pushes his cock all the way to the hilt, the pace just fast
enough to make Taehyung gag and tremble in his hold. There’s no time to adjust, though, as the
beta sets a steady pace right away, using Taehyung at his leisure. From time to time, he leans down
to pinch a nipple or smooth a hand over the slight bulge in Taehyung’s throat. He’s no longer the
centre of Seokjin’s careful attention but a toy for the beta to relieve himself with.

Seokjin’s gasps grow louder, the beta is getting closer and closer to orgasm. Taehyung can hardly
feel his own erection anymore, he has gone numb and dumb, moaning obscenely around Seokjin
and spilling drool all over his balls that slap against his cheek and nose at every thrust.

Seokjin comes with a groan, buried so deep in Taehyung’s throat that he can’t breathe, can’t even
taste Seokjin’s cum on his tongue.

Then, out of nowhere, Seokjin’s fingers are curling around Taehyung’s cock, one hand cupping his
knot which seems to be fully formed and the other tugging a few times over the tip.

Taehyung comes so hard he sees white, and he can’t even scream because of Seokjin’s softening
cock that is still keeping him gagged.

Taehyung’s come ends up everywhere – on his stomach and the sheets, somewhere on Seokjin’s
navel and all over his fingers as the beta strokes him through wave after wave.
Suddenly Taehyung can breathe properly again, even though the world is still upside down, wonky
and crooked at the edges. Seokjin is showering him with praise, calling him good boy again, the
perfect alpha for him.

“Up you go,” Seokjin mutters and arranges Taehyung to lie on his side on the bed, naked body
covered with a fluffy purple blanket.

“Was it good? Did it feel good to come?”

Yeah, Taehyung thinks, so good. He slips a hand between his legs to find his knot still partially
swollen, hot and sore to the touch.

“You broke my knot,” Taehyung complains with a huff, and Seokjin laughs, softly and a little
squeakily.

“I can be much meaner to your knot, just you wait.”

Taehyung shivers. He doesn’t doubt the threat for a second.

“Can you give me cuddles?” he asks, reaching his arms out.

“Sure, darling. I’m just going to fetch us some water from the kitchen, won’t be gone longer than
twenty-five seconds, okay? You can count if you want.”

Taehyung pouts as dramatically as he can. “One… two…”

Seokjin dashes out of the room, and soon Taehyung can hear the tap run.

When the beta returns, Taehyung pulls his best pissed off face. “You are three seconds late. What
do I get as compensation?”

“Watch the tone, Taehyung-ah. Brats don’t get half as many cuddles as properly polite boys.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung sighs, and then has to hold back a smile when he feels the bed dip anyway,
feels strong arms wrap around his torso.

“Want the collar off now or a little later?” Seokjin huffs against his neck.

“I don’t mind it.”

“Mmh, good. How did it make you feel?”

Taehyung doesn’t have to think very hard. “Very owned.”

Seokjin is quiet for a moment, but his hand keeps sliding over his shoulders in a soothing pattern.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” he finally asks.

Taehyung thinks about it, long and hard, tastes the word on his tongue.

He likes being Seokjin’s in that way. It has nothing to do with being alpha or omega, or with being
lesser than someone.

“It’s a good thing,” Taehyung decides, tone resolute. “It gets me to the right headspace more
quickly, and I stay down better, too.”
Seokjin was right from the beginning, it’s far easier to submit to another alpha who can dominate
Taehyung physically. With a beta it’s more work, but fuck if it isn’t worth it.

Seokjin presses a kiss to his temple. “That’s my smart alpha.”

Slightly pushing his luck, Seokjin grabs Taehyung’s chin and tilts it to gain access to his scent
gland, going in for an intimate scenting they have talked about before. Taehyung clenches his jaw
under Seokjin’s fingers and wills his body to stay still, because it feels so good to have the beta
nosing along his throat, but there’s also a small pang in his stomach telling him it’s wrong.

He’s not prepared for the tiny nip that comes next, a rush of endorphins that leaves him boneless
on the bed. For a fraction of a second he wants to fight the bite, but then it’s all gone, muted,
mellow.

“I like you so much, Kim Taehyung,” Seokjin whispers in a raw voice.

Taehyung is so happy, it’s the perfect moment.

Perfect.

Seokjin’s phone starts ringing in a demanding tune on the bedside table, almost rattling off the
edge because of the vibrations. The beta jolts out of the serene moment before Taehyung can even
register what’s happening. He’s muttering something about the fact that he shouldn’t be getting
work calls on a Saturday evening, that it might be something urgent.

It means that Seokjin’s comforting warmth is gone, making Taehyung whine at the loss. He
understands that one of Seokjin’s clients could be in trouble, but couldn’t he have the beta for one
full evening? Would that be too much to ask?

“Kim Seokjin speaking.”

Taehyung relaxes, thinking about taking a small nap before heading home. Maybe receiving more
kisses and cuddles before hopping on the last bus of the night.

“What!?”

All of a sudden, Seokjin’s scent spikes radically, which isn’t exactly common for betas. His calm
rainwater scent turns into ozone and thunder, wet earth after a rainstorm. It’s beautiful and
delicious and absolutely terrifying. Taehyung pushes himself upright, clutching the edge of the
blanket.

Seokjin is already on the move, dashing across the room for his laptop, phone held between ear
and shoulder. The beta messes up his password three times because his hands shake so much.

“Wait, no, I don’t know anything about this – what? Of course not!”

Taehyung grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head. For some reason his heart is pounding in his
chest, and the collar feels restricting all of a sudden.

Seokjin manages to open his laptop, he’s typing something in, opening articles, but his torso is
blocking the view from Taehyung’s curious eyes.

“This could all be a misunderstanding, the photograph isn’t all that clear – that’s exactly what I
meant. You know Min Yoongi and his pristine reputation, he would never –“
The person at the other end isn’t allowing Seokjin to finish any of his sentences.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know.”

Then, Seokjin’s scent soars into new, dangerous heights. He turns his head to lock eyes with
Taehyung. The beta pockets his phone and grits his teeth.

“I was with you the whole night, okay? We were having filthy sex or playing chess or whatever the
case may be. I never left home.”

Taehyung nods, there’s no room for argument.

“I need to go see Yoongi.”

•••

Things have been… good, lately. Yoongi likes to use the frequency of Jimin’s smiles as his
primary data point, but there have been other indicators as well. Jimin has been eating
exceptionally well, not fussing about foods he hasn’t had before. He has been playing with Holly
and coming home from work with a spring in his step, always telling funny anecdotes about his
boss.

The other thing that has been going well is Yoongi’s relationship with alpha Jung Hoseok.

After getting caught red-handed by their respective omegas, they have gotten bolder, meeting for a
late night snack and a bottle of soju at a tent bar, or hanging out at Hoseok’s flat while Jungkook is
doing his training shifts at the tattoo parlour. Hoseok always pretends he’s not worried about his
mate at all, that his alpha doesn’t grow restless at his absence, but Yoongi knows better and tries to
soothe Hoseok’s nerves as best as he can.

Apparently Jungkook is being a bit secretive about his work and colleagues, and Hoseok is
understandably concerned that someone is harassing him. Every night he scents his mate from head
to toe, trying to catch any strange scents of inappropriately wandering alpha hands on his skin, but
not all harassment is physical.

Yoongi has tried to ask Jimin about it a few times, but to his surprise the omega, who has overall
been in an excellent mood, locks up and changes the subject whenever Yoongi mentions
Jungkook’s new job, even if it’s in passing.

Which means Jimin knows something, something more than Hoseok.

But Yoongi also has trust in Jimin. He’s convinced the omega would be first to speak up if
Jungkook was actually in trouble or in need of some kind of intervention. Perhaps there’s just some
tension between employees – the harmless, competitive kind that will get resolved as time goes by,
and Jungkook and Jimin know that the alphas would take it too seriously if they knew.

Yoongi is just glad he can be there for Hoseok, that they can lament together how limited their
understanding of omegan affairs is.

On a lighter note, Jimin and Yoongi have picked up the habit of going grocery shopping together a
couple times a week. Yoongi enjoys having Jimin there to point at the cuts of meat he wants to eat
and the vegetables he deems the freshest.

That way the primal part of Yoongi’s brain gets the kick of hunting and presenting the spoils to his
omega. The alpha in him preens when Jimin claps his hands at a dish Yoongi has prepared with his
own hands, and he has to remind himself to eat as well, because he could simply get lost in
watching Jimin eat.

But it’s not just an alpha-omega thing, either. Genuinely, all instincts taken out of the equation,
Jimin is a very pleasant person to be around. He can be loud and cheerful, or thoughtful and sultry.
It’s hard to predict in which mood the omega will be in, but Yoongi doesn’t mind. He loves every
side of him equally.

Not like romantic ‘want to spend the rest of my life with you’ type of love, not this soon, but the
‘seeing you smile makes my heart leap out of my chest’ kind. Whatever the difference between the
two is, Yoongi isn’t quite sure, but he doesn’t let it jumble his brain any more than that.

•••

The doorbell rings at nine pm on a Saturday night. It’s already weird enough as it is, but the sound
doesn’t stop, the person behind the door keeps strumming the button. Yoongi takes Holly into his
arms, not sure if he’s trying to protect the kitten from a possible intruder or to use his tiny claws as
a makeshift weapon, but Holly doesn’t object either way.

He takes a cautious look at the door camera to see an unlikely visitor.

Seokjin is pale and flushed at the same time, his hair matted against his forehead. As soon as
Yoongi has a few centimetres of the door pushed open, the beta starts pushing past Yoongi with an
aura of absolute panic. Yoongi has never experienced Seokjin’s scent this potent and
overwhelming. It’s almost as if he’s an alpha.

“I was just about to punch in the door code. We need to talk. Is Jimin here?” Seokjin shrieks.

“Yeah, he’s probably –“

Seokjin silences Yoongi with his hand before he can even mutter the entire sentence, and then
proceeds to toe his shoes off in uncoordinated movements. On top of Seokjin’s ridiculous
stormwater scent, he reeks of Kim Taehyung and – semen. It seems to be the beta’s post-sex hair
Yoongi is currently staring at.

“You sincerely thought it would be the best course of action to drop by for a late night’s visit
covered in the cum of Jimin’s best friend?” Yoongi blurts out in horror, loud enough for Jimin to
stumble into the living room in a hurry, dressed in nothing but one of Yoongi’s old band shirts and
his night collar.

The entirety of the omega’s ass is on display, which is just great. Brilliant.

“Is Tae okay?” Jimin asks nervously, biting his lip. He looks so delicate drowning in the old shirt
that Yoongi’s heart aches.

Seokjin stops to push his hair back, looking a bit guilty now. “Yes, he is. I’m sorry, of course you
would think that something was wrong – it’s just that I got this call and didn’t want to leave any
trace of contacting you. Have you been on social media tonight, either of you?”

Jimin only looks confused and curious, but dense worry builds up in Yoongi’s chest, at the
Seokjin’s franticness, at the timing –

Seokjin wipes his sweaty palms on his trouser leg and takes out his phone.

“I’ve tried telling you that people recognise you now, Yoongi-yah,” the beta says with a deep
frown as he scrolls down a web page with flashing advertisements. “You can’t go frolicking
around as you please. Here.”

Seokjin holds up his Samsung to show a slightly grainy picture of what appears to be Yoongi and
Jimin at the grocery shop near their house. Jimin’s hand is resting on Yoongi’s shoulder, and the
omega’s eyes are downcast in a way that could be interpreted as seductive. But the worst thing
about the entire picture is the blue collar around Jimin’s neck and the golden charm hanging off it
that could very easily be an ownership tag, Yoongi’s claim.

Seokjin grimaces and turns the screen to let Jimin see the picture properly as well.

“Hot alpha Producer showing love at the grocer’s – new omega sweetheart already collared?”
Seokjin rattles off in a grindingly monotonous voice. He seems to have memorised the full
headline.

Jimin looks at the photograph with slightly unfocused eyes. “Where is that photo from?”

“Dispatch,” Seokjin squeaks. “It was posted four hours ago, but OWSC found out about it just
now.”

Yoongi sees red and then goes into defence mode. “Why would anyone be interested in what I buy
for lunch? That’s ridiculous. I’m just – I’m just –“

Seokjin shakes his head. “You’re effectively a celebrity, Yoongi-yah. Tough luck.” He turns to
look at Jimin, whose eyes are wide as saucers. “When did you last have sex?”

“Wh–what?”

A growl forms in Yoongi’s chest before he can even think, and he moves forward to shove Seokjin
against the wall if need be.

Seokjin takes a step back, knows he’s treading on some thin ice, but he still insists.

“It was yesterday,” Jimin admits in a sheepish tone.

It was just lazy evening sex in Yoongi’s bed, blowjobs and gentle nips at Jimin’s lovely thighs.
The whole thing now seems like something from a decade ago.

“Get in the shower and scrub yourselves clean. I mean it. Use scent neutralising soap, too.”
Seokjin’s eyes are wild, fierce. “They will call you any time now. Act dumb. You don’t know
about the picture. The collar was Jimin’s idea, not yours. In a moment of weakness you indulged
him. Got it?”

Yoongi nods, he does get it all too well. His mouth is so dry it feels like there’s one of Holly’s
hairballs stuck in his throat, too big to cough up. It’s painful to even glance at Jimin.

This is Yoongi’s fault, all of it.

He’s putting his omega through stress and worry, it’s his responsibility, his fault, his fault.

“Baby, you’re growling quite loudly.”

Jimin’s words pierce through the red haze clouding Yoongi’s mind like a sharpened knife. Yoongi
finds himself in a crouched position, clawing the armrest of the sofa next to him, showing his teeth
at the invisible threat.

Baby? Yoongi tilts his head in confusion.

“Good boy. That’s it.”

The growl dies in Yoongi’s throat and turns into a tentative purr. His omega is calling him good?
Yoongi wants more of that. Wants Jimin’s approval.

Seokjin slams his palm against his forehead. “You’re a bunch of kinky idiots. What am I going to
do with you two?”

“Says you who smells more like Taehyung than Taehyung himself,” Jimin snaps, pulling on the
hem of his shirt to cover a bit more of his bare legs. “Did he lick you like an oversized lolly?”

Seokjin lets out a small, squeaky laugh of embarrassment, but it does little to relieve the thick
tension in the room.

“I’ll do everything in my power to set this right, but I assume the committee will no longer take my
word for it. They’ll be forced to investigate since the photo went up publicly.”

Yoongi feels faint. He has heard of this happening before, to his former colleagues, but he thought
he’d never sink so low as to take advantage of an omega under his guidance. The investigation
procedures are invasive and exhausting, and while Yoongi will pull through, this is the last thing
Jimin needs right now. The omega has just started to feel more comfortable in his own skin, has let
himself play with his innate need for submission.

And Yoongi has in turn let himself take the space of an alpha without the rules and constraints he
had previously placed on himself, because he knows Jimin will always push back on his own, that
there will always be a counter to his instinctual behaviour that perfectly matches their dynamic.

They’re on the verge of losing all that progress, and the realisation of that is crushing.

Yoongi’s phone starts ringing.

He takes a quick glance at Jimin, whose cheeks have drained of colour. The omega is nervously
swaying on his feet, from heel to toe, rocking himself back and forth.

He needs to focus for Jimin. He can’t let the alpha in him take the front seat just now.

Yoongi slides his finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Hello? Min Yoongi speaking.”

“Hello, I’m afraid I have to bother you this late in the evening with an unpleasant matter. I’m
calling from the department of misconduct and contract violation. It has come to our attention that
you’re under suspicion of forming an intimate personal relationship with omega Park Jimin, who is
currently under your care and explicit authority.”

Yoongi closes his eyes to avoid meeting Jimin’s eyes. He doesn’t know what kind of sound would
 escape him if he did.

There’s wilted lilacs in the air, dead flowers and musty leather, water from a polluted river. Their
distressed scents blend into a mixture of anxious melancholy.

“Yoongi-ssi, do you acknowledge these claims?”

Yoongi grips the edges of his phone harder and turns to look at Seokjin. The beta’s stormy eyes
reveal what Yoongi has to do. He has passed too many points of no return.

The die has been cast a long time ago.

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” he says. “This must be a misunderstanding. I have no
relationship with omega Park Jimin.”

Chapter End Notes

The angst is coming and I'm not ready.

((Next update Sat 28th of August))

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Seven of Them
Chapter Notes

Jimin tries to be there for Yoongi.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Yoongi lowers the phone from his ear, eyes glazed over and jaw twitching. He and Seokjin have
only heard half of the conversation, and the tension is so maddening that Jimin feels like chewing
on his fingernails, a habit he thought to have shaken years ago.

Seokjin breathes out a single “well?”, which is enough to have Yoongi’s shoulders slouch. All fight
leaves the alpha’s body like he’s a wind-up toy with its spring snapped.

Jimin fights to keep his heart rate calm despite feeling like he’s about to burst at the seams. He
knows that any distress would instantly be picked up by Yoongi’s protective alpha instincts. He
needs to keep it together, smell mellow and flowery for Yoongi’s alpha brain to stay functional.
It’s a large burden to bear.

Yoongi shakes his head and clears his throat, but the first words that come out of his mouth are still
broken into croaky bits. “They’re moving Jimin’s case to a specialist. Oh Taeri.”

Jimin recognises the name – it’s the beta who signed off his life in the first place, denying his
request to be recognised as an unclaimed, independent omega.

Seokjin doesn’t look thrilled, either. “She’s really old-school and regrettably perceptive. Fooling
her will be difficult.”

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi curses under his breath. He seems to instinctively reach for Jimin, his
alpha instincts still running rampant, but he stops himself half-way, arm falling limply to his side.

“If I’ve understood correctly, she’ll interview you both, and based on that she’ll either terminate
your contract and ship Jimin off to some random alpha, or put you through other evaluations.

Yoongi groans, grabbing his own hand and squeezing until his knuckles turn deathly white.
Jimin’s heart hurts knowing the alpha really wants to hold his hand but is too scared, too distraught
to do so.

“There was a mention of a full protocol evaluation,” he says in a hoarse voice, “do you know what
that entails?”

Seokjin goes worryingly red in the face, mouthing Yoongi’s words without sound. In seconds, the
beta goes from looking anxious to outright mad. “Full protocol, are you serious?”

Jimin feels lost, the terminology foreign and ominous to him. He feels naked too, in his state of
undress that extends beyond the lack of clothes. It’s as though someone has carved all his skin off
and left only bone and muscle behind.
Seokjin walks to the couch and flops down to sit, messily tucking his long legs under himself. With
the soft glow of a floor lamp hitting his face, the beta looks strikingly handsome despite his
dishevelled state, and his gaze is intense and engaged. In passing, Jimin thinks about how
Taehyung really scored a jackpot with him, after years of being let down by disingenuous suitors.

Seokjin really does care. He cares about Yoongi more than anyone of course, but that care and
consideration extends to Jimin, too.

“I’ll tell you what I know,” Seokjin says, but Yoongi stops him with a raised palm.

“Thank you, but first I have to, –“ the alpha leaves the words hanging in the air, and then without
any explanation, starts pulling his sweatpants down. He lets them pool at his ankles before
stepping out of them, standing there in the middle of the room in his boxers without care. Yoongi
picks up and whisks the sweats in Jimin’s direction almost roughly, not even bothering to explain.

Jimin bites back his reaction, which could’ve been anything from annoyance to amused laughter,
and decides to play along for now. He pulls the sweatpants up his legs, but the waistband is way
too loose for him, leaving the pants hanging low on his hips. Unhappy with the result, Yoongi
storms over and pulls the drawstring as tight as physically possible, tying it on a double-knot.

And still, Jimin can’t really fault his tantrum. This is something Yoongi’s primal alpha brain thinks
it can fix, unlike the more glaring problem at hand. Making Jimin somewhat presentable is a
coping mechanism for him. Jimin bares his neck, just a little to settle Yoongi’s alpha further. He
has become quite apt at managing Yoongi’s instincts.

“You can scent me a little,” Jin all but whispers, even though Seokjin must hear every word. It’s a
part of the illusion he’s creating to trick the alpha. “It won’t hurt, because we’ll have to de-scent
anyway. Take what you need.”

Yoongi lets out a singular little growl and leans in to nose along the line of Jimin’s jaw, briefly
grazing his scent gland with his cheek. Throughout the ordeal, Seokjin shows courtesy by feigning
obliviousness, petting Holly who has come to say hello after the big commotion died down.

Yoongi pulls away from Jimin’s neck with a slightly pained expression, giving his sweatpants one
last tightening tug. Jimin lets that slide, too. Under normal circumstances he would’ve probably
hissed by now, snapped his teeth to put the overprotective alpha to his rightful place.

He must’ve gone soft.

“Now,” Yoongi says with a heavy exhale, sitting down next to Seokjin with his bare legs spread
out to keep his alpha posture, “tell me what you know.

Jimin slides to the floor, silently, sitting down cross-legged to hopefully attract Holly to his lap. For
a moment the innocent scene disturbs him, though, as in history it was customary for omegas to not
be allowed on top of any furniture. Their place was on the floor at the feet of alphas and betas –
and here he is, an omega doing just that, his nakedness veiled by a possessive mate.

Seokjin looks down to meet Jimin’s eyes, making a shiver run through his body.

“High protocol is a controlled showcase of the dynamic. In the past, when arranged matings started
to decline in popularity, and the OWSC was founded in direct response, all the programmes had
only one goal – to make the omegas submit and agree to being promptly paired with an alpha of
suitable qualities.”

Seokjin draws in a breath, pinching his earlobe. “Suitable qualities meaning dominant and crude
enough to bend the unruly cases to their will. Discipline and non-sexual submission were used to
determine the success of the omega’s retraining. The term is hardly used these days, but I guess in
this context the committee wants proof that Yoongi has been training you to be a better omega
instead of trying to get into your pants.”

The silence following Seokjin’s explanation is rather grim. Even Holly scrambling into Jimin’s lap
and settling into the crook of his bent leg isn’t enough to burst the bubble of utter horror.

“They want to see results without any of that pesky emotional attachment,” the beta reiterates as
though it would make it sound any less ridiculous.

Jimin quickly places his hand on Holly’s back, soothing the kitten who’s producing tiny little
mewls at the rise of tension in the room. Holly must smell how Yoongi’s scent has changed, a
maddening combination of leather and spicy orange peel.

The alpha too has his eyes fixed on Jimin, looking like he wants to scoop him up and hide him
from the world, preferably in the same place with his kitten.

“What – what would those results be?” he asks with an audible gulp of air and spit.

Jimin shudders again, feeling so small and fragile under their scrutiny. He’s thankful for the too-
big sweats now.

Seokjin coughs, but it sounds fake. “When I first looked at Jimin’s records, I noticed that specialist
Oh had focused on two major points in her assessment that lead to assigning the case to me. First
was the obvious and politically correct one – health and possible suppressant abuse.”

The beta flashes Jimin and apologetic look. “But the second one – I remember that she had marked
your file with a note that said ‘respect toward other subgenders a serious concern’. She will want to
see obedience, a sheep-like mentality from you, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin frowns a little at the informal address, but for some reason it feels his, too. Like Seokjin is
further proving he already considers Jimin someone close to him.

“What do I need to do?” Jimin manages to ask despite feeling out of breath. Holly is no longer
enough to keep him calm. Instead, the spot between Yoongi’s legs looks really inviting to Jimin,
and he hates himself a little for thinking that.

Yoongi seems to notice Jimin staring at his spread knees, because he develops a delicate blush on
his cheeks.

Seokjin waves the odd, magnetic pull between them off with a subtle eye-roll. “While you interact
with specialist Oh, remember to wait for Yoongi to speak first. Don’t look at her or Yoongi in the
eye and try to act a little more submissive than usual. I know it must terribly hurt your pride, but
that way you might be able to dodge a full-scale evaluation.”

Jimin stifles a laugh into the back of his hand. His pride is already in splinters as he keeps shuffling
toward Yoongi, wanting to pull himself into safe oblivion.

“I don’t know how to be like that, but I can shut up and pretend I’m someplace else.”

“That won’t be enough,” Seokjin says. “You need to act. Like you mean it, like you want Yoongi
to decide for you.”

Jimin glances at Yoongi, who is sitting still, breathing shallowly. The blush from earlier is gone,
replaced with sickly paleness as though the alpha is about to be sick. Jimin isn’t sure if him inching
closer is for the better, or if he’s making matters worse by his instinctual submission, but he can’t
help but place Holly down and rest his chin on the alpha’s knee.

There’s only so much he can do to dampen his omega that has been allowed to roam free during
the past few weeks.

Seokjin looks at them for a prolonged moment, lips curled to a worried pout. “If the worst case
scenario comes true, you’ll need the support of your friends. I will round up the doms and wrangle
Yoongi into the correct headspace if need be, but –,” Seokjin’s eyes, shiny with sympathy, flicker
toward the miserable-looking Yoongi, “– he doesn’t seem to be in the state of mind to help you
much right now.”

Yoongi growls weakly at the accusation, a sad little noise above Jimin’s ducked head. But the
alpha isn’t touching Jimin at all, just allowing to be used as a lifeless shield against the evil of the
world. Simultaneously, Jimin feels safe and unsecured, like all of his screws have rattled loose at
the same time.

“I’ll call Tae tomorrow,” he says. “Will you be going back to him tonight, Seokjin-ssi? Or…
hyung?”

Seokjin grimaces a little at the mention of Taehyung, who is only present in scent, but they’re all
collectively getting past the point of excess shame.

“I will. Naturally, I was never here tonight. Was playing solitaire with Taehyung all night long.”

Yoongi scoffs, then. His limbs are twitching to life with difficulty, joint by joint, like a machine
impaired by rust and debris.

“Solitaire is a single-player card game. It’s in the damn name,” the alpha says, and it almost makes
everyone laugh. Almost.

Just before leaving, Seokjin grabs Jimin by the elbow and pulls him into the small alcove by the
door, out of Yoongi’s sight. The beta wraps his arms around Jimin’s shoulders and squeezes
tightly. Jimin can’t remember a moment when a simple hug would’ve felt that good.

Yoongi calls out to him from around the corner, saying he’s taking that shower.

Says he promises to make it ice-cold and clear his head.

Jimin suspects that the animalistic panic that consumed Yoongi is going to hit Jimin later, when he
finishes processing the events of the night, probably at the least opportune moment.

And when that crash hits, Jimin will be desperate to bolt and never look back.

•••

Jimin has barely slept, and pale morning light is already spilling from a slit in the curtains. He’s
curled up in his nest, a tiny little ball of nervous uncertainty, limbs tucked against his chest.

It was his own idea to sleep in separate beds, to create some artificial distance between him and
Yoongi in order to prepare for what’s to come. After showering for twenty minutes, trying to scrub
all signs of Yoongi’s wandering hands off his skin, Jimin felt hollow and nauseous, and that feeling
has yet to fully subside. Jimin still has one of Yoongi’s shirts in the nest, and he’s clinging to it like
it’s a lifeline, like he might just wither away without its comforting presence.

They have to go down to the centre soon – ‘first thing in the morning’, the person on the phone had
emphasised. Because they were worried for Jimin’s safety. Because they thought Yoongi was
subjecting him to some horrible abuse, or heaven forbid, was courting him with evil intentions.

Because surely a puny little omega like him would be susceptible to anything an alpha would try to
trick him into.

Frustrated and needing to pee, Jimin kicks his blankets off and rolls out of bed, his feet landing on
the floorboards with a dull thud. He slinks into the guest bathroom in the corridor, and after doing
his business, he almost has a heart attack.

Yoongi is standing in the hallway with a glass of water.

“Did you message your boss about not being able to work today?” the alpha asks quietly.

Jimin clutches his heaving chest. Thankfully it’s still quite dark with the morning sun hitting the
other side of the house. Jimin can only make out the line of Yoongi’s earrings, and his broad
shoulders, so Jimin’s reactions should be similarly hidden from the alpha.

“I will go to work afterwards. I’ll just be a little late.”

Yoongi sets the glass down with a heavy exhale that doesn’t bode well. “I don’t want you to work
today.”

The irritation from earlier is prickling under Jimin’s skin with renewed force. “You don’t get a say
in that, dumb alpha.”

The comeback falls flat, it’s embarrassingly childish. Jimin realises he’s still dressed in Yoongi’s
sweatpants, and he gets the urge to rip them off and throw them to the floor to make himself even
more like a petulant child.

Jimin was strong for Yoongi last night, had to be.

He continues to be strong, and what does Yoongi do? Order him around as if Jimin is his little
housewife.

“Go brush your teeth and have some breakfast, there are egg rolls in the fridge,” Yoongi says
flatly, avoiding Jimin’s eyes. “We can’t be late.”

“Is this how this is going to be?”

Yoongi turns around, but Jimin can see the tense line of his shoulders. “For God’s sake, Jimin-ah,
just do what you’re told.”

The objection dies in Jimin’s throat, because Yoongi isn’t the macho alpha his words make him
out to be. He’s a kicked, scolded puppy baring his teeth.

“I’m going to let this go,” Jimin breathes out, “just because you’re wallowing in guilt so deep you
can barely operate. And I need you to fucking operate.”
“Thank you,” comes the belated reply.

Jimin nods, and they get on with their morning.

•••

Oh Taeri, Jimin realises quickly, is a person one shouldn’t cross with a light heart.

The beta is a tiny, grey-haired woman who wears her years of experience on her face like warpaint.
Her gaze never falters, never drops, always fixed on Jimin’s or Yoongi’s face and eager to catch
them in a lie.

Yoongi is stone-rigid next to Jimin, but he speaks in a confident tone. He has already denied all
accusations while Jimin has remained silent as he should. Yoongi has Jimin’s blue collar in his
hands, and is currently explaining that it was only bought for Jimin to dance in, that most times
he’s still wearing the committee-mandated training collar.

The specialist interrupts him at the most uncomfortable moments, just to ask personal questions
about Jimin and his so-called training.

“During his heat, did you have intercourse with Jimin?” she asks after examining the collar and
placing it on the desk like a crucial piece of evidence.

“I did not,” Yoongi truthfully answers.

“You fell into rut during his heat and didn’t have penetrative sex with him?” she reiterates, and
Jimin feels his face grow hot at the impersonal, clinical language.

Yoongi denies the accusation again.

Up to this point Jimin has been largely ignored, but now the beta turns her steely gaze to him.
“During training, has Min Yoongi made any untoward advances?”

Jimin wants to burst out laughing, but he controls himself at the last moment. Yoongi is barely
breathing next to him. “No, he has not.”

“What is typical training for you? Explain it to me in detail.”

Jimin chokes on air, because for some reason, he believed he would be spared these kinds of
questions. He thought he could just smile and look pretty, and the specialist would think him too
dumb and clueless to take part in the adult talk.

Yoongi must’ve had similar thoughts, as the alpha risks a worried glance in Jimin’s direction.

“Yoongi-ssi makes me uhh – kneel when he puts my collar on. And, and –,” Jimin rakes his brain
for something that would satisfy the beta, something that would seem traditional. “He controls
what I eat, because I can’t remember to feed myself often enough.”

“That’s it?” she asks with a wickedly raised eyebrow, typing something on his computer.

Jimin almost jumps out of his seat in his haste to keep talking. “When Yoongi-ssi has alpha friends
over, I’m not allowed on furniture,” he blurts out in panic. “And I’m not allowed to go outside
alone without a chaperone. I mean, I hate all that but it’s a part of the training… right?”

Yoongi’s eyes go wide as saucers, and Jimin knows instantly just how badly he fucked up. What
he’s describing is a scene from a period drama.

“Are you making fun of me, omega?” Oh Taeri asks in an absolutely chilling voice.

Sweating bullets, Jimin meets the beta’s eyes, and realises that it’s a special kind of hatred for him,
because Jimin has played the committee for years, using every loophole imaginable. He’s a deviant
of the worst kind, of the gravest offence.

Certain types of omega empowerment is for the betterment of the society. Omegas going to school
and getting jobs is good for the economy, at least if the said omegas pull double duty pumping out
pups.

But Jimin is a double offender with his possibly dysfunctional uterus and unwillingness to settle
down.

He’s the wrong kind of empowered, but he needs to roll with it.

“I hate this training, and I hate Min Yoongi, but what can I do about it?” he shrugs, hoping his
dismissive tone would be enough to clear any suspicions of a relationship between them. “We’ve
fought a lot, and Yoongi-ssi goes pretty hard on me sometimes.”

“Yes, and Jimin-ssi knows who’s in charge. He can be good, too,” Yoongi chimes in. “I give him
small freedoms based on good behaviour, because that’s my dominance style. Up to this point no
one at OWSC has had any qualms with it. As you must know, I’m one of your best-ranking support
alphas.”

Jimin is in awe at how stable Yoongi is managing to keep his scent. It’s slightly sour from the
stress, but all the usual undertones are there and in perfect balance. Jimin can only hope he’s faring
similarly well.

“If you have omega Park so well under control,” the specialist starts, giving Jimin a fleeting glance
filled with distaste, “why haven’t you gotten the fertility testing done, yet? Why is he talking back
to a government official trying to investigate a rather serious incident? One that involves the media
no less, endangering the good reputation of the whole OWSC.”

What good reputation, Jimin wants to ask, but thankfully his mouth is too dry to form the words.

Yoongi seems to sense that Jimin is on edge. Under the table, he grazes Jimin’s thigh with his
fingers. “We thought it might be too much for Jimin right now, so me and Seokjin postponed it a
bi–“

“On whose permission did you make such a decision?”

“I used my own judgement, because I didn’t think Jimin was ready for it –“

Oh Taeri leans back in her seat, eyes full of vitriol. He cuts Yoongi off, again. “Since you decided
to joke about Joseon era customs, have it your way. I want a full evaluation of your dynamic. I
want to see if you can treat omega Park with neutral professionalism, and if omega Park is able to
even reach a level of submission appropriate for his status.”

She draws in a deep breath. “And if I find out that you have been fooling me, if you have so much
as held hands, I will make sure that neither you nor Kim Seokjin will ever work in this field again.
You’re dismissed.”

After deep, insincere bows and wobbly steps, Yoongi manages to get them into a taxi. Behind the
tinted windows, Jimin collapses against Yoongi’s chest with bitter apologies falling out of his
mouth.

Yoongi rubs circles into his back and asks if Jimin truly wants to go to work in his state.

Jimin admits he really doesn’t, so they go home and share a full tub of ice-cream as they stare at a
wall, a nagging voice at the back of Jimin’s mind, telling him to run run run.

•••

Hoseok puts down the half-eaten pizza slice, topped with pepperoni and three different cheeses,
and wipes his greasy fingers on a thin paper napkin.

“Hyung, I think you’ll need to detach yourself a little,” he says, trying his best to ignore the queasy
feeling in his stomach. “Lock your alpha away but stay in that dominant headspace to appease the
committee.”

“How am I supposed to do that, Hoseok-ah? I’m not that kind of dominant.”

Yoongi hasn’t eaten anything since their lame support group for emotionally compromised alphas
commenced. Namjoon tried to get him to take a bite at least, but to no avail.

He looks pale and powerless, and Hoseok is worried.

Has been worried since his phone rang two hours ago, and Yoongi pleaded him and Jungkook for
help. When they got to Yoongi’s place, carrying two boxes of emergency pizza, Jungkook beelined
for Jimin and dragged the other omega to the bedroom for counselling, which left Hoseok to tend
to a frazzled-looking Yoongi who wouldn’t look him in the eye, and much less open up about what
had happened.

When Kim Namjoon arrived, he managed to seat the restless and pacing Yoongi on the sofa and
coaxed him into taking a minuscule sip of water. That was an hour ago, and they’ve barely made
any progress. Seokjin and Taehyung came over, too, but they went straight into Jimin’s bedroom to
talk with the omega. Maybe they thought the three vaguely dominant alphas needed a moment
alone. Or something, Hoseok isn’t sure.

He tries to catch Namjoon’s attention for support, but the other alpha is looking down at his own
crossed arms with a deep frown on his face.

“It doesn’t matter what kind of person you are. It’s only for one day. You can do this because you
care about Jimin,” Hoseok mumbles, but the words sound tinny and hollow to his own ears.

Namjoon hums in agreement, but he still isn’t saying anything. Hoseok is aware that the two have
a long history, but he doesn’t know all the details. It’s not a great sign if the one alpha who knows
Yoongi better than anyone doesn’t fully believe in him. Although in that state, with his hoodie-
sleeves bunched into sweater paws and a pout on his rosy lips, Hoseok can see where the
hesitations would be coming from.
Something is happening in the next room, but the voices are too muffled to completely make out,
so it’s more frustrating than anything. Hoseok feels like he should keep talking when no one else
is.

“It must feel like you deserve a punishment for drawing Jimin into this, that it doesn’t matter what
happens to you, but Jimin is the one who will suffer more in this scenario. He still has months left
in the programme, and being transferred to an alpha he doesn’t know or trust could be a terrifying
experience. And Seokjin’s whole career is on the line, too.”

“Yah, you think I don’t know that?” Yoongi snaps meekly, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. It’s a
stress reaction, Hoseok guesses. “I’m a good liar, but this – I just don’t know. Feels bad, wrong.”

“We’ve gone over this many times,” Namjoon sighs, lifting his gaze after what felt like an eternity.
“And the self-pity isn’t helping, Yoongi hyung.” Namjoon directs his words at Yoongi, but his
voice booms throughout the room, unmistakably authoritative.

“I – I know,” Yoongi gasps. He’s positively drowning in his oversized hoodie, which looks like
something stolen from Namjoon’s closet. The small alpha’s canines are glinting in the soft lighting
in the room, but he looks like he could bite nothing, just a soft thing that desperately needs to
submit.

Hoseok wonders if he should scoop Yoongi up from the couch and place him at Namjoon’s feet.
There is that certain type of energy flowing through the room, one alphas can never explain to
anyone else, but something they all feel in their bones, mystical pheromones that can’t be measured
but what they can easily taste on their tongues.

The three of them aren’t pack, but their alpha sides are already sizing each other up, and they’ve
made Namjoon the natural centre of their dynamic, the pivotal point of their inner hierarchy. The
rest is unresolved for now, but it doesn’t matter, not when the alpha in Yoongi is cornered and
scared, ready to snap at any detectable change in the air. Hoseok isn’t ready to face the
consequence of trying to assert his own place, either.

Suddenly, the door to Jimin’s bedroom opens slightly, and Taehyung slips out through the tiny
crack. The young alpha’s eyebrows shoot all the way up in response to the dominant tension
crackling in the air. A whimper rolls out of his throat, and without a word, he fully bares his neck
to Namjoon like an open invitation. It took Taehyung a fraction of a second to read the room and
assume his place in the alpha hierarchy.

How very pack of him.

Namjoon looks a combination of flattered and flustered as he pulls on the hem of his maroon
cardigan – a bit hungry for Taehyung and his easy submission. Hoseok isn’t sexually attracted to
other alphas, but even he can feel a surge of something at the beautiful, intricate power exchange.

If Taehyung only accepts the alpha, he’ll have Namjoon eating out of his hand in no time.

“Alphas,” Taehyung utters timidly, and all three of them bare their canines in response, case in
point. Even Yoongi puffs out his chest a little before sinking back against the backrest of the
couch.

Namjoon rises to his feet, and the power behind the motion makes even Hoseok’s head spin. He
hasn’t got a single submissive bone in his body, but there’s just a certain voice that screams in his
head, telling him that it’s safe to let go, that he should.
Yoongi and Taehyung must be feeling the same pull, perhaps in an even more pronounced way.

“How’s Jimin?” Namjoon asks, voice steady.

“Jungkook and I tried to teach him some positions and cues to follow. Seokjin hyung demonstrated
them on me, but Jimin got really anxious seeing how…” Taehyung looks at Yoongi, clearly
assessing the amount of danger he is in.

When he sees Yoongi deflated like an old tire full of holes, he clears his throat and continues.
“Jiminie is really scared, you know. He doesn’t want to continue the contract between you, but he
doesn’t want to go to another alpha, either. He’s mentally at an impasse, and that’s causing him
great distress.”

“So how’s he now?” Namjoon repeats with a squint, ever perceptive of the fact that Taehyung
didn’t properly answer his question.

“Umm, I really hate this, I’m – we got him into a more submissive headspace, but it meant we had
to –“

“You had to what?” Namjoon asks in a harsh tone. Hoseok wants to cower and growl at the same
time. It’s as if he has become hotwired to Namjoon’s emotions. Yoongi is similarly squirming in
his seat.

“We thought it would be the least offensive option, so Jungkook kind of b-bit him.”

The blood in Hoseok’s veins turns into sticky slush, and the hot and cold goo gushes into his ears.
Just thinking about his Jungkook attempting to manhandle any of the hyungs into submission is
alarming, nearly impossible. Not that Jungkook wouldn’t be physically capable of such a stunt, but
it just isn’t what he enjoys, not in the slightest.

Taehyung is taking steps back when Yoongi’s scent starts building up, turning more and more
leathery by the second, even though the alpha still isn’t reacting visibly.

“Jimin was very good about it and fought so hard not to resist the bite. It worked, and he let
himself slip into a headspace, even though I doubt he would ever submit to Kookie on a regular
day.”

That’s finally the end of Yoongi’s lethargy. The alpha’s eyes turn glossy with withheld emotion,
and his hands curl into trembling fists, but at least he’s alive and alert.

“Is he down, now?” Yoongi asks in an empty voice, teeth lips still spread wide to show his teeth.
“Did he get any marks? Did Jin hyung touch him at any point?”

Taehyung rushes to Namjoon’s side, tilting his head toward the alpha. Namjoon rewards him by
placing a hand on top of his head and slowly sliding it down his nape. Taehyung preens under the
gentle affection that seems to be completely spontaneous on Namjoon’s part.

“Yes, no and no,” Taehyung answers to Yoongi as he leans back to the touch. “Jungkook was very
gentle about it, and we were just observing from the side. Do you want to come see him?”
Taehyung gestures with his hand to extend the invite to the rest of them. Tonight they’re a package
deal, and Hoseok wouldn’t want to leave his mate alone, either.

Yoongi is already halfway across the room before Taehyung has stopped talking, stumbling over
his feet, and Namjoon is right behind him, ready to deescalate the situation. They somehow
manage to cram all seven people inside the small bedroom where Jimin is kneeling next to his own
bed, wearing comfortable loungewear and his black training collar. As promised, his neck is clear
of bite marks, but his eyes are clouded in a submissive haze Hoseok has never seen Jimin
consumed by.

Jungkook breaks the tense silence of the room by bolting to Hoseok and wrapping his arms around
his neck in a crushing hug. “I don’t want to ever be a dom again,” he sniffles against Hoseok’s t-
shirt, feeling small and fragile despite his larger frame. “Don’t like it.”

“Mm, but you were such a good boy going out of your comfort zone to help Jiminie, though. Alpha
is very proud of you, baby.”

“But Jimin hissed at me and then went limp. I must’ve hurt him.”

Hoseok shushes his mate again and gives him a little nip right over his gland, enough to soothe his
nerves. “I think you should go and kneel next to Jimin. He might want to hold your hand, too.
What do you think?”

Jungkook finally stops shaking, looking at Hoseok with tiny, wet crystals at the corners of his eyes.

Oh, his mate is exquisite. Every day Hoseok wonders what gave him the right to call someone like
that his omega. Hoseok brushes the stray strands of hair escaped from Jungkook’s ponytail behind
his ear, presses a gentle kiss to his temple. Little things that he knows his mate to like.

Nice and settled, Jungkook moves over to Jimin and kneels down, the muscles in his legs pulling
taut and head bending down in a collected display of submission, something for Jimin to mirror if
he needs some extra guidance.

While they were having their moment, Yoongi had gone over to Jimin, too. The alpha is now
standing in front of the omega on wobbly legs, with Namjoon standing right behind him and
grasping his shoulders for support. It doesn’t go past Hoseok that Yoongi is very subtly presenting
his neck to Namjoon.

How very pack of them.

Taehyung and Seokjin are standing to the side, unsure of their standing and position in the room.
Seokjin is definitely dominant, but as a beta he doesn’t fall into the same line of hierarchy as the
alphas. He’s probably right below Namjoon in status, or at least that’s what Hoseok’s gut is telling
him. Taehyung on the other hand seems to struggle with wanting to help Jimin but not really
knowing how. As an alpha his presence might set Yoongi off, even if he was in full submissive
mode.

Jungkook turns to look at Jimin from the corner of his eyes and laces their fingers together. Jimin
hardly reacts, and Hoseok thinks he might still be fighting the submission on the inside. His scent
is spiking every now and then, indicating an internal struggle of some kind. Despite all that, he
can’t help but coo a little at how tightly the two omegas are holding hands, how prettily they’re
kneeling side by side.

Yoongi reaches a tentative hand to touch Jimin’s cheek, and the omega’s lilac scent blooms
sweeter at once. Namjoon praises both of them under his breath, fully embracing his temporary
position as pack alpha.

“Alphas,” Jimin suddenly whispers, searching for Yoongi’s gaze, and then Namjoon’s. “Alphas
came.”

Yeah, he’s all gone.

Hoseok has never seen Jimin like this.

“Yes, omega,” Yoongi replies, gritting his teeth, “how are you feeling?”

“Pl-please don’t make me come up before tomorrow… ‘m scared.”

Hoseok’s heart bursts at the seams, it’s painful and blinding. He gets a strong urge to protect Jimin,
to wrap him in his scent and watch him cuddle with his omega.

He can’t even start to imagine what Yoongi must be feeling, seeing his own omega, deep in a
headspace and still coherent enough to be afraid, yet too vulnerable to protect himself.

Yoongi kneels down to face Jimin on his eye level, and Hoseok can only admire his bravery.

“Alpha, please,” the omega breathes out.

Namjoon glances at Hoseok and then at Jungkook, but he’s still standing watch behind Yoongi.

“Jungkook-ah, are you close? Do you want to slip with Jimin?” the alpha offers, pushing his
glasses higher up on his nose. He’s asking Jungkook but also Hoseok. Submission is a delicate
subject, and Jungkook has never had to be so open about it with others around.

Jungkook licks his lips, eyes trailing in the direction of Jimin’s beautiful nest.

“Can – can we cuddle?”

Namjoon nods. “If Jimin wants to stay down to prepare for the tough day tomorrow, you should
definitely help him, keep him feeling as calm as possible.”

Hoseok nods his agreement.

“Taehyung, too,” Namjoon continues. “I think it would be very beneficial… if Yoongi can handle
another alpha in Jimin’s nest, of course.”

Taehyung almost skips over to them, trying to look as nonthreatening as he can. He’s clearly
delighted with the idea of engaging in a cuddle-pile of submissives. Yoongi responds by picking
Jimin up in his arms and placing him in the middle of his nest, covering him with a pink fleece
blanket. Jimin cries out from the loss of contact with Jungkook but doesn’t physically protest to
being moved around.

Hoseok knows Jungkook isn’t far behind, another bite to his gland and he’ll be gone.

But something in his head snaps as he’s preparing to nip his mate.

It’s as if he can’t settle himself before the newfound dynamic has clicked into place somehow,
even if it’s just for this one highly abnormal night. Hoseok goes to stand behind Jungkook and
gently tilts his head back, displaying his throat and collar beautifully.

“You do it, alpha,” he says without thinking, without even attempting to think. It’s all instinct, pure
and hot and urgent.

“Puh-please,” Jungkook whispers his consent. Hoseok can’t see his face, but his mate’s voice is
almost desperate, and he’s trying to present his neck as far as Hoseok’s hands allow.

It’s painlessly apparent that Namjoon is beyond thinking as well. The seven unique scents in the air
are mixing and blending into a combination Hoseok has never smelled before, it’s intoxicating, all-
 encompassing.

Namjoon’s mouth falls open, and he leans down, without preamble, and grazes his teeth against
Jungkook’s neck, the opposite side from where his mating bite is.

Hoseok doesn’t even growl, even though a stronger alpha just bit his mate.

It didn’t bother him.

There’s no time for a full analysis, though, because Jungkook goes limp as a dead fish in Hoseok’s
hold, and the two alphas have to carry him to the bed together. Jungkook whines and curls his
bigger body around Jimin’s, spooning him from behind.

Hoseok’s poor heart isn’t quite fit to face the sight, and Namjoon isn’t doing much better.

But someone is clearing his throat behind their backs, so they both turn around to see Taehyung
kneeling obediently on the floor with Seokjin’s hands tangled in his hair to reveal the smooth
expense of his throat.

Namjoon growls.

And it’s not a tiny accidental one, either.

Taehyung makes a bit of a fuss about the bite, maybe on purpose to make Namjoon go harder on
him, but he settles in the end like the rest. Yoongi doesn’t look pleased, but when the loose-limbed
alpha is placed on Jimin’s other side, the omega latches onto him like a drowning man, nose buried
in Taehyung’s scent gland as they drift off. It leaves Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi and Seokjin
standing awkwardly around the bed.

“So,” Hoseok says quietly, his head full of dormant bees weakly fluttering their wings, “that
happened.”

Seokjin crosses his arms and exhales through his nose. He’s leaning to Yoongi’s shoulder, who in
turn is reaching blindly for Namjoon, for alpha.

It’s almost okay like that – when it’s just the seven of them.

Chapter End Notes

Rapline was really trying ;-;

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Ardently Fallen
Chapter Notes

cw // vomiting and mentions of nausea, and a general warning for a very

uncomfortable scene at the end of the chapter.

But before that the definitely-not-a-pack does questionably pack-like things.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jimin’s nose is confused by the scents lingering in the air – there’s a touch of juniper, which is
Hoseok’s happy scent. It clings to another, sweeter scent that Jimin associates with Jungkook.

It’s a bit like honey.

“Honey bunny,” Jimin slurs with a tiny giggle.

He doesn’t remember getting drunk, but that’s what he feels like. He’s floating upside down in
warm, bubbling water. Like a bath, or a magical river.

He laughs again, and someone curls their fingers around the curve of his ribs.

“Jimin-ah.” It’s Taehyung’s voice now, Taehyung’s scent that reminds him of exotic fruits when
the alpha is calm and relaxed.

“He’s still down. Maybe that’s a good thing, today will be really rough on him. We should let him
sleep.”

This other voice comes from farther away. It sounds so gentle, so caring, but Jimin bristles
anyway, grasping Taehyung blindly. Taehyung is an alpha, not his alpha but an alpha nonetheless.
He’s going to protect Jimin and his nest.

Just like Jimin wanted, Taehyung cradles him in his strong arms and hushes him, pressing fruit-
scented kisses to his temple. Jimin can’t remember the last time they would’ve exchanged such
easy and painless affection. It’s as though some invisible barriers had broken overnight, lines that
used to exist there only to complicate matters.

Whatever these kisses are, they feel extremely uncomplicated.

Taehyung breathes in Jimin’s scent, smacking his lips as if he’s tasting the air. Ever since Jimin
came off the scent blockers, the alpha has complimented his scent on many occasions, saying it
would be criminal to mask such a pleasant scent again. Jimin would never admit to it out loud, but
he has started enjoying the fact that he’s able to lay his claim on others again, that Taehyung and
Jungkook are highly willing to carry Jimin’s scent on their skin wherever they go. It makes the
omega in Jimin purr in satisfaction.

“Go back to sleep for a bit… there, good boy.”

Jimin finds himself following the instructions, melting back into the sheets. He doesn’t drift off,
though. His ears are working perfectly fine and allow him to follow the conversation.

“You have to go to work soon, I assume?”

Jimin now recognises the other voice as Namjoon’s, low and gruff in the early hours of the
morning. It’s a voice suited for audiobooks, he thinks dreamily, wishing the alpha would never
stop talking.

“Umm, yeah. I don’t have a change of clothes, but it’s fine. I wanted to stay here and help Jimin.”

“You should borrow something from Yoongi hyung’s closet. At least his shirts should fit you. Or
you can come upstairs to get changed. I live in the flat right above this one.”

Namjoon’s offer makes Taehyung choke on his spit, and Jimin hides his smile by pretending to
turn his head in his sleep.

“I need to focus while I’m at work, you know that right?” the alpha mumbles under his breath, so
that only Jimin who’s right next to him can catch the full sentence.

Namjoon coughs a little. “What did you say?”

“N–nothing, I’ll just grab a fresh shirt from Yoongi hyung’s closet, then. Wouldn’t want to
inconvenience you.”

Namjoon doesn’t sound pleased at all by the decision, but he keeps his reaction to a minimum,
humming dismissively. His scent does get a little stronger, though, and Jimin wonders if Taehyung
can smell it. Omegas tend to be better at detecting subtle changes in alpha scents due to having
been so dependent on them before modern civilisation. Omegas had to tread carefully around their
alphas, had to keep them happy and sated to survive and get their pups taken care of.

“Speaking of Yoongi hyung, how’s he doing?” Taehyung asks then. “How did the night go after
we – let loose?”

Jimin perks up at the change in topic, and with some difficulty, he pries his eyes open to face a
blurry dawn and a part of Taehyung’s shoulder. Someone has opened the bedroom window, and
Jimin can hear sparrows chirping on the branches of the tall tree under his window.

Suddenly he’s almost desperate to hear news about his mate, his alpha, heart rattling in his chest.

“Eh, well Hoseok and Jin hyung slept on the couch, but I had my hands full getting hyung to catch
a few hours of sleep. He clung to me like a cat being threatened with a bath, and damn near yowled
whenever I would dare take my hands off him.”

There’s the soft sound of Jimin’s closet being opened, followed by a faint rustle. Jimin doesn’t
dare turn his head to see what’s going on.

“Quite honestly, I’ve never seen him like that. When we were still dating, Yoongi and I would butt
heads almost daily, just two hormonal alphas measuring the sizes of our knots. Even getting him to
willingly give me a hug required some effort. You must know how it is, as a fellow alpha.”

Jimin should feel jealous right now, should be worried knowing that Yoongi had to seek comfort in
another alpha, but for a reason unknown he can only listen to Namjoon in awe.

“What do omegas like to wear, usually?” Namjoon ponders out loud, changing the subject entirely.
He must be shifting through Jimin’s shirts on the hangers, clacking all of them together without
care.

Despite the havoc Namjoon is no doubt wreaking on Jimin’s neatly organised closet, Jimin’s head
is spinning at the alpha’s quiet strength. His scent is so strong, so good that it makes Jimin’s bones
melt.

And besides, he helped Yoongi. Jimin likes people who help Yoongi.

“I haven’t exactly had the need to measure my knot. I just know it’s big,” Taehyung chirps, rudely
interrupting Jimin’s sugarcoated thoughts.

“Want to bet on it?” Namjoon asks with smile in his voice.

Jimin snorts, almost choking on the snot he accidentally sucks back into his throat, which brings
his state of alertness to the alphas’ attention.

“You awake, Jimin-ah? Were you pretending?” Taehyung teases, sounding like he’s holding in his
laughter as well.

“Nuh-uh.”

Jimin shakes his head and curls into himself. His feet accidentally graze a wall of muscle right next
to him – must be a sleeping Jungkook. He almost forgot the other omega’s presence in the nest, too
intent on keeping up with the conversation in spite of his laggy brain functions.

A warm hand is placed on his shoulder, aimed to soothe, and Taehyung’s unique scent blooms
stronger once again. Jimin hasn’t really paid attention to his friends’ scents before, or the
fluctuation of pheromones that is regulated by subgender dynamics and the person’s mood, but
now it’s all he can think about. That, and getting more sleep. And getting to see Yoongi with his
own eyes to make sure he’s actually okay and Namjoon isn’t just a malicious alpha who lies.

“Brat,” Namjoon says from above somewhere. His voice is fond. Doesn’t sound like a liar’s voice.

Jimin smiles and licks his dry lips.

“At least he’s happy for now,” Taehyung says quietly, as if that way Jimin might not hear him.
“Let’s keep him that way until breakfast.”

Namjoon hums indecisively. When Jimin turns his head just a little, he can see the alpha still
standing in front of his closet looking like he’s faced with a challenge of a century.

“I’ll come help you with the clothes,” Taehyung says. “Jimin needs something soft and covering
enough. He’s not going there to show off his body, so nothing skin-tight for sure.”

Namjoon nods seriously, and the younger alpha gets up from the bed with a groan. That’s when
Jimin finally comes to realise it’s actually Jungkook’s limbs that are thoroughly tangled with his,
his thigh resting over Jimin’s and arm tucked against his back. The omega is still sleeping soundly,
huffing little breaths through the small gap between his lips. From his angle Jungkook’s nose looks
big and bunny-like, so cute it should probably be prohibited by law.

It has been a long time since they all slept in the same bed like this. The last time was probably
before Jungkook got mated, before life made them arbitrarily busy and Jimin decided a strong
omega needed absolutely no one to lean on. It’s a saddening thought, at least to Jimin still
somewhat deep in omegan headspace.
This Jimin wants to sleep with his friends, because only when they’re in his nest, in the sturdy and
beautiful nest he built himself to ward off predators, can he know they’re safe and protected.

Though almost certainly a convenient white lie, Namjoon keeps complaining that he’s not wearing
his glasses so it’s hard to find anything, and in the end Taehyung picks everything for Jimin from
underwear to jacket. All the clothes are loose and baggy with long sleeves, something Jungkook
would pair together on any normal day.

It doesn’t go past Jimin that Namjoon’s hands ghost right below Taehyung’s hipbones as he
oversees the oh-so-important process. They’re playing some kind of game that both are eager to
lose, and Jimin is perhaps too blurry-minded to understand their alpha logic in its entirety – but it’s
still fun to look at, whatever it is.

“I’m going to draw Jiminie a nice bath,” Taehyung says in a low voice, flashing a boxy kind of
smile. “You may try to wake Kookie up, but I have to warn you that he might bite.”

“Well, after last night it would only be fair, don’t you think?” Namjoon says, and wait, what the
fuck happened last night?

Unfortunately, Jimin doesn’t have any time to react to the revelation, because Jungkook stirs
awake and latches onto Jimin’s scent gland like a leech finding a yummy vein.

“Good morning, Kook,” Jimin mumbles with a dry mouth.

“Sorry, Jimin hyung. I’m so sorry for biting you,” the omega says pitifully, spreading his saliva all
over Jimin’s scent gland.

The memories from last night start piecing together, and Jimin shivers, remembering himself on his
knees on the cold wooden floor, mind going blank so rapidly he couldn’t keep up, Yoongi coming
to see him, picking Jimin up…

“It’s – okay, Kook-ah,” Jimin says, flustered. “Hyung isn’t mad.”

“Okay,” Jungkook repeats in a small voice. He then turns to see Namjoon still standing there
awkwardly, holding Jimin’s clothes away from his body to avoid dousing them with too much of
his scent.

“Oh, Namjoon-ssi. I mean alp– hyung. Hello.”

The stuttering is pretty cute, Jimin thinks.

“I hope you slept well, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon says, nodding his head.

Jungkook’s tattooed hand flies to his scent gland, and Jimin raises his brow.

Did Namjoon actually bite Jungkook? Would Hoseok allow such an intimate thing to happen
before his eyes even if the omega was more than okay with it?

Unless – unless Hoseok no longer saw Namjoon as a strange alpha nor as a threat to his mate bond.

Jimin swallows thickly. Somewhere under the many layers of his omeganness, under all the
instinct and sensibility, a little Park Jimin raises its scared head.

•••
“Still feeling a little subby?”

Jimin thinks he might be blushing, but at least he can blame the pinkish hue colouring his cheeks
on the hot bath.

“Umm, yeah.”

Taehyung is standing in front of Jimin who’s perched at the edge of his bed. The alpha is rubbing
his hair briskly with a mint-coloured towel, pressing Jimin’s head down with the cloth to reach the
back of his head, too. “Just keep feeling nice and fuzzy. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“Still embarrassed,” Jimin admits and closes his eyes. He feels naked without his collar.

“Have you ever judged me or Jungkook for wanting to go down, for enjoying being submissive?”

“Different thing,” Jimin grunts, apparently incapable of forming full sentences while flustered.

Taehyung tuts and pokes at Jimin’s forehead with the tip of his finger to make him look up. “The
very same thing,” he says, poking his tongue out.

Jimin bites his lip but flinches when it hurts a little. He needs to put on some lip balm before the
thin skin splits under the constant pressure.

“Go see your alpha. I can see you eyeing your collar. And your stomach grumbles every five
seconds or so, so should probably eat something, too.”

This time Jimin doesn’t even bother objecting.

Dressed in a stripy long-sleeved shirt and a pair of baggy linen trousers Jimin didn’t know he even
owned, he makes his way into the kitchen. The bath felt nice, but scrubbing the medical grade de-
scenting soap all over his body physically hurt, and even Taehyung looked like he wanted to scent
Jimin again as soon as he rose from the tub and came back to the bedroom with a fluffy towel
wrapped around his body.

Jimin sees Yoongi for the first time this morning. The alpha is crouched on the floor filling Holly’s
food bowl. The kitten is getting bigger by the day, eating so much food that Jimin would probably
be going bankrupt if he was the one who had to foot the bill of the sustainably produced, organic
cat-food.

He waves his hand at Yoongi, awkwardly, still feeling the thrum of submission in his veins. Last
night’s crash is difficult to shake, but then again Jimin has to reach the desired headspace in a few
hours anyway, so fully coming up might only be detrimental for that.

Yoongi waves his hand back, a little awkwardly, and wipes his forehead with the thin, bony top of
his wrist. His wrists are so ridiculously dainty that the rest of his hands look huge in comparison.

Not that Jimin has ever thought about it in detail or anything.

“I just woke up, Namjoon must’ve turned my alarm off at some point… sorry that I didn’t…
wasn’t there to…” Yoongi starts but loses his courage. He’s looking at Jimin up and down, taking
in his unusual style choices.

“It’s alright,” Jimin squeaks, “Taehyung drew me a de-scenting bath and helped me with getting
dressed.

Yoongi’s expression hardens, and he hurries to grab the black training collar from Jimin’s loose
hold. Jimin doesn’t get on his knees for the collaring, knowing he’s going to have to do too much
of that today, anyway, and Yoongi doesn’t comment on it.

When the collar is secure, Jimin shakes his head forcefully, feeling it’s weight as he gulps down air
and his nerves.

“Namjoon-ssi said there was some breakfast,” Jimin states dumbly before even noticing that there
are two figures in the kitchen besides Yoongi. His full attention was captured by the alpha, as often
tends to happen.

“Mm, the two Seoks are making fried rice. Although it’s mostly Seokjin hyung cooking while he
complains that Hoseok is cutting the scallions incorrectly and putting too much water in the rice
cooker.”

“Yah, all the pieces were different sizes. And the rice came out gloopy. Don’t underestimate my
plight, Min Yoongi.”

Hoseok laughs, throwing his hands in the air. The alpha has a kitchen towel thrown over his
shoulder, and his copper-toned hair is an absolute mess. Jungkook has found his way onto the
living room sofa, and he’s wearing Yoongi’s grey ‘Fear of God’ shirt that isn’t quite as loose on
the omega’s muscled frame. His face looks shiny and moisturised, which means he has helped
himself to Jimin’s expensive face creams, the ungrateful little thing.

“Everyone, come eat,” Seokjin calls out in an unnecessarily loud voice, and as if on cue, Namjoon
and Taehyung stumble out of Yoongi’s bedroom. Taehyung’s pupils are a little blown out, and
Namjoon looks like a pup caught one hand inside a Taehyung-sized sweet jar.

Seokjin lets his sharp gaze wash over the two alphas, only for a few seconds, and then proceeds to
carry the pot of fried rice to the table without a word. But the whole room gets swallowed by a
thick raincloud, like a monsoon indoors.

It’s Seokjin’s pleased scent, Jimin realises belatedly, after the surge of scent has already subsided.

They all gather around the table, some of them sitting on stools or other temporary seating
solutions, Jungkook parking himself in Hoseok’s lap despite a stool waiting for him right next to
his mate, and they start eating in a semi comfortable silence.

Hoseok feeds bites of fried rice (not gloopy at all despite Seokjin’s vocal concerns) to Jungkook
out of his own forks, which is a relatively normal sight. Yoongi keeps glancing at Jimin between
mouthfuls, making sure he’s eating, but thankfully the alpha doesn’t try to mirror his new best
friend. Taehyung looks small and red-cheeked between Namjoon and Seokjin, who keep
reminding Taehyung to take more kimchi and banchan, picking up best pieces of food with their
chopsticks and placing them on the alpha’s plate, praising him whenever Taehyung clears his plate.

“Does anyone else feel weird?”

Jimin lifts his head to locate the speaker, feeling a little disoriented again. It must be a remaining
side effect of his crash last night.

It’s Hoseok who has a hand on Jungkook’s bicep. He’s looking around the table with a tight-lipped
smile.
“Weird in what way, Hoseok-ssi?” Namjoon says slowly. He has stopped eating. Everyone has.

Hoseok scratches his neck with his free hand, looking at Yoongi and Jimin for support.

“Don’t you feel it, too?”

Yoongi nods tersely, poking at a piece of broccoli with the tip of his chopstick. “Do we need to put
a name to it right now, Hob-ah?” He glances at Jimin from the corner of his eye. It’s a heavy sort
of glance.

“Probably not, but – there’s a strange whiplash, my alpha seems to be fully on board with
something I can’t wrap my head around.”

Jungkook nods at his mate’s statement, and Seokjin does too, turning to look at Namjoon. “If the
process has already started, if our wolves are already attached, I don’t know if there’s much we can
–“

Namjoon quickly waves his hand. “Whatever the case may be, first we have to get Jimin and
Yoongi hyung through everything. Only then can we even think what our wolves may or may not
be umm – desiring.”

It’s settled. No one even tries to argue with Namjoon, which only proves the glaring, unsaid point.

The rest of the meal goes by quickly, everyone shoving their food down. At some point Hoseok
places Jungkook down on the chair and goes to the living room to order a taxi for Yoongi and
Jimin and another for himself. Namjoon and Jungkook start clearing the table with the intent of
washing the dishes. The two are talking in hushed voices that Jimin can’t make out, but it doesn’t
look like they’re feeling particularly distressed.

Yoongi thanks Hoseok for his consideration and puts a hand around Jimin’s waist and helps him
stand up on his wobbly feet. He then places the same hand on Jimin’s nape, a light, guiding touch
Jimin would vehemently refuse under normal circumstances.

They make their way to the door, ready to put on their shoes, when quick footsteps echo behind
them and Jimin is yanked backwards by his wrist. Yoongi gasps, clearly in a similar predicament.

“Don’t leave. You can’t leave,” Namjoon growls right behind them. When Jimin means to turn his
sluggish head, the alpha is leaning in with his nostrils flared and heels dug firmly into the floor.

It’s a scene worthy of the most cliched drama.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi asks, tone almost disbelieving as he wiggles his
fingers in Namjoon’s tight hold. Jimin is frozen in place, however, hardly registering what the
touch means.

“I – I really don’t know,” Namjoon replies as he only keeps tightening his grip. He looks down
with a frown on his face as though he has lost all control of his muscles. “You’re not safe, though. I
need you where I can see you.”

“Namjoon-ssi…” Seokjin gently calls from the background.

The alpha shakes his head, like he’s battling his own instincts. Jimi wants to whimper, wants to
promise he’ll never leave, that he’s heading straight back into their nest.

“I know you’re getting attached. It’s overwhelming, right? But you need to let them go now,”
Seokjin continues in a soft, careful tone. Namjoon is listening, his eyes are moving from side to
side as he considers.

But nothing happens, and even Yoongi has stopped trying to get out of his hold, just standing in the
doorway with his head lowered.

Hoseok pokes Jungkook with his elbow, leaning in for a whisper. “Babe, distract him. The omegan
way, you know how.”

Jungkook’s eyes get wide and round, and his mouth falls open. Omegas take priority in a pack,
always, that is hard-coded into alpha DNA. An omega in distress, however, is something that is
known to elicit such a strong response in alphas, that they might drop absolutely everything just to
reach them, to make sure they’re safe, sometimes even endangering themselves in the process.

What Hoseok is suggesting alludes to the fact that Namjoon could consider Jungkook his pack
already, could be receptive to such distress signals that would override his current confusion.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook whispers back, already changing his stance to appear timid and lost,
letting hair fall over his eyes.

Hoseok squeezes his mate’s side and pushes him slightly forward, and Jungkook instantly lets his
head fall to the side, neck bared and hands clasped tightly in front of him. He lets out a heart-
wrenching cry that ebbs away slowly, turning into a whine pressed against the roof of his mouth.

Oh, he’s good. He’s very good.

Every alpha in the room become tense as steel wire, and fuck if Jimin’s omega isn’t delighted by
the implication. Even he wants to pull the other omega into his arms and scent him until it’s
absolutely certain Jungkook was just acting.

Namjoon’s hold of Yoongi and Jimin loosens instantly, and the alpha is darting his tongue out to
taste the air. To Jungkook’s credit, even his scent has gone a little sour, which will only heighten
the effect of the omegan whine.

“Alpha, need help,” Jungkook whimpers, doe-eyes getting moist with tears that have sprung out of
nowhere, another sign of his natural talent for acting.

“Omega?” Namjoon mumbles, turning, not paying attention anymore.

“Now, take Jimin and go,” Seokjin hisses under his breath, and suddenly Jimin is yanked out of the
door like a rag doll. Namjoon is rushing in Jungkook’s direction with panicked little yelps flying
out of his mouth. Jimin feels kind of bad for him, for the fleeting moment he can form such a
coherent thought.

Namjoon’s howl fills the corridor even through the closed door, and both of them freeze in place,
drawn back to their alpha like magnets.

“Fuck, Namjoon,” Yoongi grumbles, somehow reaching the lift to push the call button.

A loud thump follows the howl.

“You think he – threw someone to the floor?” Jimin asks as the lift arrives. The small metal box
looks unsafe and ominous.

“Or maybe Seokjin threw him,” Yoongi guesses grimly.

All things considered, it doesn’t sound too far-fetched to Jimin.

•••

The car ride is kind of nauseating, kind of dulling on Jimin’s senses, grey rows of buildings
reaching the heavens on both sides. They reach the millionth traffic light, pedestrians crossing the
street in their business wear, holding umbrellas to protect their expensive clothes from the light
rain, looking busy and fed up with their lives.

Yoongi cups Jimin’s hand in his own, smoothing his curled, clenched digits open. “I’ll keep you
safe, you know that right?”

“Yes, I know,” Jimin quickly replies, sounding a bit like he’s out of breath.

Yoongi’s other hand comes to rest on Jimin’s chin without much pressure. “Look at me. I need you
to look into my eyes.”

Jimin bites his lip, and the chapped edge blooms with pain again. He forgot to apply that damn lip
balm.

For better or for worse, Jimin feels sane now, surfaced. Submission was able to dampen his
emotions, make them blur at the edges into something less negative.

“I am looking. Don’t baby me.”

“For the next hour it might seem like I don’t have your back. It might seem like I see you as lesser.
But it’s going to be an act. It’s going to be fake.” Yoongi draws in a shaky breath through closed
teeth. “You will always be my priority, Jimin-ah. I won't let anyone else touch you while we’re
doing whatever the fuck they want us to do. And I will get you out of there if I decide it’s no longer
safe for you.”

Jimin’s heart is beating maddeningly fast, a thump-thump-thump that gets louder and more frantic
as the seconds pass. Yoongi moves his hand to the pulse point on Jimin’s neck and applies
pressure. It’s not to get Jimin to submit – his omega has already given in, given up.

It’s merely damage control.

Jimin whines low in his throat and throws his head back at the leather headrest, which makes the
beta driver glance at them through the rear-view mirror. If the man becomes concerned by
Yoongi’s behaviour, he doesn’t show it.

Alphas putting their omegas ‘in line’ even while in public is still a common-place practise. Even
though the beta’s unobtrusiveness is a perk this time, Jimin can’t help but think that he could’ve
simply asked if everything was okay between the two. Instead he assumed.

“Pup,” Yoongi tries again.

Jimin can’t handle the pet name now, he feels like throwing up in Yoongi’s lap.

“I’m going to fix everything. The OWSC won’t send you away. Seokjin hyung won’t lose his job,
either. ”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Jimin rasps, fighting his reflex to gag, swallowing his thick and
acidic saliva down by sheer will.

Yoongi ignores him, and Jimin wants to scream.

“It’s all my fault. I didn’t take into account that someone might recognise me in public. And I was
the one to blur the lines of our professional relationship. I will make it right.”

The car takes a sharp right turn, and Jimin crashes into Yoongi’s shoulder, the alpha’s bad one, but
Yoongi refuses to even wince. There’s pain in his eyes, though.

“I don’t blame you, hyung. It’s my fault just as much as yours. Just – don’t say anything,” Jimin
pleads, wanting to absorb that pain into himself and cradle it until it has fully faded.

“But I can’t keep quiet,” Yoongi laments. “Park Jimin, you must know how much I cherish you,
how ardently I’ve fallen in lo–“

“STOP!” Jimin shouts at the top of his lungs, and the taxi driver almost jumps out of his seat.
Yoongi doesn’t, he’s looking at Jimin with chocolatey eyes full of adoration and regret, a
bittersweet mixture that pierces Jimin’s heart like a thin needle.

First kiss.

First time having sex.

First bite.

First time Yoongi said he loved him.

Jimin wants to laugh at how bad they are at timings, but quite ironically, that’s when they pull up
at the OWSC building.

•••

“A five-person disciplinary committee? Are you fu– are you serious?” Yoongi demands, his voice
booming in the high hallways of the centre.

“We apologise for the drastic measures, but due to the public manner of the case, and the insistence
on specialist Oh’s part, we had no choice but to take this case with the utmost seriousness,” a
middle-aged alpha says with an apologetic smile. “I’m in fact a big fan of yours, producernim, and
thus it pains me to put you and your omega under such scrutiny today.”

Yoongi has had his hand at the small of Jimin’s back the whole time, and the accidental pinch of
his fingers at the sensitive skin makes Jimin’s eyes water as he tries to keep his expression timid
and neutral.

“Yes, I’m afraid this is more than a little unconventional,” a female omega comments from the
back of the examination room. She has a notebook and a cup of coffee in front of her, and she’s
looking at Jimin with motherly concern.

Jimin rolls his sleeves up on his arms, because it’s quite warm in the room under some bright
studio lights. There’s nothing to hide behind, he’s on a stage for these random people called in to
assess if he’s a prim and proper omega, or one that is rotten to his core. The collar he had grown
quite used to, feels suffocating now, sticky as it clings to his sweat-covered skin.

“I heard you teach contemporary dance,” the same omega woman says in a kind voice, looking up
from her notes again.

Jimin glances at Yoongi who gives him a small nod. This woman doesn’t seem like much of a
threat, and Oh Taeri has yet to arrive. “Yes, that’s why I had that blue collar in the first place. It’s
made for athletes.” Jimin pats himself mentally on the back for exaggerating his lisp and keeping
his tone meek.

“I see,” the woman says, turning to look at Yoongi. “It was against the rules, of course, but had you
asked the committee for an exception, I’m sure –“

Yoongi interrupts her with a cough. “With all due respect, I did request another collar type for
Jimin as early as the first week, but it was promptly denied.”

“Did you?” Jimin blurts out. “I didn’t know that.”

A stern mask falls over Yoongi’s features in an instant, making Jimin shiver almost violently.
“Don’t interrupt me while I speak, omega.”

Jimin slams his mouth shut, still shivering at the harsh tone. There’s going to be many more
condescending words, maybe even belittlement, and Jimin isn’t ready, he’s not going to survive
Yoongi looking at him with such disdain, he can’t –

The door swings open, and Oh Taeri steps in with her head held high, a thick stack of papers
pinned under her arm. The beta’s hair is swept back in a slick bun, and she’s wearing an ugly
brown dress that comes down to her knees. Yoongi tightens his hold of Jimin’s back, perhaps
sensing his knees are about to give out.

“Why does it stink of wilted flowers in here?” specialist Oh questions with a raised brow.

“I’m sorry about that,” Yoongi quickly says and lifts one of Jimin’s limp arms up to press the scent
glands on their wrists together, rubbing with clinical precision. He’s masking Jimin’s scent with his
own, it’s kind of ingenious.

Jimin’s lashes flutter, he wants to close his eyes under the scorching, blindingly bright lights.

Oh Taeri gets seated on the first row, greeting the other specialists with cursory nods.

“You may begin when you’re ready,” she says dismissively. “I’m going to give you free reign,
Yoongi-ssi. All you need to do today is to prove that you have omega Park Jimin under control, and
that he isn’t having any bright ideas of omega liberation or about harbouring a foolish crush for his
support alpha.”

Jimin is standing so close to Yoongi that he can smell the shift in his scent, leather filling up space
where there was orange peel before. His own mind is blank, wiped clean with a foul-smelling rag
dipped in bleach. He hopes Yoongi can get him down fast, that he doesn’t have to witness the
clownery for much longer.

“Alright then, let’s get this over with,” Yoongi says evenly and puts two fingers under Jimin’s
chin, making him look up into his eyes. The alpha’s dark irises are like two vortexes, black holes
that have sucked away all the fondness and respect that usually greets Jimin.
“Omega, how are you feeling?” Yoongi asks, but even the kind sentiment sounds hollow.

“Nervous,” Jimin breathes out, trying to get his racing heart under control before he faints or does
something equally embarrassing.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Yoongi says in that same, gratingly smooth, fake voice. “Just
follow alpha’s lead and you’ll be okay.”

Yoongi hooks his fingers in the ring on Jimin’s collar, and breath hitches in his throat.

“Omega Park is a little shy,” he addresses the audience. “Please understand.”

Oh Taeri inhales sharply. “He didn’t seem all that shy just yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” Yoongi continues with more strength, more alpha dominance, “yesterday he didn’t
have to stand before strangers and be guided through omega headspace that will leave him feeling
vulnerable in front of strangers.”

Specialist Oh falls silent. She’s a beta after all, Yoongi has a higher status than her by default, at
least in the traditional hierarchy she seems to love so much. Many of the other specialists start
murmuring sympathetically, nodding their heads in agreement.

Yoongi turns back to Jimin, who casts his eyes down not to see the foreign look in the alpha’s eyes.
Yoongi is wearing white sneakers with a splotch of brown dirt on them, and Jimin focuses his
attention on the little imperfection. Conveniently, he must look mighty submissive like that, too.

Yoongi grabs a better hold of Jimin’s collar and applies pressure. “Get down for me, omega,” he
says, and the command echoes in the empty space, making Jimin’s stomach turn upside down.

He tries to remember how Taehyung did it, how his entire posture changed from confident alpha to
comfortable submission at the snap of Seokjin’s fingers.

But his head is a buzzing mess, multiple radio channels on at the same time, blending every
sensory input together and leaving the centre of Jimin’s consciousness with nothing but one long
error message.

“Knees,” Yoongi says, pulling Jimin down on the floor by his collar. It doesn’t hurt nor choke him,
the three-ring setup of the collar prevents that, but Jimin feels tears pricking at the corners of his
eyes. He tries to blink them away, but a single one falls down, getting absorbed by the collar of his
shirt. Usually Yoongi would gently thumb the wet streak off, would ask if Jimin needed a break or
a glass of water.

This non-Yoongi however pushes him down until his knees hit the grey linoleum. He uses his hand
to push Jimin’s collar to the side, digging his nails ruthlessly into Jimin’s scent gland to imitate an
alpha’s bite.

A jolt of electricity travels through Jimin’s body. When it reaches his head, the room starts fading
away, pleasant chemicals flooding his neurons.

It only lasts for a moment, though.

Yoongi’s hand leaving his neck is devastating, and Jimin whines, blindly searching for the contact
again. It’s all deliberate, Jimin knows despite his lack of spatial awareness – Yoongi is showing
he’s in control, that he can have Jimin crying for more dominance instead of recoiling or
protesting.
He’s showing just how much power he holds over Jimin.

Bile rises up to Jimin’s throat again, burning away his ability to make other sounds apart from
pathetic little whines.

“Look at alpha,” Yoongi commands. Jimin can no longer smell any orange peel, no happiness.

He looks up through his tears and shame, Yoongi a figure without defined edges in front of him.

“Shhh, don’t cry. Alpha is here,” he says, but the words sound mocking. “You can come to alpha.”

Jimin realises that Yoongi is standing farther away on purpose, head cocked to the side. He whines
and reaches an arm in search of contact.

“I’m right here omega,” Yoongi repeats. “Come.”

Jimin doesn’t have any strength in his limbs, but he tries to obey, tries to get up.

“No, stop. Crawl.”

Humiliation washes over Jimin in waves, and somehow his eyes choose to focus on Oh Taeri’s face
just at that moment.

She’s smiling.

She’s fucking smiling.

There’s liquid lead coursing through Jimin’s veins instead of blood cells, weighing down every
single molecule in his body. His head is swimming with uneasy submission that leaves him
exposed and bare instead of contained and safe.

Jimin starts crawling, knees aching, the epitome of obedience. After what feels like an eternity, he
kneels at Yoongi’s feet, leaning against the alpha’s thigh with a broken whimper. Yoongi pets his
head, playing with his hair in a way that would be soothing in any other context.

Jimin just crawled across the floor, just because Yoongi told him to, in front of multiple strangers.

He’s just a useless omega who’s too dumb to walk and talk, too dumb to do anything but follow
orders and look pretty on his knees.

Yoongi is speaking, but his voice is distant. “– – can see. Omega Park is capable of model
submission. He has become very comfortable with kneeling and following orders.”

Someone else responds, something entirely incoherent. Jimin clings to Yoongi’s leg harder, and to
his absolute shock, Yoongi pushes him away, makes him kneel on his own with hands in his lap.
Jimin presses his eyes shut and digs his nails into his own thighs, wishing he could just
disassociate from the situation, become a lump of nothing.

A chair is pushed back, and someone stands up. “– – very sorry – – not the OWSC standard – –
clear that omega Park is properly trained – –“

“Can we leave now, or do you still think we’re secretly mated or something?” Yoongi asks, ire
bleeding into his voice.

Jimin whimpers again, he’s teetering at a breaking point well past his usual limits. He was scared
of a cold Yoongi, but an angry Yoongi is even more frightening to his confused wolf.
“Of course. You can use one of the conference rooms to calm your omega down before leaving.”

Jimin is lifted up just like that. His feet are on the ground, but Yoongi is supporting most of his
weight. A door opens, a hallway echoes with other voices. There’s a ‘caution: wet floor’ sign
propped up next to the wall, and everything smells like floor wax which burns in Jimin’s nose.

Another door opens, and Jimin is placed on a chair, but he slides down to the floor as if he has no
bones whatsoever to hold him together, the flimsy chair tumbling over with a deafening rattle.

Yoongi isn’t there to break his fall.

Instead, Jimin hears a loud retching sound. The alpha is in the corner, throwing up into a bin.

The floor is cold under Jimin’s heated cheek, but the rest of his body is cold as though he has a
fever. Maybe he does.

Jimin gathers some oxygen into his lungs, uncaring of the smell of vomit. He rolls onto his back
and stares at the white ceiling. “She did that to humiliate us, didn’t she?” he says, even though his
vowels slur together. Yoongi has stopped vomiting, but he’s still hanging onto the edge of the bin,
shoulders shaking.

Clarity is coming back to Jimin in stages, starting from how his fingers start responding to nerve
signals. As the submission fades, a cold emptiness settles in its place. Yoongi turns his head, and
their eyes lock for an agonising second. Yoongi is white as a fresh dusting of snow on concrete,
and he’s breathing shallowly through his mouth.

“Don’t come near me,” Jimin whispers.

Yoongi frowns, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Stares.

“You made me crawl like a dog.” The last words get stuck in Jimin’s throat, but he refuses to cry,
refuses to give into the hysteria that is already bubbling under his skin. He’s more aware by the
second, aware of the pain in his knees and the memory of the beta woman’s sardonic smile.

Jimin can’t breathe, he needs to run, needs air, space, an open sky above his head. He needs the
damn collar around his neck off.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, doesn’t defend himself in any way. It’s almost worse than if he did
try to explain.

“I think I need to go,” Jimin gasps, scrambling up from the floor, aided by a sudden surge of
adrenaline. Yoongi doesn’t, the alpha looks like he’s going to throw up again at any moment.

“Go where?” Yoongi asks tiredly.

“Away.”

There’s a silence during which Yoongi seems to be trying to render his alpha docile. It’s not going
so well, judging by the pained expression on his face.

“Do you have your phone? Money?” he eventually asks.

“Yes, and some,” Jimin replies, already moving to the door.

“Where will you go?” Now Yoongi sounds a little desperate. The alpha is trying to push himself
off the floor, but his arms give out.
 Jimin doesn’t know. He doesn’t have many friends beside Taehyung and Jungkook, and a grand
escape to either one’s place would be a little too pathetic even by Jimin’s standards.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi pleads.

Jimin isn’t thinking clearly. He knows that. He’s probably going to drop soon, as soon as the
adrenaline goes away, and it’ll be dangerous if he’s outside on his own. Someone could take
advantage, collar or not.

“I’ll figure out something. Goodbye, Yoongi hyung,” he finds himself saying.

With one last look cast over his shoulder, Jimin meets the alpha’s eyes, and the expression of
untamed heat Jimin will undoubtedly press into his memory forever, a physical brand remaining on
his skin.

It must mean that Yoongi truly loves him, Jimin notes as he tears his eyes away, the fact that he
stays put on the floor with a vomit bucket cradled in his arms as the omega he wants wanders off
into the drizzling rain without a plan.

•••

Thirty minutes and a cup of bad coffee later, Jimin finds himself hunched under a maple tree, the
grandeur of his escape wearing off fast. He reaches into his pocket and flicks through his contacts,
already knowing he doesn’t have many options, at least not in Seoul. He must swallow his pride if
he doesn’t want to hop on the KTX and go back to Busan with his tail tucked between his legs,
which would also run the risk of him going into a drop in the middle of the journey. A cheap motel
isn’t really an option, either, as they can be quite dangerous for lone omegas.

In his desperation, Jimin sends a few text messages, not really expecting an answer.

[9:42am] Jimin: I know this is rly awkward but could I crash at ur pack den for one night ?

[9:43am] Jimin: ran away from home kind of

[9:43am] Hyunjin: i can send one of the hyungs to pick you up if you share your location. you
okay?

Chapter End Notes

Me in May of 2021: Okay so this story will be 30–50K depending on if I write Tae’s
romance with namjin or if I keep it to just yoonmin.
Me in September of 2021: Okay so this story has passed 100K, and this highly
complex platonic but not quite platonic pack dynamic ties all three ships together on a
deeply emotional and instinctual level to give me a sandbox of OT7 dynamics to
explore…

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Reflections of a Future
Chapter Notes

Jimin clears his head and has a series of very important conversations.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sitting on the floor, spit and vomit pathetically slipping down your chin as the man you’re
ridiculously in love with runs out the door with his face frozen in horror, is undoubtedly one of the
lowest points of Yoongi’s life. And that’s including the time Yoongi was seventeen years old,
standing in the middle of the living room in his baggy rap competition clothes, the taste of
Namjoon’s mint chapstick still lingering on his lips as his father told him to his face that he wished
his brother Joongi had been his only alpha son, that Yoongi would’ve presented as an omega
because he looked like one anyway.

An omega son he would’ve handled more easily, put him in line, but a disobedient alpha son
spewing words of nonconformity with three thousand won chains glinting around his neck – that
was a threat to the family’s honour.

He later apologised, told Yoongi he said those words out of anger, in the heat of the moment, but
they left their mark. Just like commanding Park Jimin to crawl for him will leave its own scar in
Yoongi’s heart.

Yoongi can still feel the echo of Jimin’s fluttering pulse under his fingertips, the omega going into
some kind of motionless shock as he’s made to kneel on the hard floor which can’t have been good
for his already damaged knees.

Oh Taeri kept smiling all throughout, expecting them to fail, that Jimin would refuse to submit and
storm off, or that Yoongi’s alpha would snap and do something drastic to protect his mate.

But Yoongi remembered Hoseok’s advice. He pushed and pushed, and eventually the alpha in
Yoongi retreated into some back corner of his mind, limping and whining in defeat, and for the
duration of the evaluation Yoongi’s mind was hauntingly empty.

It’s not completely unheard of. Yoongi has heard of cases where a person was so traumatised by an
event that their wolf just outright detached, leaving behind an instinctless shell. In a medical sense
it means that the person experiences a severe disruption in the connections between different parts
of the brain, urge and reason becoming separated. To the person suffering from trauma it can feel
as though a long-time friend would’ve abandoned them.

For Yoongi the strange hum of emptiness only lasted for a few minutes, but when the alpha in him
returned to the forefront, it was so disgusted by Yoongi’s actions that it was violently sick.

Which leads Yoongi to this absolutely mortifying predicament, one that is far from over.

After tying the rubbish bag on a triple knot to somewhat contain his vomit surprise, Yoongi
manages to get himself off the floor and onto his wobbly legs. He stumbles back into the hallway
smelling of floor wax, just to nearly crash into the omega specialist from the evaluation board. The
same one who had found the denied collar request odd.

“Yoongi-ssi, a word?” she asks with a polite smile.

Yoongi hopes he doesn’t look and smell too much like someone who just barfed and kind of lost
his omega, but then – looking appropriately pitiful might prove helpful this time around.

He nods, pointing his thumb in the general direction of nothing. “Sure. Jimin-ssi went to use the
toilet, so I have a bit of time.”

“Right,” the woman says, introducing herself as specialist Bae. “Let’s allow him to take his time in
the… toilet.”

Yoongi nods, thankful. They make their way to specialist Bae’s office located in the same part of
the building as Seokjin’s. Yoongi glances at the locked office from the corner of his eye.

“You happen to know anything about –?”

The specialist is quick to catch onto Yoongi’s train of thought. “Seokjin-ssi, yes. He’s no longer
suspended of course and can continue his duties as normal. Including all of his current cases.”

Yoongi bows a little as they walk – a bad idea as it makes him light-headed.

“Don’t bow to me, Yoongi-ssi,” she scolds, tone oddly affectionate.

Before entering the omega’s personal office, Yoongi catches a small name plate next to the room
number:

Bae Doona,

Pack Abuse

Yoongi shivers at the thought of the committee needing such a branch. What wretched alpha or
beta would ever abuse their pack omega, someone all your instincts scream to protect with your
life? It sounds beyond imaginable.

Specialist Bae guides Yoongi to sit down on the plush leather couch and then settles opposite to
him, producing a small bottle of vitamin drink and a notebook and pen seemingly out of thin air.
She routinely tucks her short hair behind her ear and waits in silence until Yoongi has unscrewed
the cork and taken a small sip. The artificial lemon taste does wonders to wash away the awful
aftertaste still lingering in his mouth.

Offering a small smile and a nod of approval, the specialist clicks her pen.

“I know you must be busy and tired, but I just had to ask you… what did you exactly request
regarding Park Jimin’s collar?” she asks, tone matter-of-fact as she taps the end of the glossy pen
against her chin.

Yoongi looks down. “I – I asked if he could have the permission to not use a collar at home or in
other supervised spaces. My reasoning was clear – he was clearly uncomfortable and it slowed his
progress.”

It feels awful talking about Jimin’s so-called training when another voice is screaming at the back
of his mind, reminding him of all the other things he has done to Jimin and his body.
Without shame.

“I don’t often deal with the support mate programme as the clients I oversee are so traumatised
they tend to need institutional care,” specialist Bae says with an apologetic smile, “but I’m still
familiar with the rules. These things are always considered on a case-by-case basis. If an omega is
reacting negatively to an element of their rehabilitation, the treatment plan should be revised, to put
it bluntly.”

“The only explanation I got back was that he was considered a high risk case and that I should just
keep pushing him to get the wanted results,” Yoongi replies, an undefined emotion pulling at the
corners of his mouth.

“Hmm.” The specialist leans back, scribbling something into her notebook. “In my experience, the
people over at mature omega affairs are rather impatient. Every unmated omega over the age of
twenty-five is considered a failure to the committee. It affects our funding.”

Yoongi enjoys the honesty. It’s refreshing, even if a little frightening.

“Trust me, I would know.” She bends her neck deliberately to reveal an unmarred scent gland. And
the omega must be pushing forty.

“Yeah, that’s – yeah.” Yoongi mutters dumbly. He feels drained, blurry-eyed. If he’s going to drop
soon, odds are Jimin isn’t doing much better.

Once again, the omega shows chilling perceptiveness. “You must care about omega Park quite a
bit. Having spent months in close contact with him. I imagine you’d be likely to form a more…
personal relationship.”

“I care about all my clients. Want them to succeed.” The lie doesn’t make Yoongi’s stomach flip as
much as it could, not when he’s pretty sure he’s being caught in it.

Yoongi downs the rest of his drink in one gulp and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“If you wish to take some kind of action, which I highly recommend, I would be more than willing
to provide a written testimony of the nature of this morning’s evaluation. It’s clear that a five-
member board was an overkill and detrimental for Park Jimin’s progress. The collar incident could
easily be tied to the same case.”

Yoongi nods stiffly. He wants to express his gratitude, but the words aren’t coming out.

“Get home safely and make sure there is someone to take care of you and your omega.”

“Yes, thank you,” Yoongi manages hoarsely, gripping the edge of the couch for support to stand
up.

Bae Doona clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “OWSC’s history is short and
unfortunately colourful. This institution needs quick reform, wouldn’t you think, alpha Min
Yoongi?” specialist Bae asks, although the question seems to be rhetorical in nature. She’s facing
the window with greyish daylight illuminating her features from behind, giving a silver frame to
her slender body that is hidden under layers of masculinely cut clothing.

For a heart-wrenching moment her tragic beauty reminds him of Jimin.

 •••

A sleek, black Alfa Romeo pulls up next to Jimin, splashing a bit of water on his exposed ankles.
The passenger side window slides down with an electronic whirr, revealing the side profile of a
handsome man about Jimin’s age. He hasn’t seen the man before.

“You must be Park Jimin. I’m Bang Chan, Hyunjin’s pack alpha.”

Chan smells calm yet spicy, and he has a warm glint to his eyes. The scared omega curled around
Jimin’s hard takes a hesitant step forward, as though it’s recognising the alpha as an ally.

Plus Jimin is cold to his bones, and Chan’s fancy car ought to have seat warmers.

He nods quickly and scrambles forward to get inside the car. Chan has one hand on the wheel, an
expensive-looking watch gleaming on his wrist. He seems like a man who has his shit together.

“Nice to meet you, even if it’s under less than optimal circumstances. Hyunjin told me you were
having some kind of omega emergency,” Chan says conversationally as he speeds back into Seoul
traffic.

Jimin huffs out a little humourless laughter. “Nice to meet you too, Chan-ssi. But tell me, how is
running away from home automatically an omega emergency?”

“Can an omega have an emergency that doesn’t involve their subgender in some way?” Chan
ponders without much heat in his voice, just stating a fact.

Jimin can’t find it in himself to argue.

“I’m sorry for being a bother,” he mumbles instead, turning to look out the window. The rain is
getting a lot heavier, and Jimin feels eternally thankful to be safe from the downpour. Chan sets the
windshield wipers to work more rapidly before answering.

“And I’m entirely at the beck and call of my tyrannical pack mates, so you’re welcome.”

It turns out the pack den is not far away at all, nestled in a large residential complex with most of
the windows to the inner courtyard with a community garden and some tall trees to provide shade
on hot summer days. It’s nothing too fancy from the outside, but as soon as Jimin steps inside the
spacious lobby area, Chan’s car and smart clothes make a whole lot more sense. He also
remembers that Hyunjin used to be one to enjoy the modest luxuries of life wherever he could.

The place looks like something Hyunjin would absolutely adore.

“Alpha. Welcome back.”

The jacket Jimin was trying to put on a hanger to dry slides to the floor with a damp thud as he
turns his head.

Hwang Hyunjin looks taller and healthier than in Jimin’s memory. The Hyunjin of his youth was a
scrawny little thing, shy around strangers, especially alphas. His hair has gotten much longer than
he ever let it grow while they were dating. It lands on his shoulders all glossy, softening his strong
features. The omega’s lotus scent is deeply interlaced with another prominent but much sweeter
scent that reminds Jimin of fresh strawberries.
“Why are you here, hyung?” Hyunjin asks, voice soft and a little hesitant. He pushes his hands into
the pockets of his jeans and tilts his head, eyes narrowed to take in Jimin’s damp clothes and ratty
nest of hair. “Jungkook-ssi mentioned that you have an alpha now.”

The obvious question is left unsaid, hanging in the air like a threat.

Jimin quickly raises his palms. “I – no, of course not. He didn’t do anything to me. It’s more that I
did a dumb thing and now – I’m here.”

Hyunjin doesn’t look entirely convinced nor relieved. “So, you do have an alpha. You, Park Jimin.
I kind of thought Jungkook was just messing with me.”

Jimin crosses his arms, hoping it would make him look bigger, less like a total failure of
omegakind. For similar reasons he opts to stay quiet – as much as uttering Yoongi’s name would
be too much. It would make him think about who Yoongi is with right now, if someone is there to
support him in Jimin’s absence, if someone is letting him cry into their shirt, petting his hair and
murmuring soft things into his ear.

“You’ll stay for one night?” Hyunjin asks. Even though his voice is soft and bright, there’s
underlying power to it. Jimin gets the idea that omegas hold immense power within a pack like
this.

“Yes.” Jimin nods determinedly, trying to channel Hyunjin’s confident aura.

“After that, will you go back to your alpha?” the other omega continues. He’s looking at Chan,
concern still flickering at the corner of his eye.

“It’s actually a whole pack,” Jimin corrects in a dry tone, “or something like that. It’s kind of a
recent development so it’s hard to say.”

Hyunjin stops his nonverbal exchange with Chan, mouth hanging open and eyes fixed on Jimin’s
collar that still clings to his neck. Park Jimin, the unofficial leader of the omega liberation,
submitting to a pack hierarchy?

Courting an alpha?

It does sound a bit outrageous.

“The OWSC,” Jimin blurts, taking a few steps forward without a clear destination in mind. The
sound of running water can be heard from the kitchen, suggesting that there is at least one other
pack member home. “The committee put me into this six-month-long programme. And then things
happened, met someone who wasn’t a total dick. But he’s also a minor celebrity, so we ended up
on Dispatch and on the radar of some traditionalist asshole, and – things got out of hand.”

Chan, who has been quiet thus far, straightens his posture. “Minho-yah!”

It’s not even that loud, but Jimin jumps, feeling the omega stir just beneath his skin.

As Jimin fights to get himself and his omega under control, another man, beta by the lack of a
distinct scent, appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He’s wearing a curious
combo of a dress shirt and a pink cooking apron.

“Did someone mention the OWSC?” the beta named Minho asks, face neutral as he glances up and
down Jimin’s frazzled form. His nostrils flare for a second to identify Jimin’s subgender, after
which he nods his head in greeting as is customary.
Jimin isn’t sure his weak balance would allow a full bow, but he tries to at least nod more deeply
than the beta. These people are letting a virtual stranger sleep in their pack den, a sacred place
where they keep their omegas, so Jimin knows better than to start defying customs at a moment
like this.

Chan clears his throat after the introductions are over. “Minho consults for the committee among
other things. He’s an attorney.”

”Do you need a lawyer?” Hyunjin chimes in. “Hyung is very knowledgeable on omega-specific
laws. I’m sure he could help.”

With a teeth-clattering shudder, Jimin thinks about Oh Taeri, about the possibility that she could
possibly put some other omega through what Jimin experienced.

“Thank you for the offer,” he says, straightening his back to face the beta who has moved to stand
right next to Chan, looking slightly possessive over the alpha. “A legal expert might be just what
we need.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Minho says with a wolfish smile, placing his elbow on Chan’s shoulder,
overly casual with his mannerisms.

“But not now,” Hyunjin interjects, clapping his hands so briskly that Jimin flinches again. Damn
his jumpy omega brain.

“Jimin hyung isn’t feeling good, I think he needs a nap.”

Jimin is about to object, say he’s just fine, but then he happens to look down at his hands and find
them shaking uncontrollably.

Chan nods in agreement, pointing at the first door to their right. “We use that bedroom as an office
space, but it has a convertible sofa for pack guests. Hyunjin sprayed the room with some air de-
scentener, so it should be a safe space for you to use as you see fit.”

“Yes, I used the nice ScentGone stuff. Some of us are very sensitive to out-pack scents, so it’s good
to always have it on hand.” Hyunjin adds helpfully, taking Jimin’s hand into his own and walking
him to the door.

“Shit, I didn’t even think… I must smell awful right now,” Jimin quickly says, tone as apologetic
as he can muster. He’s numb to it himself, but the layers of distress and dried up lilacs must have
sunk deep into his pores. It ought to be highly uncomfortable for the pack to even have him there in
their space.

“Nonsense,” Chan says, tone firm. He crosses his muscled arms, looking all strong and chivalrous
despite being shorter than Jimin and looking not at all threatening. It must be a pack alpha thing.

Jimin bows to Chan, blood rushing to his head, before slipping out of Hyunjin’s loose hold and
closing the door behind himself.

The room is on the smaller side, blinds drawn half-way to let in some daylight. The sofa bed is
open with the desk chair pushed to the side to accommodate the full length of it. There are three
pillows and two blankets piled on top – Hyunjin was definitely preparing the room with a
distressed omega in mind. Chan’s ‘omega emergency’ plays on repeat in Jimin’s mind, churning
and taking space.

As Jimin is slowly running his hand over the pillows and blankets, getting a feel for them as
Jungkook taught him to do, Hyunjin’s voice comes from behind the door.

“Oh, and Jimin hyung?”

“Ye-yeah?” he calls out breathlessly, spotting a few bottles of water and a Tupperware filled with
pre-sliced fruit cubes on top of the desk. It’s somehow even more thoughtful than providing him
with excess blankets to snuggle.

“We know you’re unwell right now, but we’ll talk about this tonight. About why exactly you’re
here, and why you smell like your heart has been ripped clean out of your chest and trampled by a
horde of rhinoceros.”

Jimin clenches his fists to stop his hands from trembling. He’s not about to faint out of distress like
a silly little omega, nor is he crying in a corner somewhere, incapacitated beyond basic functions.
All things considered, he’s relatively okay.

Hyunjin must be exaggerating. He always had a flair for dramatics.

“And hyung, remember to send a message to your friends. If you need a phone charger, just call for
me or Chan hyung.”

Jimin frowns, a little embarrassed that he’d overlooked such an important thing. When they were
still together, it was often Jimin who took care of Hyunjin. The other omega was a couple years his
junior and sometimes a little airheaded, while Jimin had grown up all too fast. He used to protect
him ferociously, from alphas lusting after his uncompromised beauty, and the sheer cruelty of the
world.

But today it feels good to be taken care of. The protests die at the back of his throat, useless and
dumb-sounding each and every one of them.

“I’ll do that now, thank you Hyunjin-ah. Thank you for recognising I was having an… omega
emergency.” Jimin leans into the door, cringing at his own words.

“Any time, hyung,” Hyunjin says with a gentle laugh. “Happens to the best of us.”

After Hyunjin’s footsteps have receded, Jimin flops down onto the sofa bed, burying his face in his
hands. His cheeks are boiling hot against his fingers, and for the second time in the span of an hour
he wonders if he’s running a fever.

Maybe he should just sleep, sleep it all off, wake up anew like a phoenix rising from the ashes of
its past self.

With the grace of oblivion as his newfound goal, Jimin takes his phone and a water bottle and
crawls between the fresh bedsheets, trousers discarded at the foot of the bed. It takes him twenty
minutes to draft the text message, just to tell who he is with and that he’s likely not going to go
back home tonight.

I’m doing okay, he writes at the end, don’t pressure Yoongi hyung to tell what happened, but please
check up on him as soon as you get this message. He might be feeling down.

After finishing writing what is most likely the understatement of the fucking century, he sends the
same text to both Taehyung and Jungkook, and in the spur of the moment, also to Namjoon whose
number he randomly acquired after not so randomly peering at Yoongi’s phone over his shoulder.

No more than two minutes later, his phone is already going off with new messages, but Jimin
doesn’t have the energy to look at them. He just feels so sluggish, and the lack of scents around
him is disorienting.

Sleep is calling to him, but he already knows it’s going to be a sweaty, restless sleep that will leave
him exhausted. It’s not going to be the oblivion he wished for.

But an omega’s got to try, right?

•••

Jimin is so full. Sleepy and full. He has had a steady stream of food thrown at him, galbi and cold
noodles and cucumber salad and braised potatoes…

Before starting to eat he didn’t even know he was hungry, too concentrated on the queasy
clenching in his stomach. It was no doubt a lingering effect of his daytime doze and the subsequent
phase of ‘lying in bed staring at the ceiling because your limbs won’t cooperate’.

“So, how does it work, your dynamic with the pack and – stuff?” Jimin questions in a feeble voice,
now that his excuse of stuffing his face with food is gone.

Hyunjin tucks a strand of stray hair behind his ear, perhaps intentionally, as it reveals the neatly
scarred mating mark on his neck.

“I’m still gay as hell and only have eyes for my mate, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The comment makes Jimin smile with one half of his mouth. He missed Hyunjin’s gentle wit.

“But we both submit to Chan hyung who is the pack alpha. It’s not like what you’d see in some
older films. We’re not asking him or the other alphas permission for anything concerning our own
lives. It’s more an instinctual thing, a dynamic that’s constantly in the background of how we
interact as a pack.”

Jimin swallows so hard it hurts. Hyunjin must sense his discomfort as he changes the topic in a
hurry.

“My mate baked these brownies. He’s a pastry chef by trade, runs one of those really posh bakeries
businessmen go crazy for. You should try one,” Hyunjin encourages, pushing the silver tray and
the teacup in Jimin’s direction with his long, slender fingers.

Despite feeling so full his stomach might burst at the seams, Jimin takes a hesitant bite.

His eyes go wide.

“Good, huh?” Hyunjin smiles, crossing his hands on the wooden tabletop. The movement draws
Jimin’s attention to a thin, silvery bracelet around Hyunjin’s wrist, one with an intricate lock
holding the ends of the chain together. Omega couples rarely collar each other, opting for other less
obtrusive indicators of companionship.

“I hope you managed to get some rest. Chan hyung kept walking past the guest bedroom door
every ten minutes just to check if your scent had changed for the worse. It’s kind of on-brand for
our tenderhearted pack leader, so you’d be making him a huge favour by taking lots of naps and
making a decent dent in our bottomless stash of sweets.”

Jimin lets himself smile a little, even if he knows he has to steer the conversation back to a more
serious topic. “Speaking of Chan-ssi, I must ap–“

“There’s no need, hyung. It was a strange situation for the both of us, but I knew what I needed,
and you knew your limits which I had to respect. Simple as that.”

“I thought you’d gone out of your mind,” Jimin states bluntly. “In hindsight, I was such a jerk to
you. Said some awfully mean things about your pack without ever stopping to think about how it
could make you feel.”

Jimin has his fingers curled around the steaming teacup, the porcelain so hot to the touch it burns
his fingertips. In spite of this he can’t be bothered to remove them.

“I never got the opportunity to tell you but I’m sorry about how I treated you back then,” he says
evenly.

Hyunjin laughs brightly, teasingly. “This grand apology surely has nothing to do with the fact that
you might have stumbled upon a pack of your own just recently?”

Jimin pinches his tongue between his front teeth, feeling a telltale burst of warmth on the apples of
his cheeks.

Hyunjin turns solemn again, eyes cast down to his well-manicured fingernails. As his own lotus
scent becomes more muted, Jimin is able to pick up the sweetness of the fresh strawberries even
more vividly. Hyunjin’s mate must be a warm, bubbly person.

“To be fair, I questioned my own sanity as well. But as ridiculous as it sounds, the omega in me
chose them,” Hyunjin concludes, reflexively tilting his head toward the quiet murmur of
conversation coming from the living room.

“And even if they all suck sometimes, I can always count on them, you know? I’m theirs, and
they’re mine.” Hyunjin’s lips part to reveal a glimmer of teeth at the last statement. It’s a subtle
display of omegan possessiveness that can be as strong as an alpha’s when pushed too far.

“Hmm,” Jimin eloquently comments, unable to wrap his mind around everything.

“Packs are pretty simple in the end. It’s the romance part that’s difficult.”

“How so?”

“Because you have to love the person under the subgender as much as the subgender itself.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Hyunjin shrugs. “Just stating my observations. I’m sure nothing I could say will change your mind,
because you’ve already decided what you want to do.”

“Why are you so sure of that?” Jimin huffs. If the comment had come from anyone else, he would
feel offended.

“I can see it in your eyes. You are a transparent man, Park Jimin.”

Jimin makes a face. “Yah, I’m still your hyung!”

He finishes the brownie in two bites and takes a big gulp of tea, scalding his tongue in the process,
but Hyunjin’s words ring at the back of his mind.

Is he so obvious a person that others know the conclusion he’ll arrive at while he’s still fumbling
in pitch black darkness?

They say goodnight to each other, and Hyunjin slides an unopened toothbrush into Jimin’s palm.
Jimin has briefly met all other members of the pack except for Hyunjin’s mate, who’s still cooped
up at his newly opened bakery branch.

“He should be here tomorrow morning. Say hello to him before you leave,” Hyunjin smiles. “I’d
like to get hyung’s approval, too. I’d like to think I’ve made the right choice mating him, but I still
value your opinion.”

Pride swells in Jimin’s chest at that, and he flashes a genuine smile.

Somewhat enlightened and encouraged by the short conversation with Hyunjin, Jimin curls up in
bed to read the text messages he has received from his friends. They’re nothing but supportive –
even Namjoon sent a lengthy text where he wished Jimin was as happy as he could despite his
circumstances, and that his home would be always open for Jimin.

Home.

The word stirs conflicting emotions in Jimin. Is home his own flat with the nice, painted
windowsill? Is home Busan and the shrieking of seagulls and the smell of seaweed? Is home
Yoongi’s flat and the scent of orange peel and leather?

Without thinking much, Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens KakaoTalk.

[23:17pm] Jimin: could we talk on the phone?

[23:17pm] Jimin: If you haven’t gone to bed yet..

He waits in the darkness for a minute, the glow of the phone screen casting an eerie bluish shadow
over the bedsheets and a part of the wall. Waiting. Expecting nothing and everything to happen.

Incoming call: Veiny-Hands

Jimin’s hands shake a little as he slides his finger over the screen. He props his head against the
wall, breathing in the muted scent of the other pack. The line connects, but at first Jimin just stares
at the rising numbers that count the duration of the call, barely registering Yoongi’s raspy voice
coming from somewhere far, far away.

Hopelessly late, he lifts the device up to his ear with numb fingers.

“– you there?” Yoongi’s voice is like molasses, sticky and thick and so dark chills run down
Jimin’s spine, make him inhale as if he could smell Yoongi through the phone screen.
“I am, sorry. Hello, how… are you?”

“Are you really asking how I am?” Yoongi asks with a heavy exhale. Jimin can hear the faint clink
of ice against the edge of a glass.

“Have you been drinking, hyung?”

Yoongi hums with whiskey-burnt timbre to his voice. “A little.”

“Wish I had a drink, too,” Jimin admits. He feels too sober, too aware of his entire body from how
his bare toes crinkle at the cold air, to how the tops of his cheeks burn just from hearing Yoongi’s
voice.

Yoongi doesn’t reply. He’s holding back, restrained. Slightly drunk maybe, but not enough to melt
the frost of caution forming asymmetric crystals between them.

Much could be said, but everything feels obvious.

But he has to start somewhere, does he not?

“You remember when I ran away the first time?” Jimin asks. “Came home wasted and without my
collar because I thought I was the toughest shit by doing that?”

Yoongi says that he remembers.

“I made out with some random person whose name I don’t even remember. And you know – I was
almost mad at you for not confronting me about it. Because I did it to throw you off, to make you
show your true colours, and you didn’t even – react.”

“I was able to guess that much. But why are you talking about that all of a sudden?” Yoongi’s
voice is dangerously even despite the whiskey.

“I don’t know,” Jimin says, rubbing his face with his palm, “just casually listing some of the dumb
shit I’ve done.”

He grips his phone harder, pressing his eyes shut so that he can only focus on Yoongi’s voice, only
on Yoongi.

“Did Taehyung or Jungkook tell you where I am?”

“Namjoon did,” Yoongi says, “thank you for letting him know, the poor alpha was losing his shit
after we left how we did.”

“Oh, right. And of course,” Jimin replies clumsily, pressing his nose into the side of the blanket. It
smells of expensive laundry detergent and not much else. Maybe the tiniest hint of Hyunjin’s lotus.

“Seokjin hyung is the handler of your case again.” It’s the first time the alpha speaks of his own
accord.

“That’s really great. Exciting news,” Jimin says in a voice that is the least excited he has ever
produced.

“Yeah.”

The bed is so big for one person, Jimin thinks in passing. He’s safe, and his omega is mostly
settled, but the abundance of legroom is worrying.
“Can I – tell you about my day?” he asks quietly. “Maybe, if you want to hear.”

“Of course.”

Jimin wishes Yoongi wouldn’t be so formal with him, but it was him who wanted space. He must
bear the consequence of Yoongi granting him that.

“I spoke to some of the pack members, they were really cool. There are three alphas, two betas and
three omegas. But you hardly notice their subgender dynamics, everyone seems very uhh… casual
with each other. I overheard one of the betas slipping into banmal with the pack alpha who’s two
years older than him no less. Can you believe it?”

Yoongi hums, waiting for Jimin to continue.

“Anyway, they went above and beyond for me, which I’m grateful for. They gave me calming tea
and brownies Hyunjin’s mate had baked.” Jimin breathes sharply. “Hyunjin being the omega that I
used to date. I don’t know if Namjoon told you that part.”

“Mm, I see.”

Jimin bites his lip to stop himself blabbering aimlessly. It’s still sore, he immediately regrets the
decision.

“Tell me, after the… did you –?” Yoongi hesitates, his voice dropping lower again, making the
fine hairs on the nape of Jimin’s neck bristle.

“Kind of,” he reveals with an exhale. “They have this guest room, or an office, I’m not sure. But I
had my own space and I dealt with it. It’s fine now.”

“I really don’t believe it was that easy,” Yoongi laughs in a breathy tone and then pauses to take
another sip of whiskey, betrayed by the sound of the melting ice again.

“Tell me a lie, too. Make us even,” Jimin requests.

Another burst of laughter. Jimin can easily visualise a tiny flash of pink gums, shoulders shaking.
Hearing Yoongi laugh, even if there’s an edge of bitterness to it, is an enormous relief to him.

“What should I tell you?” Yoongi wonders out loud, tapping the edge of something, maybe his
home studio desk. For some reason the phone line is picking up all these little details, as if his
phone knows that Jimin is starved for the smallest auditory cues.

“Ah, I took the metro home, bought a cheap ice cream from the corner shop next to the station.
Melon flavour even though I don’t care for sweet things. I liked it this time, though.”

Yoongi doesn’t clarify which of the things he mentioned was the lie, and maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I also spoke to one of the specialists about your case,” the alpha continues, “they said there was
something odd about it and that we should consider taking some kind of action. I’ll look into it.”

Jimin thinks about his chat with the beta lawyer, his careful optimism about a possible case.

Later, he decides. After it’s certain they’re both okay.

“What did you do once you got home?” he asks instead.

“I cried.”
Jimin’s heart leaps into his throat, beating sluggishly against his trachea.

“With whom?” he asks in a whisper.

Don’t say alone, don’t say alone… please don’t say alone…

“I had people come and go as they had time. Seokjin was with me the longest. I told him some
things, about what happened. Not much, didn’t want to elaborate on the things you had to – well.”

Thank God.

“It’s okay if you want to tell them, I don’t mind,” Jimin scrambles to say, clutching the edge of the
blanket so tightly his knuckles go white, because the thought of Yoongi holding all that inside
makes his stomach flip in the most unpleasant of ways.

“What you made me do today, it was only a –”

Jimin grits his teeth because tears are threatening to come, salty and urgent.

“I’ve known you for a few months, seen you every single day. Eaten the food you prepared for me
with such care, diligently worn the collar you knew I didn’t want to wear.”

“You have, omega,” Yoongi says.

Holy fuck, his voice. Smooth as butter.

“I dived head first into this world I had sworn myself to keep away from, hyung. And I’ve slowly
come to realise how fucking much I wanted all of it, everything. The omega in me is so… alive
these days. It’s running so fast I barely see a sliver of tail. I have all this want in me and I don’t
know what to do about it.”

The odd choice of words makes Jimin smile to himself. He rarely speaks of his omega out loud,
doesn’t like to visualise it as a separate entity, but right now other words aren’t enough, can’t paint
the discordant picture that blooms inside him.

“I also thought I had this – understanding with my alpha side,” Yoongi says, “I felt strong and
confident in the tight confines I’d set for myself – my work and my minuscule social circle and
then more work at home. I could be a little dominant, not too much because it might make me lose
control, and I wouldn’t have to worry about opening up my heart that was already a little bruised
by life. It was so fucking convenient while it lasted.”

“And then I came.”

“And then you came, Park Jimin, you dastardly omega.”

Jimin swallows thickly, rocking himself from side to side on the sofa bed. Over the phone, they’re
stripped of the instincts and pheromones that make things easy where there should be
complicatedness.

“Why me, though?” Jimin asks, but the words blend into a soft sob that makes his chest vibrate.

“What?”

Yoongi’s voice is sharp, unrelenting, and Jimin wants to whimper.

“I mean, why would you ever let someone like me in? There’s nothing desirable about… someone
who probably can’t give you pups, can’t do a single thing right about being an omega because
everything is such a petty fight against my own instincts.”

In those quiet hours, shivering under the blanket, thinking about all the mistakes that has led him to
that moment, to hiding in his ex’s pack’s den, wearing rainwater-soaked clothes and getting pep
talks from alphas he didn’t have any tangible relationship with.

Something like that had also crossed his mind.

“And before you say anything,” Jimin interrupts Yoongi’s meaningful inhale, “I’m not saying this
because I want to gather any sympathy points for running away. You should absolutely have a
mate who will kneel for you and carry healthy pups for you. Someone who will always please both
you and the alpha in you. That’s what someone like you deserves.”

Yoongi is silent for a deafening moment. Jimin reaches for the container of fruit to get something
for his hands to do, and he pops a wedge of orange into his mouth.

Bad idea.

Horrible idea.

“Jimin-ah, that’s not how human beings work and you know it all too well to make such a
ridiculous statement,” Yoongi says with a harsh exhale. “We don’t go around creating lists of
plusses and minuses to evaluate people by some arbitrary signs of compatible matehood.”

“But –“

“But nothing. I didn’t look at you and think ‘oh, I could probably squeeze three pups out of that
juicy womb’.”

Jimin shrieks a little hysterically, and Yoongi chuckles as well.

“I took one glance at you, and my gums ached. Deep down I knew I was already screwed, even if I
tried to pretend otherwise in the beginning.”

Yoongi is silent for a moment, but his breathing is a grating in-and-out right inside Jimin’s ear. It’s
insane, but Jimin wants to ask Yoongi to stop breathing.

“You’re impossibly infuriating, but so am I,” the alpha says. “That’s probably why you’ve been so
good for me, why my wolf recognised a kindred spirit in you. You’re fierce and loyal, you go
down so beautifully when you’re willing. And you talk back in a way that puts my verbal skills to
great shame.”

“Yoongi hyung…”

“I fought for you, so hard, for the one person that should’ve been unreachable to me,” Yoongi
continues. “I’ve felt terrible guilt over the past months, mountains of it, but at some point I became
numb to it in a way. Subconsciously, I started thinking that I had the right to you just because of
my strong feelings. Even as I utter these words, the alpha in me fails to see the logical
incongruence of the sentiment. It demands me to go and beat up Namjoon until he gives me your
exact location, to run through the night barefoot just to hold you in my arms again.”

Jimin wants to take all that guilt and throw it in the Yellow Sea. Can’t bear the thought of Yoongi
losing sleep over him, especially when he can’t be there to soothe him. He needs to find words,
pretty, healing words that wash over Yoongi like medicine.
“You know, you’re the best alpha I’ve ever met. The kindest, the most understanding. You carry
yourself with confidence that never sours into unfounded bragging. In a world where I could only
see harm and evil and unkept promises made by alphas, you are like a beacon of warm light that
illuminates even those parts of my soul I hadn’t quite discovered on my own.”

There’s wetness on his cheeks, watery snot running out of one nostril. Jimin doesn’t remember
when was the exact moment he began crying. Maybe he has been crying all the way through.

“And… that’s exactly why I don’t want to see you yet,” he concludes with the last of his breath,
drying his eyes by rubbing them with a bunched up shirtsleeve.

Yoongi makes a small sound of hurt, and Jimin’s heart lurches.

“If I came back home right now I – I would hate seeing your face, it would crush me because it
would come with a multitude of unwanted memories and –,” Jimin swallows with some difficulty.
“The point is, I don’t want to lose that beacon of light, hyung, I want to treasure it.”

“Treasure it? How?”

“I decided to go see my mother down in Busan.”

Jimin holds his breath waiting for Yoongi’s answer, waits until his lungs burn for oxygen.

“To Busan?” Yoongi repeats again.

”Yeah. I have some paid leave that I didn’t use over the summer because I was stuck here anyway.
But I really miss eomma, and I want to see her.” Tears are falling again. It’s so fucking
embarrassing.

“Oh, pup…”

A white-hot dagger pierces Jimin’s heart at the pet name, and he has to muffle a whimper into his
pillow.

“I won’t be gone for long, I promise, and I’ll be sure to wear my collar outside and stuff. I just need
a break, hyung, and I can’t stay here forever. It wouldn’t be fair because they’re a fully bonded
pack, and I’m an outsider. It would put unnecessary strain on their dynamic.”

“Busan, huh?” Yoongi says tentatively. It’s as if the alpha’s vocal cords only operate for a few
seconds at a time, limiting him to one-word replies.

“Yeah. It feels right to go back for a bit, now that the OWSC isn’t breathing on our necks anymore.
And my own flat has been sublet until December so I can’t go back there, either. You and Seokjin
hyung – you’ll cover for me, right?”

Yoongi breathes into the microphone again, Jimin can picture his mouth hanging open as if to say
something, eyes blurry with emotion and the alcohol.

“You need to know that I’m only running away, very temporarily might I add, because I really
can’t afford to screw this up. I want us to work out. And whatever we have going on with the
others, I want to be able to embrace it sans hesitations.”

Even though Yoongi remains silent and passive, Jimin feels as if a thousand kilo weight is slowly
being winched off his heart. “I think I have something really important to say back to you, but I
won’t do it over the phone, not when we’re both emotionally exhausted.”
 “Will you call me, though?” Yoongi finally asks, voice raspy and dry. He seems to have finished
his drink by now, and Jimin finds himself wishing he could go and fetch water for the alpha.

“Every day,” Jimin promises. “I’ll call you at sunset, we can watch it together. Doesn’t that sound
a bit romantic or something?”

“It sure does, pup.”

This time Jimin welcomes the pet name with a pained smile. “Then, talk to you tomorrow. Sleep
well.”

“Sweet dreams, omega.”

Chapter End Notes

Me, making yoonmin say syrupy nonsense? No fucking way.

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Bite Me Maybe
Chapter Notes

Yoongi acts as a belated wingman. Jimin has a phone date with biology (and no one is
surprised).

FIC PLAYLIST

(This chapter is /way/ too long and I’m posting it on the wrong day because I’m an impatient little thing. I
hope you enjoy!)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The sun rising over the roofs of Seoul is strong and warm, clinging to the waning summer with
everything it has got. Jimin is standing on the balcony facing East, enjoying the heat on the tops of
his cheeks.

He feels good. At peace with the tough decision he made last night. He already has a one-way
ticket to Busan waiting on his phone, and that alone has made his heart seven kilograms lighter.

It’s a nice goodbye the world is holding in his honour, and Jimin takes his time appreciating how
still and calm the world is from his vantagepoint, how little there is to hold him back.

Jimin emerges from the balcony with the sleeves of his only shirt rolled up to his elbows to battle
the warm morning. He sees Hyunjin first, carrying two steaming coffee cups, one of which he
holds up for Jimin to take.

“You’re up early, hyung.”

Jimin nods and takes the offered coffee. It smells a bit spicy. “My train leaves at nine. Don’t want
to be late.”

They drink in an amicable silence.

“Do you like the coffee? I put vanilla and cardamom in it,” a pleasant, low voice comes from the
kitchen. Jimin turns his head, smiling at the pleasant tingle of spice lingering in his mouth, and is
met with a gorgeous omega with freckles all over his face and a smile to challenge the sun itself in
brightness. The scent of fresh strawberries rolls off him in waves, revealing his identity.

Jimin scrambles to straighten his back. “Yes thank you, it was delicious. You must be –?”

“Lee Felix, Hyunjin’s omega,” he nods, playfully smirking at his mate. They share a brief glance
that can only be described as unfiltered love.

Jimin’s heart flutters like the wings of a butterfly.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rings melodically, surprising everyone in the room as no one seems to
have been awaiting guests. Changbin, who is apparently Chan’s second in command and an alpha,
intercepts Felix on his way to the door, ready to raise hell in case his omegas and betas need
protection from whoever is disturbing the peace of their den.

The alpha takes a quick glance at the door camera, and his expression of suspicion turns into a soft
sound of surprise. The door flies open to reveal a flustered Jungkook wearing black overalls
unfastened at one shoulder. He has Jimin’s suitcase propped between his legs as if it’s some kind of
prized possession of his.

“Morning, boss,” the omega greets with a full bow over the handle of the suitcase. “Is Jimin hyung
still here?”

Changbin nods a little stiffly. It’s likely that the alpha is hearing about the connection between the
ex of his packmate and his mentee for the first time, as Jungkook had been reluctant to draw
attention to it. For the first time in his life the younger omega had been completely on his own, his
own merits and skills overshadowing his subgender and his relation to other people, his mate bond
to Hoseok.

According to Jungkook, it had been awkward enough to deal with Hyunjin’s well-meaning
inquiries.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for Changbin to get over his surprise. He steps into the flat and takes his
time to bow to each of the pack members gathered to witness the commotion. He greets many of
them by name, including Hyunjin’s mate, and Jimin comes to realise that Jungkook must’ve met
them all at some point or another, and that the other omega is much more familiar with this pack
than Jimin ever could or will be.

“Kook-ah, why are you here?” he huffs out. His heartbeat still feels a bit erratic.

“I’m just an innocent bystander,” Jungkook smiles, giving the suitcase a gentle push in Jimin’s
direction.

“Clothes and toiletries handpicked by your alpha. He said it would be a crime to let you run off in
those hideous trousers, and as the fashion expert of this family, I must whole-heartedly agree.”

“Yah, what fashion expert?” Jimin snaps, swiping non-existent dust off his trousers. His ears feel
hot, and there’s a large lump of emotion stuck in his throat.

“There’s a scented t-shirt, that bougie skincare kit you swear by, and a trashy romance novel where
the omega gets the alpha on page sixty-five,” Jungkook rattles on without missing a beat. “Oh,
what’s that amazing smell? Coffee?”

Hyunjin’s mate Felix nods enthusiastically. “I’ll go fix you a cup, Jungkook-ssi. Wait right here.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says with a satisfied smile. The omega has the gift of acquiring free food
and drinks wherever he goes. It’s astonishing just how great he is at it.

Changbin crosses his arms that have greyscale tattoos snaking up all the way to his shoulders, but
his eyes are fond as he watches Jungkook.

It’s clear that the omega is in good hands.

A relief.

After some coffee and small talk, Jungkook escorts Jimin to the station like a bodyguard, and
before the train leaves, the omega pulls Jimin into a crushing hug.
“Going to miss you,” he whispers into Jimin’s neck, nosing along his collar. They’re good friends,
but this behaviour is… new.

Jimin files it away for later and lets Jungkook scent him as much as he wants.

•••

Jimin always feels nostalgic returning to Busan. The years away have made him forget how much
he hated the conservative people there, how he loathed the school system that put him down.
Maybe it’s for the better, the oblivion. He can roam the streets with a light heart, drop by a small
lunch restaurant for a bowl of cold noodles without hard feelings. The familiar cadence of the
Busan dialect all around him brings out the dormant satoori in him, shifting the shape of his
vowels. He sounds more juvenile like this, rawer, like a person he thought to have left in the past
but whom he welcomes with open arms.

Jimin leaves the city centre with a belly full of noodles, navigates the busses with ease even though
he rarely visits these days. Arriving at his old home street is a sobering experience. Seeing the
familiar house with its familiar imperfections – the tangerine tree that grew crooked after a bad
trim ten years ago, the house number that sits off-centre on the wall – it all makes it more real.

Jimin truly left Seoul behind just like that, with no plan.

The few concrete steps leading up to his mother’s house are washed out and cracked from being
exposed to the elements. Someone should be called to fix them, Jimin thinks as he lets himself in
using the spare key located under a heavy terracotta planter. He knows his mother will immediately
recognise his scent if she happens to be home.

He’s not wrong.

“Jimin-ah?” His mother’s singsong voice that resembles Jimin’s own, comes from the kitchen.

Jimin leaves his luggage and jacket at the door and changes into a worn pair of house slippers. It’s
tricky to school his face into a smile – for some reason the muscles in his face quiver when he tries
to arrange them appropriately. But he tries his best.

Jimin’s mother has a stripy dishrag clutched in her hand, and she’s wearing a pair of worn cotton
trousers and a floral print blouse.

The rag falls onto the kitchen counter, Jimin’s name stuck to her lips. She takes five seconds to
take in the sight of his son – crumpled yesterday’s clothing, flattened hair. The black collar sitting
lower than usual on his throat. Jimin made it a notch looser on the train and forgot to fix it.

“What on Earth are you doing –?” his mother starts, taking unsteady steps closer, as if she still isn’t
fully convinced that the man before him is his son and not a devious impostor.

“It must’ve been years since I smelled you this vividly, my flower cub,” she says with an
uncharacteristic tremble to her voice. She reaches up to cup Jimin’s face between her work-
calloused hands. Jimin is going to cry soon, it’s inevitable. He’s going to cry and then he’s going to
laugh. Eat some pancakes, maybe.

“Cub, did someone – did someone try to –?” she shakes her head, unable to finish the sentence, and
gently forces Jimin’s head to the side to take a look under the collar.

Jimin’s mother lets out an enormous sigh of relief seeing his son’s scent gland untouched.

“I just missed you, eomma,” Jimin explains quietly, and that’s enough, the tears he has been
holding in since the morning spill over all at once.

His mother, his kind and hardworking mother who tried her best to give Jimin the life he wanted,
wipes his tears off with the side of her palm.

“You’re always welcome home. But you’re making me so worried.” She’s rubbing soothing circles
into Jimin’s back, but the tears won’t stop falling. “How come you turn up here without your
blockers and this –,” her fingers briefly graze the edge of his collar, “– around your neck?”

“It’s a funny and a long story,” Jimin sniffles. He’s such a gross crier.

“Why are you crying? My dear son, who hurt you?”

Jimin takes a deep breath. He needs to come clean to his mother, can’t stand the thought of
lukewarm excuses.

“Eomma, I think I’m terribly in love with an alpha.”

•••

Yoongi is sitting on the floor in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and a dirty t-shirt when Namjoon
rudely lets himself inside his flat. There are no greetings, no small talk, only Namjoon beelining
for the kitchen and putting (or rather slamming) a frying pan onto the stove.

“Sausages?” the alpha grunts without turning to face Yoongi.

“Sausa– what?” Yoongi mumbles with his chin pressed against his knee. “Sure, that works.”

For the twentieth time today, Yoongi flicks through the same handful of TV channels broadcasting
home renovation shows and trashy daytime dramas. Yoongi is well versed in the world of
wainscoting by now.

Yoongi’s and Jimin’s friends seem to have divided feeding and bathing shifts for Yoongi without
consulting him beforehand, aiming to make sure that his living conditions remain somewhat
humane. This lunch shift is on Namjoon who isn’t the world’s greatest cook, but Yoongi
appreciates the effort regardless. Without him he might’ve chewed on a packet of uncooked
noodles or something.

It’s not that Yoongi is fundamentally incapable of taking care of himself – he knows Jimin is
perfectly safe with his mother, clothed and fed and reachable via phone. And Jungkook met him
before his train left and gave him some clothes and a shirt Yoongi had scented with all his might.
He had sealed the thing in a vacuum bag in case Jimin would be averse to Yoongi’s scent, but he
can still hope.

Unfortunately, despite all the precautions and beautiful declarations, Yoongi’s alpha side feels lost
without the omega around, sulking and groaning and filling Yoongi’s head with displeased howls.
Namjoon strolls into the living room after one commercial break worth of time has passed, handing
Yoongi a plate of partly burnt hotdogs and some side dishes Seokjin left in Yoongi’s fridge last
night. Holly perks his head out of his basket to sniff at the air.

“You want to talk or just eat?” Namjoon asks, sitting on the couch above Yoongi. Yoongi bites his
tongue to not give in to the urge to lean his back against the alpha’s muscular thigh.

Namjoon has gotten so big and for what?

“What about?” Yoongi asks neutrally.

“Your omega.”

Yoongi grins around a mouthful of food, noticing the sausages taste okay. Namjoon’s bluntness is
definitely an upgrade from Seokjin’s merciless fussing, even if being held and comforted kind of
against his will had felt nice.

“I think I’m good, Joon-ah. I mean I miss him, my alpha is clawing its way out of my gut as we
speak, but I’m dealing with it. He said he wants to talk on the phone and stuff, keep in touch.”

“Why the hell are you on the floor then, wearing those ridiculous pyjamas in the middle of the
day?” Namjoon asks sharply. At the same time the alpha’s hand hovers mere centimetres above his
head – Yoongi can sense its warmth.

“I said I was dealing with it,” Yoongi repeats with a huff and takes a moment to chew another
piece of hotdog. “And I’m doing so by consuming quality entertainment and skipping work. Are
you going to fire me or what?”

Namjoon throws his head back and laughs. Loud, wolfish barks. Holly jumps out of his basket at
the loud sound and flees under the armchair by the window.

The alpha’s hand slips down to affectionately squeeze Yoongi’s shoulder. “Fair enough. Can we
talk about my problems, then? If you’re so fine and dandy.”

“What problems would you ever have?” Yoongi gently teases. An overly cheerful advert for
xylitol gum begins playing on the flatscreen, so he reaches for the remote to lower the volume.

“You know Kim Seokjin fairly well, don’t you?”

Oh.

Yoongi has been waiting for this conversation.

He hides his smile in the backplate of the remote as he looks up into Namjoon’s eyes. Yoongi feels
at ease with the alpha looming over him, much more so than he ever did while they were dating.
He wanted to show off so bad back then. Wanted to be the cool hyung.

“Yes, I know everything about him. I’m a real-life Kim Seokjin Wikipedia,” Yoongi says with a
cheeky grin. For old times’ sake.

Namjoon grimaces. “I was just wondering… no, it’s probably dumb.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi warns in a low, stern voice. He feels invigorated by the meal, ready to
play the part of the tough hyung if that’s what’s required.

“Alright, alright.” Namjoon pushes his glasses up and squares his shoulders. “Do you happen to
know what his philosophy is regarding umm – partners?”

It would feel so good to laugh, but Yoongi can’t. Can’t. Namjoon is so adorable and lost and still
so alpha. A person like him shouldn’t exist. It should be against the laws of physics.

“Jin hyung, as you would know if you had actually tried to talk to him, has a very simple
philosophy,” Yoongi starts with gentle bite to his voice. “He’s handsome and kind and thoughtful,
and when he sees something else that shares those qualities, he takes it. What you see is what you
get with him.”

Namjoon blinks, eyes unseeing. The chewing gum ad is still going in the background, and Yoongi
takes the opportunity to get some more food into his stomach.

“When hyung saw you for the first time, he asked if I could help him land a date with you. I tested
the waters, you know, asked if anyone in particular had caught your eye that day, but I assumed
you weren’t interested in him since mentioning hyung’s name did nothing for you.”

This makes the other alpha groan and fold in half, elbows to his knees. “I felt flustered when you
started asking me about people. And someone like Kim Seokjin – fuck, I would have never
dreamed of him being interested – I’m officially a dumbass.”

“That you are,” Yoongi confirms and places his hand on his full stomach. He probably should start
working out more, but Jimin had offhandedly mentioned that he liked Yoongi’s tummy a lot. That
it makes him look comfy or something. Yoongi wants to be Jimin’s comfort place.

“How about Jimin’s alpha friend, Taehyung?” Yoongi asks with a smile. “Do you fancy him? I
reckon the two are a package deal at this point. It’s like they’ve become tethered to each other.”

Namjoon is getting furiously red in the face, eyes nothing but slits behind his glasses. The answer
is pretty clear, but Yoongi decides to push him a little more. Teasing Namjoon is a nice distraction
from the grey dullness of his own tragically mateless life.

“Oh, you’ve already done something with Taehyung?” he asks with a raised brow, poking at the
deep dimple of grimace on the alpha’s face.

“Don’t even mention it,” Namjoon sighs. “It just happened and I felt so unbelievably bad. Thought
Seokjin would slam me against a wall or something.”

“What happened, exactly?” Yoongi purrs. It’s delightful to watch the usually calm and collected
alpha squirm.

“I can’t see why that would be of any importance.”

Yoongi pinches Namjoon’s thigh, hard. The alpha yelps but doesn’t even attempt to shield himself.

“We kissed,” Namjoon blurts out with a hand over the spot Yoongi attacked. The TV is showing
news now. It appears that farmers in Jeju are expecting a particularly good harvest of tangerines
for the winter, following a hot and humid summer.

“Aw, cute,” Yoongi huffs, mostly thinking about tangerines. About Jimin eating a tangerine. Jimin
feeding him tangerine with his pretty fingers.

“No, it was filthy. Like a real kiss with uhh – tongue action.”

“Wow, Namjoon-ah. Tongue action? That’s wild.”

It’s Namjoon’s turn to hit Yoongi. It’s barely more than a tap to his knee, but the alpha in Yoongi
stirs anyway.

If this thing will truly work out between them, if their wolves have chosen each other, they’ll have
to settle their hierarchy once and for all. His alpha is already awaiting that day with great
impatience.

It’s like Namjoon was reading Yoongi’s mind, because suddenly the alpha’s voice becomes more
quiet, thoughtful. “Do you think I would do well as a pack alpha?”

Yoongi curls his hands around his shins and leans back, accidentally baring his throat to Namjoon.
Or maybe it isn’t accidental at all.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says in a strangled voice. “Always have thought so. Although I didn’t think I
would get wrapped up in a dynamic with you.”

The half-smile Yoongi offers Namjoon is instantly returned.

“Just roll with it, alpha,” Yoongi continues softly. “Date whoever you want, kiss whoever you
want, filthily if that’s what rocks your boat,” he adds to make Namjoon chuckle. He succeeds.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Namjoon clears his throat. There’s some suspicious wetness glimmering in his eyes. Yoongi gets
up on the couch and lets the side of his arm press against Namjoon’s elbow.

“Want to watch a film together or something? Or do you need to get back to work?” he asks,
feeling just a bit guilty. Namjoon must be working his ass off to cover for Yoongi.

But before Namjoon has the time to answer, they both get tense.

The air smells burnt.

“Oh fuck, hold that thought, hyung. I think I left the stove on.”

Namjoon rushes to the kitchen. There’s some muffled cursing and the sizzling noise of running
water on something hot.

“I’ll buy you a new pan, okay?”

•••

Jimin’s mother takes a lot of convincing before she lets Jimin do anything other than sit on his butt
and shove food down his throat. Mentioning his quick lunch near the train station doesn’t help –
she makes Jimin eat three full portions of food and then pats his cheeks and tells him he looks so
cute when he eats well and his cheeks get plump, loudly wondering what higher power has made
his son eat so well.

Jimin is stupid enough to fall for the ruse, blurting out that the alpha he’s seeing is a great cook.

Her face softens in an instant, a brilliant smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Is he now?”

Jimin downs the last of his tea and tries to get up. He wants to take a stroll down the nearby beach,
breathe in the late afternoon sun and the sea breeze.

He wants to call Yoongi, too.

“He is. Hyung has a cat, too. A kitten. Or technically it’s a full cat now, they grow up so fast.”

Jimin’s tongue tingles. He has yet to tell her about the involvement of the committee, even if his
mother must sense the underlying tension. He’ll tell her in a few days, after he has settled into the
languid rhythm of his life here.

“Listen, I was thinking of going down to the beach. It has been too long since I saw the sea.”

Jimin’s mother studies his face carefully. She asks if Jimin is sure he wants to be alone.

“I – I won’t be alone,” Jimin says sheepishly, waving his phone.

His mother looks absolutely ecstatic. So much so that Jimin feels a pang of shame right below his
heart. His mother has never pushed Jimin to take a mate, has never questioned his choice to remain
single.

But she must’ve hoped, of course she would have, all this time. Must’ve clung onto hope that
someone special would come in and sweep her only son off his feet, fill his days with laughter and
easy affection.

Jimin’s mother pushes an old sunhat and a rolled picnic blanket into Jimin’s hands and practically
kicks him out the door, going on about how “the youth deserve a bit of privacy”.

The walk to the beach is short and familiar, through a few alleyways and then across the street with
the convenience store that has been ‘hiring’ since the year 1998. Jimin stops by to purchase a can
of soda, because sweet things have their own stomach that always has room in it regardless of how
many pieces of kimchijeon one eats.

Behind a few taller buildings, the sea is a majestic jade green in the early evening, rays of sun
hitting the barnacle-covered rocks sitting near the waterline. Jimin removes his shoes to feel the
cooling sand under his feet before laying down the blanket.

It’s the perfect setting for romantic call number one.

Yoongi answers after one and a half rings with a careful, almost formal hello. But the tone of his
voice is warm, like he really wants to have this conversation. Jimin pushes his bare toes over the
edge of the quilt, burying them in the fine grains of sand, next to where his can of soda is propped
up, beading with condensation.

Yoongi says he can hear the hum of the Pacific Ocean, that it sounds calming. Jimin agrees with
him and puts the phone down for a moment to open the can with a satisfying whizz.

“What flavour?” Yoongi asks, his voice muffled by the old blanket.

“Pineapple,” Jimin replies, pausing to take a sip.

Tart, sweet.

Jimin sighs.
They talk about fruit for a while, until half of the soda is gone and Jimin lies back with his left arm
as a makeshift pillow. The sky is the colour of an unripe peach, and Jimin shields his eyes from
low-hanging sun with the brim of the sunhat. Busan is so nice this time of the year, warm but not
too hot.

Yoongi would like Busan, too. The alpha would look gorgeous lying on a beach towel with his hair
wet, resembling a pale starfish with his limbs all splayed out. He would whine dramatically when
Jimin tried to apply sunblock to the pinkened tip of his nose.

To distract himself, Jimin asks about Yoongi’s work. The alpha says he didn’t feel like going
today. He wrote some lyrics, though. Nothing of commercial value. Namjoon scolded him.

The casual mention of Namjoon’s name makes the lining of Jimin’s stomach twist and curl, makes
him think of the message he received from the alpha after sharing his location with him, a simple
‘thank you for telling me’. And then, ‘let me know if you need anything’.

Yoongi hums. “Namjoon asked about you today when we… met for lunch. He seemed displeased
when I didn’t have much to tell.”

“Is he my alpha now, too?” Jimin tries to joke, but it hits way too close to home.

Because he is, isn’t he?

Someone like Kim Namjoon having Jimin’s back, always, in every situation. It’s possible. The
alpha already adores Yoongi, is enraptured by Taehyung and Jungkook. Jimin is a difficult person
to care for, but Namjoon still extended that same consideration to him in those texts.

It’s a highly pleasing idea to the sun-warm omega purring in Jimin’s chest.

•••

“Flower cub, I have a question.”

“Stop calling me that, please,” Jimin whines. If the nickname ever reached Yoongi’s ears, he
would hear about it for the rest of his miserable life.

His mother ignores his pleas with a seasoned tolerance for his whining. “Can I meet your alpha at
some point?”

Jimin, who must be blushing like a pubescent pup talking about his first crush, ducks his head
behind the enormous bowl of soup that was placed in front of him a few minutes ago. The steam
rising from the broth is making his face sweaty.

“Sure, yeah. Later, maybe,” he replies and proceeds to burn his tongue with the hot spoon.

This morning Jimin finally told her about the support mate programme, how it backfired
catastrophically, how the omega in Jimin fell head over heels and made Jimin do the same. He told
that his relationship with his friends had shifted, too, the bond between them growing and
morphing into something new.

His mother has never belonged to a pack, but she instantly understood, asked if the pack alpha was
a good person.

Jimin told her that the alpha in question was no other than his mortal enemy, but apart from that
the man seemed decent.

They shared a good laugh about it.

Jimin hadn’t expected his mother to accept Yoongi so readily. The positive reaction is a testament
to how much faith she has in her son’s judgement. Because Jimin thinks Yoongi is a good person
and a good alpha, she believes him. Plain and simple. The blind trust makes warmth blossom in his
chest every time he thinks about it.

Jimin stirs his soup. “I’m actually calling him soon. Is there anything you might want to… tell
him?”

Until now he has been calling Yoongi outside on the beach or in the garden, safely out of his
mother’s hearing range.

“Hyung has been asking about your health every day, and I’m sure he’ll send an entire shipping
container’s worth of ginseng your way if you don’t act fast.”

Jimin’s mother giggles with a hand over her mouth, cheeks tinged rosy. It’s so nice to hear her
laugh freely like that. Growing up money was always tight, wrapping a tense coil of stress around
the atmosphere of their home. After Jimin had already moved to Seoul, his mother inherited some
money and was able to cut down on her working hours. Fortunately the distance and time and
financial freedom were able to mend their relationship.

“Hmm, let’s not scare the poor alpha out of his mind,” his mother decides. “I know it’s daunting
for any respectful alpha to face their omega’s parents for the first time. But you can tell him I
already like him. I like alphas who cook, alphas who like children and animals. Those have the
purest hearts. I also like people who own up to their mistakes.”

Jimin lowers his head. His mother is an amazing person. It’s sad he didn’t always understand it
growing up.

He excuses himself and goes up to his room and picks Yoongi’s number from the recent contacts,
knowing Yoongi will answer in a matter of seconds, knowing that the alpha is already looking
forward to their nightly call.

It’s a nice feeling.

The routine, the assurity.

Sometimes they talk about boring things, about work, about the funny-looking bird Jimin saw on
his way to the supermarket.

Sometimes they talk abstract, even though they’ve established that Jimin has a tendency to dive
into metaphysics to Yoongi’s despair, and that Yoongi is all too fond of critiquing the exploitative
nature of the global economy, which isn’t exactly Jimin’s area of expertise.

But they try, and that’s the most important thing.

Jimin laughs dryly when Yoongi asks him about his day. “It’s fine. My neck is kind of itchy,
though.”
“Why?” the alpha asks, suddenly alarmed.

“I don’t have my night collar here, so I’ve been sleeping with my normal one. And it would’ve felt
weird to be taking it off on my own, you know? It’s hard as it is to remove it for bathing and stuff
with no one to help with the buckle.”

There’s a three second silence.

“Yah, Park Jimin!” the alpha yells as if he’s doing his best Kim Seokjin imitation.

Jimin flinches and pulls the phone away from his ear. “What?”

“You – you’re going to get hives, sleep wrong and choke to death in your bed and – what the actual
fuck were you thinking?” Yoongi sounds absolutely livid, and Jimin’s insides do a cartwheel. He
stifles a whimper against the roof of his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” Yoongi breathes out, voice all grumbly and almost sexy. Yoongi has been nothing
but gentle during these calls, treating Jimin with silk gloves. “I’m sorry for raising my voice, but
are you dim or what?”

“Not stupid. A creature of habit, maybe.”

Jimin flops onto his stomach on the bed. If he closes his eyes and presses his nose into Yoongi’s
shirt, he can imagine the alpha being there, all fussy and cute.

Yoongi sighs heavily. “Just check the side pocket of your suitcase. The one with a zipper in the
inseam.”

“My suitcase doesn’t have a side pocket,” Jimin corrects.

“Yes it does.”

Licking his lips in confusion, Jimin gets on the floor on his knees, phone pinned between his ear
and shoulder. He opens the lid and runs his hand along the side, finding – “Oops, you were right.”

The pocket in the beige fabric is bulging slightly, highly obvious now that Jimin knows where to
look. All of his collars are there – the blue and the brown one, and a handful of night collars in
varying colours.

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.”

“Are you going to insert a cheesy joke about omegas being airheads,” Jimin teases, getting back on
the bed with a collar in hand.

“Are we back to bickering? Is it that normal between us again?”

“Mhm. I guess it is.”

Jimin toys with the smooth leather of the brown collar, thinking it would go together well with his
outfit, a soft white jumper and corduroy trousers. Maybe he should buy charm for the second
collar, too. A little heart, perhaps?

He’s getting severely side-tracked.

“Did you know that my mum already loves you?”

An amused exhale. “I find that extremely hard to believe. You were on the run from me after all.”

“Maybe she’s just that desperate,” Jimin says dramatically. “Or maybe you’re simply the first
alpha I didn’t describe as a boorish knothead.”

He does remember calling Yoongi a knothead. When they first met, and Yoongi bowed to him.
Bowed to an omega. Back then Jimin had thought Yoongi was making fun of him.

“I feel honoured,” Yoongi says in a low rumble. He sounds unexpectedly sincere, and chills travel
down Jimin’s spine.

Collar forgotten on the pillow beside him, he traces the wood panelling on the wall with his finger.
He remembers doing that as a pup, trying to fall asleep, the ridges of the wood comforting to him
for some reason. Living back home is making him regress to a time before subgender, before he
was hit with the unpleasant realities of the world.

“Yoongi hyung,” he says, voice a little louder than necessary. “You know, you’re an alpha and I’m
an omega.”

“Yes, pup. I’m very aware,” Yoongi chuckles.

Jimin props his feet up against the wall and hangs his head off the side of the bed, staring at the
array of collars splayed over the lid of his suitcase.

Can’t stop fidgeting, for some reason.

“Over the phone, though,” Jimin tries to explain, “it’s just Jimin and Yoongi. I like it.”

“Mm. I like it too. And I like you too.”

“Aish, Yoongi, that was too cheesy.”

Yoongi grumbles at the lack of honorifics, and then they laugh.

•••

The weather is getting a bit colder, windier, a whisper of autumn in the air. It’s a welcome change
after the stagnant heat of the summer, but it also indicates the passage of time. It makes Jimin
restless.

He has more conversations with his mothers, delving into topics they’ve never discussed before.
They talk about Jimin’s youth and how difficult a time it was for him. They talk about mating and
pups and other things Jimin has always pushed away at the first mention. Jimin’s mother tells him
about the time she first found out about her pregnancy, and how it had affected her back then. Even
the topic of Jimin’s sailor father comes up. She doesn’t have many things to say about the man, but
apparently he was a beta.

At night, when Jimin’s mother is sound asleep, Jimin presses a hand to his scent gland and
imagines Yoongi biting him there, hard and deep, until blood bursts out and into Yoongi’s mouth.
Jimin gets a boner thinking about Yoongi’s perfectly even teeth stained with his blood.

It’s kind of disturbing.

Jimin refuses to jerk off to it, too embarrassed by the intensity of his feelings.

Yoongi follows him to his dreams, too. Jimin would’ve expected nightmares, a stern, cruel Yoongi
in the echoey halls of the OWSC, lashing out punishment. What he gets instead is long stares,
howls at the moon. Primal touch that is part sexual, part reciprocal ownership.

During their evening calls it might be all fluffy romance, fruit-flavoured courting that boils down to
bad jokes and tentative plans for the future, but Jimin’s omega is still painfully aware of the thin
veneer of civility, the raw dynamic right underneath.

One particularly humid night Jimin dreams of standing in the middle of a meadow somewhere. The
flowers are in full bloom, but the sky is burdened by clouds. Jimin can feel the rain looming over
his shoulders, can smell it in the air. He isn’t wearing any clothes, and there’s a strange energy
thrumming under his bare skin.

A large black wolf steps into the field of flowers. Its shiny flanks brush the rows of daisies and
indigos out of the way, shoulders just above the sea of green.

They meet at the centre. Jimin can feel the wet huffs of its breathing on his collarbones. He gazes
into the wolf’s intelligent eyes that reflect the world in monochrome. The wolf pokes at Jimin’s hip
with his snout and turns his head. Wants Jimin’s attention. Turns out there are other wolves lining
the clearing, watching them from the side. Protecting them.

The steely skies open, and fresh rainwater beads on the wolf’s fur as it shifts closer to him. Jimin
looks down and sees a flash of silver. Feels the damp earth beneath his paws.

The black wolf nips at Jimin’s neck in a flash of sharp, wet teeth. It’s a taunt, call to play.

Jimin turns with a graceful swish of his tail. He knows the game, trusts the other wolves watching
them from a distance.

So he runs, runs until the world blurs into the green of the grass and trees, dizzying strength
coursing through his veins. The other wolves, his kin, run alongside him to aid his flight.

The black wolf is faster, however.

Always faster.

Its large paws crash against Jimin’s back and they tumble into a tussock of moss and roll over,
biting at the air and at each other, their bloods mixing with rainwater until they’re one.

Jimin wakes up with a mouthful of saliva-soaked pillow, scent gland on fire and slick seeping
through the mattress. He refuses to jerk off to the strange by-product of his subconscious once
again, opting for a cold shower instead.

•••

A few days later he cracks. Or they both crack at the same time, who knows.
The sunset is painting Jimin’s childhood room a gilded orange – the poor print of a Renoir painting
that was a gift from Taehyung, the bookshelf full of cheesy novels with glossy cover art, stories
about high school romance and werewolves (and romantic werewolves that go to high school). A
few days ago Jimin found a stack of yellowed paper behind the row of novels. They contained
smutty oneshots Jimin had printed out from a fanfiction site using the computer at the library.

Yoongi is the one to call tonight, timely as ever, and Jimin answers with steady fingers.

“Evening, pup.” Yoongi’s voice is raspier than usual, like he just woke from a nap.

Jimin’s mouth goes dry thinking about Yoongi in his massive bed, stretching his lithe limbs all
catlike, lips pink, elbows pink.

“How was your day, alpha?” Jimin lets something playful bleed into his voice, hoping it would
mask the restrained arousal behind it.

Yoongi exhales heavily, and Jimin can hear blankets rustling under the alpha’s weight.

“Lazy. Took a nap.”

“Was it a good nap?” Jimin smiles. He’s on edge, the constant dreams and phone calls blurring into
something vaguely intense in his brain.

They talk about their days. Jimin tells Yoongi he went to a second-hand shop and bought a
beautiful coat for winter, a classy cream-coloured thing Taehyung might wear. Yoongi tells about a
funny client he encountered at work, but the story jumps all over the place, as if Yoongi himself
isn’t committed to telling it.

He’s distracted, Jimin can tell, and suddenly he’s desperate to know why.

Drunk on the courage of his dream-self, Jimin asks if they could do a video call. He props himself
against some pillows, combs a hand through his platinum hair. Hides Yoongi’s shirt out of sight.

Yoongi asks if he’s absolutely sure. The alpha sounds scared, uncertain. Thinking Jimin will be
scared of him.

It didn’t even pass through Jimin’s mind, the possibility of being afraid of Yoongi’s face like he
was two weeks ago. When Jimin thinks back to the evaluation, he does feel a pang of fear in his
chest, a fickle memory of the beta storming out of the evaluation room in the wake of the
destruction she caused, the clammy hand that held onto him. Yoongi’s face isn’t included in that
chain of association anymore.

And right now, after being denied, Jimin yearns to see his face that is not shrouded in a dream
where nothing takes its full form.

Yoongi’s face starts off overexposed. The alpha is sitting too close to his bedside lamp. Jimin tries
not to bring the phone camera too close to his face. There’s a blemish on his chin, and his cheeks
look ridiculously chubby.

“Missed seeing your face,” Yoongi says. There’s a dangerous edge to his smile.

“Even though I look like a steamed dumpling?”

“Funny you’d say that. Jin hyung called me a dumpling just yesterday,” Yoongi replies. He’s still
smiling, but it’s that odd, gleaming smile loaded with tension.
In the corner of the screen Jimin can see a patch of pink. It looks a lot like Jimin’s fleece blanket,
the one that would be absolutely drenched in his scent, the centrepiece of his nest. Jimin’s heart
and guts exchange places.

Yoongi must realise where Jimin is looking so intently, tongue slipping between his teeth.

The alpha doesn’t bother trying to hide it.

“Last night I rutted against your favourite blanket and came in less than three minutes. And then I
fell asleep just to wake up in the morning, covered in dried-up cum. To make matters worse,
Seokjin caught me with my dick still hanging out. I’m pretty sure the exact phrasing was ‘you’re a
dirty dumpling, Min Yoongi’. Not one of my proudest moments, I must say.”

A hysterical little giggle escapes Jimin’s mouth. He can smell his own slick in the air, just a hint of
sweetness.

“Is that the same blanket by any chance?” he manages to ask.

Yoongi refuses to answer, and the silence is white-hot, incandescent.

The alpha tries to apologise for making Jimin uncomfortable with his confession, and Jimin just
responds by taking Yoongi’s crumpled shirt from under the pillow and shamelessly pressing it
under his nose, eyes rolling back with how intense the scent still is after two weeks. Jimin isn’t
sure what Yoongi did to the shirt to get the scent mark to soak the fibres of the fabric so wholly.

It’s marginally better to be disgusting together.

Jimin looks Yoongi straight in the eye as he rubs his cheek and gland against the stretched collar of
Yoongi’s shirt. The alpha’s expression goes from tense to outright hungry in a split-second. He tilts
his head and bares the sharp tips of his canines.

“I’ve been having these weird dreams,” Jimin whispers. “Almost every night.”

“Am I in the dream, Jimin-ah? With you?”

Jimin thinks about the black wolf, the rain, torn skin and blood, roughhousing on the forest floor.
His mouth is full of saliva, and his gums hurt.

“You’re in the dream every time. Well, in a way.”

Yoongi exhales through his closed teeth, and he copies Jimin’s swallow, throat bobbing obscenely.

It’s time to go home, Jimin decides. First thing in the morning he’ll get on the KTX. And if Yoongi
has dared leave the nest, he’ll raid Yoongi’s workplace, will take Holly hostage and send a ransom
note.

“Hyung, I miss you,” Jimin tries to say, but everything that comes out is a series of choked out
whines. His cheeks feel so hot, his entire body is on fire.

With great difficulty, Jimin turns to lie on his stomach, trying to rut the bed in tiny, discreet
motions. The friction feels heavenly on his half-hard cock. It’s kind of embarrassing he’s getting
worked up over nothing, but it’s working well, relieving the pressure building in his lower half just
enough to keep the call going.

Until Yoongi catches him, of course.

“What are you doing, pup?” he asks in a gruff voice, tone more wolf than man.

“I haven’t gotten off in such a long time,” Jimin blurts out. “Don’t push me, hyung, please.”

Yoongi is silent for a long time, staring at Jimin’s flushed face with his mouth agape.

“Ff–felt weird about doing stuff,” Jimin tries to explain, “I know it doesn’t make sense, but my
thoughts haven’t been making sense lately.”

Yoongi coughs. His arm is out of view, shoulder tense. Oh god, is he gripping his cock?

“Would you like to get off? If alpha helped?”

Another broken whimper spills out of Jimin’s mouth, and he finds himself nodding frantically, hips
picking up the pace. He has a blanket bunched up under himself, and even that feels amazing
through his shorts.

He needs to come. Suddenly it’s all he can think of.

“Does it feel good humping the bed like a slut?”

Fuck.

Yoongi and his casual dirty talk, it’s going to cause Jimin a heart attack one day.

Jimin’s movements stutter, and he moans into the hand that isn’t holding the phone. His cock is
fully hard by now, leaking steadily, and his shorts are a sticky mess of slick and sweat. He wishes
Yoongi could smell him, go wild from the flowery sweetness. Yoongi would slide his pretty
fingers deep inside him, use Jimin’s own slick to make Jimin’s cock nice and wet and shiny. The
alpha would suckle on the tip like it was hard candy and then push it all the way down his throat to
make Jimin’s eyes roll back in his head.

Jimin knows that despite his small mouth, Yoongi is unbelievably good at deepthroating.

And he has stamina, too. Almost too much of it.

“Stop.”

Yoongi’s real voice pierces through the vivid fantasy.

“I asked you a question, pup.”

Jimin shudders. It feels so good to have this part of their dynamic back, to not have it be weird.

“It does feel good,” Jimin replies breathlessly.

Yoongi nods. “Will you take off all your clothes and show alpha just how good it feels?”

Jimin complies faster than he can think about the question, peeling his ruined shorts off in one go.
Jimin’s cock slaps wetly against his clenching abdomen as it’s bared to the cooler air, and a fresh
trail of slick slides down the inside of his thigh.

Whatever is happening reminds Jimin of the time he first moved to Yoongi’s flat and would
stubbornly refuse to masturbate. That ended in the fiasco of an early heat, so maybe it’s good that
Jimin is addressing the situation now.
Remembering that he was supposed to show his situation to the alpha, Jimin looks over his
shoulder to make sure the door is tightly shut and then angles the phone camera down.

Yoongi’s loud gasp sends fresh ripples of arousal down Jimin’s body from the neck down.

“Oh Jiminie, are you already close?”

Jimin’s cheeks burn as he says yes. He’s about to spill all over himself, just from rutting his bed for
a few minutes. Yoongi’s eyes turn a degree darker.

“Wish I could spread your legs and fuck you with my tongue until you made a huge mess of
yourself. Or that I could push you flat against the bed, put my mouth on your little cock and let you
buck up into my mouth like a wanton little thing until you came.”

“’m not little. Please,” Jimin whimpers, silent tears of frustration rolling down his cheeks. He curls
his hands in the damp bedsheets to hold back.

“Hush, alpha is going to ease you into it, guide you through every step. You deserve to come so
hard after such a long time, don’t you?”

Any witty remarks about Yoongi just wanting to feel in control die on Jimin’s lips, because coming
hard does sound like an exceptionally good idea.

“Good boy. I assume you don’t have any toys with you?”

Jimin shakes his head, eyes pressed shut.

“Okay,” Yoongi breathes out. Jimin doesn’t look, but he wonders if Yoongi is touching himself, if
the alpha is getting off on this just like him. Jimin must look lewd on the camera, legs spread and
cock hanging hard between his legs, the tip red and swollen with need.

“Here’s what we are going to do. You’re going to be nice and quiet for me. We wouldn’t want to
disturb anyone... now, put a finger inside yourself. Just one.”

Jimin nods, decides to tease Yoongi a bit. He lets his right hand run down his body, past his cock
to brush along his balls and taint until dipping to brush against his hole. Jimin has to grind his
molars together to stop himself moaning.

“Are you touching yourself?” he rasps through closed teeth.

“Not yet, can – can I?”

“Yeah, hyung,” Jimin says, “touch yourself for me. I w–want to hear.”

Yoongi groans, it’s beautiful and guttural. There’s the faint noise of a bottle cap clicking open, and
then a steady squelch. Yoongi likes it wet.

Jimin can picture it, Yoongi’s fist glistening with lube as he fucks into it like he would fuck an
omega. Fast and precise.

Jimin lets the tip of his finger breach his rim. He instantly wants more. Jimin is usually not the
type to finger himself to completion – it takes too much time and the orgasm can be
underwhelming. His fingers don’t reach very deep, not like Yoongi’s do.

Jimin starts pumping the single finger in and out of himself, spiralling closer to the edge with
alarming speed. The alpha’s face is equally contorted with pleasure and concentration, but he keeps
giving Jimin instructions – how fast to go, how many fingers to use, reminding him to be quiet.

When Yoongi finally allows him to touch his own cock, Jimin has to push the hem of Yoongi’s
cotton shirt into his mouth to stop a hoarse scream from rolling out. Yoongi says it’s the hottest
thing he has ever seen and asks to see how Jimin works his cock, cooing at the way he likes to go
fast and tight with not too much wetness, only some precum smeared over the tip to ease the glide.

The devilish alpha smirks with one half of his mouth, says he would like to impale Jimin on a fat
knot or a dildo to restrict his movement, and then edge him by forcing his hand to go slow instead,
grip loose and a little too slippery. He says he would love to see Jimin writhe on his knot, trying to
reach his peak and failing when the grip was just slightly off. Jimin finds himself not at all
disheartened by the idea.

“But today you’ve been so good for alpha,” Yoongi continues with a smooth purr.

Jimin has been, hasn’t he?

“Do you trust alpha?” Yoongi asks. He’s still horny, still engaged, but there’s another layer to the
question. One they’ve been tiptoeing around for the past two weeks.

“Yeah,” Jimin decides breathily. “Just make me come. Please, please.”

Yoongi growls, the sound vibrating from somewhere deep. The alpha orders him to come so he
comes, like Jimin was just a huge red button waiting to be pushed. His release is thin and liquidy,
and there’s so much of it, Jimin’s thighs shaking with the force of his overdue orgasm. With his
hands occupied, Jimin has no other option than to be quiet, to bite back the sounds until the seams
of his chest are bursting with them.

Yoongi throws his head back, and a strangled little moan is ripped from his throat. Teeth on full,
fearsome display as he calls Jimin’s name.

It’s an important step for them in all its mundanity. Jimin bares his neck to the camera. The words
bite me stick to his lips like wet sugar.

The thought of mating scares him a lot.

Used to scare him, whatever.

You can’t reverse a bite, there’s no way of mending that delicate gland after the fact. Jungkook is
happy with it. Hyunjin is happy. Jimin can’t be equally lucky, not with the track record he holds.

But he wants one.

Yoongi and Jimin steady their breaths for a time, staring into each other’s souls through the camera
lens. It’s serene and a little bizarre, and Jimin wants to remain there forever, in that post-orgasmic
bliss.

Until he asks if Yoongi knotted, if he could see.

It’s a sight, Yoongi going an even shade of pink all over as he gives Jimin a glimpse of his swollen
knot cradled in his hand, a line of cum still stuck to the sensitive-looking head.

Jimin sees himself curled up between Yoongi’s spread, pale thighs, letting Yoongi wipe his
softening cock against the corner of his mouth, dragging the head over the soft swell of his cheek.
Marking territory.

Jimin’s cock twitches with keen interest.

“I think I need to go,” he quickly says. “I made a huge mess.”

“It’s okay,” Yoongi rumbles. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

•••

A mild mortification sets in the next morning.

Jimin wakes up to the rattling of wind. He’s lying between yet another set of clean sheets, sweat
over his brow and body surprisingly warm despite the cooling temperature.

Jimin gets up from the bed, sweaty and achy all over, and goes to the bathroom to splash his face
with some cold water. He can hear the clinking of dishes coming from downstairs. As expected, his
mother is already preparing breakfast.

Last night clings to his skin like a shameful brand. His scent gland looks slightly inflamed, and his
lips are bitten raw from holding his cries in. Jimin shakes his head and pats his face dry with a soft
towel.

His mother frowns as soon as he sees Jimin, and for a moment he thinks he fucked up, that his slick
leaked through the damn floor or something – but then she rushes to Jimin to press her palm flat
against his forehead, eyes filled with motherly concern.

“You’re running warm, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin shrugs. He does feel odd. Not deathly ill but uncomfortable and a bit weak.

”your scent, too… aren’t these preheat symptoms?”

Jimin’s mother whips out a thermometer and sticks it into Jimin’s mouth before he has time to
protest. Jimin’s nose is a bit clogged up, he’s not sure. Doesn’t know anything.

“Eomma, I don’t understand what’s happening,” he mumbles around the glass tube.

“Remember when you had just presented, and your cycle was irregular? You had those little false
heats almost every month. Or maybe your body just misses its mate, who knows,” she guesses with
a sympathetic smile.

Jimin shudders as a tremor of cold travels through his body despite the kitchen being perfectly
warm.

The truth is, Jimin never let his cycle fully settle. He started suppressants less than a year into
being an omega and never looked back, mainly because he found the false heats and mood swings
and slick accidents too much of a hassle to deal with.

And that’s why his body might be picking up right where it left off, effectively rendering his body
a teenager’s. No one at the OWSC really knows the extent of his suppressant abuse – the paper
trail only leads so far when Jimin has been dealing with the shoddiest clinics he could find. Ones
 that would prescribe the strongest suppressants on the market to a minor without a guardian.
Jimin’s mother wasn’t educated enough on the dangers of suppressants, and Jimin was very good
at hiding the pills whenever she tried to convince him into having heats again.

A healthy omega Jimin’s age should have heats on a steady schedule three or four times a year
depending on the person. Many people use short term suppressants to skip any inconvenient ones.
Jimin, however, isn’t even aware of his own cycle and its frequency.

“Well, this is annoying,” Jimin states, trying to sound neutral, and goes to pour himself a cup of
black tea, the slightly citrusy one his mother always drinks. His eyes feel a little blurry already, his
body imitating actual preheat symptoms.

“You need to call your alpha, Jimin-ah. He should come and help. If he’s quick, he’ll be here
before the preheat ends.”

Jimin inhales nervously. “I can’t just call him, he’s too busy and – he shouldn’t have to travel all
the way to Busan for a stupid false heat. It’s not his problem that my body is messed up after
shoving all those pills down my throat.”

His mother shrugs. “Suit yourself, cub. But if you don’t call him yourself, I’ll contact Taehyung
and ask him to deliver the message. I think your alpha should be allowed to make his own
informed decisions regarding your condition.”

Jimin takes a glass out of the cupboard and aggressively chugs down a glass of water to soothe his
strangely parched throat.

“It’s embarrassing, eomma,” he whines.

“It’s just biology,” she replies matter-of-factly. “I’ll go stay at Taehyung’s mother’s for the night.
I’m sure the false heat will be over by tomorrow if you have your alpha to help you through it.”

It sounds so easy.

It’s not easy.

“But – but what if something happens?”

“Like what?” His mother crosses her arms.

“We haven’t spent a heat together before. What if we accidentally mate each other?” Jimin’s throat
constricts at the last few words.

His mother takes a good look at him. A long look. Her mild, soapy scent spikes beyond what is
normal for a beta. “Is your alpha someone who might do that?”

Jimin smiles sheepishly. “No. I’m sure hyung would rather tear his own limb off than forcibly
mate me. But I think I might do that to – him. Might try to mate Min Yoongi.”

Chapter End Notes

I love Jimin's mum so much ^^ she won’t indulge any of his whiny bs

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Let Me Lose to You
Chapter Notes

cw // yoonmin being aggressive; biting, blood, breeding kink (Jimin is on bc so it’s a

fantasy)

Yoongi arrives in Busan. Jimin asks him a question.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The tall clouds forming on the horizon remind Jimin of his dream. A rainstorm is coming, a big
one, he can feel it in his bones.

Jimin’s mother hastily packs a weekend bag, kisses Jimin on his feverish cheek and makes him
promise to text her later that night. When there’s a moment of lucidity. Once she’s out the door,
trying to reach Taehyung’s parents’ home on her bicycle before she gets caught in the rain, the
house falls silent apart from the howling of wind. Jimin checks his phone to see there’s a weather
warning going out now – strong gusts of wind and a forecast for heavy rain.

He feels yet another pang of quilt thinking about Yoongi on his way to Busan.

Because Yoongi is coming. Jimin begrudgingly texted him about the possible false heat, told him
he was going to do just fine on his own but just wanted to let the alpha know. Of course Yoongi
called him half a minute later to say he’d weasel out of his work commitments and arrive within
three hours.

Three hours is a relatively short period of time, generally speaking, but for a preheat-antsy omega it
might as well be two years. False heats aren’t as intense as real ones, not as catastrophically mind-
altering either, but his body is hit with the preheat all the same. There’s the need to find a safe
space with limited exits, the need to nest and gather soft things around himself.

A low-burning arousal that spreads all over his body like mild acid.

Jimin wanders through the house with a large quilt draped over his shoulders, the other end
dragging along the wooden floor behind him. It’s regal purple in colour, a king’s cape, but even
that is not enough to shield him from the cold-hot fever trickling down his spine.

Jimin checks the windows and doors to make sure they’re locked tight, . Checks under sofas and
tables, too, because hostile alphas could be lurking just about anywhere. He goes into the kitchen
and counts the knives to make sure everything is still in place. Considers taking one into his nest
but decides against it.

He hates even the thought of something sharp in his nest. But he does take a wooden rolling pin,
just in case.

Satisfied with his work and choice of weaponry, Jimin goes back upstairs with a new goal on his
mind. He needs to make himself attractive to Yoongi before the alpha arrives. He needs to be
someone the alpha would follow into a heat nest, someone he would want to mount and breed full
of pups.

It must be due to the small, irrational voice at the back of Jimin’s mind that keeps reminding him
of the fact that last time Yoongi refused Jimin, even when he presented prettily, even when he was
gushing with slick, begging for help.

The same voice has him standing in front of his closet, sliding a clammy palm over the piles of soft
fabric. Yoongi didn’t pack anything overly sexual for him to wear, nothing to suit Jimin’s
newfound concept of pretty and feral, so he has to settle for a pair of satin sleep shorts with a
tasteful strip of lace at the bottom, and a white t-shirt that is slightly cropped at the waist, revealing
his bellybutton. He forgoes any underwear since it would only get ruined. Would be in the way.

As a finishing touch, Jimin combs his hair back to fasten it with a thin black hair-tie, leaving the
shorter sides loose. He idly wonders when it got that long.

With the hair off his forehead, his blue collar appears more prominent around his neck. It feels a
bit loose, so Jimin pulls it one notch tighter, accidentally aggravating his sensitive scent gland.

A mistake.

Fresh arousal blossoms inside Jimin at the sensation, hands coming to trace the smooth leather of
his collar and the cold-plated flower hanging off the d-ring. It’s sensual and a little erotic, and soon
the cold shivers of preheat are replaced with flashes of blinding warmth, and his scent gland starts
throbbing in sync with his heart.

To distract himself from the heat creeping up on him, Jimin starts his rather pathetic heat nest by
arranging his blankets and pillows to a more pleasing formation. He adds throw pillows from the
downstairs sofa into the mix, and then the two guest duvets from the topmost shelf of the linen
closet. They smell like dust and make Jimin sneeze, but at least they’re soft. And just as Jungkook
explained, the blankets and pillows almost seem to arrange themselves, with everything slotting
into its correct place after a few tries.

An hour later, Jimin is assessing his hasty creation, sweaty and out of breath but a lot more lucid
after his omegan instincts have been sated. He returns the rolling pin to the kitchen, counts the
knives again without thinking, and takes a pain reliever for the slight cramps he has been
experiencing.

It’s easy. Jimin can manage this preheat on his own, thank you very much.

•••

The three hours isn’t quite up, but Jimin finds himself on the porch with the knitted blanket still
around himself. Cooling off after working so hard on his nest, he told himself before opening the
door. Not waiting.

He leans against the wooden railing where the rain can’t catch him, and he does just that.

He waits.

The rain has turned the world grey and narrow, muted, and it’s hard to keep track of anything. One
moment the street is empty and desolate, and the next it’s not.
“What the hell are you doing outside in preheat? You’ll get sick!”

Min Yoongi is standing at the bottom of the steps with the clouds at his back, shoulders rising and
falling as he breathes like he has run here all the way from the nearest bus stop. The alpha is
wearing an old biker jacket – dark sheepskin that looks shiny and well-loved. The rain is hitting his
hair and shoulders, dripping down his face, but he barely reacts.

Jimin grips the railing harder, drinks in the sight of his alpha.

“Needed to cool off,” he says, slowly, unsure if Yoongi can hear him over the downpour.

It’s just like in Jimin’s dream. Instead of flowers, there are glossy puddles of rainwater at Yoongi’s
feet, and instead of the smell of the forest, they’re surrounded with the heady scent of wet asphalt
and Jimin’s preheat sweetness.

Yoongi’s eyes are on Jimin, but the alpha isn’t looking at his face. His heavy gaze lands where
Jimin’s hands are clutching the quilt. Demanding access to Jimin’s body. Or demanding Jimin to
cover himself better from eyes that aren’t deserving of seeing him like this, sweet and flushed and
willing. Who knows.

“Pup.” Yoongi’s voice is like sandpaper, rough and thin, ready to snap.

“Alpha,” Jimin nods, “we should talk inside.”

As he turns around, Yoongi catches a glimpse of his bare feet, and all hell breaks loose. The alpha
is all over Jimin within seconds, lifting him up by the armpits and hauling him inside the house.

“What were you thinking, going out there without shoes? You should be safely in your nest.”
Yoongi scolds to ask as soon as Jimin’s feet touch a warm, dry surface. He pulls the door closed
behind them, and the sound of the rain is muffled into a steady thrum.

“It was only for a minute,” Jimin replies sheepishly, curling his damp toes. He doesn’t bother to
explain that the nest didn’t feel quite safe enough without the alpha’s presence. And Yoongi isn’t
looking at Jimin, anyway. He’s battling with the laces of his boots, breathing heavily through his
nose. His movements are frantic and uncoordinated, and it’s clear that Yoongi came here to fuck
the heat out of Jimin.

Not that Jimin has many objections to that plan.

In fact, Jimin isn’t faring much better. His nose is sharp and sensitive, and the mere sight of
Yoongi in a leather jacket, which amplifies his natural scent by a tenfold, nearly knocks Jimin clean
off his wobbly feet.

He’s on the cusp of heat, can feel the first wave building up near his tailbone, so incredibly deep.
Which means he’s short on time.

Yoongi seems to understand this, as his expression turns a degree softer.

“How are you feeling, pup?” he asks.

“Not great,” Jimin mutters. “I was hauling weapons into my nest before I was able to snap out of it.
We need to talk before I lose it. Or before you hoist me up and fuck me against the kitchen table.”

Yoongi goes red in the face, boots kicked off to the rack at the side. His socks look uncomfortably
soggy.
“How can I help you?”

Help?

Is it considered helping?

“I want to mate, during this heat,” Jimin blurts out. He tries not to look at the long, wet line of
Yoongi’s throat, because he might turn feral if he did.

“You – you what?”

“I think we need to mate for you to properly service me during my heat.”

Yoongi’s mouth is one gaping hole, but there’s no rejection nor disgust in his eyes, only
bewilderment and maybe a hint of lust.

It gives Jimin strength. Hope.

“I’ve thought about it lots over the past couple of weeks. It’s not a spur of the heat kind of thing, I
promise.”

“Wh– pup?”

“We should get mated, and I have compiled a list to convince you of the benefits. I don’t think I
can see a future that you aren’t a part of. And the omega in me is going insane. I have these
dreams, every night, and my teeth hurt, hyung. It hurts.” Jimin winces as his mouth pools with
more saliva, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth to sooth the terrible ache there.

“Oh, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi sighs, “I know how much – well I know how it is, the hurt. I didn’t know
you felt the same way.”

Jimin nods nervously, waits for a proper answer.

Yoongi grips the back of a chair they keep next to the door, pale skin against dark wood. He’s
frowning slightly, assessing Jimin’s state of mind. “You actually want my bite? Want me as your
mate?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Jimin laughs a little maniacally as a fever tremor ravages his body
right at the same moment. “But yes. If you don’t happen to feel the same way, it’s okay. I can wait.
But in that case you need to leave, because I don’t think I can handle you serving me during my
heat if we don’t mate. Might end up doing something rash and dumb.”

Yoongi tries to say something, but Jimin quickly presses his finger against Yoongi’s lips. It’s a
slight mistake as the alpha’s tongue lolls out of his mouth to mouth at Jimin’s hand, reminding
them of how close to the point of no return they both are.

“There’s one more condition you should know of before you make your decision. A big one, so
listen carefully. I – I would like to be the one to bite you first.”

Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath, and he takes a step back, his head hitting the door to the cleaning
cupboard with a loud banging noise.

“Jimin-ah, that’s – too dangerous. Way too risky. I already have a strong urge to bite you, and your
heat pheromones haven’t even peaked yet. Even if I was able to hold back initially, the alpha in me
would retort. Violently. I could fuck up the mating bite, scar you for life.”
“You wouldn’t,” Jimin says, quietly, but there’s strength behind the words. His fists are clenched,
muscles in his legs tense and ready to bounce in any direction. “You would never hurt me like that.
But I also know you wouldn’t go easy on me.”

“But you want to fight me? Why?”

“I want you to earn me, alpha,” Jimin groans. “Because I’m strong and fast. And you’re old and
slow.”

Yoongi growls deep in his chest, and the smell of leather becomes almost unbearable. Jimin
doesn’t let it discourage him.

“Show me your neck, alpha.” Jimin tries to sound menacing, assertive. “I will not give in like I did
at the centre two weeks ago.”

“Pup, I’m so sorry about –“

“Let me lose to you.”

The words do something to Yoongi, the alpha’s face contorts, eyes bulging out.

Suddenly Yoongi is so close, crowding him in. Damp leather fills Jimin’s nose. As the alpha
shakes his head, droplets of water hit Jimin’s overheated skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, cupping Jimin’s cheek with his rain-cold fingers. “Jimin,
I – I’m yours already. My heart, my mind, my alpha.”

As if to punctuate his words, Yoongi presses his damp forehead against Jimin’s. He’s breathing
through his mouth, laboured little huffs. Jimin turns his head to press a chaste kiss to the inside of
Yoongi’s wrist. Cold against warm, a flash of greenish veins.

The alpha is so beautiful, exposed.

The heat ramps up in Jimin’s core, and with it comes lust for violence he has never felt before, and
never will again after this. Because humans mate only once – there are no exceptions. You can bite
over an old mating mark, but the bond would never catch the same way.

“You will beat me, prove that you’re my alpha. And then you can do whatever you want with me.
What the alpha in you desires.” Jimin swallows. It feels like there are shards of glass in his mouth,
tearing at his gums. The need to bite Yoongi, make him his, is overwhelming.

Yoongi’s expression remains unchanged, so Jimin keeps talking. “I know this is selfish of me to
ask. Impudent. But I’m also an ordinary omega, in front of the alpha I like, asking for commitment
and mateship. I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi whispers, his pretty, pretty canines glinting in the hallway lights. The entire
house seems to be swaying on its foundation, creaking in the wind.

“Yoongi hyung,” Jimin replies with a small smile. He lets the quilt fall off his slender shoulders. It
pools around his bare ankles. The flowery sweetness of slick fills the narrow space in its entirety.

Jimin brushes his fingers against the slippery back of his thigh just below the lace and brings them
to his own mouth. Knowing it’s unfair, knowing it’s the false heat making him do and say things.
“I’m so wet already. Need a strong alpha to mate me, breed me, fill me with pups. Please.”
The growl that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth is inhumane, and then he’s nodding, saying that he
can be that alpha for Jimin, he can be strong. Jimin wastes no time to yank the zipper of Yoongi’s
jacket down, revealing a white V-neck shirt underneath.

“You won’t hurt me, alpha,” Jimin says one last time. “I can take it. I once told you I could easily
throw you over my shoulder, and I still mean it.”

Yoongi shudders, teeth parting. “You smell like lilacs, my beautiful omega.”

“Yours,” Jimin confirms, daring to smile.

“Mine.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s mate,” Yoongi whispers with an intense gleam in his eyes. “If you can.”

It’s his final decision. His taunt.

Jimin nods, leaning forward. “I can. And I will.”

It’s almost easy after that, manipulating Yoongi’s head to the side, one hand on his trembling jaw
and the other at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. The alpha’s scent gland is no more than a
small dimple in the smooth skin, something that will change soon. Yoongi will look so pretty with
the shallow curve of Jimin’s teeth imprinted in the milky skin of his neck.

Jimin says that out loud, hissing through all the saliva in his mouth, letting it dribble down his chin
in an obscene display. Right now, Jimin is one with his omega, a single wire of instinct. Yoongi is
still now, but Jimin knows he needs to fight for his prey, needs to surprise Yoongi to make up for
their difference in mass and strength.

Instead of making him passive, Jimin’s false heat is pumping wave after wave of adrenaline into
his bloodstream. His fever is so his entire body might as well be glowing. Yoongi is still so cold
from the rain, Jimin has to fix it.

He pounces without a warning, palms hitting Yoongi’s chest, making the alpha stagger backwards.
His back hits something, the wall or the door or something. Jimin’s already succumbing to his feral
side, trusting that Yoongi will pull him out of the abyss of instinct when his heat comes to a close.
Jimin is consumed by the sight of Yoongi tilting his neck back on his own, letting out a sharp
whine. And then the distance between them is no more. Jimin’s mouth is closing around the
smooth expanse of Yoongi’s throat, teeth catching right in his gland.

Biting down is orgasmic, a testament to the singular nature of the event. Jimin feels Yoongi’s skin
giving in under the force of his jaw, canines piercing smaller veins near the surface of skin. He can
taste blood on his tongue, iron and salt and red. To the heat-crazed omega in him, the taste is
divine. Yoongi’s teeth snap right next to Jimin’s ear, grunts and howls spilling from his throat. As
Jimin keeps biting, Yoongi claws at Jimin’s back where his shirt has ridden up, but the pricks of
pain only make him bite harder, desperate for the bond to catch properly.

What finally breaks the bite is a firm shove to Jimin’s chest. He recoils with his back burning, lines
of spit mixed with blood stretching between his parted lips. Yoongi is breathing heavily, shoulders
rising and falling. Jimin can see the indents of his teeth through the slick layer of blood. In any
normal circumstance he would panic and start looking for disinfectant, but he only wants to press
his face into the wound and lick it clean.
Not that the alpha would allow it right now.

The collar of Yoongi’s white t-shirt is turning a deep red, but the alpha doesn’t bring a hand to his
neck, does nothing to stop the bleeding. His undivided attention is on Jimin.

“You’d better run, little omega,” Yoongi growls.

So Jimin runs, seeing flashes of red at the edges of his vision. He knows his childhood home better
than anyone, every nook and cranny of the winding corridors. Jimin is up the stairs in a few deer-
like leaps, the alpha right behind him. The omega in him leads Jimin to his bedroom, which is steel
grey in the rainfall beating against the window pane. His small nest on the bed seems like the
obvious choice, so Jimin tries to distract the alpha by ducking under the bed instead and drawing
his limbs up against his body.

Only a few seconds after Yoongi barges in, bringing along a heady mixture of orange peel and
leather and oxygenated blood.

“I can smell your arousal, Jimin-ah,” he says in a garbled tone. “Can feel you in my blood, too.”

Heavy footsteps echo in the space, coming nearer, and Jimin holds his breath.

It’s in vain. Long fingers circle Jimin’s ankle faster than he can register what is happening. He
barely has time for a shriek of surprise before the alpha yanks him out from under the bed with a
single grunt, grip tight and unforgiving. Yoongi is on top of Jimin in a flash, mouth wide open to
return the mating bite, to tie them together for all eternity. Blood is still dripping down his neck, a
few drops hitting the side of Jimin’s cheek and neck where his own gland lies untouched.

Determined to fight till the end, Jimin hooks his leg around the back of Yoongi’s knee and uses the
leverage to roll from under the alpha, getting up on the balls of his feet and tips of his fingers. His
gaze drifts to the hastily built nest behind them, and Yoongi laughs darkly, completely lost in his
alpha.

“You want alpha to put you in your nest, on your belly, fill you with my cum?”

Jimin laughs too, a frantic sort of giggle that comes from nowhere. It’s a weird headspace he’s in,
half-aware of the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Bite me first,” he demands, heat licking up his spine, scorching him alive.

“Submit.”

“No.”

At Jimin’s refusal, Yoongi charges at him, careless, brash, alpha. Jimin lets out another, highly
omegan hiss, and they meet somewhere in the middle, tumbling into each other.

It’s a whirlwind of limbs and teeth after that. Neither of them go for kicks and punches, but Yoongi
gets a good hold of Jimin’s midriff and manages to push him down to the floor, and Jimin pins
Yoongi’s head against his shoulder, to stop the alpha from biting him. Jimin can feel the outline of
Yoongi’s hard cock through the layers of clothing, and the notion only makes him more desperate
for a knotting.

They struggle for a few more moments, but the alpha’s brute strength is ultimately Jimin’s
downfall. He ends up pinned against the hardwood floor, legs almost painfully splayed open for
Yoongi to kneel between. The alpha has a firm grip of his throat and blue collar. Jimin has
nowhere to go, nothing to bite or claw at.

“Are you submitting? You fought well, alpha is so proud.”

Jimin stays silent, chest heaving. He’s looking at the half a mate bond on Yoongi’s neck in awe.
Up close it’s such a pretty sight.

Yoongi flicks the soft underside of Jimin’s chin to make him bare his throat. “I’m going to take
your collar off now, give you a neat little bite, and then you can have alpha’s knot. What do you
think, pup?”

Jimin hears his own voice agreeing. He lets Yoongi unfasten the collar with quick fingers, lets the
alpha tilt his head to the side.

“I love you a lot, Park Jimin. You know that, right?”

Jimin presses his eyes shut, waits for the pain.

“I know,” he says with a shaky exhale, “I love you, too.”

That’s when Yoongi hunches over him like a wolf securing a fresh kill.

The pain is not that bad. It radiates up and down, reaching Jimin’s fingertips in a few seconds. He
probably cries out in shock, knees jerking, toes curling. The smell of iron mixes in with the heat-
sweetness, and Jimin’s neck feels wet and warm. Yoongi is biting deep, through skin and tissue.

And then it’s over. Yoongi throws his head back and howls in triumph, blood dripping from the
tips of his canines. Jimin’s omega is purring in the afterglow of the fight, content with the strong
alpha who bested him.

He’s ours now, Jimin thinks, or maybe it’s the omega in him speaking.

“Mate,” Yoongi grumbles deep in his chest, and then there are strong hands circling Jimin’s waist,
hauling him up from the floor. Jimin is thrown over the bedsheets with surprising care, and his
slick-drenched shorts are pulled down. They land on the floor with a wet thud that seems to come
from somewhere far away. There’s a strange ripping sound, too, and suddenly Jimin is shirtless,
and a warm weight presses flush against his sore, scratched back. How Yoongi got rid of his
clothes will remain a mystery, but somehow that happened. Yoongi’s cock is pressing urgently
against the back of Jimin’s thigh, sloppily rubbing the tip into the mess of slick and sweat where
Jimin’s ass meets his thigh.

“May I?” Yoongi asks. He’s not going to prep Jimin in any way, that much is clear. Jimin hasn’t
had more than a finger inside himself in weeks, but his body will take it, it’s built to take it.

Jimin lets his hips sway enticingly as he whimpers into the sweet-smelling sheets.

Yoongi slides home with a single thrust, words of praise spilling from his lips. He bends down
once more to lick Jimin’s neck clean. The rough-smooth swipes of his tongue send flashes of pain
down his neck, and the cock buried deep inside him is splitting him in half, but being taken care of
feels so good. The spiking of his heat further helps to dull the pain, replacing it with a soft fuzz of
need.

“Feels so g–good, alpha,” Jimin stutters with his face still in the pillow, hips canted up to allow
Yoongi better access.
“That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, driving his hips into Jimin with more force. It rattles Jimin to his
core. “Your alpha.”

Jimin grins and tries to rut against his faded blue comforter. He thinks he might spill on the sheets
at the lightest touch on his cock. But Yoongi’s hold of Jimin’s hips remains firm, limiting his
range of movement, and the alpha is keeping his mouth possessively at Jimin’s neck. Before this
he barely registered his own arousal, it was buried under mountains of other emotions – fight and
flight and surrender.

The alpha is doing a thing with his cock, pushing it all the way to the hilt and grinding the tip
against Jimin’s walls, grazing past his prostate with every thrust. It feels unintentional. Yoongi is
solely driven by his biological need to breed the omega in heat under him, his newly claimed mate.
Jimin’s thighs shake uncontrollably as he tries to retain his balance, tries to arch his back to make
the slide of the thick cock easier. When it becomes too much for him to stay upright, even with
Yoongi’s fingers digging tiny purple indents into his hips in the name of support, the alpha grabs
him with minimal effort and flips him over to his back.

“Want to see you when my knot catches. Want to see your face when you’re bred,” Yoongi says in
a guttural voice, hand splayed wide over Jimin’s toned abdomen.

Jimin nods eagerly. Precum is leaking from his slit in a steady stream, pooling at his navel. “Fill
me up. I want your ph–pups.”

No further instructions are needed. Yoongi’s hips start pistoning at a brutal pace, leaving Jimin to
drool and hold his useless legs wide open.

Now that Yoongi is no longer spreading his cooling saliva over the bite, his neck is starting to hurt
again. They’re going to be sore all over after they come back to their right minds, Jimin thinks
hazily as his body is driven up and down on the sheets with Yoongi’s thrusts. A mantra of
“omega” and “mine” is leaving Yoongi’s lips. Jimin lets his eyelids droop, relaxing into the good,
old-fashioned fuck. No bells and whistles.

Not until Yoongi pulls his partly swollen knot out of Jimin’s hole before slamming it back in
without an ounce of mercy.

Jimin screams and comes all over himself.

Succumbing to the heat haze is inevitable. Jimin is pulsing around Yoongi’s knot, milking it, the
swell of it nudging at his oversensitive prostate. Jimin’s arms shoot up, wrapping around the
alpha’s wide shoulders, and then they’re still. Breathing into each other’s mouths, tongues colliding
somewhere between even when their lips don’t touch.

Some of Yoongi’s saliva ends up sliding down their joined tongues, all the way into Jimin’s
mouth. Yoongi only has to grunt once, and Jimin obediently swallows it all down like it’s the
alpha’s cum.

•••

Time is sped up after that. Jimin blinks in and out of existence. He remembers licking Yoongi’s
neck, still sticky with drying blood. The alphas scent gland is raised under his tongue, hot and
inflamed, but Jimin doesn’t find it in himself to get worried. Yoongi whimpers as Jimin laves his
tongue over the bite, and Jimin calls him good.

He remembers kisses, too, mouths sloppy and hungry. They’re both still soft and sensitive after
their most recent orgasms, but they grind their spent cocks together anyway, and it feels so good
that Jimin bites into the inside of Yoongi’s lower lip and there’s fresh blood again for them to feast
on.

•••

Jimin jolts awake, and the light looks different. It’s still raining, fast droplets hitting the window to
produce a rapping sound, and Jimin’s omega is jumpy enough to get frightened every time the
sounds get louder. The heat has simmered down for now, and Jimin feels like someone has carved
his insides out with a paper knife.

He’s also lucid enough to realise that Yoongi is nowhere to be found. A choked up whine builds up
in his throat, and Jimin gets up on his knees in the nest, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“Mate!” Jimin calls out with a shrill cry.

Yoongi rushes back into the room only seconds later. He’s naked, littered with bites and bruises,
carrying a plastic water bottle. “Omega, are you okay?”

Jimin flops back down onto the bed and lets his breathing even out.

“For a minute I thought – never mind. Do I look as bad as you?” he mumbles.

Yoongi grimaces and kneels down next to the bed, running his hand through Jimin’s tangled hair.
“I’m sorry.”

Jimin smiles lazily, reassuringly, and reaches to take the offering of water. “No, it’s okay. I like it.”

“Hmm. Was this what you wanted for? I didn’t go too hard? For a moment there I felt – felt like I
was no longer in control.”

“I liked everything. It felt like an honour battling such a competent alpha,” Jimin croaks with his
dry throat, which compels Yoongi to crack the water bottle lid open and lift it to Jimin’s lips. The
water is like nectar or Jimin’s tongue, something fit for the gods. He keeps his eyes on Yoongi as
he greedily gulps it down, happy with the way Yoongi is going an even shade of pink all over at
the compliment.

Jimin’s muscles are twitching from being held down in odd positions, and his neck is still burning.
Jimin has heard that mating bites can take a long time to heal properly. It’s hard to tell how the
scarring will look before it has settled properly. He trails his fingers over the wound regardless. It
hurts enough to make Jimin’s stomach quiver, but he wants to feel how wide the bite is. Yoongi
grabs Jimin’s wrist and brings it down with gentle determination.

“Don’t touch, pup. I disinfected our bites while you were out of it. Thank God I didn’t go into rut
this time. I wanted to be able to properly take care of you.”

Jimin licks his lips. The water is helping, but he still tastes iron at the back of his tongue. “Do you
think I have long to go still?”
“It’s late afternoon now,” Yoongi hums. “The heat pheromones are still going strong, so I think
you have quite a few more waves coming tonight. The intervals have been… short. Do you want to
take a shower or get some more sleep before the next wave hits? I think you should call your mum
too, while you can.

Jimin lets the bottle down, pouting his wet lips.

“Maybe you should knot me instead.”

Yoongi flicks the tip of Jimin’s nose fondly. “Nice try, pup. But my knot is out of order, so you’ll
have to fend for yourself for a bit.”

Jimin lets his smile turn wicked. “So, hypothetically speaking, as long as we don’t involve your
poor knot, it’s fair game.”

“Ai, what are you plotting?”

“You’ll see.”

•••

The storm is subsiding, but the heat is still curling tightly around Jimin’s inner organs. He just
woke up from another nap to find Yoongi snoring softly, sweat beading on his brow, cock limp and
red where it lies against his thigh.

Despite Yoongi’s apprehensions, they had sex two more times already, and the last time Yoongi
almost cried when he came.

Poor alpha.

Jimin wants nothing more than to nuzzle into the alpha’s cock, but that must be completely out of
the question. But the heat is already coming back, ramping up, taking up space. It’s unlikely the
lucidity will last for long.

As if on cue, Yoongi rolls onto his stomach in his sleep. His pretty pale thighs are drawn together,
perfect for Jimin to use to get off –

Jimin reaches behind himself to push two fingers past his loose and sticky rim. The motion coaxes
his hole to produce a fresh slick that helps to soothe the soreness of his hole. He takes a moment to
just feel the steady pulse there, the clench for something bigger and better.

But he only lasts for a moment before the urge to fuck grows too strong. He puts his palm over the
soft meat of Yoongi’s thigh to rub the slick into the skin.

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to stir and shoot a confused glance over his shoulder. Jimin is
already mounting Yoongi at that point, eyes fixed on his prize.

“Please, alpha, can I please?” Jimin huffs and whines, fisting his cock. He’s not sure how it hasn’t
fallen off yet, or just given up on life in general.

Yoongi growls weakly and then submits, beautifully, squeezing his thighs together to create a
warm channel for Jimin to thrust into like he has done it a million times before. In his right mind
Jimin might get slightly jealous over it, but his heat-crazed body is already fitting his wet cock into
the even wetter heat.

“Take what you need, baby,” Yoongi mumbles like he’s on the brink of sleep again.

Jimin thanks him breathlessly as he drives his hips forward. It’s not the same as getting knotted,
but it’s erotic in a way that nothing they’ve been doing until now quite compares.

“I’m fucking you with my own slick, did you know that hyung?”

Yoongi moans weakly, thighs clenched.

Letting Jimin use him.

•••

Yoongi knows that Jimin’s false heat is over. The omega is sleeping peacefully next to him on the
narrow bed, their shoulders touching. He looks angelic with his blond hair framing his face.

The last wave of heat was at four in the morning, about six hours ago. It was quick, less intense
than the ones before, Yoongi was able to satisfy Jimin with his fingers.

What will happen when Jimin goes to his actual heat in a few months? How bad will it be then?

How is he supposed to be someone’s alpha?

Maybe Hoseok will give him advice.

Yoongi tries to stretch his arms and back on the bed but quickly finds out that all of the major
muscle groups in his body are vehemently objecting.

“Was this the first time for you?”

Yoongi flinches so hard he almost falls off the bed. Jimin’s eyes are wide open, and the omega is
staring at the ceiling.

“F–first what?”

“Serving an omega. Did you actually mate the first omega you spent a heat with? Didn’t even set a
baseline for comparison?”

Yoongi isn’t sure what Jimin is thinking about it, there’s nothing particular about expression, it’s
just sleepy. So he nods, not knowing what else to do.

Against all expectations, that makes Jimin flash a toothy smile. “We finally have a good first. I’m
glad.”

Yoongi’s heart flutters at that smile, he has missed it so much. “So you hadn’t – either?”

Jimin keeps smiling blindingly as he shakes his head. “You know, being in heat sucks. It hurts, and
the toys are never enough. Never. This what we did, it was overwhelming, sure. But I wasn’t in
pain.”
Yoongi puts a hand on Jimin’s hip. His skin is longer hot, but he’s warm and alive and he’s
Yoongi’s.

“Are you in pain now?”

“Mm. But it’s the kind of pain you’ll be reborn out of. I don’t mind to remember what we went
through together.” Jimin’s lisp is strong this morning. It makes Yoongi wonder if the omega bit his
cheek or tongue at some point during his heat.

”I wonder how your rut will be, when I get to service you for the first time,” Jimin ponders out
loud, ”if it will be like in the beginning when you tossed me into the nest and fucked me open with
your cock.”

Yoongi slams his palm over Jimin’s lips, face burning like there’s hot oil in his capillaries. “Let’s
not talk about that right now. I’m too ashamed how careless I was with – you know.”

“It was hot,” Jimin says with a theatrical sigh. Yoongi suspects he’s hiding his many pains and
aches behind the dramatics. He’s tempted to flip Jimin onto his belly and inspect his hole with
careful fingers, feel it hot and loose and swollen around his fingertips.

Maybe they’re not at that level yet. Close, but not quite.

Yoongi gets up into a sitting position, hand still protectively over Jimin’s form. The sun is peeking
out from the clouds, illuminating Jimin’s childhood bedroom all the way to the slanted roof. All of
the furniture is worn down but functional. There are photos pinned onto a cork board above his
desk. Yoongi can recognise a young Taehyung grinning with his mouth open on the beach, and an
emo-looking Jungkook with eyeliner and a lace choker, standing awkwardly in front of a temple
gate.

Busan is nice, Yoongi thinks dreamily. His youngest aunt runs a beauty salon in the city. He has
lots of family in the south. Jimin clearly enjoys visiting, too. He has to make sure to bring his mate
here often enough. Maybe the whole pack could –

The front door opens and closes, shattering the odd, transfixed atmosphere.

“Fuck,” Jimin squeaks, “the rug in the hallway. It’s her favourite.”

Yoongi groans into his hands. Jimin’s bedroom looks like a hurricane hit it. There’s a small
bloodstain on the floor next to Jimin’s bed, where Yoongi finally mated Jimin. Which means that
downstairs, right in front of the door –

“Park Jimin!” a bellowing female voice comes from downstairs.

Yoongi feels like he’s about to hyperventilate. “She’s going to gut me, Jimin, I’m a dead alpha
walking.”

The bite on the omega’s beck has bruised all over, making it look much worse than last night.
Jimin’s skin is littered with marks in other places, too,

Not to mention the stench of alpha cum and possessive pheromones Yoongi has been rubbing into
his other scent glands all night long like some dim-witted boor.

Jimin’s mother, bless her soul, is never going to let Yoongi anywhere near his precious son again.

“Relax”, Jimin whispers, limping to his closet to pull out one of the shirts Yoongi packed for him.
It has long sleeves and a high neckline. “I’ll tell her I chomped at you first. And I can’t look that
bad, it doesn’t even hurt – that much.”

“You literally cannot walk straight,” Yoongi says, glancing at his own shirt on the floor. It looks
like the prop for a horror film.

A loud knock at the door has both of them whimpering in fear.

“If you don’t come out in five minutes, I will personally have to make sure that my son is still
breathing,” Jimin’s mother says through the door, voice perfectly even.

Jimin swallows and throws another shirt at Yoongi. “Three minutes. We aren’t decent.”

There’s a brief silence.

“Alright, cub. I’ll make some tea and start with the post-heat soup. Halmeoni’s recipe. You two
are welcome to join me when you can.”

As the footsteps slowly recede, Yoongi pulls the too-small shirt on mechanically and then reaches
for his boxers and jeans.

“She’ll murder me,” Yoongi mutters again. Even fully dressed, they look like they’ve gone through
a meat grinder, skins all kinds of red and purple in places where it should be smooth. And the reek
of sex and alpha pheromones is almost suffocating now that Yoongi focuses on on it.

Jimin hobbles up to him and takes his hand, a chaste little gesture. Yoongi’s palm tingles
pleasantly despite the circumstance.

“Shower?” Yoongi suggests shakily.

“No time. We have to go and explain. I’m sorry that she returned so early. She must’ve been
worried.”

They go downstairs together. Yoongi would like to carry Jimin, the omega must be incredibly sore,
but it feels inappropriate somehow. The stairs have suspicious stains on them, and the hallway
looks like a minor crime scene with shoes and umbrellas all over the floor, bloodstains on the light-
coloured rug.

Yoongi remembers the churn of violence in his gut when Jimin detached his teeth from his neck,
plump lips ruby red. How he wanted to play hide-and-seek, wanted to toy with Jimin like he was an
injured bunny who couldn’t run very far.

Fuck.

Jimin is already entering the kitchen. Yoongi’s feet are uselessly skidding on the floor as he’s
dragged toward an early grave.

“Hi, eomma,” Jimin is saying, lips spread into a smile, like everything is fine. “I want you to meet
my mate.”

Yoongi is dragged into view without mercy. Jimin’s mother is looking over her shoulder, the side
profile of her face distinctly familiar. She’s staring at Jimin’s neck with her mouth slightly agape.

And then, slowly, her gaze shifts to Yoongi. There’s surprise in her eyes, and something else.
Yoongi should probably be going for a full bow, forehead to the floor. But he settles for a deep
ninety degree one, almost falling forward as his knees buckle.

“Alpha Min Yoongi?”

“Yes, jangmonim,” he answers meekly, eyes downcast as he straightens his back.

“Goodness, you’re terrified of me, aren’t you?” she laughs brightly, airily. So much like Jimin.

Yoongi doesn’t answer. He grips his left arm with his right hand, desperate for physical contact
now that Jimin has let go of his hand. The omega has wandered to the counter and is currently
rummaging through a bowl of fruit. He’s stopped by a light touch on his forearm.

“Let me quickly,” Jimin’s mother says in a gentle tone, gripping her son’s chin to bring it to the
side. “It’ll heal nicely, I think. Clean bite. You did well.”

Yoongi feels lightheaded as he bows again.

“I wasn’t sure you would go through with it,” she says quietly. “You talked, and –?”

“Yes. It was something we both wanted,” Jimin replies without hesitation.

Her expression turns angelically bright. Beaming. She turns and starts preparing tea, and Yoongi
doesn’t know what to do so he keeps standing in the doorway like an idiot.

He’s so tuned out that it comes unexpectedly, a light tap on his shoulder. “Min seobang. Please
show me your neck, too. I’m worried my son got a little carried away judging by the state of my
lovely rug.”

Yoongi can’t breathe, fuck. Jimin’s mother just called him ‘son-in-law’. Casually, with respect. He
lifts his head, swallowing hard. Jimin’s mother smells like a freshly laundered dish towel, like the
nice translucent dish soap that has a fancy European-sounding name. She’s all class, but also
greying hair and clipped fingernails. Homely.

“My flower cub always was a feisty one,” she says as she inspects Yoongi’s neck. “You must be in
a lot of pain.”

Jimin winces behind them, maybe at his own teeth-work, maybe at the silly nickname.

Yoongi quickly shakes his hands. “Not at all. I’m fine.”

Jimin’s mother hums disbelievingly and disappears into the hallway. Yoongi sees Jimin handling
the teapot, and he panics. Post-heat duties are always the alpha’s. He’s being the worst alpha of the
century in front of his mother-in-law.

“Let me,” he croaks, but Jimin swats his hand away.

“You don’t know where anything is, and I want something hot to drink now. You can help eomma
with the soup.”

Jimin’s mother returns just in time to witness their bickering, which is yet another nail in Yoongi’s
coffin. She’s holding a tube of something with a boring, blue and white label.

“Mind if I take care of your alpha, first?” she asks Jimin. “He looks rather pale.”

Jimin waves his hand dismissively. The teapot is whistling.

“Sit down, please.”

Yoongi doesn’t immediately realise he’s being addressed, so Jimin’s mother has to guide him to
the kitchen table.

“I purchased this from the pharmacy just in case,” she explains softly. “I think our biology is a bit
silly, urging us to bite such a delicate area with important blood vessels.”

Yoongi nods, still looking at Jimin from the corner of his eye. The omega is reaching for a mug
whilst his other hand holds his stomach. He can’t even begin to think how sore Jimin must be.

He waits silently as Jimin’s mother opens the tube of antibacterial salve and Jimin joins them with
three steaming mugs on a wooden tray. Yoongi can smell chamomile and chrysanthemum and
ginger. Jimin picks up the cup of ginger tea with steady hands.

The omega is so calm. At peace.

“You’re quite handsome,” Jimin’s mother remarks softly as she treats Yoongi’s neck with the
ointment. Jimin is sipping his tea, bouncing his leg. The tremors are shaking the thin-legged table
a bit.

“Thank you,” Yoongi says with some difficulty. The antibacterial salve is cooling on his inflamed
skin.

She asks about Yoongi’s age, next. About his family. Yoongi tries to be truthful and neutral,
saying they don’t see each other that often. His parents grew bored of Ilsan and moved back to
Daegu a few years ago.

“Daegu?” she hums, pleased. “You’re both southern boys, then.”

Jimin is blushing, and Yoongi holds back a smile. He has already noticed that Jimin’s accent is
much more noticeable when he’s talking to his mother.

“All done,” Jimin’s mother says and leans back slightly to admire her handiwork. “I’ll get started
with the soup, it shouldn’t take too long. You can help with cutting the vegetables so that Jimin can
rest. I think he’s trying to be brave for you.”

Yoongi blinks at Jimin and then at his mother. And then clasps Jimin’s hand between his own. It’s
a little cold. Jimin is raising his eyebrows at him, but Yoongi doesn’t care. Wants to apologise for
letting Jimin walk on his own two feet after a mating heat.

There’s a stiff silence during which Jimin keeps his hand limp between Yoongi’s fingers, looking
up at his mother.

Jimin moves his head to the side, in Yoongi’s direction, as if to say: this dude just happens to be
the love of my life, isn’t he dumb? while his mother is wholeheartedly agreeing.

It’s enough for Yoongi. He stands up, gripping the edge of the table for support like an old, frail
man. “I promise to protect Jimin with my life, from the OWSC, from any and all who wish to harm
him. He’s mine now, he won’t ever have to face challenges on his own again.”

Jimin’s mother cocks her head just like Jimin would do, immediately smelling a challenge. “And
yet he had to go through a scary experience only a few weeks ago. An experience you played a not
unremarkable part in.”
Yoongi’s throat burns, but he swallows through the pain, clasps his hand behind his back like a
soldier. “I know. Never again, though. Over my dead body.”

The alpha in him wants to say other things as well, to flaunt his wealth, say Jimin won’t have to lift
a finger for the rest of his life if he so wishes. It’s the post-knot smugness that makes him conjure
up images of Jimin wearing a collar adorned with tiny, blinding diamonds.

“You talk big, young alpha. But I like it,” she states evenly and turns to briefly glance at Jimin.
“Will you run from your mate again, or will you talk things out like adults?”

Jimin wilts a little behind his teacup. “No, eomma. Won’t run.”

“Hmm. I expect you to take the carpet to the laundromat, though. And you'll get to scrub the
hallway and the stairs clean, too, are we clear?”

They both nod furiously. Yoongi still has a lump of coal in his throat in the wake of his outburst.
Jimin’s mouth is crooked like he wants to laugh but doesn’t dare. The destruction of the rug is still
too fresh in his mother’s mind.

A lithe pair of arms encircle Yoongi out of nowhere, the grip tight and warm and a little painful
over his bruises. It takes Yoongi a while to react, to hug his mother-in-law back.

“Welcome to the family, Min Yoongi. I’m so glad to have you.”

Receiving that this kind of love and acceptance is what Yoongi has always been deprived of, so it’s
hardly a surprise that he starts bawling his fucking eyes out.

The best thing is that she lets him cry into her shoulder for as long as he needs.

•••

“Yoongi hyung is gone. There was a storm warning, and what did he do? Left Seoul without a
fucking raincoat. He’s going to get a cold and pass out in some ditch, and what then?”

Namjoon yanks his glasses off, throws them onto the coffee table to rub his eyes with the base of
his palm. His heart is burning, a blue flame licking it from all sides. He needs to make everyone
understand the severity of the situation.

“And don’t let me get started with Park Jimin. Don’t you know how big Busan is? I’ve heard there
are street gangs down there. Ones that snatch pretty omegas like him and do unsayable things to
them, and –“

A heavy sigh breaks his monologue.

“Kim Namjoon, aigoo.”

The gentle voice pierces Namjoon’s consciousness like an arrow.

“I – I’m just worried, Seokjin-ssi. Can’t stop thinking about the worst possible scenarios.”

Namjoon thinks about Jungkook’s words from earlier. How the omega said he didn’t envy alphas
who would go grey early.
“Mm. It feels like they’re yours, doesn’t it?”

Mine.

Namjoon nods miserably and only then realises they aren’t on a video call.

“Yes,” he says, way too late.

Seokjin huffs out a dry laugh. “I feel antsy, too. Two weeks is a long time, and Yoongi has been so
sad. I don’t know how to cheer up sad people.”

Namjoon nods again like an idiot. What he needs is to have Yoongi and Jimin in front of him so he
could scent them properly, inspect them for injuries. Maybe yell and growl a little to scare them
from leaving again – only a little, though. He’s not a total barbarian.

“Namjoon-ssi.”

“Yeah?” he asks, feeling itchy all over, like there are ants running up and down his arms and legs.

“May I distract you with an unrelated question?”

Namjoon laughs in a hollow tone. “Sure.”

Seokjin sounds happier, then. Full of life. “Take me and Taetae out on a date.”

Breath hitches in Namjoon’s throat.

After his discussion with Yoongi, Namjoon chickened out, thought he was too late with the
revelation. Thought that maybe the kiss had meant nothing to Taehyung.

“Food, drinks, everything,” Seokjin continues smoothly.

“You’re the elder, shouldn’t you be offering?” Namjoon blurts out in his panic. A socially
incompetent fool, he is.

“If you pay,” Seokjin says, “I might forget about the fact that you seduced my boyfriend so
crudely.”

Namjoon stands up from the couch. His ears and cheeks feel overheated. He starts stuttering out an
apology, but Seokjin interrupts him.

“Sorry, alpha. But if I’m going to be your pack beta, part of the job will be keeping you on your
toes, you know that right? Can’t let you get too cocky.”

Namjoon almost whines. ”Beta, I mean Seokjin-ssi, I –"

“Taehyung was feeling particularly needy after your little escapade. I had to use the biggest
knotting dildo I could find, and he still kept begging for Namjoon hyung’s knot. Isn’t that quite
interesting?”

Namjoon has to sit right back down. All his blood is rushing south, leaving his head empty and
sluggish. It’s right there, at the edge of his consciousness and ripe for the picking – Taehyung with
tears in those gorgeous eyes, voice pitching up.

“It is interesting,” he says slowly. ”Do you like galbi? I know a place.”
Chapter End Notes

halmeoni ( ) = grandmother. The full title for mother’s mother would be

jangmonim ( ) = mother-in-law on the wife’s (or in this case omega’s) side
seobang ( ) = address for a married (or in this case mated) man. Used to refer to
one’s son-in-law

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC (new handles!)

 Ladies and Gentlewolves
Chapter Notes

Namjoon goes on a date. Yoongi and Jimin return to Seoul and get ambushed.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Namjoon arrives at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, contact lenses itching in his eyes and hair
freshly cut. He’s sporting his favourite watch and a cologne Yoongi complimented in passing three
years ago. And yet he feels like an absolute loser in his denim jacket, thumbing the corner of the
menu with sweaty fingers in their reserved table.

His dates arrive right on time, turning multiple heads as they zigzag past the full tables. Namjoon
had to pull some strings to get them a table on such a short notice. Taehyung has a new, less curly
hairstyle that frames his face in dark, silky smooth strands. The alpha is wearing a long, elegant
coat that seems slightly too warm for the weather, and a pair of straight-legged trousers, looking
like he just stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine.

Seokjin beside him has an arm protectively wrapped around Taehyung’s waist. The beta radiates
confidence and dominance, but he has a genuine, relaxed smile on his face that immediately puts
Namjoon at ease. Seokjin greets him with an enthusiastic wave, Taehyung bows, and just like that
– everything slots into perfect place.

Which is utter chaos.

Namjoon springs to his feet to bow back, but he hits his right knee on the sharp edge of the table
and ends up cursing instead. His low voice startles some poor lady behind him, and Seokjin rushes
to pick her chopsticks up from the floor. It wouldn’t surprise Namjoon if he were to find himself as
a click bait title on Dispatch in no time.

As they settle down, apologies muttered and jackets draped over chairs, the waiter brings them
uncooked meat on a black tray, filled to the brim per Namjoon’s request. Baskets of lettuce and
perilla leaves, ssamjang paste, garlic, slices of pickled radish... Namjoon watches the food being
presented to them with warm tendrils of pride curling around his heart. He has always been the kind
of alpha to hardly spend any money on himself. But right now he’s over the moon knowing his
bank balance won’t be affected much by even the most lavish dinner.

That his pack mates will never go hungry. Never. He would catch and skin rabbits with his bare
hands if it came to that.

The conversation flows easily between them. Taehyung and Seokjin ask about what Namjoon likes
to do in his free time and then burst into loud objections when Namjoon answers that he likes to go
on long hikes and scenic bike rides.

Taehyung teases Seokjin for being impatient and trying to sneak half-cooked pieces of meat off the
grill, and in the next breath he says that Namjoon looks hot and dominant without his glasses but
that he kind of prefers the dorky professor look.
“It’s more fun when we can pretend we’re corrupting an innocent academician,” Taehyung shrugs.

Namjoon’s stomach flips over, and he opens his mouth to shush the grinning alpha. But before that,
Seokjin clicks his tongue in an assessing manner, looks at Namjoon up and down, and says he
fully agrees with their brat. As Namjoon gawks at them in horny horror, the beta places the first
pieces of meat on Namjoon’s plate. To the alpha in Namjoon it feels like a major war crime, but
Seokjin just orders him to eat, chopsticks pointed in defence.

“With all that extra muscle, alpha,” he says sweetly, “you need the energy. Must be able to take
care of your pack.”

After that Namjoon doesn’t argue.

Wants to be good for them. Strong.

Aish, he’s so easily distracted. Nothing but a wolf brain on too-thick legs. It’s a miracle that
modern society still has a use for someone like him.

“Did you hear about Jimin and Yoongi hyung? About how Jimin’s body decided it was time for –”
Taehyung starts asking Namjoon in a conversational tone once they all have plenty of food on their
plates and Namjoon’s alpha lies settled.

“Namjoon-ssi knows, sweetheart,” Seokjin says, interrupting his boyfriend as he measures the
perfect amount of garlic on top of his meat.

“False heat, yes,” Namjoon confirms stiffly. I didn’t know omegas of his age could have them.”

He’s suddenly thinking about possible derailments and landslides and hordes of zombies they
could encounter on the train back from Busan. Jimin and Yoongi will be tired from the heat, easy
targets for all the swindlers and crooks of the world. Maybe Yoongi should take Jimin to a hospital
for a check-up, just in case…

Seokjin looks slightly pained as he sets fresh pieces of meat down on the grill with a pair of tongs.
“Jimin is still my client, at least technically, so I shouldn’t say anything. But I can imagine why it
happened to him. It’s nothing life-threatening though, so you can stop worrying about yet another
thing with you little pack alpha brain.”

Namjoon pouts. “I didn’t necessarily…”

“Yes, you did.” The stern look Seokjin flashes him quiets him down quickly. “Now eat, or my
stupid beta brain will worry.”

It’s a common dynamic, Namjoon knows. The pack alpha and beta’s instincts will always be in
discordance, will cause them to butt heads as they try to care for each other. Because there’s no one
else above them in the hierarchy, no one to fall back on.

Except for each other.

Pack betas lead with influence and wit. They’re rarely true leader types whereas pack alphas wield
most of the power to make decisions concerning the pack’s general safety and wellbeing. Their
cooperation is perhaps the most crucial dynamic in a pack, even more so than the hierarchy chain
of alphas. Without a good beta a pack is doomed to fail.

And here Namjoon is, sitting opposite to the most strong-willed, most beautiful pack beta an alpha
could wish for.
Seokjin’s lips go pink and plump as he eats, glossy with the grease from the meat, and Namjoon
has to pinch his own thighs to stop himself from reaching over the table to wipe them clean with
his thumb. They would be so soft. Maybe Seokjin would lick Namjoon’s hand clean and call him
good alpha, and Taehyung would watch from the side and lick his own lips, whine at being left
out. And then Namjoon and Seokjin would turn their eyes to the little alpha and promise to stuff
his mouth full of their fingers and cocks once they got home.

Or maybe they would curl under a blanket and watch a bad horror film. Namjoon would pretend to
be frightened just to have an excuse to hide his face in Seokjin’s chest and pull Taehyung’s legs
into his lap.

Namjoon is graciously ripped from his filthy-sweet thoughts when his phone plinks and buzzes on
the table.

[08:43pm] Min Holly’s Slave: Something happened during jm’s heat. Coming home tomorrow.
Don’t bother us.

[08:44pm] Min Holly’s Slave: oh and we are fine. Very fine :))

Namjoon frowns at the untypical emoji at the end. Yoongi is always blunt with his messages to the
point of being borderline rude, so the smiley face doesn’t… fit. It feels wrong.

“What is it?” Seokjin asks, his voice coming from behind the grill. He’s cooking yet another batch
of meat for Taehyung who carefully observes the process, lips already pursing from anticipation.

“Jimin’s heat is going well,” Namjoon replies, quickly snapping his foldable phone shut.

“Ahh it’s great that he got there in time, then,” Seokjin hums. “The storm in Busan was a big one, I
heard.”

Taehyung nods. “Jimin hasn’t spent a heat with anyone before, so I’m glad they managed to make
it work.”

The odd feeling in Namjoon’s gut builds up more, but he presses it down, with all his might.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he’ll have them all where he can see them. Yoongi wouldn’t have sent a message like
that if something was truly wrong.

Tomorrow.

“Alpha,” Seokjin says in a soft tone, mouth round over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip of
water. He sets it down with a clunk. “Just one more day. One more, and they’re back. I’ll help
intimidate them to never leave again.”

Namjoon pinches at his nose bridge and laughs. It comes out a bit forced, but his dates don’t draw
attention to it. Instead, Seokjin continues with his clever distraction tactics.

Knows how easy it is going to be to rile up a nervous alpha with no way to let out steam.
“You could keep sulking, or you could listen to the plans I have for tonight.”

Namjoon narrows his eyes at the way Seokjin says the word ‘plans’, drawn-out and sensual. “I
thought I was going to escort you home and maybe steal a kiss. I’m a gentlewolf like that.”

“Oh, are you now?” the beta teases. “We can do that, too. Maybe I’ll let you hold hands with Tae
for two minutes.”

It’s easy to give in to the teasing, all too easy. Namjoon puts his elbows on the table and rests his
chin on top of his knuckles. “I’m curious about your version, though.”

“Sure you are. I was thinking about making you two re-enact the kiss,” Seokjin says casually,
fiddling with the collar of his pale pink sweatshirt. Heat surges into Namjoon’s belly and stays
there, floating. He doesn’t dare look at Taehyung, but the other alpha’s scent spikes.

“But I had a few teeny tiny adjustments in mind,” Seokjin continues, lowering his voice. “You
were going to stand there for my enjoyment, naked and embarrassed as you made out. When you
inevitably got hard, the only relief you’d get would be to uselessly rub your big cocks together, like
two pups in rut. And if you couldn’t come from that, tough luck.”

As Namjoon tries to somehow repress a whole-body shudder, Taehyung makes a small,

embarrassed noise. He picks up a piece of meat with his chopsticks and plops it down on top of
Namjoon’s rice.

“I’m so sorry, hyung. He gets like that sometimes.”

“Yah,” Seokjin scolds with a half smirk. “Got to compensate for the lack of a knot somehow.”

The half-joking insecurity that flashes past Seokjin’s handsome features is endearing, it makes
Namjoon’s heart flutter like a flock of crimson butterflies. Taehyung quickly catches onto the shift
in energy, too, and makes Seokjin a pretty salad wrap that he feeds the beta straight from his long,
slender fingers. He’s proving something to Seokjin with the act. Devotion, maybe.

It’s hard to tell when Namjoon can barely see straight anymore.

Seokjin swallows the food thankfully as he regains his confidence, caressing the side of
Taehyung’s face with a barely-there touch. Taehyung purrs so prettily that Namjoon wants to throw
him over his shoulder and hide him from the world.

“So, if you’re up for it, we should probably check,” Seokjin says, clearing his throat.

“Check for what?” Namjoon asks, still looking at Taehyung.

“For compatibility. In a sexual sense, I mean.”

Taehyung lets out a high-pitched laugh, and his cheeks bloom red once more. The alpha has his
hands clasped neatly in his lap, showing model submission despite his outburst. He wants this too.

Taehyung wants him.

“You think Taehyung is a handsome boy?” Seokjin questions softly, pressing his hand down,
probably to rest on Taehyung’s thigh, or to part them slightly. They need to be discreet, all out in
the open, so many people around them…

Namjoon pants through his mouth like an overheated Labrador. Feels like one, too.
“Very,” Namjoon says, ashamed of the way his voice cracks. “You’re handsome, too. I would like
to… never mind.”

Taehyung smiles, quickly glancing at Seokjin. “Tell us, alpha.”

Fuck. Namjoon is trembling to his core again, the alpha in him stirring, stretching its legs.

“Ever since you walked through that door I have – I’ve been thinking tough about, uhh, kissing
you. Both.”

“I’m down for that,” Taehyung grins and starts getting up from his seat, leaving a slightly flustered
Seokjin in his seat. It’s the second time the highly confident beta’s front cracks, and Namjoon
loves the fact. Wants to peel Seokjin layer by layer until he’s bared and exposed.

This time the beta is quick to pick himself back up, though. He waves for the bill and sets his
chopsticks neatly to the side, eyes bright and focused.

“Your place should be closest,” Seokjin says, stretching his long legs and running a hand through
his hair. It strokes Namjoon’s ego that the most handsome person in the room is trying to make
himself look more presentable for them.

Namjoon settles the bill quickly with his matte black card that was offered to him by his bank just
last year in the wake of a few hit songs that brought him massive amounts of royalties. Seokjin’s
eyes grow wide upon seeing it, and Taehyung dares ask if Yoongi is as rich as Namjoon.

It’s easy to picture Taehyung and Jimin at the Gucci store, burning their alphas’ money on lavish
and ridiculous things. He doesn’t share the silly fantasy with the others. It’s an alpha thing. Or a
Namjoon thing. Yoongi probably wouldn’t agree, the grumpy penny-pincher he is.

Seokjin calls them a taxi for the short trip, everyone too wrung up with anticipation to consider
public transportation. Just before their vehicle pulls up to the sidewalk, Seokjin leans to whisper a
few fateful words into Namjoon’s ear.

“If you’re good, would you like to fuck Tae tonight, alpha?”

That’s it.

Nothing else.

Seokjin is already pulling back to smile at Taehyung, ushering them into the leather-cleaner
smelling taxi where Namjoon almost dies when his arm keeps brushing against Taehyung’s the
entire trip home, sparks of electricity running up and down his skin. The other alpha smells like a
passion fruit smoothie, and he’s resting his head against the side window to leave a clear line of
sight to his scent gland.

It’s pure torture, a personal hell conjured up just for Namjoon.

Seokjin’s calm rainwater scent washes over him every now and then, but it does nothing to take the
burning need out of him. With Namjoon entirely out of order, Seokjin pays for the taxi with his
own card, and they take the lift into Namjoon’s flat. His comfortable two-room home seems quite
inadequate now, too small and cramped, full of potted plants and books and little figurines he likes
collecting. No room for an enormous pack nest, no huge dining table for feeding seven hungry
people.

But before Namjoon can get properly embarrassed, his guests simultaneously break into
compliments, saying that his plants look healthy and that his bed looks perfectly comfortable.
Namjoon offers them tea, both declining politely, the tension thick in the air. Suffocating.

Namjoon goes to the bathroom to wash his hands and takes a moment to stare at his blotchy
cheeks, his canines that look sharper than normal. He thinks about a conversation he had with
Yoongi a few days ago, about how Yoongi had started feeling different after the pack dynamic had
come into play, how he felt more like a wolf, like something feral. Yoongi had been so
embarrassed to admit it. Modern people don’t talk like that because it’s a myth.

They’re not wolves, not really.

It’s just a primal part of their brain taking over for a bit, driving them to behave in certain, highly
predictable patterns.

Namjoon takes a deep, shaky breath. And then another. Seokjin is standing behind him in the
doorway, watching silently. Namjoon didn’t sense him coming as his beta scent was momentarily
covered by the lavender-scented hand soap. Namjoon turns his head.

“Do you still remember the question I asked you in front of the restaurant?” he asks, looking
domestic and devastating in a pair of light grey house slippers, holding one of Namjoon’s coffee
table books.

Taehyung’s eyes snap to Seokjin curiously. The alpha was looking at the assortment of tiny
cactuses on the windowsill, is still slightly bent over at the waist. It would be so easy to push him
down.

“I – I do,” Namjoon says, feigning interest in his sock-clad toes, moving back to the living room.

“I’m all ears then,” the beta smiles. He places the book down gently, but his expression is hungry
and outright devious.

Namjoon clears his throat, sensing a trap. “I would. Of course I would want that.”

“You would what, exactly?” the beta repeats innocently, beckoning Taehyung to come to him. The
alpha doesn’t hesitate a bit – just lets Seokjin curl a hand around his neck and squeeze. Namjoon
has never seen an alpha quite like Taehyung. He’s exquisite, extraordinary. Namjoon wants to
make Taehyung writhe on his knot because he knows the alpha would take it so well, cry for more
without hesitation. He wants to make out with Seokjin over Taehyung’s trembling body, spit
running down their chins and landing on the delicate bumps of Taehyung’s spine in a steady drip-
drip-drip.

A filthy fantasy that makes Namjoon’s dick chub up prematurely.

“I would – would like to have sex with him. With Taehyung, if you allow it.”

Seokjin looks so pretty as he flashes a bright, toothy smile. He doesn’t do that often, Namjoon has
noticed, and that makes it all the more special.

“You’re asking me permission, alpha? Not Taehyung directly?”

Taehyung’s fruity scent is getting thicker, stronger, mixing with Seokjin’s – like a fruit orchard
after rain. Namjoon’s mouth waters, and his half-hard cock twitches against the inner seam of his
jeans. He doesn’t attempt covering himself, it’s too late for trying to appear civil like that.

“Yes, because it’s your call. Not Taehyung’s,” Namjoon says. Clearly the correct answer, as
Taehyung whimpers submissively, knees buckling, but Seokjin keeps him upright.

“That’s right. It is my call. And I think you haven’t deserved it yet.”

Namjoon swallows painfully, wanting to ask why, wanting to growl and say he’s going to take
what’s his anyway, but Taehyung beats him to it. “Hyung is just saying that because – because he
hasn’t f–fucked me yet, and he wants to be the first.”

“Brat,” Seokjin says in a fond tone as he tightens his grip, another hand reaching down to pinch the
alpha’s side. Taehyung squeals.

“Why haven’t you?” Namjoon asks, eyelids heavy and the words in his mouth thick and sticky.
The confident dom in Namjoon is speaking now, waking up from a deep slumber as he’s starting to
feel more comfortable with the two. “I mean, look at him. He’s so perfect, just begging to be
taken.”

Right now, Namjoon is a dominant who is seeing the prettiest, most willing submissive right in
front of him. It’s madness that Seokjin hasn’t fucked him yet, even if he’s well aware of the fact
that there is much more to sex and intimacy than intercourse.

Seokjin swirls his fingers in Taehyung’s hair, holding intense eye contact with Namjoon. “Our
dynamic is so unconventional that I’ve wanted to take it slowly. On top of that, it’s very amusing to
hear him beg for a real cock after taking a silicone one. He’s insatiable like that.”

Namjoon walks up to them and shrugs his jacket off, throws it over the couch, tries to look cool for
Taehyung.

“I’m sure he is,” he says darkly.

“Go ahead, alpha. Kiss him. Show me how much you want him.” Every word that leaves Kim
Seokjin’s perfect lips is a taunt, beta to an alpha, testing the limits of their dynamic. Namjoon, ever
willing to play, places his palm on Taehyung’s warm cheek, fingers slightly curled over the slightly
damp skin. He asks for permission, this time from Taehyung himself.

It’s gratifying and humiliating and undeniably erotic to kiss another alpha for a beta’s enjoyment,
even if he was allowed to keep his clothes on in the end. Taehyung kisses sloppily, with lots of
tongue and spit and poorly veiled excitement, as if he’s trying to make it the obscenest display
imaginable for Seokjin. The beta is sitting on the backrest of the couch, legs crossed, face mostly
neutral. It’s hard to tell if Seokjin is enjoying himself, if he’s getting hard.

Determined to make an impression, Namjoon digs his fingernails into Taehyung’s jaw and takes
control of the kiss, forces his tongue deep into his mouth, muted growls spilling into each other’s
mouths. They kiss like only two alphas could, without the careful preamble of warming up an
omega, or the gentle ease of making out with a beta.

When Namjoon pinches Taehyung’s lower lip between his teeth, the other alpha whines into his
mouth and goes lax, lets Namjoon dictate the rhythm. Suddenly, they’re surrounded by the rich
scent of petrichor, and words of praise.

“Good alphas. My beautiful alphas.”

Seokjin’s face is red with excitement when Namjoon turns his head to look. Taehyung keeps wetly
mouthing at the side of his cheek, already far gone.

There’s an obvious tent in the fabric of Seokjin’s trousers, and Namjoon almost asks the beta to
touch himself, to palm himself to relieve some pressure because he’s that turned on by two alphas
making out.

“Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon gasps, letting his eyes trail to the alpha’s slack lips, red and raw from the
force of the kisses. “I want to kiss Seokjin hyung. Will you be a good boy and wait?”

Taehyung nods eagerly, already looking at Seokjin in awe. An overexcited pup.

Seokjin takes Namjoon’s advances with his head held high. The beta dips a finger between
Namjoon’s wet lips and says he can’t wait to taste Taehyung on Namjoon. That their scents
compliment each other well.

The kiss starts off very soft, initiated by Namjoon, but it quickly turns into something more heated,
definitively burying the concern that the two of them might just be mutually attracted to Taehyung
and not to each other. Even if it’s not yet clear what their sex would look like, how they would
handle each other’s different styles of dominance, they still want so much. Want to explore and
taste and revel in the sheer possibilities.

Whilst Namjoon and Seokjin are momentary lost in their shared revelation, Taehyung slips into the
bedroom and gets on all fours on the bed, presenting himself to be fucked, though he still has his
clothes on. Namjoon sees him first, but Seokjin is quicker. He pats Namjoon affectionately below
the cheekbone and reaches the other alpha in just a few long strides. He lifts his hand without a
word and spanks Taehyung through his clothes until the alpha is shuddering and shifting his hips
from side to side in pain.

Namjoon bounces on the balls of his feet, imagining himself in Seokjin’s place.

“You need to know that Taehyung is a bit of an endurance masochist,” the beta explains as he
looks over his shoulder, gorgeous and slightly sweaty in the face. “He likes when we hurt him,
likes the psychological aspect of being vulnerable for his doms, but he doesn’t get off on pure pain
in the same way someone else might. At least when there isn’t something sexual to act as an
incentive. Taehyungie is a smart boy who knows exactly what he wants and knows how to ask for
it.”

Taehyung sniffles a little, hanging his head between his shoulders. Namjoon’s head swims with the
heady scent of their combined arousal. Seokjin ends his lecture by snacking the alpha one more
time, with so much force that Taehyung loses balance and crashes face first into the pillows.

“Or sometimes he just brats until I do something about his abysmal behaviour. He told he learned
all about that from Jungkook. A true shame, I thought little Jungkookie was a good omega.”

“Hyung, he is,” Taehyung whines, easily falling for Seokjin’s provocation and earning another set
of spanks from his dominant.

“Oh, the subs getting bright ideas from each other?” Namjoon chuckles. “How cute.”

“I just want hyungs’ c–cocks,” Taehyung says with a tiny sob, “phh–please.”

Something dark curls inside Namjoon, a wish to see Taehyung’s tears flow freely, stretched around
Namjoon’s knot but not allowed to come. Namjoon would lick his tears off his face, drink them
down like nectar.

“Soon, Seokjin replies, sliding his hands over Taehyung’s ass. “We’ll take our time stretching you
out like you deserve. I’ll fuck you first, make you come on my cock until you come dry. And when
you’re all sore and tired, we’ll change places with Joonie who won’t stop to listen to any protest
about it being too much. How does that sound, baby?”

“S’ good,” Taehyung hums, a bit of drool sliding out of the corner of his mouth.

Seokjin pushes the pad of his thumb against Taehyung’s hole, through his clothes, which means
the sensation must be maddeningly muted. He plays with the alpha’s entrance for a moment,
pushing as far as the fabric lets him.

“Can I still have your cum tonight? Please?” Taehyung is clearly fighting to not rock his hips back
into Seokjin’s touch. He’s being so good for them.

Seokjin and Namjoon exchange a quick look, during which Namjoon nods his consent. He wants it
so much.

“Start with Namjoonie, alpha has to go first,” Seokjin decides, still looking at him as he gives
instructions to his submissive. Namjoon’s head is exploding because Seokjin is referring to an age-
old etiquette rule that the pack alpha always has first claim to an omega in heat.

Seokjin notices Namjoon’s reaction and smiles. “Take your shirt off and stay on all fours since you
seem to be so fond of the position. Head this way, face Namjoon… good. Show us your tongue,
how eager you are for a proper taste of your alpha.”

As Taehyung waits obediently with his mouth hanging open, Seokjin grabs Taehyung’s shirt and
tosses it to the side and encourages Namjoon to unzip his trousers, says he’s free to use Taehyung
as he sees fit.

“Hold still for alpha,” Namjoon huffs out, and Taehyung obeys. He’s so perfect.

“Seokjin-ssi, hyung, can I – he looks so pretty. Want to claim him.”

“Go ahead alpha, he’ll let you.”

Namjoon starts softly, tentatively, using just the tip of his cock. He’s leaking profusely, making
Taehyung’s lips shiny and wet.

Seokjin gives Namjoon’s bicep a tight squeeze and whispers with his lips hovering over his nape,
“you can do more.”

“Lick your lips clean,” Namjoon orders.

Taehyung acts like he’s getting a reward. It’s nothing for him, tasting another alpha on his tongue.

Namjoon’s stomach clenches as Seokjin licks a wet stripe over the back of his neck.

“More,” Seokjin breathes out, lighting fires in parts of his body where Namjoon didn’t know he
was inflammable.

The wet noise of Namjoon’s cockhead hitting the high point of Taehyung’s cheekbone is obscene,
but the alpha doesn’t attempt to bite Namjoon’s dick off. Doesn’t even flinch. On top of his
submissive tendencies, Taehyung must’ve practised going against his alpha instincts, taught
himself to be the perfect toy.

What the hell did Namjoon sign up for?

Namjoon takes a hold of his cock and smacks it against Taehyung’s cheek again, with more force
and intent, the sound distractingly loud in the small space.
Taehyung opens his mouth wider, smelling like he wants Namjoon to breed him.

In a state of horny confusion, Namjoon feeds his aching cock into Taehyung’s awaiting mouth,
meeting almost no resistance.

It’s too much, fuck.

He’s not going to survive.

It’s as if Taehyung was born to suck alpha cock, cheeks hollowed out and lust glittering in his eyes
as he bobs his head up and down Namjoon’s girth. Namjoon barely has to guide him with a hand at
the back of his head.

Namjoon’s pleasure builds embarrassingly fast, but Taehyung isn’t far behind. Seokjin shoves
Taehyung’s slacks down to his thighs to reveal the alpha’s gorgeous cock, slightly slimmer than
Namjoon’s own but longer. Prettier.

The beta talks Taehyung through popping a knot into his own hand as Namjoon has his own knot
swelling up, pressing against the seam of Taehyung’s lips. He doesn’t quite force it in but flirts
with the idea, hopefully making Taehyung think about Namjoon’s knot forcing his mouth
impossibly, painfully wide.

Seokjin wraps his free hand around Namjoon’s pulsing knot, massaging it with his fingers just right
so that Taehyung nearly chokes on an abrupt burst of cum.

Seokjin comes all over Taehyung’s back and ass only a few moments after the alphas have
successfully knotted. He’s grunting with his head thrown back in pleasure, saying he can’t wait to
do a full scene with them, that he’s the luckiest beta in existence as he touches himself through his
release in precise motions, fingers tight around his cock that has a single vein running all the way
along the underside from base to tip.

Namjoon stares without shame and realises he wants to lick at it until the beta is crying from
overstimulation. He wants to watch that cock sink into Taehyung's willing body, over and over
until it's flushed pink like Seokjin's chest and neck and the tips of his ears.

It seems they're quite sexually compatible, after all.

•••

Yoongi indulges in holding Jimin’s hand the entire trip to Seoul. As the misty, tree-covered
mountains blur into the background, his mate, who smells like cleaning products and laundry
detergent and properly settled omega, falls asleep against Yoongi’s shoulder, but his grip of
Yoongi’s hand remains warm and tight. Jimin isn’t wearing his collar, so the fresh mating mark on
his neck is completely exposed as he sleeps. Yoongi can see other passengers eyeing his omega
from afar, his beauty that is now completely unreachable to them.

A few strangers even stop to nod at Yoongi out of respect, and the alpha in him preens at the
attention and recognition, even if he also has the strong urge to throw a blanket over his omega to
keep him safe and hidden from the entire world.

While Jimin gets his much needed sleep, exhausted by the false heat and cleaning the entire house,
Yoongi pulls his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and drafts an email that he sends to
specialist Bae Doona, and the lawyer Jimin told him about over the phone. It turned out that
attorney Lee had helped Seokjin with multiple cases. The beta apparently is an expert on omega
rights and regulations.

Yoongi writes that he’s returning to Seoul with Jimin, and that the formal evaluation was so taxing
on the omega that he needed to take two weeks off from work. He vaguely mentions that there was
an unexpected turn of events that might complicate things, since he’s not yet fully sure he can trust
his two allies. Also, now that Seokjin is their case handler again, their mate bond doesn’t pose as
many imminent issues, especially with Jimin possibly entering a pack dynamic with some of his
pre-existing friends. The laws and regulations around formation aren’t as strict, as it’s usually out
of an individual’s hands with whom they end up being the most compatible.

They might be even able to shorten or terminate Jimin’s contract on a pack clause. Then, Yoongi
could quickly resign from his position before he was assigned a new omega.

The only problem is that Jimin would have to return to the bureaucratic hell of the OWSC all over
again, send out countless forms and applications. That’s why Yoongi is hesitant to go for the pack
clause as the first option. It’s more appealing to stay low and wait for the six months to be over.

Currently, Yoongi is wearing a mask and a baseball cap right now to avoid recognition on the train,
but there’s also the risk of someone taking a picture of his mating bite and sharing it on SNS or
sending it to the media.

Although, the opposite of that has also crossed his mind, just briefly. Because maybe it wouldn’t
be so bad?

Maybe they could turn it to their advantage: a tragic love story of an alpha and an omega who were
so concerned for each other’s safety that mating was their only option.

Falling in love under oppression – famous producer defies the government itself, the headlines
might say. From underground rapper to family man – the cynic who fell for an omega .

Everything in this world boils down to influence and power, however arbitrary. Seokjin’s words
from earlier ring through Yoongi’s mind: You’re a celebrity, Yoongi-yah, whether you like it or
not.

Yoongi shakes the thought off as soon as it’s fully formed in his mind. He has never wanted to
make his life public and it wouldn’t help to start now. Surely not.

Jimin smacks his lips in his sleep, adorable and flowery, his scent still giving off a hint of lingering
heat. Yoongi is tempted to lower his mask and kiss Jimin, to lick his bite again. Jimin’s mother
said they should resist the urge and stick to disinfecting the wounds through the power of modern
medicine, but the alpha in Yoongi is very good at convincing him of the fact that Jimin would be
better off with Yoongi’s drool sliding down his neck.

Stupid instincts.

They’re approaching Daejeon when Jimin wakes up to an announcement. He blinks up,

momentarily blinded by the overhead lights of the train car, and then turns to look at Yoongi with a
tired smile.

“Did you get any sleep?” the omega mumbles.

“No, had to guard you,” Yoongi replies truthfully. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving the collarless
omega alone for even a quick doze. It should be safe, in theory… but Jimin is Jimin even with a
mating mark on his neck and in addition that he smells like a goddamn meadow for the time being.

“Keeping me safe from the zombies?” Jimin asks with a giggle.

Yoongi nods, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth under the mask. He’s grateful that Jimin
doesn’t draw attention to his protective alpha instincts.

He could get used to all this, so easily.

Which kind of is the point, seeing they’re mated now.

Fuck, it hasn’t fully registered yet, not even close. It’s too much luck and good fortune for such an
average alpha.

With a dry throat, Yoongi asks if Jimin is hurting, if his omega needs anything. Jimin shakes his
head no and says he wants ice cream – the cheap kind that comes in a plastic bag with a nozzle on
top. Milkshake flavour of all things. Yoongi calls him a little kid but promises to buy him some
when they get off the train.

“Sleep some more, pup,” Yoongi orders softly, and Jimin presses his head back against his
shoulder.

An hour later, Yoongi wakes Jimin up again with a gentle kiss to his forehead, and they get out of
the train on stiff limbs. The train station in downtown Seoul is bustling with people in the late
afternoon, and Yoongi’s instincts flare up in an embarrassing fashion. Jimin lets Yoongi drag him
around with a death grip of his elbow, doesn’t even complain when Yoongi reaches to unscrew the
plastic cork on Jimin’s ice cream as he asks the omega to sit down on the high top chair at the back
of the convenience store. Safely out of the sight of other alphas.

Yoongi suspects it’s not going to last for long, the uncharacteristic pliancy and willingness to
overlook Yoong’s nonsense, but he decides to enjoy it while it lasts. He needs to take care of his
mate, needs it like he needs air, even if it’s just making sure Jimin gets the ice cream he wants and
takes a nap after a physically exhausting day.

Like an absolute creep, Yoongi watches Jimin’s throat bob as the omega swallows the soft serve,
happy, content noises escaping between mouthfuls. Yoongi takes small sips of his own iced
americano, but all of his attention is on his mate.

Jimin leans back in the creaky plastic chair and throws a leg over his suitcase. “I get it, you like me
and all.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbles. He quickly tries to lean down for another sip but the straw poking out
of his cup hits him in the nostril instead of his mouth.

Jimin snorts, almost choking on his ice cream, and then they’re both laughing like maniacs.

“There’s ice cream up in my nose,” the omega says in a stuffy and nasal voice, “bring me a napkin,
alpha.”

Oh, how much Yoongi adores feeling useful.

•••
By coincidence, Jimin’s friends are the first to learn of their surprise mating. Namjoon has been
working around the clock, getting his ear chewed off by Bang PD who still doesn’t know why one
of his lead producers has been skipping work left and right. What Yoongi doesn’t expect though, is
the investigative envoy sent by the alpha in his absence.

Yoongi and Jimin have barely managed to greet Holly and change into more comfortable clothing
when the doorbell rings demandingly. Jimin is the one to open the door, very much to Yoongi’s
immediate misfortune, because as soon as Taehyung and Jungkook outside the door catch a
glimpse of the vibrant bruising on Jimin’s neck, the omega is shoved to the side, Taehyung making
a scary beeline for Yoongi and slamming him against the wall without an ounce of mercy.

“What the fuck did you do?” Taehyung growls, teeth bared all the way to the gums. Someone else
is growling as well, demanding Yoongi’s attention.

Yoongi can’t move his head much, ears ringing with the impact and his alpha clawing at his chest
at the challenge, but from the corner of his eye he can see Jungkook, eyes pitch black and teeth
bared, trying to look bigger than he is under a loose hoodie. Yoongi has never seen Jimin’s friends
this serious, not a hint of the usual submissiveness to be found..

Yoongi always knew how protective the two were over Jimin.

Rationally, he knew.

But he’s still about to wet himself as Taehyung’s hands keep creeping up toward his throat.

“He ah–asked for it,” Yoongi manages then, breath already wheezing in his throat, muscles
spasming with the need to attack.

Taehyung tightens his grip with a heavy scowl on his face. “Jiminie? Park Jimin asked to be
mated?”

“I did,” Jimin says from somewhere close. It’s enough to make Jungkook stop growling, but
Taehyung is too deep in his alpha headspace to react.

“You did?” Jungkook asks in slight awe.

“Yeah, I bit him first. Made him chase me,” Jimin says, his tone so smug Yoongi wants to laugh
despite his predicament.

Taehyung is still frowning, staring at Yoongi from above, considering Jimin’s words. It never
registered how much taller Taehyung was compared to Yoongi. Usually the alpha carries himself
in such a relaxed way, never drawing attention to his larger frame.

Yoongi lifts his chin to meet Taehyung’s eyes. It would feel so amazing to push the pup alpha off
him and show him his place beneath him.

To prove himself to Taehyung, and Jimin. Even to Jungkook.

God, they really need to settle their dynamics for good or this type of thing will just keep
happening. Alphas are fickle creatures like that. They can go from zero to one hundred in seconds
if not properly managed.

Jimin’s hands appear from nowhere, tangling in Taehyung’s hair and pulling his head back until the
alpha’s eyes widen in discomfort.

“Knock it off,” the omega commands, and Taehyung stops immediately, the growls softening and
turning into whines in his arched throat.

It’s interesting.

A pack omega would be higher up in hierarchy compared to a submissive-leaning alpha, at least in

some scenarios. A pack omega is the one member whose voice will be heard whether they whisper
or yell, someone who would be carried over puddles to not let their feet get dirty.

“Taehyung-ah, you should be scolding me, not my mate,” Jimin says evenly, “Yoongi hyung
hardly had a choice when I threw myself at him on the verge of heat.”

Yoongi is quick to shake his head, massaging his throat. Dull waves of pain are radiating from his
aggravated mating mark. It’s a grounding kind of pain

“I didn’t – I wanted it, too. It was all consensual.”

Jimin throws Yoongi a sharp look to make him stop talking. He doesn’t want Yoongi’s help in
telling off his overstepping friends, Yoongi can understand even if it stings.

“I don’t like you threatening my alpha,” Jimin says right into Taehyung’s ear before loosening his
hrip. The omega’s tone is still quite neutral, void of aggression but also of its usual warmth. “You
have no ground to stand on in my nest, pup alpha.”

“We’re literally the same age,” Taehyung whines and touches the back of his head where Jimin
gripped him, scalp sore most likely. Yoongi feels slightly too self-satisfied for his own good.
because Jimin just called Yoongi’s entire flat his nest.

Jungkook crosses his arms and pokes at the inside of his cheeks with his tongue. All the aggression
has left his body. Omegas are far too perceptive to hold meaningless grudges.

“For what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you, Jimin hyung. Mating is pretty scary but also a lot of
fun.”

Jimin’s expression softens and to everyone’s surprise, he wraps his arms around Jungkook’s
shoulders and melts into the other omega’s body, inhaling his scent straight from the source. It’s
something omega nest mates would do to soothe each other.

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin says with his lips flaring up, “want to bolt? I’m not sure I like the energy
around here.”

Jungkook nods enthusiastically, his two front teeth peeking out as he mimics Jimin’s lisp. “Want to
nest. Newly mated omegas need lots of rest and quiet, I know that much.”

“My nest has gone untouched for weeks, so we’ll have to fluff all the pillows and scent it
properly.” Jimin sounds highly determined as he speaks. It’s so cute that Yoongi’s heart aches.

Jungkook steps back with a brilliant smile on his face and takes Jimin’s hand. He glances at
Taehyung and then Yoongi. “We have important omega business in the nest, and you two are
uninvited. I mean it.”

Yoongi and Taehyung wilt a little, but it would be impossible to deny the omegas anything. If their
instincts urge them to nest together, Yoongi has no qualms with it. Especially when it happens in
 his house where he can monitor them and satisfy his gross alpha instincts.

“Yeah, go,” he says as if his opinion is needed. The omegas are already on their way, Jungkook’s
eyes glued to Jimin’s bite. Yoongi hopes Jungkook won’t attempt to lick it, too. Mostly because it
would be unsanitary. And because it would make Jimin smell less like Yoongi.

As a combined peace offering and an attempt to assert some form of dominance, Yoongi puts his
hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “We should probably… let the others know. About this.”

Before he ends up in the same situation all over again, goes unsaid.

Taehyung has his lips pressed into a straight line, and he’s scratching at the mole on his nose, deep
in thought. Yoongi gives him time, knows the other needs it. He can hear heated negotiations about
material choices behind the door to Jimin’s bedroom.

“I can’t believe Jimin mated an alpha. Not in a million years would I have expected it,” the
younger alpha finally says. “Another omega or a beta perhaps… but even then. He just wasn’t the
type of person to settle down with someone. You must understand my reaction, I meant no
offense.”

Yoongi allows himself to smile a little. “Honestly I was scared shitless. But I understand. In your
stead I would’ve assumed the worst, too.”

Taehyung raises his hand between them, and Yoongi takes it. Shaking hands feels good, even if
there still is an underlying tension that stems from their shared subgender.

“I’ll call Jungkook’s mate and explain the situation to him,” Yoongi offers as he looks out into the
darkening night. “The omegas should protest vehemently if we attempt to separate them any time
soon.”

Taehyung nods, glancing longingly at the door to Jimin’s bedroom. “I’ll call my dominan– I mean
Namjoon hyung and Seokjin hyung. Explain everything to them in advance.”

Yoongi nods, thankful for the offer and for not having to deal with Kim Namjoon right now. He
really is happy for the trio, so happy that his best friend is finally finding a dynamic that perfectly
suits his needs.

And he’s especially happy that his carotid artery is still intact.

Chapter End Notes

Joonie baby ;-; you did so well my guy.

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Paradigm Shift
Chapter Notes

Baby pack does some very pack-like things. Jungkook has multiple inner crises that
are absolutely adorable.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to let out a sharp hiss when someone dares crack the bedroom door
open.

“Still uninvited,” he warns from under a pile of blankets, legs tangled with Jimin’s to keep the
other omega warm and safe. He and Jimin might’ve had a mild disagreement over their creative
vision for the nest, but such a trivial argument was handled the true omegan way – by
incorporating all of their individual preferences to found a mega nest that pleased them both.

“Baby? Can I just come in for a bit?” It’s Hoseok’s voice and scent. Jungkook didn’t know he had
arrived, but it makes sense Yoongi would’ve called him at some point. Jungkook isn’t sure how
long they’ve been nesting for.

Jungkook lifts his head laboriously, his hair a tousled mess from rubbing his scent all over the
blankets.

“It’s Hobi hyung?”

“Mm, Kook-ah. Hyung came to see how you’re doing here with Jiminie.”

Jungkook’s mind still is a bit choppy, but he tries his best to communicate his thoughts. “You can
step in, but not in the nest. Our nest.”

Hoseok’s voice betrays his smile as the door falls shut. “Of course, it’s your nest, only for
omegas.”

“That’s correct,” Jungkook confirms, rolling onto his stomach to get his knees under himself. He
sees a tuft of Jimin’s blond hair peeking from under a blanket. The other omega seems to be in
deep sleep. The false heat and mating ritual must’ve completely exhausted him.

“What’s the time?”

“Past eight. Namjoon just arrived, and Seokjin hyung is on his way. Yoongi whined plenty about
the cruel ambush, to no benefit. Unfortunately, Namjoon failed to scold Taehyung for blowing up
earlier.”

Jungkook huffs out that he thinks Taehyung was in the right to defend Jimin’s honour. He stretches
his arms up on the bed, back arched, careful not to wake Jimin with his movements. Jungkook’s
black sweater rides up his stomach, and his hair falls on his face all soft and fluffy from nesting.

He knows he looks really good, can smell the evidence of it in Hoseok’s scent.
“Seokjin hyung will take care of that. He’s awfully strict with Taehyungie hyung… unlike some
alphas I know.” Jungkook leaves the comment hanging by an alluring thread as he smooths his
hand over his flat abdomen. Hoseok’s jaw twitches, and his scent gets even deeper, richer.

“Alpha hasn’t been strict enough with you, baby?”

Jungkook’s toes curl at the sweet threat. Hoseok has been keeping a respectful distance since he
started his internship at the tattoo shop. Jungkook said he wanted some space to find his
professional identity, find out who he was outside their shared home, and not once did the alpha
complain and challenge the request.

It’s slightly selfish, plenty hypocritical, but Jungkook finds himself hoping Hoseok would’ve
pushed back a little, said he wanted to be involved in his big life change.

It’s stupid that his mind is fickle like that sometimes.

“I think – I want you to be strict with me, because you’re my alpha and I want you to care,”
Jungkook whispers, kneeling on the bed with his hand curled around the edge of Jimin ‘s fuzzy
blue blanket. The pink one has disappeared somewhere. Jungkook suspects Yoongi of a robbery.

A lopsided smile appears on the alpha’s face as he takes a step toward the nest. “Were you being
all distant with me because you thought you couldn’t change your mind, that you had to be brave,
hmm? Didn’t you know how much I already respect you? How strong I think you are?”

“Sap,” Jungkook scolds, letting his expression drift from tense to soft. “But look, we have this pack
thing now, and everything is changing again, and… the job is going really well. I’ve gotten the
chance to prove myself and stuff. You don’t have to keep cutting me slack, because I think I don’t
like it, that’s all.”

Hoseok is next to the bed now, still not touching per Jungkook’s earlier instructions, but he is…
hovering.

“Does baby need some time at alpha’s feet? Maybe kneeling prettily for both me and Namjoon
hyung, would that make you feel nice and secure?”

Jungkook’s cheeks feel extremely hot all of a sudden. He doesn’t kneel for Hoseok very often –
most of their dynamic is reserved for the bedroom, for those moments when it’s just the two of
them and a soft, clean nest, hands interlaced on the sheets as the alpha makes him cry and writhe.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Jungkook’s scent must spike, seeing that Hoseok’s nostrils flare.

“God, you and Jimin smell so good together,” the alpha mumbles dreamily.

“Ew, gross,” comes a sleepy voice from under the blankets, startling them both. “Don’t involve me
in your strange flirting.”

“Sorry, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok says right away, stepping away from the nest, though the glint of hope
remains in the corner of his eye. They really needed that talk, even if it came out at the wrong time.
And they can always come back to it later, now that the line of communication is wide open.

“Let’s go see the others,” Jungkook suggests with a smile, helping Jimin up and letting Hoseok
scent him fleetingly, wrist to wrist.

Jimin leans on Jungkook who leans on Hoseok, and the stumbling trio emerges in the living room
where people are lounging on the couch, engaged in a low, intense conversation. Jungkook sees
Seokjin from the corner of his eye, he’s at the door taking his jacket off and allowing Holly to rub
his little face against his calf. Although, most of Jungkook’s attention is on Namjoon who is
towering over Yoongi on the couch, hand on the alpha’s bicep.

“– you hurt anywhere?” he’s asking him.

Yoongi looks exasperated, and he’s trying to get a peek of Jimin over Namjoon’s ridiculously wide
shoulder. The smaller alpha punches Namjoon in the pec and jumps over the back of the couch in a
cat-like manner. It’s not often that Yoongi moves like that, quick and elegant, and even Jimin looks
impressed by it.

“You had fun nesting with Kookie?”

Jimin detaches himself from Jungkook and hobbles over to his mate, yawning so wide his jaw
pops. “Mm. But we fell asleep before I could explain to Jungkook why the east side of the nest has
to be softer than the west side, so we’re officially at a stalemate.”

Yoongi nods seriously. “And why is that? More predators arrive from the west or what?”

Jimin shrugs and proceeds to speak to Namjoon, arms spread in some kind of display. “I heard
from Jungkook that you were worried for us two. I reckon you can consider our mating as proof of
my unwillingness to run anymore. What I mean is… I’m here to stay, together with Yoongi
hyung.”

Namjoon sighs in utter relief, sounding like a freshly opened kimchi jar. “And you’ll always tell
me before you go anywhere, even if it’s only for a short time?”

For a moment, there’s conflict on Jimin’s face, in the small lines around his mouth. The omega has
always been independent to the point of self-destruction. He would strike a conversation with some
beta or omega with whitened teeth and too much hair gel, end up at a crappy flat halfway across
the city – only to worm back some time later with a massive hangover and wearing yesterday’s
clothing.

Jimin used to get defensive when his friends asked him to pick up the phone. He told them he was
just having a bit of harmless fun. Getting new experiences.

“Will you be terribly upset if I sometimes forget?” Jimin asks slowly. He’s not talking about
sleeping around, of course, sex was just the primary way Jimin liked to exercise his freedom of
choice. It’s a much larger matter, Jungkook realises.

Namjoon straightens his back and widens his stance. “I’m not willing to negotiate on that. I need to
know where my pack mates are, and I need to be able to reach them by some means of
communication.”

Jimin tilts his head in consideration. He’s going for a compromise, Jungkook knows it before he
has even opened his mouth.

“We could make a group chat,” he says in a soft tone, “always keep each other up to date that way.
I’m not going to call you every time I leave the den… I mean home.”

“You can share your location there too, right?” Namjoon asks with a hopeful expression. He’s got
his phone in his hand, thumb sliding over the screen. Jungkook feels his phone buzz against his
thigh a few seconds later. The suggestion makes Jimin scrunch his nose up. Jungkook can see he’s
holding back a smile.
“That’s a bit too stalker-y for my liking.”

Namjoon pouts – it’s a sight when a grown ass alpha makes a face like that, but he backs down.
“Group chat it is, then.”

Jungkook’s phone vibrates again, and he frees his hand from Hoseok’s to take a peek.

You’ve been added to a new group: Team Kim Seokjin

The chat icon is a picture of Seokjin with his cheeks round with food, lips closed around a glossy
string of noodles. Fortunately for Namjoon, the beta hasn’t seen it yet, he’s busy greeting
Taehyung with a gentle hug and a brief conversation about something that makes Taehyung smile
sheepishly.

They’re so in love it’s appalling. But it won’t stop Seokjin from kicking Namjoon’s ass once he
finds out about the group theme.

The ordinariness of the moment has Jungkook freezing in place, watching Hoseok write something
warm and silly as the first message because of course his mate would do that. Jungkook thought he
would never have a pack, that he would maybe start a family with Hoseok at some point, live his
domestic fantasy the modern way with a couple of bright-eyed pups, dinners filled with laughter
and failed culinary experiments.

But this sure feels like one, and finally, after weeks of self-doubt and uncertainty, he’s ready to
believe it himself.

“We’re a pack. Us seven,” Jungkook states solemnly, letting his voice carry a certain weight.
Every head in the room snaps toward him like they’re performing a timed choreography. The
silence that follows is deafening, the steady hum of blood in Jungkook’s ears louder than their
combined breathing.

“We are,” Seokjin says then, frowning ever so slightly. “If we have a pack group chat, then we’re a
real pack.”

Taehyung next to him laughs dryly, rubbing at the back of his neck as his eyes flicker from side to
side. Just like that, the alphas are on a knife’s edge, tense, consumed by their biology because of a
few simple words that came as a surprise to no one. Maybe they needed to hear it said explicitly,
turned from instinct to cold hard reality.

Yoongi and Hoseok are eyeing each other, up and down, in the wake of Jungkook’s words. Neither
of them is particularly prone to stereotypical alpha posturing, but they’re young and healthy and fit
enough to challenge each other.

“Are you going to fight or what?” Jungkook whispers to Hoseok who keeps staring at Yoongi with
his fingers twitching into tense claws.

Hoseok spares a second for Jungkook, barely softening his expression to face his mate, a fiery
promise to win this for his omega.

Jungkook could swoon. He very well could.

“We can’t just like – clear the whole living room and beat each other up,” Yoongi says a little
meekly, as if he’s scared of the state his living room might end up in if they go through with what
their nature craves.
“Why can’t we?” Hoseok asks. “Well, we shouldn’t have a literal fistfight, but I think each of us is
in well enough tune with our alphas not to not let it get unnecessarily violent.”

“But who will go first?” Yoongi asks, still looking doubtful.

“It depends. Does someone want to challenge me for the pack alpha position?” Namjoon asks
evenly, arms relaxed at his sides.

Yoongi shakes his head. “I already know I would lose because… umm… I have some experience
with that.”

In the following silence, in which Namjoon seems more flustered by the confession than anyone
else in the room, Hoseok glances at Jungkook, once, twice.

Fuck.

“I want to,” Hoseok says, still looking at him. Jungkook knows he’s talking out of instinct. By
entering the pack, Hoseok’s claim on Jungkook will be tested. “I need to try, for a peace of mind.”

Namjoon is wringing his hands, a weird half-smile on his face that reveals a glint of sharp teeth.
Jimin glances at him and then at Yoongi but doesn’t say anything.

“Help me get the furniture out of the way,” Namjoon eventually says. Seokjin and Taehyung step
forward without further prompting and help move the couch and table to the side.

“We also need to lay down some rules,” Hoseok says in a soft but matter-of-fact tone as he
observes the preparations, rolling his arms and shoulders like he’s a pro athlete about to enter an
arena.

“Biting to assert control is fine, but nothing that will leave a scar over the gland,” Yoongi says
resolutely, lifting a hand to his mating mark in a protective manner. Jungkook can easily
understand why the alpha wouldn’t want it disturbed. He has the imprint of Jimin’s teeth on his
skin, and that’s something valuable to him. It’s true for Jungkook as well.

In history, pack alphas used to claim all of their pack mates with a bite. It happens much less often
these days, with people forming exclusive relationships within packs or choosing not to seek a pack
in the first place. With a more individual society the flare of packs has dimmed a bit.

Jungkook thought he was a weird exception to that, an omega who already had everything and still
wanted more. But Hoseok wants this, too.

Wants to fight for it.

That’s fucking sexy, if you ask Jungkook.

In his mind, it doesn’t matter one bit that Hoseok doesn’t stand a chance against his opponent. The
fight is over in less than a minute after first contact. Namjoon is so much bigger than Hoseok that
he only needs to get Hoseok’s upper body caged with his arms, his legs pinned under Namjoon’s
muscular thighs, rendering him immobile.

Jungkook is tapping his foot against the floor in a rapid pattern as he waits for the conclusion, two
fingers in his mouth to nibble wetly at his cuticles, when Seokjin’s calm scent appears behind him.
The beta’s hand reaches over to Jungkook’s mouth, pulls his fingers down with a pop. His other
hand settles on Jungkook’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. Jungkook appreciates the open dominance,
that Seokjin isn’t holding back.
Namjoon only has to keep Hoseok pinned for a few moments before a weak call of “I submit” is
heard, and the tension is released from Namjoon’s muscles like from a snapped rubber band.

The pack alpha gets up with relative grace, looks down to see Hoseok belly up on the floor, and
extends a hand to pull him up. Jungkook wants to rush forward, to make sure Hoseok is okay, but
the fight isn’t over. Hoseok immediately throws a challenging look at Yoongi, almost cocky with
how severe the curve of his lips is. Yoongi presses a fleeting kiss to Jimin’s cheek and enters the
floor, dressed in black sweatpants and a blue sweater.

“We’ll go in descending order of hierarchy,” Hoseok suggests, still breathless from struggling
under Namjoon’s weight, auburn hair a sexy mess.

Jungkook already knows he’ll be pathetically begging for a knot after all this is over, and he’s
pretty sure Taehyung is already having similar thoughts after seeing Namjoon wielding his alpha
strength with ridiculous ease.

Yoongi nods his approval at Hoseok’s offer, but there’s a clash of wills contorting his soft features.
Making him look extremely alpha. Not that Jungkook would appreciate that. Or notice such a
thing. But Jimin surely would, and Jungkook is a good, observant friend.

“You must feel tired after getting your ass handed to you by Namjoonie,” Yoongi sneers, revealing
his true disposition. “Hope it was worth it.”

“And you’re a coward who didn’t even try, Min Yoongi,” Hoseok snaps back, “mated life already
made you soft?”

“I may be soft, but you’re so skinny a prepubescent pup could beat you. So lightweight that you
would start flirting with a fifty-something ahjumma at a tent bar after three measly shots of soju.”

“Yoongi hyung, enough of that –“ Namjoon sighs, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye
socket.

“Oh, well you’re so short you had to steal a stepping stool from some poor shelf stocker because
you couldn’t reach that fancy bottle of booze on the top shelf… and some girl called your ass
plump while you were up there balancing on your tiptoes.”

Yoongi’s face falls. “My ass is fabulous, thank you very much.”

There must be some silly story behind it all, one Jungkook is eager to hear later, but right now
Hoseok’s obnoxious alpha taunts cause ribbons of heat to spread from Jungkook’s tummy, down
his thighs. Losing to Namjoon only seemed to raise his self-confidence. His alpha is going to be
second in line, and he’ll want to earn it.

The soothing hand on his shoulder tightens as the two alphas starts circling each other. Jimin is
standing at the other side of the room, holding Taehyung’s hand in his, looking terribly nervous
and maybe a little amused by the comment regarding Yoongi’s buttocks.

Jungkook feels the thrum of fight in his veins like he’s connected to Hoseok, wondering if it’s the
same for Jimin. Mating marks have been studied extensively, but research has never found any
scientific evidence of the bond being anything more than psychological and emotional, the actual
bite being ritualistic in nature, a visible mark of the agreement between mates. But sometimes
Jungkook feels like he has some weird telepathic connection to Hoseok when their subgender sides
come to the forefront.

“We’ll go between them if it gets too rough,” Namjoon promises in a murmur. Jungkook didn’t
notice him coming closer, too focused on Hoseok. “They’re too similar in strength and will, so this
might take a while.”

Jungkook shakes his head first and then nods, conflicted. Namjoon’s hand that touches his
shoulder is feverishly warm even through the layer of clothing. Alphas tend to run warmer than
betas and omegas.

Things develop quickly after that. A few more insults shot back and forth, Hoseok snapping his
teeth and Yoongi dropping into a crouched stance.

Yoongi’s fingernails catching in the juncture of Hoseok’s neck and shoulder and Hoseok yelping in
surprise and pain. Hoseok grabbing the alpha’s extended hand and twisting it to the side with force
that makes Namjoon’s fingers dig deeper into the meat of Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jimin’s scent hangs over them, thick and flowery, a silent cheer for his mate. Jungkook hopes his
scent would be stronger, that he could do the same for Hoseok.

In a few tactical moves, Yoongi manages to pin Hoseok to the ground, mouth on Hoseok’s neck to
litter the skin with surface-level bite marks. There’s something disturbingly hot about the other
alpha humiliating Hoseok with his teeth and tongue.

Yoongi growls a “submit” to Hoseok’s ear, and for a second the fight seems lost.

But the hand Yoongi failed to pin down grabs him by the hair, curling in them close to the scalp,
and tugs. Yoongi’s cry of pain rings sharply in the small room, and Jimin whines over it,
instinctively no doubt. The two alphas stagger to their feet and the fight goes on, chaotic and
unpredictable. The snarling, the smell of alpha sweat, Yoongi biting into Hoseok’s arm with no
sign of letting go – it’s overwhelming on Jungkook’s senses.

He feels a smidge of guilt over the fact that he finds the fight intrinsically erotic, the lines of their
throats so pretty and their growls so profound. But then he takes another glance at Jimin who is
swaying on the balls of his feet, transfixed on the sight of the two alphas fighting.

Yoongi continues to dominate the fight with his additional muscle mass and surprising amount of
stamina. He manages to crowd Hoseok against the wall and bite down on his arm that Jungkook’s
mate raised in self-defence. Yoongi gets too drunk on his second triumph, though, lets his focus
slip onto Jimin who is white-knuckling Taehyung’s hand with heat and darkness in his eyes. It’s all
the time Hoseok needs to grab Yoongi by the hem of his loose shirt.

The ripping sound is deafening, Yoongi’s pale chest coming into view. In a moment of confusion,
Yoongi doesn’t go for defence – he growls in discontentment and goes for Hoseok’s neck again.
Hoseok’s uses the momentum to grab him by the bare waist, and they tumble toward the floor in a
pile of limbs, and Hoseok has his teeth buried into Yoongi’s shoulder before they land, hands
forcing the alpha’s head down, down, until Yoongi pinned to the floor with his face flat against the
wooden surface.

Namjoon’s hand leaves Jungkook’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, he’s going to stop the fight
before they really hurt each other.

“Submit, hyung,” Hoseok demands in a guttural voice. Yoongi’s shoulder twitches, a few droplets
of blood running down the curve of his shoulder blade. It looks aesthetic, even more erotic.

“Not to you,” Yoongi grits, squirming in the other alpha’s grip. He had been so close to victory
earlier, Yoongi’s pride isn’t letting him give in. “I’m older and stronger, Hoseok-ah.”
Hoseok leans in to lap at the wound with his tongue. “Submit,” he growls, adding more weight to
the back of his head. Yoongi has to twist his head to the side to not break his nose against the
floorboards.

“Enough,” Namjoon growls with brilliant, unquestionable authority. “Hobi beat you this time,
Yoongi hyung.”

Yoongi goes lax and still in Hoseok’s grip, albeit with great reluctance.

Namjoon sighs. “I get it, you’re almost equal in strength and it’s hard. But it’s time to wrap this
circus up.”

Hoseok still has his muscles contracted in effort, like he’s scared that Yoongi might rebuke at the
first opportunity. Jungkook slips out of Seokjin’s gentle hold and goes over to his mate, but he’s
stopped by Namjoon’s held up arm.

“Let Yoongi hyung up,” Namjoon tries more gently. “This is your last chance.”

No reaction. Hoseok’s nostrils flare when he smells his mate’s presence, but he keeps stubbornly
ignoring Namjoon’s words. Yoongi’s gaze is somewhere between stormy and bored, and his
breathing is slightly laboured with the other’s alpha’s weight still on his back.

With a huge, exasperated sigh, Namjoon grabs Hoseok by the back of his shirt and yanks the
smaller alpha backwards in another impressive display of alpha strength. Hoseok lands on his butt,
teeth clacking together.

“Here’s your mate,” Namjoon gestures at Jungkook, “get back to your senses, okay? Or I’ll take
him away for you until you can behave.”

Fear reaches Hoseok’s eyes in seconds, and grabby hands shoot up toward a flustered Jungkook.

“Alpha is just teasing,” he chuckles a bit too nervously and crouches down next to Hoseok to see
the bite on his arm. The skin is not broken, Yoongi went easy on him.

Unlike Hoseok.

Seokjin fetches some antiseptic to treat the small wound on Yoongi’s shoulder that’s trickling
droplets of blood. Jimin has the shoulder cradled in his hands, and he’s scowling at Hoseok,
shooting daggers out of his eyes.

“You’re lucky you bit his good shoulder,” the omega says in a low voice that makes Jungkook’s
mate shiver. Yoongi tries to push his hand away, probably humiliated by his state of undress and
the minor battle injury.

A little tap to Hoseok’s chin, and the alpha has all but forgotten the sulky couple behind them.
Jungkook pries his mate’s mouth open to see that his teeth gleam white as ever.

He’s unsure why it’s such a disappointment to him, but he still kisses him on the lips, chastely,
chasing a hint of iron he at least pretends to find.

“You fought well, my alpha.”

Jungkook’s words are met with a grimace. “It was so close. Too close. I’m not sure I actually
won.”
“I’m still proud of you,” Jungkook hums, tracing the fresh bruises blooming on the side of
Hoseok’s throat, a pretty pattern. Yoongi’s teeth prints are like an artwork on the alpha’s neck.

Jungkook finds himself thinking that he wouldn’t mind at all if Yoongi tried to challenge his mate
again at some point, as long as he and Jimin were allowed to watch. Maybe they could submit to
the stronger alpha as a reward, together, just like they’d done before Jimin’s hearing.

Jungkook bites the soft inside of lip, the spark of pain a welcome distraction, but the vivid visual
won’t go away. Thankfully his train of thought is soon derailed by Seokjin.

“Taehyung-ah, I think it’s your turn,” Seokjin says, placing the bottle of antiseptic on the corner of
the TV stand.

The alpha flashes a look of pure betrayal at his boyfriend and quickly addresses Namjoon. “Yoongi
hyung didn’t have to fight Namjoon hyung, so I think we could do without –“

“Oh, me and Yoongi hyung go way back so we have settled our dynamics already,” Namjoon says
in a sweet, teasing voice, taking a step toward him.

“And I have a bone to pick with you from earlier this afternoon,” Yoongi chimes in, grinning
dangerously. An alpha with a hurt pride is a dangerous foe, and Jungkook kind of feels bad for his
friend.

Jungkook receives one last kiss to his brow, over the studs of his piercings, and Hoseok stands up
to his full height. “You’re tall and strong,” he tells Taehyung, “if we don’t settle the matter at once,
you might turn into an inconsolable brat, and we don’t want that, do we?”

Cornered, Taehyung takes a step back. “Seokjin hyung didn’t have to fight, either. It’s not fair.”

“That’s because I’m a beta, sweetheart,” Seokjin explains as if he’s talking to a small pup. “I won’t
meddle in your silly alpha business, but I will blow on your bruises, pinky promise.”

Taehyung lets out a cute little growl of panic and calls Seokjin a traitor.

•••

The last thing to settle is the pack omega position, which is a quick and painless process. Jimin
takes one defiant look at Namjoon and says he’ll be taking the position and inserting himself above
Taehyung in the overall pack hierarchy.

There’s a small twitch in Namjoon’s jaw, as if the pack alpha wants to laugh and cry and pray for
his life at the same time. Resigning to his fate, the alpha nods and tells Jimin to “have a chat” with
Taehyung and Jungkook.

What he means is that Jimin doesn’t have to fight Taehyung. It wouldn’t be fair to put an omega
against an alpha like that, and not everything is about physical strength, anyway.

Jimin walks up to the alpha who is still sprawled on the floor, throat pink where Namjoon and
Hoseok and Yoongi have marked him as their maknae alpha, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded.
He’s clothed but it’s clear the alpha is half-hard in his trousers. Under normal circumstances
Jungkook and Jimin would ridicule him for it for literal weeks.
This time, however –

Jimin crouches next to Taehyung and tucks a strand of sweaty hair behind his ear, tenderly.

“Ai, the alphas were pretty mean to you, weren’t they?”

“So mean. Hurts.”

“You know, hyungs just needed to show you to your place,” Jimin says in a singsong voice and
moves to straddle Taehyung’s waist, eliciting a few pouty whimpers from the alpha.

To Jungkook, Taehyung’s injuries don’t seem all that severe. The alpha protested his hyungs
ganging up on him, but only barely, like it was more for dramatics than actual discomfort. Even in
their alpha headspace, the others would’ve stopped in a heartbeat if Taehyung had been truly
uncomfortable with the claiming.

Jimin lifts Taehyung’s chin up with the tip of his forefinger and tuts. “Will you let me take care of
you, too, Taetae-yah?”

“We’re still the same age,” Taehyung grumbles. Jungkook is focused on the scene unfolding
before him, but he can sense the alphas and Seokjin looking at them hungrily, greedily, like Jimin’s
dominance is a spectacle of some sort.

“Age has nothing to do with this, and despite your subgender I’m pretty sure I’ll do much better
being in charge of us.” Jimin ends the sentence by turning his head to Jungkook, those familiar
eyes burning with something Jungkook has never had the pleasure to be a witness to. He knew
Jimin liked to top and dom the omegas he dated, but outside of his sex life that part of him rarely
stepped forward, only a glimpse here or there.

“Jungkook-ah, don’t we have an agreement on that?” Jimin asks, words dripping honey.

“Yes, Jimin hyung… I mean omega.”

Jimin’s smile widens at the correct form of address. He calls Jungkook forward, makes him prove
his submission with a simple show of his throat. Jimin’s gentle fingers brush over the leather of
Jungkook’s collar, and Taehyung does the same, with Jimin’s permission, leaving Jungkook with
no one to claim but everyone having indirectly claimed him.

Jungkook thinks he might join Taehyung with the inappropriate states if arousal and slick up right
under everyone’s watchful eyes.

But at least the matter of their hierarchy is fully settled and they can move onto the last part of the
pack’s formation, a remnant of the old days that symbolises the perceived and inner unity of a
pack.

“I’m going to scent mark everyone. Any problems?” Namjoon inquires just then.

No one has one.

Not the more dominant alphas who’re giving up a part of their autonomy, not Jimin who swore to
never set foot in a pack den. And definitely not Jungkook, who’s already trembling with want and
anticipation, waiting for his turn. Can’t wait for all of them to smell the same, like pack.

At this stage the pack alpha won’t tolerate any insubordination – for the pack bond to succeed and
to be finalised, the hierarchy must be crystal-clear in everyone’s minds and hearts. They must be
willing to submit, too – any coercion or dishonesty would break what is so sacred and pure about a
bond of this nature.

Namjoon moves across the room with the stride of a predator, stopping to flash Jungkook a wolfish
smile. Maybe a feeble attempt at easing his omegan nerves.

Seokjin is an easy case, as a beta he can think rationally about the scent mark and its ritualistic
meaning. And in any case, Jungkook doubts it’ll weaken his foothold in the hierarchy. Namjoon
smiles at the beta in pure awe, as if he’s facing the moon itself.

The alphas go next. Hoseok, who has regained his composure after the fight, turns his head
gracefully to the side for Namjoon to brush his wrist over the column of his throat. A proud alpha
till the end.

Namjoon’s scent overpowers Hoseok’s as soon as the scent mark catches. Under normal
circumstances they would be about equal, meaning that Namjoon pheromones must be running
wild.

Yoongi masks his little growl with a cough as Namjoon steps into his personal space next, holding
eye-contact as he presses his thumb into a pulse point next to Yoongi’s gland, in a spot where his
skin is bruised but clear of the still-healing imprint of Jimin’s teeth. The hand lingers for a bit,
something between reassurance and control, and Yoongi’s shoulders fall lax.

Still deep in his submission, Taehyung tilts his head back and allows Namjoon to briefly press his
nose into his gland, something the pack alpha didn’t even attempt with the other two. It’s a lot to
ask of an alpha to let another member of his subgender to lay their scent on top of their own. For an
alpha, scent is a crucial part of identity, whereas for an omega it’s a tool, a way to lure and deter
suitors. Omegan scents are easily covered by alpha ones, meant to be hidden from unwelcome
noses, kept safe and treasured.

The alphas docile and dealt with, Namjoon turns his attention to the omegas. Finally. Jimin tilts his
head to the side with a calculated smile on his lips. He remains unmoving as Namjoon scents him,
gently but thoroughly, turning to look at Yoongi every now and then, until Jimin politely requests
that Namjoon focuses his full attention on the pack member at hand.

Jungkook isn’t sure what kind of moment the three of them are having, and quite frankly he doesn’t
even want to know.

Because next up is him, and fucking hell.

When Namjoon appears in front of Jungkook, and their eyes meet for a fleeting second, warmth
floods Jungkook’s stomach and he bares his throat without prompting. He’s the last one to claim,
the absolute rock bottom of the hierarchy. And yet, he feels so loved and accepted .

The scenting itself is brief, Namjoon leaning forward, eyes attentive and searching for signs of
discomfort. With nought to find, he grazes the tip of his nose over Jungkook’s scent gland, gently,
affectionately.

Jungkook whimpers and submits, he’s like a melting lump of beeswax, bendy and malleable. And
Namjoon takes full advantage of his willingness, much to Jungkook’s delight.

•••
“It feels right, this dynamic. I finally feel at peace,” someone says. It sounds like Jungkook’s mate,
the raspy, relaxed timbre of the voice familiar to him.

Hoseok is so nice. All of Jungkook’s alphas are nice.

There’s a pleasant fuzz framing Jungkook’s thoughts, the world filtered through a palette of
pastels.

Jungkook hums contentedly. He has slipped down to the floor, knelt between Namjoon and
Hoseok. His head is resting on Hoseok’s firm thigh, and hand is resting against the side of
Namjoon’s leg in a sneaky claim.

The room has been arranged back to its previous state. It was done almost solely by Seokjin who is
now lounging in the armchair with his legs dangling off the side, eating something from a bowl.
Jimin is sitting in Yoongi’s lap a little gingerly, sweeping his thumbs over the bruises on Yoongi’s
milky white skin and occasionally leaning to press his mouth to a patch of red.

Within the pack, Yoongi and Jimin are almost equal in dynamic. Their positions are nearly parallel
with Yoongi taking the narrow edge due to his subgender. It fits them, Jungkook thinks sleepily.
Even if Jungkook himself prefers being much lower in the hierarchy than his mate. It gives him a
sense of security that Jimin doesn’t require. He’s pretty sure Jimin can just go down every now and
then, for his health and wellbeing and because he genuinely wants to, but in their everyday life the
omega doesn’t want the dynamic to show all that much.

Unless it means he’s getting something out of it. Submission is the ultimate weapon, and Jimin
knows it just as well as Jungkook.

“Does it hurt, alpha?” Jungkook mumbles to Hoseok as he looks up, almost inaudibly, trusting
Hoseok can always hear him.

“A little,” the alpha admits with a beaming smile. “You think I’ll get cool battle scars?”

“You wish,” Jungkook huffs, amused, turning to address Namjoon next.

“Pack alpha?”

“Yes, my omega?”

It seems Namjoon is still floating on his high of triumph. It’s cute. Jungkook will allow him that,
even if Hoseok flinches a little. His alpha will eventually get used to other people treating him like
that, like pack.

“I just wanted to ask how you were feeling about all this? Being in charge of so many people?”

Namjoon ruffles Jungkook’s hair with the flat of his palm, stroking down to the tips of his ears. It
feels heavenly, makes Jungkook want to submit and show his belly even if it’s unnecessary.

“Hyung is scared, Jungkook-ah, thanks for asking. But every time you look at me like that, my
heart becomes a little lighter,” the alpha says with a gentle tap to the tip of Jungkook’s nose.
Coming from anyone else, it would’ve felt a tad condescending.

Fuelled by the brief contact and Namjoon’s choice of words, a small thought is forming in
Jungkook’s head, something less than innocent.
He has more than one alpha now, in theory.

Jungkook’s heats tend to be pretty rough, longer than average with short cycles. Hoseok is often
drained and exhausted by the end, barely able to stand on his own two feet, knot out of order for
days after the fact.

Jungkook quickly ducks his head when Namjoon frowns down at him. Hoseok’s hand lands on
Jungkook’s shoulder, a slow and soothing motion. Jungkook’s scent must be betraying his racing
thoughts.

Before anyone starts interrogating him, Taehyung returns from the bathroom, bringing with him an
aura of dramatics. The marks on his neck and arms are bruising a little, not nearly as much as
Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s, but he still whines and complains about his many aches when he climbs
into Namjoon’s lap to rest his chin on the alpha’s shoulder.

Namjoon kisses his temple and orders him to be quiet if he doesn’t want to be handed over to
Seokjin. It’s quite enough to get Taehyung back on his best behaviour.

•••

Jungkook wakes up to a low murmur of conversation, an indistinct cluster of sounds that bounces
off his eardrums without meaning. He’s still on the floor, someone has placed a pillow under his
head and thrown a quilt over him. It carries a hint of Jimin’s flowery sweetness, although
Namjoon’s alpha scent continues to overpower the others. It’s heavy and pleasant in Jungkook’s
nose, makes him loose-limbed, as if every bone in his body is detached at the joints.

“I tucked Jimin in,” Yoongi says, Jungkook’s brain finally tuning in. He hears the soft the thump
of feet next to his head, feels the brush of air that tickles his cheek, and then Yoongi is sitting
down on the couch with his knees cracking.

“Should we move Jungkookie now?” Yoongi’s tone is incredibly fond. Jungkook senses a gaze on
his blanket-covered body.

“Let him sleep, the rug is soft enough for a nap,” Hoseok says from above. It must be the alpha’s
leg Jungkook is currently curled against. He tries his best not to smile. Someone, probably
Namjoon, lets out a soft exhale, and suddenly there’s a hand playing with the hairs at Jungkook’s
nape. It’s a possessive gesture but an incredibly tender one.

“Where did you find an omega like him?” the pack alpha asks. “So good and sweet for us, Hoseok-
ah.”

“Are you implying that my Jiminie isn’t good?” Yoongi objects, his tone between a hiss and a
whisper.

“Sit back down. I’ve just accepted Jimin as my pack omega even though he’ll never bear me a
single pup, and on top of that he might assassinate me in my sleep for my past misdeeds that
involve you and your dick. Can’t you see I adore Park Jimin, you dumbass?”

Yoongi gasps, scandalised. “I’m your hyung!”

“Sorry, my bad. Hyung-ass.”

Judging by his silence, Yoongi doesn’t find the joke amusing, but he waits patiently until the other
two have stopped snickering.

“On a more serious note, can I talk about Jimin? I think I need some advice.”

“Sure,” Namjoon says, sounding more alert than before.

“You know, an omega who has a pack is automatically exempted from the support mate
programme. A lawyer and a senior OWSC specialist confirmed this. If the word got out that I was
in the pack as well, I would surely get fired, but my reputation could handle the blow. I doubt Bang
PD would sack me for something like that, especially if I explained my side of things to him. And I
make him way too much money for him to get on some moral high horse. But then, Seokjin hyung
is also a part of this pack, and I don’t want him to get into any trouble. And making Jimin deal with
the OWSC again – I hate the thought with every fibre of my being.”

Namjoon hums low in his throat, tone soft and understanding. “I get where you’re coming from.
And I know how much Seokjin loves his job. He gets so… animated when he talks about how he’s
able to turn around the lives of vulnerable omegas. He should just become a specialist instead of
the jerks in charge now, aish. Then he could actually make a change on a broader level.”

“Yeah. But the longer we wait, the higher the chance the information would get out through
unreliable channels. I’m scared Jimin would be made an example, or a media cash cow. He’s too
pretty for his own good, the tabloids would eat him and his story up.”

“The fifteen minutes of fame would pass, though,” Hoseok interjects. “You’re not big enough a
celebrity for it to stick. And Jimin is a strong boy, much stronger than the three of us combined.”

Yoongi huffs.

“What did Jimin think about all this?” Namjoon asks.

“Haven’t told him yet,” Yoongi says, guilt bleeding into his voice. “We’re trying to file a formal
complaint about Jimin’s treatment, but I don’t want to burden him with it before the process is far
enough along. If everything goes to plan, the beta who supervised Jimin’s case will have to take
responsibility for her poor decisions.”

“You still need to let Jimin choose, or at least prepare for the worst in case the media does find
out,” Namjoon reminds him.

“I know. And I’m sorry for souring the mood, this is supposed to be a joyful night.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung. Never apologise for confiding in us,” Namjoon says seriously, so serious
that something flutters in Jungkook’s stomach.

The alphas are silent for a while, but it’s not an awkward sort of silence.

“I’m thankful that you let – that Taehyung and Seokjin hyung could sleep in your bed for the
night,” Namjoon suddenly says, his tone shifting much lower. “I just didn’t feel good about them
leaving right now.”

Yoongi coughs, a dry little sound. “Of course. It was a big day for everyone. And they do look
adorable curled up there, I just checked up on them.”

“I just mean, it’s more than that…”

 Hoseok, who has been more quiet until now, clears his throat. “I know. And I don’t think it’ll get
any better tomorrow, or the day after that. There’s no cure for that feeling, like there’s a empty spot
right here.”

There’s a dull thud, skin against cloth.

“Exactly,” Namjoon grunts, “we just can’t – I feel like throwing up just thinking about having to
live apart and only see each other on the weekends. I’d rather have my canines ripped out.”

Jungkook keeps his eyes closed, even though he’s not on the verge of falling back asleep anymore.
Concentrating on keeping his breathing even and scent in check.

Yoongi speaks next. “I didn’t even think that far, honestly. It all happened so fast.”

“It’s probably worse for us alphas, but I think they feel it, too,” Hoseok says. “Jungkook clings
more than normal, and he seemed reluctant about the idea of going home.”

“Hmm. We need to figure something out,” Namjoon says.

“Well, you have a lot of money lying around, Joon-ah,” Yoongi drawls, the leather of the couch
creaking as he shifts in his seat.

“Yah, you have plenty of money too, Min Yoongi,” Namjoon says without honorifics.

Hoseok chuckles softly. “I’m just a boring white collar worker. All my money goes to feeding
Kook. Have you seen the appetite of that boy?”

Jungkook takes it as the cue to defend himself. He gets up into a sitting position, startling the
alpha’s and faking a yawn.

“I had a curious dream where my new alphas were flaunting their gargantuan wealth,” he says
coyly, cocking his head at Yoongi and Namjoon.

“I want to move,” he says with a brilliant smile that spreads fear onto the alphas’ faces. “Will
hyungs buy us a nice big house?”

Chapter End Notes

I’m kinda giddy over the minimoni and sope dynamics in this chapter. Scrap that, I’m
giddy over all the dynamics.

I’m going to be extra busy for the next few weeks, so can’t promise any schedule for
the last two chapters. They’ll be out when they’re ready :]

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 Newsworthy
Chapter Notes

I’m currently doing the teacher training portion of my master’s degree (which is
extremely time-consuming), so I wrote this chapter in tiny bits and pieces over the last
few weeks. I hope you enjoy!!

--

Jimin takes matters into his own hands. Namjoon gets his dick wet.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The sky is copper-toned in the autumn evening. Jimin and Yoongi are sitting on some stone steps
in the middle of a public footpath, as if they are a pair of school kids with nothing better to do. The
silhouettes of the tall housing complexes of Seoul rise above their heads, framing their
inconsequential existence with hard concrete.

The reason for this miniature exile is simple – they don’t want to go to bars or cafes to be
photographed, and at home they have… intruders. Namjoon has been looking for a house big
enough to fit seven people with too-large egos and tendencies to produce loud noises, and the task
hasn’t proven easy, considering everyone’s desire to stay relatively close to central Seoul.

Having to move out was pretty much inevitable, so no one had tried to fight it. Long distance packs
simply do not exist. Whenever they spend more than a few nights apart, the descent into madness
starts sooner rather than later. First, the alphas start idly clawing and scratching the furniture like
ill-behaved pets, and the omegas start becoming lethargic, conserving their strength to fend off the
wilderness before their alphas come to their chivalrous rescue. Not even Seokjin is safe from the
withdrawals. The beta has taken up stress baking, making loaf after loaf of sourdough bread during
the workweek.

Surprisingly, the final nail in the coffin of Jimin’s lost independence doesn’t cause a flight
response in him. He just accepted that he wouldn’t be leaving Korea for a backpacking adventure
around the world any time soon, just like he accepted Yoongi as his mate. Not that he wanted to go
backpacking in some mosquito-ridden jungle. He much prefers spending time indoors with dry
socks and a hot meal prepared by his mate.

Yoongi’s palm is warm and dry in Jimin’s hand. The alpha has pulled the collar of his leather
jacket up, maybe because he’s feeling chilly, maybe because he wanted to appear cool. Either way,
it’s adorable.

“Should we talk about the… case? And things?” Yoongi asks, picking up a red maple leaf with his
free hand, fingers delicately wrapped around the stem. The wind ruffles Yoongi’s fringe, spreads
his calm alpha scent into the air. It’s blending in with the leather of his jacket and the pleasant
smell of decaying leaves.

Jimin chews on his bottom lip, eyeing the glossy leaf. “Maybe we should just move to Canada for
the next couple of years, come back with two pups we didn’t plan, and a maple syrup importing
business that barely stays afloat.”

“Sure darling, I think I’ve grown bored of sitting behind the soundboard all day, anyway,” Yoongi
laughs, sticking the leaf to Jimin’s forehead without warning. The alpha presses down with his
thumb to hold it in place, and Jimin doesn’t even try to evade. But he captures Yoongi’s slender
wrist, fingers smoothed over the tendon and the slight bulge of vein.

“Wait, really? You aren’t just kidding about wanting to try something new, are you?”

“No. I mean, yeah,” Yoongi quickly says, flinching away. The leaf starts sliding down Jimin’s
face.

“Oh, you were serious. What do you want to do? Tell me, I want to know.” Jimin forgets all about
the OWSC, all about the serious discussion they were probably about to have.

When Yoongi refuses to reply, Jimin places his hands on Yoongi’s round cheeks, squeezing until a
whine of complaint leaves Yoongi’s pouted lips. “It’s stupid. Forget I ever said anything.”

Jimin grins like a venomous snake about to strike its cornered victim. “Pretty please?”

“Promise you won’t laugh, or… just don’t say or do absolutely anything.”

Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s cheeks that have gone ruddy with embarrassment. “I can take an oath on
my mother’s honour if that makes you feel better.”

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m just tired, sometimes. Of the society, mostly. It’s
strange, I profit so much off the K-Pop industry which is all image and style and class – it’s how I
can provide for my mate and my pack – and yet I sometimes feel like a fraud.”

“It’s okay to feel conflicted like that,” Jimin says slowly. He’s not sure what he was supposed to
want to laugh at.

“As you know, I had this angry persona when I was younger. Someone who could freely express
himself. Someone who had principles.”

Oh.

“But it was also a time when I wanted to prove myself to everyone around me, both as an alpha and
a musician. I feel like I have grown a lot as a person since then – one large factor being that I met
you, fell in love.”

Jimin nods carefully as liquid warmth sloshes in his belly. “So you want to bring Agust D back for
round two…”

Yoongi’s blush deepens so radically that Jimin deems it safer to snap his mouth shut.

“I have some songs,” the alpha admits, kicking a pebble with the tip of his sneaker. “They’re brash
and loud, or solemn and philosophical. Nothing that would attract a wider audience.”

Jimin has the uncontrollable urge to kiss Yoongi, but he’s unsure if it would steer too close to the
strong reaction Yoongi was afraid of. So he just bounces his leg up and down like Jungkook would
do. It helps a little.

“I like when you’re loud, though. You’re calm and quiet, but when you do raise your voice,
everyone listens. Would’ve made a decent king, I think, had you been born in the Joseon era.”

Something akin to excitement flashes past Yoongi’s eyes. He’s deep in his lyricism now, bursting
with ideas, Jimin can sense it. He grabs Yoongi by the shoulder and looks up in the sky where the
layer of clouds is turning a greyish periwinkle.

“Daechwita, Yoongi hyung. Be as loud as you want, because your pack will always be there. We
will have your back.”

•••

“Come in, please.”

Jimin wipes his sweaty palms on his trouser-leg before entering the office. He stops at the door to
bow deeply. “I’m sorry to drop by at such short notice. But I got your contact information from my
handler Kim Seokjin, and I couldn’t – I felt like this was a matter that shouldn’t be postponed any
further.”

“Not from Min Yoongi?” a surprised voice says from behind the desk. Jimin lifts his eyes to meet
the eyes of a wiry omega woman with a short yet feminine hairstyle. She’s dressed in flowy
trousers and a blouse, looking more like a yesteryear’s runway model than a hard-boiled
bureaucrat. But the glint in her eye is sharp, observant, heavily implying that the city-chic aesthetic
is all surface.

“Not from Yoongi hyung, no. He thought we should wait things out, so I may have come here
behind his back.”

The woman laughs brightly at Jimin’s neutral tone. “Aren’t you a sneaky little omega. Take a
seat.”

Jimin complies, sitting down with his legs neatly crossed at the ankles, and starts unzipping his
jacket that will promptly reveal…

Specialist Bae Doona inhales sharply, eyes trained on the mating mark on Jimin’s neck.

“Did you know about this?” Jimin asks shyly.

Specialist Bae nods and lifts her gaze with some reluctance. “I did, but I also read your file when
Yoongi-ssi came to ask for my help with the complaint.”

“Yeah, I’ve done a lot to avoid getting mated and to remain packless. Being a nuisance to the
committee was practically my full-time job before all this happened. I must’ve gone insane at some
point,” Jimin laughs, the sound ringing awkwardly in the small space.

Bae Doona crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “Do you really think you’re insane for
realising you wanted those things?”

Jimin shakes his head. “But I still need to figure out a solution that won’t involve hurting Seokjin
hyung’s career or ruining my mate’s reputation. He has important career development ahead in the
near future, it’s not a good time for him to be involved in a scandal with an omega secretary.”
“It’s funny, Seokjin and Yoongi seemed concerned solely about your well-being, Jimin-ssi,”
specialist Bae says, clearly amused. “They already filed the complaint on your behalf. The case is
looking very promising. Our consulting legal expert found clear mistreatment in your case.”

“Yes, I‘m aware. I let them handle everything because I was still… exhausted. But I’m ready to
fight now. I don’t want to cower in the shadows like a criminal until the end of December. It hurts
my pride, and my pride has already been bruised plenty over the last few months.” Jimin takes a
deep breath and squares his shoulders. “Which brings me to why I came to see you personally. You
must’ve evaded the OWSC for years, given your unmated status. I came to see you in case you’d
be able to give me advice.”

“Advice?” the specialist repeats. “I’m not sure if I’m qualified to do that.”

“I think you’re exceptionally qualified in saying fuck you to the committee. You’re an omega who
works here, for God’s sake.”

That makes her hunch over the desk in a suppressed bout of laughter. “You have a way with words,
that for sure. Very well, I will try my best to help you come up with a plan.

Jimin thanks her.

“But you must understand that I don’t have any experience with the yellow media, and I haven’t
committed a major contract violation by mating my assigned support mate either… although, who
am I to judge, I’ve done my fair share of dumb and irresponsible things.”

Jimin snorts. “You’re pretty awesome, did you know that?”

“I did, Jimin-ssi.”

•••

“No, absolutely not,” Yoongi almost screams, arms flailing wildly as he tries to snatch the small
name tag out of Jimin’s hand.

“It’s just for a short time, get over it,” Jimin groans as he takes a step back, “and it’s close enough
to the truth that things won’t go to shit once we announce our mateship. The tabloids will be happy,
and it’ll make sense why I reek of another alpha these days.”

“Excuse me, my scent is very pleasant,” Namjoon objects from the armchair, a book about the state
of subgender equality in Korea splayed over his thick thighs.

Jimin snaps his head back to Yoongi. “Jungkookie said the plan is excellent, almost foolproof. He
was rather ecstatic, in fact, and suggested we should get a tag with Namjoon’s name for him, too.
Just to make our story more believable. Don’t get whiny now.”

Yoongi sits down on the couch, visibly sulking. “Of course Jungkook would agree to play pack
with Joon. What did Hobi have to say?”

Jimin smiles with as much restraint as he can muster. “Hoseok hyung got a tag engraved with both
his and Namjoon’s initials as some sort of compromise. He put the tag on Kookie’s collar himself,
acting all brave, but got so upset he had to take his mate to the next room for a minute. I feel deep
regret over the fact that I didn’t have a pair of earplugs at hand.”

“Right?” Yoongi stands up again, agitated. “It’s the reasonable thing to do, to get just a little
upset.”

“And then he got over it,” Jimin says patiently. “We’re trying to paint Namjoon hyung as this
stern, traditional alpha. It’s much more convincing if we have pictures and proof that he keeps his
omegas on a tight leash. Specialist Oh will eat it up if we just execute it correctly.”

Namjoon is looking at them both with a suspicious smile. The debate must be stroking his pack
alpha ego, even if he knows it’s all a hoax.

Jimin cocks his head to the side and inhales through his teeth, considering if he should go ahead
with his last argument or not. “And… and you know that Namjoon has all the right to claim his
omegas how he sees fit. It’s only a courtesy to ask you and Hoseok hyung.”

Yoongi slams his hands over his own ears and pretends not to hear the last sentence.

Even if the alphas are acting like whiny pups, the plan suggested by Bae Doona is brilliant. Newly
formed packs have to declare themselves to the Pack Agency and the Omegan Welfare and Safety
Committee within three months of establishment. But she graciously reminded Jimin of the fact
that packs can always gain members down the line. Meaning… Jimin could get out of his contract
under the pack clause without harming Seokjin’s and Yoongi’s careers in the process. But it also
means that they have to pretend in front of the OWSC that Jimin’s mating mark was actually a
pack bite given by Namjoon.

It’s still a tough pill to swallow for Yoongi.

For obvious reasons.

Jimin takes Yoongi’s hand that is limply lying at his side, sweeping the pad of his thumb over his
knuckles. “Specialist Bae said that terminating a support mate contract under the pack clause will
only take a few days. We’ll let it blow over, you’ll resign and Seokjin hyung will take new cases,
and boom. Suddenly we’re madly in love and ready to mate, and Seokjin is very eager to join this
pack he has no professional relationship with. The committee can do nothing about it, and we’re all
safe.”

“You must admit, Jiminie is quite a cunning omega,” Namjoon comments idly.

“Shut the fuck up, Joon. And don’t look so smug. In real life Jimin would never let you bite and
collar him.”

Jimin cackles at how seriously Yoongi says it, and then he grabs the alpha’s hand, pulling,
coaxing, until he agrees to leave the pack alpha alone. Namjoon rumbles after them that he’s the
one who’ll look bad, a pack alpha who actually bites his omegas in the year 2021, like they’re
property or something. He’s angrily waving his subgender equality book, too.

Yoongi takes the cheap bait and tries to charge at his friend from the door. Jimin has to dig his
heels into the rug to stop the alpha, guiding him into the bedroom instead.

“I thought you liked Bae Doona. She was really cool to talk to. Telling us to break the law and
shit,” Jimin teases as soon as the door is clicked shut behind them. Yoongi whines and sags against
his shoulder, lazily mouthing at the bite he inflicted on Jimin not too long ago. Their bites have
started healing nicely, gone from red to pink, soon to turn into the beautiful silvery markings that
decorate Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s necks. Some people do plastic surgery to make their mating
marks less noticeable, especially in the cases where the bite has gone off-centre and the bond failed
to catch, forcing another bite on the same area. But Jimin’s mark is clean and round and he's sure
he’ll bear it with pride.

“I take that back. Specialist Bae is an evil witch,” Yoongi protests, licking one last stripe over
Jimin’s gland. His hands have settled on Jimin’s hips, caressing the jutting bones on their way
down. Jimin has to nip that in the bud.

“Sure, she is, tiny alpha,” he replies, putting his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders to gently but firmly
push him away. “But you’ll be thanking her in no time.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

Jimin nods, resigning to his fate. “Could we not defuse this situation by turning it into a
spontaneous cuckolding kink or something?”

Yoongi says no, poignantly, but there’s a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, and Jimin sees
it as a glimmer of hope. He kisses his mate on the lips, soft and sweet, reassuring touches that
linger.

“I don’t want Joonie to touch you,” Yoongi whimpers again, trembling against Jimin’s lips.

“Who said he would be touching me?” Jimin laughs breathily. He decides to indulge Yoongi’s
alpha instincts for a moment. It won’t hurt.

“You’re the pack omega, and now… now that I’m not in the picture anymore, he might have a
chance with you. Maybe you’ll want to carry his pups instead of mine.”

Okay, that’s enough, Jimin decides, and taps at Yoongi’s cheek with an open palm, much lighter
than a slap but something to get his point across. “Neither of you brutes is going to put pups in me
any time soon.”

Yoongi pouts dramatically. “Maybe one, moderately sized litter?”

“No, no pups,” Jimin pokes at Yoongi’s chest with a finger to emphasise every word, ”bad alpha,
naughty.”

The pout on Yoongi’s lips gets even more severe.

“I kind of want to fuck that pout off your face, hyung,” Jimin grunts, trying to sound threatening.
“You’re tempting me to turn this kinky after all.”

“You want me to get on my knees?” Yoongi asks with an arched brow. “I can do that, make you
scream my name, not Namjoon’s.”

“Why in the world would I ever scream your ex’s name during sex? And you can’t make me
scream from a simple blowjob. I’m not a virgin.”

Yoongi smirks and slides down to his knees with the elegance of a crouching predator. His mouth
falls open, pink tongue out, so fucking pink and shiny with spit. A shudder rippling through his
body, Jimin undoes his trousers and grabs a fistful of Yoongi’s hair, forcing the alpha to meet his
eyes for a moment. He thinks about just feeding Yoongi his cock and risking it all. Making Yoongi
scream until his voice is hoarse from cock and his cries.

As he hesitates, Yoongi curls his fingers around Jimin’s cock and brings it to his slack lips, kissing
the tip in a way that is supposed to be cheesy. Slightly humiliating.

“I can’t wait to miraculously fall in love with you mere days after our contact has been terminated,”
Yoongi says gently, eyes sharp and feline as he peers at Jimin. It’s the single most romantic thing
Jimin has ever heard.

“Yeah? When you do that, I might even let you mate me,” Jimin giggles and pushes the tip of his
dick past Yoongi’s lips to stifle the growl already forming in the alpha’s throat. Yoongi gags
loudly, eyes watering as he goes to grab Jimin's legs for support, working his tongue over the head
of Jimin's cock with the persistence of an alpha, pressing the tip of his nose against his pubic bone.

It’s inconclusive who ends up screaming, at least if you ask Jimin. They might as well call it a tie.

•••

The life of Kim Namjoon used to be devastatingly ordinary. Getting up in the morning, dragging
himself to the office, handling clients Yoongi didn’t want to meet. Going over a tiny sample or a bit
of background vocals until his ears bled, not being able to sleep due to stress. Namjoon has been
stressed out recently, but for some reason he has been sleeping like a pup.

Namjoon has always been a responsible investor, too – slowly but surely building up his savings,
preparing for the unlikely scenario that he would at some point have the need to purchase a large
property for pack purposes. After his twenty-fifth birthday, Namjoon had kind of locked that
thought away, focused on his career, on making more money. Buying a fancy car and shaking
hands with the top dogs of the music industry. Now that he’s regularly shifting through dozens of
real estate listings and compiling lists of pros and cons of penthouses and townhouses, it all feels
very much real.

Yoongi has given Namjoon free rein over his finances, and the other, less affluent members of the
pack have agreed on smaller sums of their own. It’s an honour to be trusted with the matter of
establishing the pack den, but it’s a nerve-wracking experience. If the omegas won’t feel safe
building their nest in the place he chooses, if the pack beta’s intuition says the house he’s chosen is
not good enough for them, Namjoon might want to curl under a bridge and wither away.

All in all, it has been a weird couple of months, but nothing tops the experience Namjoon had this
morning when he drove Park Jimin to the OWSC centre for an emergency meeting with his
boyfriend and a beta woman who gave him the creeps the first time he laid his eyes on her.

Whilst Namjoon gawked in confused horror at the scene unfolding before him, Jimin continued
being his amazing self, so fucking strong. He swooped in with confidence, hand wrapped around
Namjoon’s waist as though he had done so a thousand times before. He weaved a smooth story
about getting introduced to one of his support mate’s colleagues at a party, instantly hitting it off
and realising they were meant to be pack.

Even though Seokjin too was present at the meeting, he barely got a word out as specialist Oh kept
interrogating them about Namjoon’s intentions and Jimin’s sudden change of heart. Jimin
answered every question with the cold wit he tends to use whenever he’s trying to distance himself
from a situation, but the omega made sure to huddle closer to Namjoon for support and look at him
expectantly when Taeri asked about the inner workings of the pack. Like it wasn’t an omega’s
place to talk about such complex matters. Namjoon explained his inner desire to mark and collar
his omegas even if he wasn’t in a romantic relationship with them, showing a few pictures of
Jungkook and Jimin in the process. Taeri didn’t ask much about Hoseok or Taehyung, who were
also named as members of the faux pack. She seemed mostly interested about Jimin’s and
Namjoon’s relationship.

Jimin concluded his statement by saying he had experienced enlightenment about his position in
the ladder of society, that he was meant to be subservient to his alpha masters. After the statement,
Seokjin had to cough loudly to hide the laughter that was threatening to come out, and Namjoon’s
ears turned blazing hot. The worst part about it was that somehow specialist Oh seemed to buy his
passionate speech, and she even made a half-assed attempt at appearing cordial: “Ah, I wish you a
happy life with… a mate and many healthy litters of pups in the future, perhaps with this fine
gentleman here…?”

Jimin took one brief look at Namjoon before replying. “Ew, no, I mean what are you thinking? I
may have become incurably gay just by looking at him. And just so you know, I still haven’t taken
that fertility test, just because fuck you and your pathetically narrow world views, Taeri-ssi.”

To Namjoon, depriving the specialist of her proper title was Jimin’s most successful ‘fuck you’,
seeing that she might not hold the honourable title for much longer.

Scandalised and silent, Oh Taeri signed the papers that released Jimin of his support mate contract
and said he would be emailing the other half to Yoongi. She didn’t question why Yoongi wasn’t
present at the meeting after Namjoon explained he didn’t feel comfortable having his omega
mingling with unmated alphas. Jimin looked out the window, but Namjoon saw he was rolling his
eyes.

After signing the papers, she bowed to Namjoon and wished them a happy life as a pack of five,
words stiff and formal. Not that she had much of a choice – the pack clause was quite
straightforward in its wording.

It’s late afternoon now, and they’re currently hanging out at Seokjin’s place, Namjoon and his two
lovers. Namjoon recounts the specialist’s line and Jimin’s comeback word to word to Taehyung
who laughs so hard he has to press a hand to his stomach.

“Serves her well,” the alpha says between gasps for air. “And after all that, did you just leave?”

Seokjin’s smile is wide and bright as his fingers play with the smooth skin of Taehyung’s calf.
“Jimin ripped his training collar off and threw it on the desk and advised Taeri to enjoy her power
while it lasted. The complaint has proceeded to the directors of the committee, and we expect
specialist Oh to be notified any day now.”

“I would pay good money to see her face when she finds out,” Namjoon sighs happily, looking at
his two lovers through his eyelashes. He hopes he looks enticing and strong and alpha.

“Was Jimin okay, afterwards?“ Taehyung asks more seriously after the laughter has died down.
“He texted me but it was brief, said he wanted to spend time with Yoongi hyung and rest.”

Namjoon glances at Seokjin, hesitating. The fact that Jimin wanted distance indicates that he needs
some time.

“You’ll have to ask Jimin about how he’s feeling,” Namjoon says gruffly, “but we took him out for
ice cream afterwards, me and Seokjin hyung, and we talked about what happened. He was
incredibly brave facing her like that.”
Taehyung swallows, his throat bobbing. “I’m glad. Recently I’ve felt like… I can do nothing right
when it comes to Jimin. I’m not sure he needs me anymore, he has other people to protect him
now.”

“Hey, stop that,” Seokjin is quick to protest. His grip on Taehyung’s leg tightens, and Namjoon
moves over, too, running his hand through the soft curls of Taehyung’s hair.

“Jimin speaks very highly of you,” Namjoon says softly. “You’re so much more than his personal
bodyguard. He will always need your friendship.”

Taehyung wipes the few drops of wetness from under his eye with a hoarse laugh, calling himself
silly for worrying about something like that. Namjoon kisses him to make him stop apologising,
thinking about a way to cheer his baby alpha up.

“You know when we got those tags for the omegas, I remembered Seokjin hyung telling me that
you had a collar of your own for certain scenes. Is that right?”

Taehyung nods with a shaky smile and gets up from the couch without a word. He goes to a large
wooden drawer to take out what appears to be a sturdy sheepskin collar.

“Sometimes I growl, but I like when hyung makes me wear it,” the alpha admits quietly as he
presents the collar to Namjoon with his neck submissively bent.

“Would you accept it if I collared you sometimes? I got this for you.” Namjoon reaches into his
pocket at a slightly awkward angle and pulls out a tag, a bit larger and more detailed than what the
omegas had. The engraving reads Property of KSJ and KNJ in pretty lettering.

Namjoon’s hands are almost trembling with the want to see Taehyung carry their names on his
neck, proudly, even if it’s just for when they’re alone and Taehyung’s alpha feels settled enough.
Seokjin reaches over to trai his fingers over the names on the tag, sighing and muttering about how
much he likes the design Namjoon chose.

“We should try it, just to see if...” Taehyung’s words stay hanging in the air, saturated with desire.
It’s a positive sign for sure.

Only moments later, Taehyung lifts his chin up to bare his neck, whining softly as Namjoon
secures the collar and the tag.

”He looks so beautiful like this. Maybe he could wear this at home, sometimes. When other pack
members are around.”

“Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin warns, “don’t overwhelm him.”

If Taehyung’s mewls are anything to go by, the alpha likes the idea, at least on a theoretical level.
Seokjin pinches his brows together, but Namjoon senses a victory.

“If Taehyung can keep the collar on for three full scenes, and he’s still willing to try, we can talk
about it. How does that sound?”

Taehyung nods, eyes round and wide like he’s already picturing himself prancing around the
house, looking like a thoroughly claimed alpha. Namjoon has noticed that the younger alpha loves
when others make choices on his behalf, it seems to be the way he loves to display his submission.
Seokjin must know this too, as he doesn’t try to make Taehyung give a verbal answer.

Seokjin brushes his knuckles at the soft underside of Taehyung’s chin to catch his attention. “Do
you still want to play tonight? I have a big scene planned for us, so it’s very much alright if you
want to postpone it.” He directs his words at Namjoon, too, who chokes on clear air. It’s not
particularly difficult to guess what that ‘big scene’ would be.

“Are you up for it? We can always get takeout and binge something on Netflix instead,” Seokjin
reiterates, smiling calmly. Perhaps unbeknownst to himself, Seokjin looks like bottled up sex with
his languid movements and the little finger tucked into the corner of his plush lips.

God help betas and their impossibly reasonable sex drives.

Although luckily for Namjoon and Taehyung, they have a majority of incorrigible knotheads in
their relationship. Taehyung clings to Namjoon’s side, mouth hanging open in anticipation. The
introduction of the collar has already made him horny.

“Okay,” Seokjin laughs, just taking in their reactions. “Okay, alphas. If we’re going to do this, I
have a few conditions.”

Namjoon huffs, amused.

“I dom you both tonight. Decide what you may and may not do.”

“You already do that, hyung,” Namjoon laughs, his chest rumbling, startling Taehyung who seems
to have started slipping into a more submissive headspace because of the collar and the non-direct
promise of getting fucked. Namjoon places his thumb and forefinger to Taehyung’s jaw and
applies some pressure. He wants the alpha to pay attention to the negotiation, even if he’s most
likely going to be okay with Seokjin’s evil plans of evilness.

Seokjin nods at Namjoon in appreciation, but something in his eyes turns wicked, so the gesture
doesn’t feel quite as genuine as it otherwise would.

“Knot rings,” the beta says in an amicable tone, like he’s talking about a game of cards with the
boys. It doesn’t go past Namjoon that Seokjin used plural. “Taehyungie already wore one during
one of our scenes. I sucked him off until he cried.”

Namjoon feels a pang of empathy as Taehyung curls up, hands around his knees and face tucked
into Namjoon’s shirt. By now he’s well-acquainted with Seokjin’s criminally soft lips wrapped
around his cock. The beta can deepthroat a damn cucumber, but he’s also a horrible tease. That
combined with a knot ring sounds… hellish.

“For… how long?” Namjoon asks with a hard swallow.

There’s no verbal answer at first, just smooth grins and the rustling of Namjoon’s belt sliding off
the belt loops, Seokjin’s pretty hands cupping him through the front of his trousers. Seokjin presses
a wet kiss to the shell of Namjoon’s ear while he continues to toy with the head of his dick through
layers of clothing, and when the first moan slips out of Namjoon’s mouth, the beta drops the last
of the bombs.

“Until you’ve proven that you deserve it,” Seokjin says, words sugary
sweet, his rainwater scent pure allure and eroticism. ” And what comes to Taehyung, well
– he’s just the pack alpha’s bitch, he’s got no use for a knot, I think.”

•••
Seokjin is barefoot, shirt mostly unbuttoned as he fits a tight metal ring at the base of Namjoon’s
cock, right where his knot would swell. It’s tight and cold and unyielding, but the sensation makes
Namjoon shudder with want. He stands there helplessly, dick hard and grazing the hem of his
cotton shirt, arms loose at his sides. He doesn’t touch himself while Seokjin tends to the younger
alpha, he doesn’t really need the extra stimulation, and he really doesn’t want to get on Seokjin’s
bad side when he’s like this.

“Me and Namjoonie will both fuck you like you’ve wanted,” Seokjin informs Taehyung, flicking at
the edge of the knot ring. The alpha flinches. “You may come as much as you want but the ring
won’t be coming off tonight.

Taehyung’s pretty eyes well with tears of frustration, and the speck of sadism rears its head in
Namjoon. They’ve played with edging and ruined orgasms before, Seokjin’s favourite kinks, but
this feels different.

By a lot.

Seokjin orders Taehyung to lie on his back with his legs drawn up to his chest, and Namjoon gets
to lazily make out with the other alpha as Seokjin’s preps him, quick and efficient, lube squelching
obscenely because Seokjin has a habit of using just on the side of too much.

“You both good to go? Alpha brains under control?” Seokjin checks in one last time. He’s slowly
stroking his cock up and down, stopping to press the pad of his thumb into his slit. Namjoon takes
notes for future reference and gives him a dorky thumbs up.

Taehyung mewls and makes a weak attempt at spreading his legs more. His hole is gaping, trying
to close around nothing – it seems Seokjin went with four fingers just in case.

But then the beta settles between Taehyung’s legs with a shaky sort of sigh, idly rubbing his
cockhead against the slippery skin of Taehyung’s inner thigh. There’s a nervous twitch in the arch
of Seokjin’s brow, something uncertain behind the flawless dominance he usually exudes.

Suddenly, it’s clear why Seokjin hasn’t fucked Taehyung before, painfully so. Taehyung unhooks
his leg to curl it around Seokjin’s hip, drawing him in, shielding him from his own insecurities. He
has a magnificent cock, and he’s the exact brand of dominant Taehyung needs and Namjoon is
weak for… but he has no knot. Namjoon can do little to ease the beta’s nerves, he has to hear it
from Taehyung directly.

“You want this, right? Want me?” Taehyung says. His words are the tiniest bit slurred, but the
intent behind them is sharp.

Seokjin nods almost frantically.

“Want to take beta’s cock. Please Seokjin hyung, I’ll be good and tight for you, promise.”

Seokjin’s hand, the same one that was around Taehyung’s dick moments ago, comes to grasp
Taehyung’s chin, kissing him sloppily, messily, with so much affection that Namjoon feels dizzy
just looking at them.

“You’re so good, Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin breathes out against his mouth, already pressing in,
Taehyung yelping at the sudden intrusion. “The best boy, letting beta have you.”

Seokjin fucks Taehyung in fast, meticulous thrusts that rip small yelps and pleads from Taehyung’s
lips. While he waits, cock dribbling precum and the ring already feeling tighter than is strictly
comfortable, Namjoon distracts himself by touching Taehyung’s nipples at his leisure, dragging his
nails over the little buds, singing praise to his ear as the baby alpha sobs that he’s too close, that it
hurts.

Only moments later, he’s dribbling pathetic trails of cum across his navel, no doubt the first of
many underwhelming orgasms Taehyung will go through tonight.

Namjoon purrs and licks the cum off Taehyung’s abdomen, and Taehyung’s wolf is subdued all
throughout.

Seokjin finishes with his face contorted in pure pleasure, buried deep inside Taehyung. And when
he slips his softening cock out, he flicks at Taehyung’s fluttering, swollen hole and orders him to
keep himself clenched tight for the pack alpha. Namjoon growls and almost rips the knot ring right
off.

“Be good and present for your alpha,” Seokjin orders, still catching his breath with bright red
cheeks and glistening sweat at the hollow of his throat. Taehyung obeys with grace that was
supposed to be fucked out of him already – his legs are spread wide and back arched beautifully.
Namjoon never thought he would get off on seeing another man’s cum trickling out of his lover’s
used hole, but he does.

Seokjin makes him start slow, slow and deep, Taehyung whining and fisting the sheets. Time blurs
into heavy breaths and the sweaty slapping of skin against skin.

Seokjin reaches under Taehyung’s belly to stroke his cock, calls him a good bitch for Namjoon. He
comes two more times with Seokjin’s hands rubbing at the slit and lightly pulling on his balls – it
must be awfully painful for the other alpha, but he’s clenching so beautifully around Namjoon’s
cock that Namjoon can’t find too much sympathy for his predicament.

Until his own knot threatens to swell, just to be stopped by the horrible band of metal. Namjoon
turns into pleading and begging almost immediately, the honour of an alpha thrown out the
window.

In the end, he does knot Taehyung, with Seokjin’s permission. The beta laughs at Namjoon’s
overwhelmed grunts and gasps and uses the stopwatch on his phone to see how long it takes for
Namjoon’s knot to go down.

The answer is forty-five minutes, the last five of which are spent in the bathroom with Taehyung
slouched against the sink and Seokjin having to balance Namjoon by the elbow. The beta dumps
them into the bathtub as soon as Taehyung can wiggle himself free and laments that he can’t fit
inside, too.

Namjoon adds a jacuzzi to his mental list of requirements for the pack den.

•••

Hitmaker Mated to Omega Sweetheart!

 Min Yoongi (29), the music producer often dubbed ‘The Hand of Midas’ by music industry analysts
and the media alike, has mated an omega by the surname of Park (see photos below).

In a recent interview with the Seoul Sun, Min PD-nim revealed that he has been considering
restarting his career under the stage name Agust D, which is not only a nod to his original
hometown of Daegu, but also a reference to his passion for basketball. According to our sources, a
conversation with a ‘special someone’ was what made him believe in his own music again. Agust
D is known for rapping about societally sensitive topics such as mental health issues and the
expectations of masculinity that young alphas face.

See also: Producer Min Yoongi shared a mysterious picture of a traditional royal headdress on
SNS: Fans speculating an upcoming project

In the wake of the announcement, Min Yoongi is taking some time off to tend to his mate and work
on his music.

“Our love bloomed recently. When I was working as a support alpha, my mate could hardly stand
me in his sight. I guess it’s a cliched story in that sense,” Min PD-nim explains over the phone. We
were unable to get a comment from omega Park who wishes to remain outside the public eye for
now.

[Park Minyoung, Seoul Sun Journal]

See also: Producer Kim Namjoon splurged on real estate worth ten billion KRW – eight bedrooms,
home gym and garden. See pictures!

Don’t fall for this common mistake! Ten steps to successfully seducing your dream alpha

Chapter End Notes

Just one more chapter to go ;-;

I'm going to write some twt threads set in the same AU after finishing the fic, so you
can follow me there if that's something you'd be interested to read!

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

 In Bloom
Chapter Notes

Jimin makes peace with his body. Seokjin has a heart attack, and it’s entirely Hoseok’s
fault.

FIC PLAYLIST

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jimin is lying on his stomach, feet propped up and kicking the air. His phone is laid out between
his elbows as he scrolls away.

“How many, hyung? How many?” It’s Jungkook’s voice, excited and bright as the omega clambers
over Jimin’s back, straddling his hips.

“300 million,” Jimin proclaims, trying not to sound too smug. He looks at Jungkook over his
shoulder, seeing how the other omega is puffing out his chest and looking proud as well. It’s
funny, Jungkook and Seokjin have been treating the music video like their own intellectual
property because of a three-second cameo.
“Wah, that‘s a lot of people,” Jungkook shrieks happily, drumming his fingers against Jimin’s
back. “Though I bet ninety percent of the comments are just people who wouldn’t particularly
mind if mad king Agust came and cut their heads off.”

Jimin scrunches his nose up and closes the app with a quick swipe of his finger, extremely glad
that Jungkook can’t see his face from his position. It’s slightly embarrassing, but Jimin too became
unhinged when he first saw Yoongi in a sleek, long wig and robes adorned with royal patterns.
There was some sort of impromptu role-play, a sword, Jimin calling Yoongi his majesty with a
smirk that faded into something else … he’d rather not reminisce about it too closely.

But then Jungkook seems to get suspicious at Jimin’s silence, wrapping his arms around him and
trying to flip him over. Jimin lets out a small hiss which does nothing to deter Jungkook, so he has
no choice but to wrap his hand in the other omega’s silky soft locks and tug –

“Seokjin hyung is running late tonight. An unmated omega went feral and they needed the mature
omega specialist present for an evaluation,” Namjoon says from the door, watching his omegas
wrestle like pups with an unimpressed expression. Jimin and Jungkook break it off, catching their
breaths.

Jimin shivers at the thought of some poor omega all alone and scared, their consciousness
completely run over by primal instinct. At least the omega is in good hands. Seokjin has been
working tirelessly, trying to create less invasive procedures to help people like Jimin – to help
omegas carve their own paths safely and while considering their health and well-being. It’s not an
easy task since it’s partly a fight against biology, but Jimin is damn proud of the beta just because
he’s trying. Unlike his predecessor, who’s known to occupy a desk in the cellar of the OWSC these
days, doing trivial paperwork all day long.

“Omegas, want to go do our workout routine while we wait?” Namjoon asks with a smile. “Since
you have all that excess energy.”

It’s a relatively new hobby they have, the pack alpha and the omegas, lifting weights and doing
HIIT at the home gym. Sometimes Yoongi or Taehyung or Seokjin joins them, but they aren’t
quite as passionate about the subject as the regular gang. Hoseok thinks it’s mostly a waste of time,
but Jimin suspects it’s some sort of ploy, since the alpha seems to be highly keen on watching them
work out.

Sometimes Jimin finds himself wishing he could bulk up easily like an alpha – Yoongi barely has
to breath in the direction of a barbell and his shoulder width grows by two centimetres. But on the
other hand, Jimin quite enjoys his lean physique when it comes to dancing. He has been getting
more gigs at the local dance studio, teaching adult groups as well as kids, which has allowed him
to cut back on his hours as a secretary.

The three of them make their way downstairs and go through the motions of their normal workout
routine, Namjoon acting tough and cooing at his omegas, which kind of ruins the first part of the
equation. It’s all fun and games until Taehyung dashes in to showcase his new slate grey collar, and
Namjoon gets a bad case of grabby hands.

There’s no use waiting for the pack alpha’s return – Taehyung’s intentions were loud and clear as
he cocked his hip and batted his lashes – so Jimin and Jungkook finish up and return to the pack
nest to wait for dinner. Ever since Jimin started to nest, he hasn’t felt the need to fill every small
moment with activity. He’s happy just interlacing his fingers with Jungkook’s tattooed ones and
slowly going over the nest, making sure everything is in order, making sure Jungkook is warm and
comfortable and hydrated.
Holly joins them with his graceful presence, curling up on the blue silk pillow that’s always placed
at the foot of the enormous nest bed. The cat seems to enjoy observing the pack from his vantage
point, sometimes even to the point of discomfort, if the situation gets heated for some reason or
another and the kitty refuses to leave. They do have a ‘no sex in the pack nest’ rule to minimise the
risk of sitting in a wet patch of another person’s bodily fluids, but the others are willing to turn a
blind eye to a heat-ridden omega every now and then.

Yoongi strolls in some thirty minutes later, poorly hiding the complacent smile on his face. The
alpha’s bleached hair looks fluffier than normal, and his cheeks are a healthy shade of pink to
suggest he ran up the stairs. The very same day Yoongi bleached his hair, Jimin went back to
black, letting his hair grow long and glossy. Yin and Yang.

“Was with Hobi when I heard,” Yoongi explains before crashing face-first next to Jimin and
Jungkook. He’s laughing in disbelief, with his shoulders shaking up and down to indicate he’s truly
amused.

“You’re always with Hobi hyung,” Jimin reminds him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Yoongi
is warm, too. Smells alpha. His silly primal brain must be revelling in the attention and glory.
Makes him feel powerful even if he technically is the third alpha of his pack.

An endless source of jokes in the family, much to Yoongi’s dismay.

“How do you feel?” Jimin asks, trying to control his tone.

Daechwita was released last May. It wasn’t an overnight success – old fans trickling back and a
few Korean magazines writing articles about the clever wordplays and samples of traditional
Korean instruments.

And then – suddenly it was everywhere. A lucky mix of raw talent and reputation and hype on
social media.

“Good, I mean… some music people have said it might end up winning Song of the Year, I don’t
know,” Yoongi hums, rolling onto his back. He squints at the sheen of sweat on Jimin’s face.
“Wait, surely you two didn’t jump into the nest without taking a shower first? After what we
discussed earlier?”

“Needed more scent,” Jungkook rushes to defend them. “Namjoon hyung screwed up the balance
yesterday. It’s an omega thing, you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“You’re gross, both of you. I’m eloping with Hobi.”

Jungkook shrugs and says he’s at peace with it since he has been on the losing end of that battle for
months already. Yoongi slaps Jungkook’s thigh so hard the sound echoes in the room, the omega
pouting and rubbing at his leg but evidently reluctant to sass back any further. Yoongi rarely
reprimands the maknae omega, prefers to leave it to Hoseok and Namjoon, so the tiny display of
dominance does something for Jimin. Maybe he’s already adrenaline-high with the news, maybe
he’s just bored and sore from his workout and needing a distraction, but a spark of arousal stirs in
the pit of his stomach.

“Yoongi hyung, there’s something you’ve failed to consider,” Jimin says with a degree of bravado.

“Hmm?”

“You know, you’re a real rapper, now.”

Yoongi cocks his head, almost nonchalant. “I suppose so. Why?”

Jimin feels himself blush in advance, but he’s also feeling coy and appropriately sweaty and in
need of a good knot. “There’s this one stereotype you really ought to start living by, or you won’t
be taken seriously at all. Those circles are vicious.”

The pinch of Yoongi’s brows is rather charming, Jimin must give him that.

“You know how rappers always boast on their possessions. How they have big cars and big houses
and lots of – bitches?”

“Park Ji–!”

Jimin is on his feet faster than Yoongi manages to say his full name, bolting out of the pack nest
toward their bedroom. Yoongi catches Jimin half-way and throws him over his shoulder, giving the
sweaty back of his thigh a firm pinch.

It’s a good way to celebrate 300 million views.

•••

To get to where they are now hasn’t solely been smooth sailing, even if the OWSC no longer has
the means to meddle in their lives. The original plan worked wonders, saving Seokjin’s job and
giving Yoongi time to focus on his music and the pack members a chance to get properly settled in
the new den, but after months of calm and undisturbed cohabitation, Daechwita started picking up
public attention, and the tabloids became eager to tear the new hotshot rapper into shreds in return
for clicks.

The media threw absolutely everything they could find into the mix – Jimin’s complicated history
with the OWSC, him becoming Namjoon’s pack omega, Yoongi’s rank within the pack, and even
the old Dispatch photos people had long forgotten. Funnily (and sadly), most articles painted Jimin
as the villain of the story, a malicious seductress of sorts.

A vaguely organised group of anti-fans ran a slandering campaign on Twitter, spreading around
rumours that Jimin had seduced both producers simultaneously and robbed them of money, and
that there was some tragic love triangle brewing between the three of them. Despite everything, the
media never dug up information on the past relationship between Namjoon and Yoongi, so the
accusations about a love triangle were just that much more entertaining to follow from the
sidelines.

The worst of the commotion lasted only for a short time, and to be honest, Jimin almost enjoyed
the infamy. He refused all interviews and continued as normal, working and dancing and loving
like the horrible sap he had become somewhere along the way.

Until everything changed again, overnight. Jimin has come to accept that his life is a roller coaster
of extremes, rattling from one situation to the next by the sheer force of gravity.

There was a high-profile charity gala which Yoongi got an invitation to. It probably was a weak
clout-chasing tactic from the marketing team, but the cause was good and it provided an
opportunity to spin the media in the favour. Refusing to address the PR-stunt-y nature of the whole
ordeal, Jimin walked the red carpet with Yoongi, dressed in a modern interpretation of hanbok
which was tastefully cropped and slightly holographic to match Yoongi’s sneakers. He attended the
event collarless, a huge breach of etiquette, but had rubbed iridescent glitter to his and Yoongi’s
mating bites to make them appear more prominent, like a mutual claim.

A new trend was born, and the world let out a simultaneous sigh of awe at the couple.

Or something like that.

Yoongi and Jimin still are controversial figures to some, never completely out of the public eye but
at the periphery of it. Every now and then, an omega he doesn’t know walks up to Jimin in public,
asks for a photo and says “fighting, oppa!” or “you’re my role model, hyung!”

Jimin isn’t sure how to act in those situations. He gets shy and self-conscious, especially if he
happens to be in one of his less common moods, wearing Yoongi’s name tag on his collar. He’s not
a freedom fighter in the traditional sense of the word, but Taehyung says people look up to him
because he’s relatable in that way – independent yet distinctly omegan, someone people can aspire
to be without rejecting parts of their own psyche.

Most of the radical omega activists of recent decades have demanded full abolition of the
subgender-based pack hierarchies, arguing that they should not be recognised as legal entities as
they’re too easily taken advantage of. Jimin used to think the same way until he joined a pack and
experienced the benefits of power dynamics first-hand, and the subject lost its black-and-white
clarity.

What further helped clean up Jimin’s image was that Namjoon did mate both Seokjin and
Taehyung a few months ago, which killed the last of the suspicions about an affair with the pack
alpha. It had been a huge risk for everyone involved as the chance of a three-way bond not catching
properly or ending up skewed in one direction or another is notably high. But they had decided it
would be worse to regret it their whole lives, thinking about what could’ve been.

Jimin has heard a full recount of the story, but it’s disappointingly anti-climactic. Namjoon bit
Seokjin first, who then laid his claim on Taehyung in order to make their wolves accustomed to
half a bond at first. They went in a circle until everyone’s need to bite and claim was thoroughly
sated. Jimin is glad he has never confided in Taehyung with his own mating story as it appears that
the alpha didn’t bleed all over the floor and engage in a wrestling match. It was rather a calm affair,
filled with quiet respect for one another and the risk everyone was willing to take.

It’s a well-known fact that omegas often are the focal points of triads whom everything else
revolves around, stirring discord in the other two mates who compete for their omega’s attention.
In the absence of one, the trio has managed to stay harmonious with little effort. Taehyung’s
submission is fluid and not tied to his physical features, and Seokjin’s dominance is largely mental
in nature as well. Namjoon is simultaneously the powerful pack alpha and Seokjin’s lapwolf,
which ties the unusual triad together perfectly.

It makes Namjoon such a good pack leader, at least in Jimin’s book.

If Jimin ever finds himself with an urge to mess with Yoongi’s alpha sensibilities, he goes to
Namjoon and demands a piggyback ride around the house (which he will more often than not be
granted). He will wrap his legs around the pack alpha’s sturdy waist and grab his hoodie strings
like they’re reins on a horse. Once or twice, Jimin has tried to spur Namjoon to a full gallop, but
unfortunately he has only managed to coax him into a steady trot. Namjoon seems to enjoy Jimin’s
squeals of joy.

Or alternatively, Jimin might crawl into the pack nest and very lightly place his head on top of
Namjoon’s arm, facing the other way to get a moderate amount of Namjoon’s scent into his nose.

It’s soothing, Namjoon’s scent, in a way that Yoongi’s scent isn’t.

Mostly because Yoongi gets him horny all too easily.

With Hoseok, Jimin likes to share a good laugh. The alpha is blindingly pretty when he smiles and
laughs in that raspy voice. Sometimes the two of them get a bottle of whisky and curl up on the
plush bean bag chairs in the corner of the living room, next to the tall bookshelves Namjoon
carefully cultivates just like his numerous plants. Even though Hoseok is Jungkook’s, and
Yoongi’s best friend, he always has time for Jimin. Always greets him with his characteristic
warmth and affection. Hoseok isn’t very tactile with people other than his mate, but he has his own
ways of showing how much he cares.

Seokjin might stop Jimin on his way upstairs, a coy smile on his lips, asking him to taste test
something he has been experimenting with. Eating with Seokjin is always fun – the beta loves to
pile heaps of food on Jimin’s plate and coo when Jimin eats well. Jimin’s favourite past-time is
teasing Seokjin over his fussing beta tendencies, and the two often end up bickering and throwing
lame fake insults at each other, much to Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s amusement.

Taehyung is still Jimin’s best friend, and probably will be until they die. The pack bond has
affected their relationship in multiple ways, however. When Taehyung is feeling subby, wearing his
pretty collar and kneeling at Namjoon’s or Seokjin’s feet, Jimin might come up to him and comb a
hand through the alpha’s soft hair, drawing tiny shudders and whimpers from him. It’s never
sexual, never will be between the two of them, but there is a subtle dynamic of submission and
dominance at play. And on the other hand, when Jimin is exhausted after a long week and
desperate to go down, Taehyung will happily go down with him, holding his hand and nuzzling his
neck. Taehyung will submit to Yoongi, too, so in those soft and spontaneous moments Namjoon’s
or Seokjin’s presence isn’t even required.

And lastly, Jungkook… Jungkook is Jimin’s nestmate, plain and simple. They might not be in love,
but in every other way Jungkook is his, his to protect and care for. It also means that Jimin is
willing to give Jungkook virtually anything, from the last packet of Shin Ramyun to the shirt off
his back if needed. Everyone feels that way about Jungkook, which means the maknae omega has
become nearly intolerable over the past year, a confident little leech. Although no one is as spoiled
as Min Holly. In addition to the pack nest, the cat has claimed the entirety of the house as his own,
setting up camp in linen closets and tight spaces between pieces of furniture. Jungkook has been
talking about wanting to adopt a puppy, but Yoongi and the other alphas are worried it would
result in a scratched snout for the dog and an even worse diva complex for the kitty. Jimin doesn’t
doubt the alphas will cave at some point, though. Jungkook can be persistent when he sets his mind
to something.

One thing being the location of the nest, for example.

When they first moved in, Namjoon showed them the largest bedroom with a beautiful view of the
garden and asked if the omegas wanted to set up their nest there. Jungkook took one look at the
space and pursed his lips, highly unimpressed. Jimin didn’t feel quite as strongly about it but he
played along anyway, wandering the empty halls of the house Namjoon had just spent an
astronomical amount of money on, trying to get a feel of the flow of air and scent through the
rooms. Jungkook quickly set his eyes on one of the smaller rooms, safely tucked behind the others.
The room only had one, relatively small window so there were less structural weaknesses. It also
had good energy to Jimin as well, and the wood flooring creaked at just the right spot to alert them
of possible intruders.
“Safe,” Jungkook stated, and that was that.

End of discussion.

Jimin remembers with fondness that Namjoon nearly fainted. He was that relieved that his omegas
accepted the space as their own. At that point, he had already bribed Seokjin and Yoongi with
expensive kitchen equipment, and Hoseok was going to be happy where Jungkook felt the best, so
it was basically all up to the omegas to decide. Which was… nice.

The pack den is located in the hilly suburbs of Seoul. They have a garden with three plum trees
providing shade in the summer. The house itself is built in a modern style with some traditional
Korean elements sprinkled in. An elevated porch found in traditional homes lines the front and the
back of the building, and the roof is built in hip-and-gable style. The windows are tall and wide to
let in lots of light, and each pack member has furnished a part of the house to suit their own style. It
means there’s a slight mismatch inside, a controlled chaos that reflects a part of everyone’s
personality. Jimin loves it that way. He also loves to sit on the back porch on a rainy summer night
and dangle his bare feet off the edge, listening to the way the raindrops hit the eaves and spill over
in a calming drip-drip-drip. In the winter he likes to go to the garden and stand beneath a plum
tree, letting fluffy snowflakes coat his hair and shoulders like icing sugar.

He’s happy here.

Happy in a way he didn’t know existed – a quiet, constant happiness that never fully fades. Even at
his worst, he doesn’t feel like running. Doesn’t feel like falling into the old habit of pushing people
away which once consumed him. Being able to stay still without some metaphorical monster
closing in on you is the embodiment of happiness, really. It’s a luxury Jimin has decided to learn to
indulge in.

•••

Jimin used to think that mated couples were boring. Old news, people who have sex in missionary
position with the lights off, a stale mix of their scents permeating the room.

It couldn’t be further from the truth.

Jimin knows every crevice and bump of Yoongi’s body, he knows how to set his alpha off in mere
seconds, how to arch his back to get the angle just perfect – what words to use to make him
whimper and beg.

The sex they have is beautiful and aesthetic but also something that would occur outside the
bubble of romance novels. Sometimes it’s filthy, stains of cum and slick and the reek of misplaced
pheromones – and sometimes it’s sweet and gentle beyond imagination, kisses placed on the
forehead and a gentle snap of hips.

And occasionally it’s so obscene that Jimin blushes just thinking about it, the positions Yoongi has
wrangled Jimin into just to fuck him as he pleases, the words of absolute filth they have exchanged,
each one a testament to the unbreakable layer of trust between them. Yoongi is the only person in
the world who may call Jimin a cock-hungry slut who’s good for nothing but sitting on a fat knot,
and that’s how it should be.

Their mutual attraction also spans over times when they don’t feel desirable themselves. One time
Jimin was in preheat, angsty yet horny, stomach cramping as he was trying to open a can of tuna of
all things. He was on the verge of tears with his stubby fingers failing to find purchase, the can too
slippery and the pull-tab completely flat against the metal. Yoongi came into the kitchen, wearing
a pair of loose cotton trousers, the silvery moon behind his back to give him a halo.

“Craving a midnight snack, pup?”

Jimin ran a hand through his greasy, unwashed hair and shuddered with disgust at himself, staring
down at his bare toes that had gone cold on the tiled floor.

“Go back to bed, I’ll prepare your snack.”

“Don’t you find me weird?” Jimin asked.

“No, tuna is rich in protein which is good since you need the energy to get through yet another
heat. I won’t let you eat it plain, though, let me mix it with some mayo and get you crackers.”

Jimin remembers he felt overwhelming relief then, out of nowhere, whining and arching his back,
trying to present what was already Yoongi’s, anyway. Hoping Yoongi would bend him over the
countertop and hoist the hem of his dressing gown up and out of the way.

Yoongi sighed deeply, fondly, and did just that.

•••

Unfortunately, Yoongi and the pack members have become well-acquainted with Jimin’s angsty
preheat self. His body has been catching up the lost years like crazy, sending him into a false heat
at the slightest trigger. Yoongi has been taking good care of him, though, taking time off work to
tend to the whims of Jimin’s malfunctioning body. The rest of the pack has shown endless
understanding, giving them space and ignoring the unflattering sounds that tend to escape Jimin
when he’s at his most delirious.

Of course they’ve spent Yoongi’s ruts together as well. At first it kind of terrified Jimin, the idea of
serving an alpha out of control, someone who’s on the hunt for him. Sensing Jimin’s hesitation,
Seokjin promised to monitor the situation, said it wouldn’t be anything new to him.

Seokjin hasn’t had to intervene once.

Turns out Yoongi is a polite boy in rut, desperate to stick his knot in a warm place and ready to do
anything to achieve it. He will snap his teeth and dig sweaty fingers into Jimin’s enticingly omegan
hips to make sure Jimin is bred full of pups (yuck), but other than that he’s pretty docile and eager
to please.

At least until Jimin whispers in his ear that he’s allowed to do what he wants with him.

But that’s entirely on Jimin.

Namjoon in rut is a different beast altogether – while in prerut, the alpha runs around the house
rubbing his wrists all over the place like a maniac, scenting every surface, kidnapping the omegas
for urgent heart-to-hearts that involve an unusually large amount of cuddling. Once Namjoon’s rut
fully hits, he’ll lock himself in a room with Taehyung and Seokjin, and the three will come out like
they’re returning from a war zone, limbs trembling and necks mottled blue and purple. Their
exhaustion is not all that surprising, considering that there is no omega to provide certain
pheromones, to soothe the burn of the rut and make it peak faster. Even Taehyung, who isn’t
sexually attracted to omegas, would benefit from having omegas around while he’s in rut. It’s just
base instinct and biology that makes alphas seek that chemical relief.

There has been conversation about possibly involving Jungkook in the trio’s relationship in one
way or another. Hoseok has had a year to get used to the idea that his omega is attracted to the
pack alpha in a way that doesn’t compromise their mutual mate bond. But no one has trodden past
that blurry line quite yet. Jimin expects it won’t be long, though, before someone begins to crack.
With how the dynamics between the alphas are in the pack, Hoseok might even end up enjoying
the sight of his omega getting railed by the stronger alpha.

Alphas are weird like that.

Jimin sometimes wonders how Hyunjin’s pack deals with their heat and rut cycles since two of the
omegas are exclusive with each other. Maybe one day he’ll gather the courage and ask.

Jimin’s own cycle has finally started to become less unpredictable. His latest heat, which was
almost on a typical schedule for an omega his age, passed without issue – but it also left him
drained and slightly depressed, though. He felt under the weather in a way that kept him passive
and tired, body ravaged by phantom aches. He found himself cradling his abdomen like it was
some kind of treasure. Yoongi definitely noticed but tried to give Jimin space until he was ready to
speak up.

Which he did, eventually.

“It’s enough,” Jimin remembers saying, “I’ve had enough.”

He called a respectable omega clinic the next day, one with no ties to the OWSC whatsoever, and
booked an appointment with a gynaecologist to find out if there even was hope for his reproductive
system.

Yoongi said it didn’t matter to him, that he would keep giving Jimin’s body what it needed to heal
and recover from the suppressants, and that he couldn’t care less if Jimin was fertile or barren.

Jimin said he wasn’t doing it for Yoongi.

He had fought his own body for years, fought it tooth and nail, and he wanted to figure his biology
out, on his own terms, not the OWSCs.

Yoongi readily agreed.

•••

Yoongi holds Jimin's hand as they walk into the examination room. He continues to hold his hand
while the gynaecologist her thing, while she talks about managing expectations.

Jimin wants to ask “what expectations?” because he has none, there’s nothing but an empty hum in
his head and the smell of orange peel and disinfectant in his nose. The metal instruments are cold
on his skin, and the fluorescent light too bright. Jimin shudders and closes his eyes.
When they get home, Yoongi undresses Jimin, slowly, meticulously, and kisses up and down
every inch of Jimin’s body – the ankle where he bit Jimin in his sleep that one time, the shell of his
ear, the soft V between his ribs, his chubby little fingers.

Yoongi says he loves every single thing about Jimin, and that the results of the tests will change
nothing.

Despite himself, Jimin starts to cry, big and salty tears that roll down his cheeks, saying he wants to
swell with Yoongi’s pups one day. Not now, not even soon, but some day. He wants that choice,
wants his body to be whole – however shameless that is of him, however impudent.

Yoongi presses featherlight kisses and words of praise into his skin until Jimin soaks them like a
sponge and falls, falls, falls into a dreamless sleep.

•••

It’s cloudy and glum outside the window as Jimin pulls a nesting blanket over his shoulders. It’s
the fuzzy blue one he associates with Yoongi, one he periodically brings to Yoongi and makes the
alpha rub his scent glands all over. It’s important to have a distinctly Yoongi item in the nest for
the unfortunate times that the alpha gets held up by work, and Jimin, god forbid, has to wait for
him.

Jimin’s nestmate is busy at the tattoo shop, and Taehyung has a project deadline approaching,
which means Jimin has no company for the following three hours. He momentarily entertains the
idea of faking an omegan distress cry just to see the pack abandoning their work and running into
the nest, ready to stab anything that moves – but then again he should let people work in peace.
Probably.

Yoongi has taken less work overall during the past year, but the fame has only made him more
sought-after as a producer, bringing him overseas gigs and other fantastic career-development
opportunities. After watching Yoongi refuse the offers for almost a year straight, Jimin sat him
down and very calmly explained that in spite of his messed up biology, he didn’t need to be
babysat like a toddler.

To Jimin’s dismay, Yoongi believed him.

That leaves Jimin with too much spare time on his hands and no proper incentive to seek a more
demanding job, as money is not an issue for the pack at all. Yoongi used to be rich, but combined
with Namjoon’s wealth and Yoongi’s own newfound success, the amount of money just lying
around is obscene. The reality is that if Jimin is able to provide for himself on a slightly less hectic
schedule and do some soul-searching on the side, there shouldn’t be that much of an issue.

In theory.

And it’s not that Jimin is a useless freeloader, either. He’s perfectly capable of putting food on the
table and paying for his own phone bill and clothes and other expenses. He just does that while
living in a luxury mansion he could never afford in this lifetime.

With his increased spare time, Jimin has reconnected with not only his mother who calls every
week to ask how his favourite son-in-law is doing, but also Hyunjin and his mate Felix. The couple
is a joy to be around, silly and in love but also knowledgeable on pack dynamics. They’ve been a
great help to Jimin trying to navigate his new living circumstances. For example, they prepared a
ten-minute-long powerpoint presentation on the subject ‘How to Confound Your Pack Alpha’.

Deep in thought, Jimin barely hears the door open and close.

“Makgeolli, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin’s face contorts into something between a smile and a confused frown as he faces the speaker.
“Isn’t it like five in the afternoon? And besides, you get drunk just from a teaspoon of makgeolli.”

Hoseok’s cheeks are red, and he’s shifting his weight from one foot to another. He has changed out
of his dull work clothes, sporting a bucket hat and a pair of army green cargo pants instead.

“I don’t care,” the alpha shakes his head, “I don’t fucking care, just need a drink.”

Something really good has happened.

Something frightening.

Jimin takes his time, folding the blue blanket into a neat square, and hops out of bed. He’s wearing
one of Yoongi’s shirts and a soft fabric collar with a bow accent at the side. He doesn’t often wear
any type of collar around the house, but maybe he has been subconsciously craving that feeling of
extra security in his mate’s absence.

“You look really pretty today,” Hoseok says with a blinding smile that teeters on panic. The
compliment seems genuine, though, even if Jimin’s hair is a post-nest mess and there’s a small
splotch of gochujang on the hem of his shirt.

“Thanks. But what exactly has gotten into you, hyung?”

Hoseok leads him to the narrow stairs that lead to the rarely utilised third floor, already carrying a
bottle and two bowl-shaped cups. He ignores Jimin’s question and starts climbing the almost
ladder-like stairs with a steady grip of the makgeolli bottle.

There’s a small yet well-lit space at the top of the stairs that Jungkook likes to use for sketching,
and where Yoongi sometimes retreats to when he’s writing lyrics. There’s also a small greenhouse
space that Seokjin uses to grow herbs for his kitchen. It stays cool and humid all year round.
That’s where Hoseok takes them, closing the door behind them, perhaps to make sure that no one
working one floor below can eavesdrop on their conversation.

Jimin’s stomach twists on tight knots of worry.

The alpha places the makgeolli on the small bench under the window and leans toward Jimin like a
criminal conspirator. “I’m pretty sure hyung will kill us if he finds out we had drinks before
dinner.”

Jimin throws a quick glance at Seokjin’s thriving basil plant and nods. But he still accepts the
drink when Hoseok pours it for him. They raise their cups and mutter a quick “geonbae”.

“What are we celebrating?” Jimin asks, fingers curling around the cool metal. “Is Jungkook
pregnant? He doesn’t smell like it.”

“Heavens, no. Kookie just got started with his career, it would be highly irresponsible to get him
pupped –“ Hoseok’s eyes turn slightly dreamy for a moment, and Jimin makes a face.
“Focus, alpha.”

“Sorry… it’s just that I quit my job today.”

“You what?” Jimin gasps, makgeolli spilling over the shallow edges of the cup, wetting his fingers.

“I walked up to my boss and told him that life’s way too short to be an accountant.” Hoseok’s eyes
are glazed over, the arch of his lips stiff, but he keeps smiling.

“Can – can you just do that?” Jimin asks dumbly. The small room smells of lemongrass and basil
and alcohol, and Jimin’s disbelieving huffs form small clouds of condensation. Seokjin would be
shrieking at this point about the dangers of acute pneumonia if he knew what they were up to.

Hoseok lets out a chuckle. “I think you can, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin frowns and takes another sip. The slight burn of alcohol on an empty stomach helps ground
him.

“Are you scared?” he asks.

“Yeah. I already feel like a fucking failure sometimes, leeching off Namjoonie and Yoongi hyung
like this.”

“Me too,” Jimin admits quietly, “sometimes.”

“But it’s stupid because they don’t mind taking care of us.”

“They don’t,” Jimin agrees because it’s the truth. Jimin could clink his spoon against the side of
his glass over dinner and declare he was never working a day in his life again, and the alphas
wouldn’t bat an eye. He shudders at the thought, at just how much the power at his fingertips
pleases him.

“Maybe you should quit, too,” Hoseok suggests in a quiet, wavering voice. “You could just teach
dance classes three or four days a week, focus on living well, think about what you really want to
do.”

“What do you want, hyung?” Jimin counters, lifting a knee up and tucking it against his chest.
Hoseok pours him more makgeolli.

“I think I want to study music. I did apply to some schools when I was younger, but accounting
seemed like the safer choice at the time. And then I mated Jungkook, needed to take care of him,
too.”

Jimin hums neutrally. There’s no resentment nor bitterness in Hoseok’s voice. Life just happened
that way for him.

“Maybe I could become an audio engineer at HYBE. I’m sure the others would write me a
glowing recommendation.”

“Wouldn’t that be nepotism?” Jimin questions with a smirk, tilting his head back to let more
alcohol slide down his throat.

“Then I’ll become an audio engineer at JYP. Whatever,” Hoseok laughs, thumping his head
against the wall. There are tiny splotches of red forming on his cheeks already.

As Jimin said, the alpha can’t hold his liquor well at all, and much less so on an empty stomach.
But on a day like this Jimin is more than willing to let it slide. He tucks his head into the crook of
Hoseok’s neck, inhaling his rich scent which is mingling beautifully with Seokjin’s herbs. The
alpha turns his head briefly to press an affectionate kiss to Jimin’s temple.

“That’s great, hyung. But I’m too old to become a full-time dancer, and my knees are too bad,”
Jimin laments with a sigh. He’s not bitter either, just stating a fact.

“Then become an astronaut. Or a house omega by day, secret agent by night. The world is right
there, Jimin-ah.”

Hoseok points at vague form of Seoul in the distance, at the dark green treetops shrouded in mist.
Their house is located high up on a hill, and the sense of verticality makes Jimin’s heart feel light.
Or maybe it’s the alcohol.

Jimin wants to tell just how much he loves the alpha when the door to the greenhouse is yanked
open, the scent of rainwater pouring in.

“What do we have here?” comes Seokjin’s highly critical voice.

Hoseok jolts upright and pushes the makgeolli bottle behind the nearest planter as if it would be of
any help.

“Tsk tsk. Not even long-sleeved shirts. And who told you could come out here without socks?”
Seokjin demands, pointing at Jimin’s bare feet which are stacked on top of each other to conserve
heat.

“We – we came here to make out,” Jimin blurts out, eyes wide. He’s not sure if Hoseok is still
ready to tell everyone about his big decision. He might want to talk to Jungkook first.

Hoseok squeezes Jimin’s forearm with gratitude. “That’s right. We’re madly in love.”

“You decided to get day-drunk on cheap makgeolli and freeze yourselves to an early grave to have
an affair?” Seokjin laughs, bracing his palms on his knees.

Unfortunately, it only takes him a moment to regain his composure, a polite smile spreading on his
features. “Please come downstairs, darlings. Beta will fix you some warm soup.”

Jimin and Hoseok exchange a nervous glance.

They’re in so much trouble.

•••

The phone rings too early in the morning. Jimin wipes the crust of sleep from his eyes and slides a
shaky thumb over his phone.

“Park Jimin-ssi?”

“That’s me.”

“This is Doctor Song. I’m calling from the clinic, as you had some tests run the other day.”
“I – yes.”

“I have good news for you. The quality of your eggs is comparable to the average omega of your
age, and your uterus is in excellent shape. If you at some point choose to come off birth control,
you have a chance of falling pregnant during the following heat. However, I would strongly advise
you not to take suppressants ever again, not even short-term, considering your history. In the end
it’s your own decision, of course.”

A short silence, breathing.

Breathing.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

Jimin’s voice comes back like an old diesel engine, spitting out smoke and odd noises. “No, no
questions. I need to tell my alpha, I think.”

“Yes, of course. I shan’t keep you any longer. Have a good day, Jimin-ssi.”

“Yeah, um… you too.”

The phone falls somewhere, hand limp.

“Yoongi!”

“Yah, I don’t even get a simple ‘hyung’?”

“Yoongi. Mate.”

“What?”

“I know I said it didn’t matter. I know… it shouldn’t matter, but I’m still… I feel relieved, kind of.”

“What are you even talking about, pup?”

“Ovaries. I’m talking about my ovaries. Didn’t fuck them up, apparently.”

Choked noises as Yoongi splutters, tries his best to comprehend. “So, that means…”

“Yeah. But wipe that stupid grin off your face. I have ambitions, you know.”

“But in theory… I could get you pupped.”

“Pupped, yuck. Hate that word.”

“But hyung could.”

“I guess so…”

A gleam of teeth, so pretty, so fucking pretty.

“Want to practice, Jimin-ah?”

“No, gross. We’re never having sex again.”

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for reading Nip & Bloom. This fic had no business being this
long, but here we are. If you have any parting thoughts, I would be ecstatic to hear
them.

As promised, I’m expanding this AU through kinky and fluffy threads on twitter. The
first one is all about Namkook ;-;

Tweet for this fic!

You can find me on Twitter ✿ CC

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