Archive of Our Own ^omega

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The air inside the elders’ quarters was thick with burning sage, curling tendrils of smoke clinging to Jimin’s skin like unseen chains. He stood in the center of the dimly lit chamber, back straight, hands clasped in front of him—perfectly composed, as he had been taught. As he had been expected to be since the moment he first presented as an omega.

Across from him, the elders sat in a semicircle, their faces lined with age and wisdom. Their expressions betrayed nothing, but Jimin knew what they would say before the words even left their lips.

“The head alpha has chosen you,” one of them said, voice firm with finality. “The mating ceremony will take place at the next full moon.”

A single sentence, spoken with authority.

Jimin forced himself not to react, though his heart pounded so hard he thought it might bruise his ribs from the inside. He had known this was coming. Had felt the eyes of the pack on him for years, admiration laced with something sharper—desire, longing, the desperate wish to claim what they could never have.

Jimin was the jewel of their pack, the omega that

warriors whispered about when they thought he couldn’t hear. He was not just beautiful—though he was, ethereal and devastating in the way only the rarest omegas were. It was more than that.

It was the way he carried himself, with quiet confidence that made even the strongest alphas hesitate. The way his scent lingered like a ghost in the wind—sweet cotton candy, intoxicating, but just out of reach. He was fire and ice, soft-spoken but untouchable, and no one had ever been allowed close enough to ruin him - as imposed by the pack leader.

Until now.

The head alpha was twice his age, a man of strength and power, respected and feared in equal measure. And long, long time ago he had decided Jimin would be his.

Jimin swallowed against the burn in his throat, willing himself to nod. There was no other choice. Omegas did not choose. They were chosen.

He has always been different. Born with hair as pale as spun moonlight and eyes that gleamed like rich caramel under the sun, he was a rarity—one that had whispers trailing behind him wherever he went. People spoke of him in hushed voices, reverent and awed, believing that the Moon Goddess herself had blessed him, that he was crafted with divine hands.

No omega bore his likeness. Others had soft browns and deep blacks, the traditional hues of their kind, but Jimin… Jimin glowed. His beauty was otherworldly, delicate yet striking, and it made him untouchable to most. To everyone except the Head Alpha.

The sun had begun to sink when Jimin reached the riverbank, golden light catching in the rippling water. He walked slowly, bare feet pressing into the damp earth, following the familiar stone path until he reached the willow tree that stood at the water’s edge.

This was his place—the only part of the territory where he felt like he belonged to himself.

Jimin lowered himself onto the grass, fingers curling around the soft blades. The air smelled like moss and the remnants of rain, but beneath it all was something heavier—something he had been trying to push down since stepping out of the elders’ chamber.

Not fear.

Jimin had never feared alphas, even when they looked at him like they wanted to sink their teeth into his skin. He had spent years walking through the pack with his chin raised, knowing how they spoke of him, how they ached for him.

But none had ever dared to try.

Because Jimin was not an omega that could be won through brute strength or whispered affections. He was something distant, something just out of reach—a moonlit temptation they could only dream of but never touch.

From the moment Jimin took his first breath, the Head Alpha had his eyes on him.

Born fatherless, his sire unknown and his mother lost to the birthing bed, Jimin entered the world alone. The Head Alpha had been there that night, standing at the edge of the chamber, watching. A leader among his people, he was a man who took what he desired, and from the moment he laid eyes on the infant swaddled in silks, he knew.

This one was his.

And so, Jimin grew under the weight of those unseen eyes. The village adored him, yet no one dared to touch, to claim, to even whisper of a future for him that did not include the Head Alpha. Because it had been carved into stone the night he was born.

Only the head alpha had the right to claim him.

The others—his admirers, his rivals, the wolves who burned for him in silence—could do nothing but watch.

Think.

Want.

And some did more than that.

A dark room. A fevered body. A strong coffee scent, thick enough to choke on.

Jeongguk had spent the past five days drowning in it, his first rut hitting him like wildfire, tearing him apart from the inside out. He had fought against it, teeth gritted, muscles trembling, but instincts were cruel things.

They turned thought into hunger.

Turned control into ruin.

And through it all—through the fever, through the unbearable need clawing at his skin—one thing had haunted him.

Jimin.

The name alone made his breath hitch, his fingers curling into the sweat-drenched sheets.

It had always been like this.

From the moment Jeongguk had been old enough to understand desire, it had twisted around Jimin’s name, around the way he moved, the way he carried himself like he was above them all.

Like he knew exactly what he did to alphas.

And Jeongguk hated him for it.

Hated the way his mind painted pictures he had no right to see—Jimin with his head tipped back, mouth open, throat bared in submission. Jimin, stripped of his sharp tongue, his untouchable grace, nothing but soft, wrecked whimpers spilling from his lips as his mouth bears the thickness of his hard and leaking cock.

It was unbearable.

His hands weren’t enough. Nothing was enough, because all he craved was the warmth of his omega’s sloppy wet hole.

When the fever finally broke, leaving his body weak and his sheets ruined, the need still burned beneath his skin, quieter now but no less dangerous.

He had lost himself to thoughts of Jimin, and the worst part was—it wasn’t the first time.

The day after his rut had ended, Jungkook found himself among the other alphas, the scent of fresh pine and damp earth thick in the air as he worked. The midday sun bore down on his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat across his bare chest as he swung his axe, splitting another thick log in one clean motion. The rhythmic crack of wood breaking filled the clearing, blending with the chatter of the warriors gathered around, resting between their own tasks.

"So," Taehyung drawled lazily, tossing a twig into the fire pit they had built. "How was it? Your first rut as an alpha?"

Jimin was to be mated.

The words had rooted in Jeongguk’s chest like a poisoned blade, festering, twisting, spreading through his veins like fire. The moment he had heard the murmurs, the casual ease with which they spoke of it—of Jimin, his Jimin, being claimed by another—something inside him had broken.

He barely remembered leaving the clearing. One moment, he had been standing with Taehyung, still shaking off the remnants of his rut, muscles weak but mind clearer than it had been in days. He had been laughing, joking, talking nonsense. And then—

“The head alpha has chosen Jimin.” 

The words had carried through the crisp morning air, slipping into Jeongguk’s ears like a curse, turning his blood to ice. He had frozen, the breath in his lungs stalling, his vision swimming in red before he even turned.

And now, he was here.

The head alpha’s quarters were at the center of the pack’s territory, a place of power and dominance, where decisions were made and futures were sealed. But there was no order now, no semblance of control. Only chaos.

He had not knocked. Had not spoken. Had not given a single warning before he had ripped through the thick wooden doors, his presence murderous. His breath was ragged, chest heaving, his wolf pushing against the restraints of his human skin. His body was still recovering from his rut, but rage had burned away the weakness, leaving only primal, seething strength.

The head alpha had barely risen from his seat when Jeongguk struck.

It was not a challenge. There was no honor in it, no warning, no tradition. This was not an alpha fight for dominance. This was slaughter.

The moment his hands found flesh, the world blurred. The sickening crunch of bone breaking beneath his grip was a distant echo, drowned out by the thunderous roar in his ears. The head alpha was strong, but age had softened him, had made him slow. Jeongguk was younger, faster, burning with the kind of unbridled wrath that could topple mountains.

A snarl ripped from Jeongguk’s throat as he drove the elder alpha to the ground, fists unrelenting, tearing, clawing, striking with the force of a beast unchained. The old alpha barely had time to fight back before Jeongguk’s teeth found his throat, and then—

Then it was over.

Silence.

The body slumped, lifeless, blood pooling in the cracks of the stone floor, seeping into the earth beneath their feet. The scent of death thickened the air, but Jeongguk did not move. His chest heaved, fingers still curled like claws, eyes wild and unseeing.

The pack had gathered.

They stood at the entrance, frozen in collective horror, watching as their new alpha—no, their monster—rose from the corpse of the man they had once followed. His skin was slick with blood, his eyes dark with something feral, untamed. He was still breathing hard, his senses sharp despite the haze of carnage clouding his mind. And then—

A dull thud.

The severed head rolled, sluggish and heavy, until it stopped at Jimin’s feet.

The world stilled.

Jimin had been dragged here by duty, by curiosity, by something he couldn’t name. He had arrived just in time to witness the final moments, to see Jeonnguk unmake a man with his bare hands, to see the beast that lay beneath the careful control Jeongguk usually held.

Now, he stood frozen, breath caught in his throat, staring down at the head of the man he was meant to belong to. His fingers twitched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He should feel fear. Should feel horror.

He did not.

Instead, relief unfurled in his chest, spreading like warmth through his limbs. The head alpha was dead. His fate had been rewritten in blood, torn from the hands of tradition and claimed by the only force that had ever truly terrified him.

Jeongguk.

But there was something else—something deeper, something sharper.

Jimin’s gaze lifted, meeting Jeongguk’s across the blood-stained space between them. The raw, unyielding possession in those dark eyes sent a shiver down his spine. There was no remorse, no regret. Only certainty.

Mine, Jeongguk’s wolf howled in his chest. Mine . Always mine .

Jimin swallowed, his pulse hammering in his throat. He had spent years learning to stand tall, to never let an alpha break him.

But standing there, with the head of the old alpha at his feet and Jeongguk looking at him like he had been made for this moment—

Jimin realized, for the first time, that he was no longer certain of anything at all.

The scent of blood hung thick in the air, cloying and metallic, sinking into the soil beneath Jeongguk’s feet. The pack stood frozen in horror, eyes wide, bodies locked in place as the aftermath of the slaughter unfolded before them. The head alpha’s body lay motionless, torn apart like a discarded carcass, his severed head rolling to a stop at Jimin’s feet, crimson seeping into the dirt.

Jeongguk stood amidst it all, chest heaving, bare skin painted in streaks of red. His muscles, hardened from years of training, rippled beneath the layers of blood and sweat. He was a vision of unhinged dominance, a nightmare draped in the form of an alpha, and when he lifted his head, the air itself seemed to still.

His dark eyes were cold, void of mercy, glinting like sharpened steel as they locked onto Jimin. The only sound was the sharp inhale of breath from the surrounding wolves, but Jeongguk ignored them all. His focus was singular, unwavering.

With slow, calculated steps, he approached, the tension in his shoulders coiled like a beast barely leashed. He stopped just before Jimireeking of blood and madness.

The silence stretched, suffocating, until Jeongguk finally spoke.

“Jimin is to be mated to the head alpha,” he said, voice low, guttural, filled with something dangerous.

No one dared to move. No one dared to speak.

Jeongguk’s lips curled, a hint of a smirk, but there was nothing kind about it. His gaze lifted, meeting the elders where they stood, too shaken to mask their unease.

“ No ?” he asked, voice calm, but the challenge beneath it sent a ripple of fear through the pack.

He tilted his head, blood dripping from his jaw as he took another step forward, his dominance crackling in the air like a brewing storm. He did not have to say it outright. The truth was carved into the carnage before them.

He had killed the head alpha. That made him the head alpha.

And if Jimin was to belong to the head alpha—

Then he belonged to Jeongguk.

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat. His body was locked in place, rooted to the ground, but his mind reeled. Relief flooded his veins like ice—he would not be forced to wed a man twice his age, would not be bound to someone who did not stir anything in him.

But Jeongguk—

Jeongguk was something else entirely.

His eyes were now filled with nothing but violence and hunger.

And they were locked onto Jimin.

Jimin swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. He should have been afraid—every omega here was trembling, every alpha hesitating, uncertain whether to bow or flee. But he wasn’t afraid.

Not of Jeongguk.

Not of the way his wolf howled for him, not of the possessiveness written in every inch of his bloodied skin.

But of what it meant.

The head alpha’s severed head sat near his feet, an unspoken offering, a declaration made in blood. Jungkook had ripped through flesh and bone for him.

And now, there was no escape.

A low murmur spread through the pack, unease rippling through the gathered wolves like a shifting tide. The scent of blood still lingered, heavy and metallic, seeping into the cold earth beneath Jeongguk’s bare feet. His muscles were still tense, streaked with crimson, his breath slow but deep as he took in the elders before him. Their aged faces betrayed their shock, but tradition was law. The strongest ruled, and Jeongguk had left no room for argument.

One of the elders took a cautious step forward, voice careful. “Jeongguk—”

“ Head Alpha ,” Jeongguk corrected, his voice as sharp as the claws that had torn through his predecessor’s throat. His dominance poured off him in waves, suffocating down on the pack. He felt it settle into his bones, the certainty of his place, of his claim. His dark eyes burned as they swept across the wolves before him, daring anyone to contest what had already been decided. “Do you question my right?”

The elder hesitated, then lowered his gaze. “No.”

“I do.”

The words were quiet but sharp, cutting through the tense silence like a blade.

Jeongguk’s gaze snapped to Jimin, something dark flickering in his eyes. Amusement? Annoyance? The younger omega stood stiff, fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. There was defiance in the set of his jaw, in the way he refused to bow his head, and something inside Jeongguk flared dangerously at the sight.

“You don’t have a choice,” Jeongguk murmured, stepping closer. The space between them shrank, the heat of his bare skin radiating against the cool night air. He loomed over Jimin, muscles taut with restrained power.

Jimin lifted his chin, glaring up at him, breath shaky but voice steady. “I will never be yours.”

Jeongguk’s lips twitched, the smallest tilt of his head betraying something close to amusement. “That so?” His voice dipped lower, almost mocking. “Then why is your wolf whining for me?”

Jimin stiffened.

The pack shifted, their silence deafening. They had all heard it—the way Jimin’s wolf keened at Jeongguk’s dominance, the way his scent had spiked in response to his presence. Jimin hated that Jeongguk had noticed, that he had the audacity to voice it. He wanted to deny it, to spit venom, but his body spoke a truth he refused to accept.

Jeongguk leaned in just slightly, his breath ghosting against Jimin’s cheek. “You hate me,” he murmured, almost thoughtfully. “But your body knows who it belongs to.”

Jimin jerked back as if burned, but Jeongguk’s hand shot out, fingers curling around his wrist—not tight, not painful, but firm. A claim.

“Release me,” Jimin hissed.

Jeongguk’s grip loosened, but he didn’t let go immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, studying Jimin like he was something he couldn’t quite figure out. His heart pounded, the possessiveness burning through his veins turning into something almost unbearable.

Jimin had stood silent before when the old head alpha was meant to claim him.

Not once had he raised his voice then.

He had let the decision pass without a fight. But now—now he was looking at Jeongguk as if he were some unbearable fate, as if the idea of being bound to him was worse than being mated to a man nearly twice his age. The thought burned in Jeongguk’s chest, clawed at something deep and primal within him.

Did he—

The thought was absurd, but it gripped him all the same.

Did Jimin fancy that old hag?

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, cutting through Jimin’s protests with sharp precision. “Did you fancy him?”

Jimin faltered. His lips parted as if caught off guard, eyes widening slightly before they narrowed. “What?”

Jeongguk’s jaw clenched. His voice was cold, biting. “The old man. You didn’t fight it when they decided he would be your mate. Didn’t protest, didn’t speak up. But now you do?” His grip on Jimin’s wrist tightened, though he was careful not to bruise. His body thrummed with something raw, uncontainable. “Tell me, Jimin—was that why you accepted it so easily?”

“You’re insane,” Jimin breathed, his voice tight, heat crawling up his throat until it scorched his tongue. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. “You’re fucking insane, Jeongguk.”

His only response was a slow, deliberate tilt of the head. Then, with no warning, Jeongguk stepped forward, closing the remaining space between them in an instant. Jimin barely had time to react before he was caged—Jeongguk towering over him, broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world.

Jimin pushed at his chest, throwing all of his strength into it, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Jeongguk did not so much as flinch, only looking down at him with that same unnerving calm.

“Why are you doing this?” Jimin snarled, frustration boiling over. “You hate me. I despise you. Have you truly lost your mind ?” His breath came sharp and uneven, fury battling against the awful, traitorous heat coiling low in his stomach.

Jeongguk’s gaze darkened, something dark and dangerous flickering through his expression. Then, slowly—so slowly it sent a shiver down Jimin’s spine—he reached out, fingers curling around Jimin’s wrist. Firm. Unshakable.

“I would hate far more to see you belong to another.” His voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it.

Jimin sucked in a breath, chest rising and falling too fast, panic seeping in at the edges. But Jeongguk was not done. He leaned in, close enough that Jimin could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over his skin.

“You are mine,” Jeongguk murmured, the words sinking like iron into Jimin’s bones.

Jimin felt his heart stutter, his throat tightening around words that refused to come. He wanted to snarl, to fight, to spit venom, but his wolf—his traitorous, wretched wolf—let out a sound so soft, so wanting, that his blood ran cold.

Jeongguk heard it. Of course he did. And the way his eyes darkened further, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around Jimin’s wrist, told him everything.

Jimin had already lost.

“The sooner you accept it, the easier this will be.”

Jeongguk said nothing, but the look in his eyes was enough. The pack could feel it, the crackling tension thick in the air, the shift in power, in fate. Jimin could resist, could spit and snarl all he wanted—but Jeongguk had already decided.

He was the Head Alpha.

And Jimin was his.

His dark eyes bore into Jimin’s, unreadable, yet there was something simmering beneath—the quiet storm before the inevitable wreckage. The pack had gone silent, watching, waiting, but Jimin could barely hear anything past the roaring in his ears.

Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, fingers absentmindedly grazing the fresh bite on his neck. It still throbbed, a deep pulse that resonated through his entire body, echoing something primal—something irreversible. He swallowed hard, staring at the floor, but all he could see in his mind was Jeongguk’s dark gaze, unwavering and possessive, as he sank his teeth into Jimin’s skin.

They were mated now. Bound in a way no force could undo.

His stomach twisted, not with fear, but with something far more treacherous.

The entire pack had witnessed it—how the full moon had cast its silver glow over them, how Jeongguk’s grip on him had been firm, inescapable, as he guided Jimin through the ritual. How Jimin’s knees had nearly buckled when Jeongguk’s scent overwhelmed him, thick and heady in the air, making his body weak with instincts he didn’t want to acknowledge.

But Jeongguk had held him up, one strong arm around his waist, pressing him close so Jimin had no choice but to breathe him in, to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, to be surrounded by the unyielding heat of him.

The memory burned.

His pulse was still erratic, his wolf unsettled. His body should have rejected this—it should have fought against Jeongguk’s claim, against the way Jeongguk’s scent settled into his skin, becoming something his own wolf recognized, something it craved .

But it hadn’t.

And that terrified Jimin more than anything.

Jimin stood in the clearing, jaw tight, nails digging into his palms as the full moon bathed everything in silver. He could feel Jeongguk’s presence before he even saw him, the weight of his gaze like a physical force against his skin.

He refused to look at him.

Didn’t stop Jeongguk from stepping closer, his every movement slow, deliberate—like a predator cornering its prey.

“Jimin.” The way he said his name sent something unsteady curling in Jimin’s gut. “You’re shaking.”

Jimin shot him a glare, despite the way his knees wobbled. “ It’s called disgust, Jeon. ”

Jeongguk only hummed, tilting his head as if considering his words. “No, disgust doesn’t make your pupils dilate like that.”

Jimin scoffed. “It’s the moonlight, obviously .”

Jeongguk smirked. “And the fact that you’re barely standing? Let me guess—that’s the moonlight too?”

Jimin opened his mouth, ready to snap back, but his legs buckled slightly, his wolf’s instincts screaming at him to submit .

Before he could even curse, Jeongguk’s arm was around his waist, strong and steady, pulling him in as if he had been waiting for the moment Jimin faltered.

The warmth of him was unbearable.

Jimin sucked in a sharp breath, chest rising against Jeongguk’s. The scent of him was dizzying, dark and rich, seeping into Jimin’s lungs.

This wasn’t fair.

Jeongguk was enjoying this.

“You’re trembling again, sweetheart,” he murmured, fingers tightening around Jimin’s waist. “Shall I hold you tighter?”

Jimin gritted his teeth. “ Just get it over with. ”

Jeongguk chuckled, leaning down until his lips brushed the sensitive skin of Jimin’s throat. “ So eager… for someone who swears he hates me.”

Jimin let out a sharp breath. “ Bite me. ”

Jeongguk smirked. “ Gladly. ”

And then, with no more warning, he sank his teeth into Jimin’s neck.

Jimin gasped, fingers gripping Jeongguk’s shoulders. The pain was brief, swallowed by something deeper—something primal that settled in his bones like fire. A connection snapped into place, pulsing between them, and Jimin hated how instinctual it felt.

His turn.

He forced himself to move, yanking Jeongguk down by the collar. His lips hovered over Jeongguk’s throat, his breath shaky but his voice sharp— “I hope this hurts.”

Jeongguk laughed.

It was low, dark, dangerous.

“Go on, darling. Make it hurt.”

Jimin didn’t hesitate. He bit down, hard, sinking his teeth into Jeongguk’s skin with every bit of spite he had left.

Jeongguk shuddered , a low growl vibrating against Jimin’s chest—but it wasn’t from pain.

Jimin barely had time to pull away before Jeongguk’s arms wrapped around him tighter , pressing their bodies together.

“Unfortunately for you, I rather enjoyed that,” Jeongguk murmured, voice thick with amusement.

Jimin sucked in a sharp breath, only to feel it—Jeongguk’s boner pressing against his stomach, hot and heavy and pulsating.

His breath hitched.

Jeongguk leaned in, his lips just beside Jimin’s ear. “See what you do to me, lovely?”

Jimin’s entire body burned.

He shoved at Jeongguk’s chest, but the bastard didn’t budge. “ Let go, you brute— ”

“Your brute. ” Jeongguk’s voice was firm, resolute. He nudged Jimin’s jaw up with his nose, forcing their gazes to meet. “All yours. ”

Jimin’s hands curled into fists. “ I hate you. ”

Jeongguk smirked. “ And yet here we are. ”

Jimin felt warmth crawling up his neck, spreading across his cheeks as his fingers absentmindedly brushed over the mark on his skin.

It wasn’t the bite itself that had him flushing red. No— no , it was the memory of something much worse.

The feel of Jeongguk’s veiny cock against his stomach.

The heat of him, the way his breath had ghosted over Jimin’s skin, the unmistakable press of his arousal through the thin fabric between them.

Jimin clenched his fists in his lap, mortified at the way his own scent wavered, betraying his thoughts. A tinge of something sweet curled into the air—warm sugar, a candied softness that made his stomach twist. It was instinctual, his body reacting before his mind could catch up, acknowledging Jeongguk as his mate whether he wanted it or not.

His breath hitched. He needed to control it. Needed to—

The door clicked open.

Jeongguk stepped inside slowly, his gaze locking onto Jimin like a wolf sighting prey.

Jimin was still too lost in his thoughts to react, too dazed to realize that the entire room was steeped in his scent—thick and inviting, an unintentional call to his mate.

Jeongguk inhaled deeply, stopping a few feet away. Then— he smirked .

Jeongguk’s voice was a slow drag of embers against the quiet.

“The room reeks of you, little one.” His tone was rough, edged with satisfaction as he inhaled deeply, savoring it. “Thinking of me, were you? What position were you picturing?”

Jimin startled , snapping out of his daze so fast that his head whipped to the side—and that was a mistake. Jeongguk was close. Too close. Sitting beside him, broad and imposing, his coffee scent thick in the air, blending with Jimin’s own like they were meant to mix. His eyes were darker than before, lidded, and his lips were just slightly parted like he was tastingthe air between them.

Jimin’s breath stuttered. “You—” His words tangled, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him like they could anchor him. “Get away from me.”

Jeongguk didn’t move. If anything, his gaze dragged lower, to the column of Jimin’s throat, to the faint pulse beating there, and his lips curved slow, knowing .

“How can I?” he murmured, his voice dipping into something almost fond —mocking and indulgent all at once. “When you’re calling for me without even knowing it?”

Jimin flushed furiously, his body betraying him as his scent grew sweeter, responding to Jeongguk’s presence even as his mind screamed denial, denial, denial. He hated it. Hated him .

But Jeongguk only tilted his head, inhaling again like he had all the time in the world. “I could get drunk off you.” His eyes flicked up, locking onto Jimin’s. “Maybe I already am.”

Jimin’s breath was unsteady, his face still burning hot. He hated the way Jeongguk’s voice curled around him like smoke, how it seeped into his skin and made him shiver. The weight of Jeongguk’s gaze was too much, so he did the only thing he could—he turned away, laying on his side with his back firmly to him.

“Shut up,” he muttered, voice weaker than he would have liked. His fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles tight as he tried to steady his breathing. His own traitorous scent swirled around them, sweet and inviting, despite the frantic pounding of his heart. His body was betraying him again, reacting to Jeongguk’s closeness, to the deep timbre of his voice, to the way his presence filled every inch of the space around them.

Behind him, Jeongguk chuckled—low, rich, and thoroughly entertained.

A moment later, the bed dipped, the warmth of his body pressing right up against Jimin’s back.

Jimin jumped.

With a startled gasp, he shot up again, scrambling into a sitting position, his wide eyes locking onto Jeongguk’s as he gaped at him. “W-what are you doing?” he stammered, his voice coming out more breathless than he wanted.

Jeongguk had the audacity to look amused, eyes twinkling as he tilted his head lazily. “Sleeping with my omega.” His voice was smooth, unbothered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jimin’s face flamed even hotter. “Stay away,” he snapped, pushing at Jeongguk’s chest, but it was like trying to move a boulder—he didn’t even budge. Instead, Jeongguk’s large hand shot up, fingers wrapping around Jimin’s wrist with ease. The warmth of his palm against his skin was searing, his grip firm but not painful, possessive in a way that made something deep in Jimin’s stomach twist.

Before he could protest, Jeongguk shifted their positions effortlessly.

In a blur of motion, Jimin found himself beneath him, his back sinking into the plush bedding as Jeongguk hovered over him, one strong arm caging him in, their bodies far too close. His scent—rich, heady, overwhelming—washed over him, his warmth pressing into every part of him. The dark strands of Jeongguk’s hair fell slightly over his forehead, casting shadows over his sharp, unreadable eyes as they bored into Jimin’s.

Jimin sucked in a shaky breath, his heart hammering in his chest. “J-Jeongguk—”

Jeongguk silenced him with a look, his gaze heavy, half-lidded with something unreadable. And then, with slow, careful movements, his free hand slid beneath Jimin’s clothes, fingertips ghosting over the soft skin of his waist.

Jimin shivered.

His breath caught as Jeongguk’s calloused fingers brushed along his ribs, barely a touch, but enough to make him hyperaware of every nerve in his body. His skin tingled where Jeongguk touched, where his heat sank in, branding him with something Jimin refused to name.

“Either this…” Jeongguk murmured, his voice dipping lower, almost dangerous as he trailed his fingers along Jimin’s skin, teasing, promising.

Jimin swallowed, struggling to find his voice, but all he could feel was Jeongguk’s warmth above him, his scent thick in the air, the weight of his presence making it hard to think.

Jimin barely had time to brace himself before Jeongguk’s lips parted, his voice dripping with something unholy, something indecent, as he smirked down at him.

“Either this, or—”

Jimin panicked. His heart lurched up his throat, heat flooding his skin as he slapped a trembling hand over Jeongguk’s mouth, silencing him before he could finish that sentence. His fingers pressed against Jeongguk’s warm lips, feeling the ghost of a smirk beneath his palm. The air between them was thick, charged with something neither of them dared to name.

“Y-Yeah, yeah,” Jimin stammered, his voice breathless, uneven. “Just—just stop talking.”

Jeongguk’s eyes gleamed with mischief, but he let himself be silenced, an amused chuckle vibrating against Jimin’s palm. It sent tingles up his arm, the heat of Jeongguk’s mouth searing into his skin. Jimin didn’t dare meet his gaze any longer. Instead, he yanked his hand away as if burned and turned onto his side, presenting Jeongguk with his back.

A mistake.

The moment he shifted, Jeongguk followed effortlessly, slotting himself against Jimin like a puzzle piece. A firm, unyielding presence curling around him, settling into every inch of space Jimin had left behind. The bed was large, draped in heavy furs and soft linen, but it might as well have been the smallest sleeping mat in the world with the way Jeongguk pressed close.

Jimin sucked in a sharp breath as a thick arm snaked around his waist, slipping beneath the loose folds of his traditional sleeping garment. Not improper—yet—but enough to make him swallow hard. Jeongguk’s skin was like fire against his own, branding him through the fabric, holding him like he had every right to.

A deep chuckle rumbled against his back, and then warmth—hot, deliberate—pressed into the curve of his nape.

Jeongguk’s breath. His nose. His lips.

Jimin squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body not to react, but it was impossible. His own traitorous scent, sweet like spun sugar, thickened in the air, mingling shamelessly with Jeongguk’s richer, heady coffee bean. The room was drenched in it now, the scent of a bonded pair, of an omega tucked safely against his alpha.

Jimin clenched his fists in the sheets, his pulse erratic, his skin hyperaware of every muscle pressed against him—Jeongguk’s broad chest against his back, his thighs snug against his own, his arm firm around Jimin’s waist.

How was he supposed to sleep like this?

Jeongguk, unbothered, let out a content hum, his face still buried in Jimin’s neck. His lips moved slightly, as if he were about to say something, but instead, he only inhaled deeply, sighing as if pleased.

Jimin bit down on his lower lip, his face burning. His lips were plump from the abuse, his entire body buzzing with the awareness of his mate wrapped around him, unshaken, utterly at ease.

Sleep would not come easy tonight.

Sleep didn’t come easy. In fact, it didn’t come at all.

Jimin lay stiffly on the thick mattress, the scent of freshly woven cotton and lingering sandalwood filling his lungs. But beneath it, suffocating in its intensity, was him. Jeongguk’s scent—deep and heady, thick with dominance, clinging to Jimin’s skin like a second layer. It coiled around him, refusing to be ignored, pressing against every one of his senses until he felt lightheaded from the sheer weight of it.

Jeongguk’s arm remained heavy over his waist. His grip was unwavering even in sleep—if he was truly sleeping at all. Jimin could hear his slow, measured breaths, feel the faint tickle of warm air against the back of his neck.

Jimin exhaled harshly, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. His body was rigid, muscles tensed as if any slight movement would awaken the beast lying behind him. Why is he like this? he thought bitterly. Why does he act like he has the right to touch me? His skin prickled beneath the fabric of his sleeping robes, overly aware of every press of Jeongguk’s body against his own—the solid curve of his chest, the strength of his thighs flush against the back of Jimin’s legs.

He didn’t sleep a single moment that night.

When the first streaks of morning light seeped into the chamber, Jimin felt the dull throb of a headache forming between his temples . And of course, he sleeps peacefully , he thought, eyes flickering to the alpha still pressed against him. With a frustrated sigh, he attempted to shift, hoping to slip out of bed unnoticed.

But Jeongguk was already awake.

“Didn’t sleep well, sweetheart?”

Jimin startled, eyes snapping to the alpha now watching him, propped up on one elbow. His dark hair was tousled, lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk as he took in Jimin’s disheveled state. His voice was still rough with sleep, deep and infuriatingly smooth, like he’d spent the entire night resting perfectly fine while Jimin suffered.

Jimin scowled. “Shut up.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Jeongguk’s chest, warm and unbothered. Before Jimin could react, a strong hand reached over, fingers ruffling through his already-messy hair, messing it further.

Jimin yelped, smacking his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

“You’re making it too easy,” Jeongguk mused, still grinning, eyes flickering with amusement as he sat up, stretching lazily. His tunic was loose at the collar, exposing the smooth expanse of his collarbones, the faintest hint of the bite Jimin had given him the night before.

Jimin looked away quickly, ears burning.

Unfortunately, Jeongguk’s insufferable nature wasn’t limited to the mornings. He was always there. Every time Jimin moved, turned a corner, or even tried to breathe in peace, Jeongguk appeared like a shadow he couldn’t escape.

Jimin first noticed it when he stepped into the bathing chamber. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and jasmine-infused water, steam curling lazily in the cool morning air. He barely had time to let out a sigh before Jeongguk’s presence filled the doorway.

Arms crossed, leaning against the wooden frame like he owned the place.

Jimin turned, glaring. “Do you mind?”

Jeongguk raised a brow, unbothered. “I’m just standing here.”

“Well, stand somewhere else.”

“I like this spot.”

Jimin exhaled sharply, spinning back toward the water, refusing to let the alpha get under his skin. But the weight of Jeongguk’s gaze lingered, burning against his back like a brand.

The same thing happened at breakfast. Jimin sat cross-legged on the floor, tearing apart a piece of warm bread when Jeongguk slid in next to him. Too close. Their knees knocked together under the low wooden table, and Jeongguk didn’t move.

Jimin shot him a glare. “You’re in my way.”

Jeongguk, casually reaching for his own plate, hummed, tilting his head. “Or maybe you just keep clinging onto me.”

Jimin wanted to throw his tea at him.

It was everywhere. Jeongguk’s scent.

It was in the air, in the sheets, on him. And the worst part? The alpha loved it.

Jimin was still adjusting to the way their scents mingled now, how his own—light and sweet, reminiscent of sugared cotton—was now tinged with something heavier, stronger. No matter how much he tried to suppress it, it was there, woven together with Jeongguk’s like a mark of ownership.

And Jeongguk was insufferable about it.

“You smell so sweet,” he murmured one evening, completely out of nowhere. His lips were close, so close, at the shell of Jimin’s ear as he leaned in, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin of Jimin’s throat.

Jimin yelped, shoving him back, heart hammering. “Stop smelling me, you freak!”

Jeongguk chuckled, dark and amused. “I can’t help it.” He inhaled deeply again, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “You smell delicious .”

Jimin nearly kicked him.

It was driving him insane.

Jeongguk had no concept of personal space.

A brush of fingers when passing something. A firm grip on his wrist under the guise of “helping” him down a step. A steadying hand at the small of his back for absolutely no reason at all.

And now, he was doing it again.

The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls. They sat across from each other on the floor beside the low table, an old scroll unrolled between them. Jimin was supposed to be reading, but he had long since stopped paying attention.

How could he, when Jeongguk was right there?

The alpha looked completely at ease, lounging with one arm draped over his bent knee, the other idly playing with the rim of his cup. His robe hung open slightly at the collar, the dim lighting casting deep shadows along his collarbones and down the hard planes of his chest. He wasn’t even looking at Jimin—his gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the open window, where the night breeze rustled the trees outside.

But the problem was, even without looking, Jeongguk was touching him.

First, it was a light press of his knee beneath the table—subtle, just enough that Jimin knew it wasn’t an accident. Then, Jeongguk reached across him—completely unnecessarily—to grab something, the back of his fingers grazing along Jimin’s forearm in the process.

Jimin inhaled sharply, spine going rigid. “Could you not?”

Jeongguk blinked at him, expression pure innocence. “Not what?”

Jimin scowled. “That.”

Jeongguk hummed, feigning confusion. “Grabbing my cup?”

“You know what I mean,” Jimin gritted out, fingers curling against the fabric of his robes.

“Do you have to touch me every three seconds?”

Jeongguk tilted his head, lips quirking. “Wouldn’t have to if you’d come to me willingly.”

Jimin opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Jeongguk reached out again—this time, thumb brushing along his jaw as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind Jimin’s ear.

A shiver shot straight down Jimin’s spine.

He barely bit back the instinctive whine in his throat, pressing his lips together tightly.

Jeongguk smirked. Smirked.

Jimin hated him.

And then, before Jimin could even react, Jeongguk leaned in.

Close—too close.

Warm breath ghosted against Jimin’s skin as soft lips brushed the shell of his ear. A barely-there kiss, nothing more than a whisper of warmth. Jimin’s heart leapt in his chest, breath catching. His body betrayed him before his mind could catch up—a sharp shiver running through him, his scent spiking instinctively.

Jeongguk felt it.

Because instead of pulling away, he chased it, lips dragging lower, down the curve of Jimin’s jaw, the faintest press of heat against sensitive skin.

“So pretty,” Jeongguk murmured against him, voice rough and teasing. “And so pliant for me.”

Jimin’s body burned—from his cheeks to the tips of his fingers, to the places Jeongguk’s lips had touched, to the pit of his stomach, where something deep and shameful stirred.

Then, as if doused in cold water, he snapped out of it.

With a sharp inhale, Jimin shoved back, scrambling up so fast he nearly tripped over the hem of his robes. Jeongguk chuckled, watching him through dark, lidded eyes, entirely too pleased with himself.

Jimin, desperate to do something, anything to reassert control, stepped forward on instinct—

And purposefully crushed Jeongguk’s hand beneath his heel before running away to his room.

The reaction was immediate—a sharp inhale of pain, a flicker of surprise across the alpha’s face.

Then, to Jimin’s absolute horror, Jeongguk laughed.

Loud and full-bodied, the sound filling the entire room as he leaned back, propping himself up with one elbow while shaking out his hand. He tilted his head at Jimin, eyes glinting with something dark and knowing, lips stretching into that maddening grin.

“Beautiful,” he singsonged, voice thick with amusement. “You can’t run from me forever.”

Jimin’s face burned.

No matter how much distance he put between them, Jimin could still feel the phantom weight of Jeongguk’s touch, the press of his lips, the heat of his smirk seared into his skin.

The training grounds buzzed with chatter, the crisp morning air thick with the mingling scents of sweat, damp earth, and the sharp tang of exertion. Alphas moved with honed precision, muscles taut beneath the layers of their training gear as they engaged in sparring sessions. The rhythmic clash of wooden staffs echoed, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort and the barked commands of the head alpha.

Jeongguk stood in the center, watching over his pack with the sharp gaze of a predator surveying his domain. His stance was firm, arms folded across his chest, the rich fabric of his dark robes shifting with the movement of his muscles. Despite the casual drape of the garment, there was nothing relaxed about him. Every inch of his body hummed with quiet authority, his presence a force that commanded respect without the need for excess words.

His eyes flicked from one sparring match to another, assessing, correcting, pushing them to their limits. “Form, Lee. Your stance is weak—adjust before you find yourself flat on your back.”

A younger warrior gritted his teeth and nodded, struggling to correct his footing as Jeongguk moved past him. He was ruthless but fair, shaping them into the strongest they could be. The responsibility weighed on him, but he carried it with unwavering resolve.

And then, as he turned his head, he saw him.

Jimin.

The shift was instantaneous. The rigid lines of his body softened, his sharp eyes dimming at the edges, the tension in his shoulders loosening before he even realized it. His mate.

Jimin sat on the outer edge of the training grounds, a slight smile playing on his lips as he listened to something Yoongi was saying beside him. Hoseok leaned in too, the three of them bathed in the golden light of the morning. He looked comfortable, wrapped in soft layers of ivory and beige, his robes delicate against the rugged backdrop of warriors in motion. The morning breeze toyed with the loose strands of his hair, the sun painting warmth along the elegant slope of his neck.

The sight made something deep in Jeongguk’s chest tighten, something primal curling in his gut. His mate. His .

Then, the warmth curdled.

Because he wasn’t the only one watching.

A young alpha, standing off to the side, had his gaze fixed on Jimin. And it wasn’t just a fleeting glance—it was lingering, eyes softened with something dangerously close to fondness. Like he was entranced, like he was stupid enough to think he had the right to look.

Jeongguk’s jaw clenched. The air around him thickened, his scent sharpening instinctively, the possessiveness curling into something lethal. His muscles coiled, the heat of unspoken fury simmering low in his gut. It wasn’t just the fact that the alpha was looking—it was the way he looked, the quiet admiration in his gaze, as if Jimin was something to be adored. As if he had the right to let his eyes linger on what was Jeongguk’s.

The absurdity of it. The audacity.

Jeongguk was moving before he had fully processed it, his steps controlled, slow, yet weighted with unmistakable purpose as he approached the other alpha.

The young alpha didn’t notice him at first. His attention was still fixed on Jimin, a small, barely-there smile playing at the corner of his lips.

How fucking dare he.

Jeongguk came to a stop beside him, standing just close enough that his presence demanded acknowledgment. It took a moment, but when the younger alpha finally turned, his expression shifted, straightening slightly under Jeongguk’s scrutiny.

“Something interesting?” Jeongguk’s voice was mild, but laced with unmistakable steel.

The warrior blinked, hesitating. “I—”

“You were staring,” Jeongguk noted casually, his gaze slicing through the alpha like a finely honed blade. “Quite intently, if I may add. Do tell—did you find something particularly fascinating?”

The younger man swallowed, the weight of Jeongguk’s presence pressing down on him like a vice. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Alpha.”

Jeongguk smiled, slow and devoid of warmth. “Didn’t you?”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, with an easy motion, Jeongguk stepped back, gesturing toward the training mats. “Why don’t we put that focus of yours to better use?”

The challenge was clear.

The young alpha hesitated, but refusing wasn’t an option—not when Jeongguk was watching him with those dark, expectant eyes. With a stiff nod, he stepped forward.

Jeongguk didn’t bother removing his outer robe, merely rolling up his sleeves, exposing the sinewy stretch of muscle along his forearms. He moved with predatory grace, the shift in his stance subtle, but loaded with restrained force.

The moment the match began, it was clear there was no competition.

Jeongguk was relentless, striking with a precision that left no room for retaliation. He didn’t give his opponent a single moment to recover, every blow calculated, every counter a statement. The young alpha grunted as he stumbled, barely managing to keep up. Jeongguk allowed it to stretch longer than necessary, making it hurt—making it a lesson.

By the time it ended, the young warrior was sprawled on the concrete, breathless and humiliated.

Jeongguk exhaled, rolling his shoulders back, before looking down at the defeated alpha. “Keep your eyes where they belong,” he said smoothly, voice a velvet-clad blade. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt over something you can’t have.”

The words were a warning, undisguised and cutting.

A rustle of movement caught his attention.

Jimin.

The omega had turned from his conversation, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as he took in the scene. His eyes flickered to the young alpha on the ground, then back to Jeongguk. There was no outright accusation in his gaze, but there was something close to disapproval—something questioning.

Jeongguk merely raised a brow at him, unaffected.

Jimin frowned deeper, but his gaze flickered briefly to the defeated alpha, pity passing through his features before he schooled them back into neutrality.

Then, without another word, he turned back to Yoongi and Hoseok, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed his unease.

Jeongguk didn’t care.

Because when Jimin walked away, he didn’t spare the fallen alpha another glance.

The kitchen is bathed in a golden glow, the overhead lights casting long shadows upon the polished wooden table where Jimin and Jungkook sit. The scent of grilled meat lingers in the air, mingling with the rich aroma of steaming rice and the spice of neatly arranged side dishes.

Jeongguk, as ever, sits close—too close—his thigh pressed snugly against Jimin’s own, a touch too familiar, too claiming, yet one neither of them addresses. He moves with quiet surety, plucking a well-cooked piece of beef and setting it atop Jimin’s rice. The soft clink of his chopsticks against the ceramic bowl is nearly imperceptible, yet Jimin notices. How could he not, when his very presence bends to Jeongguk’s will?

They eat in silence, Jeongguk’s gaze unreadable as he focuses on his meal. The quiet is familiar, easy even, yet tonight there is a weight to it—a lingering tension Jimin cannot shake. His mind drifts to earlier—to the moment Soobin had been cast to the ground, the alpha’s presence towering over him with a force that had sent even the onlookers into uneasy silence.

Jimin exhales slowly before speaking, his voice measured. “Did you not think you were too harsh with Soobin earlier?”

The clatter of chopsticks stills for the briefest moment. Jeongguk’s jaw tightens, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he chews. Then he exhales, voice low and edged with something unreadable. “Why?” He sets his utensils down with deliberate care, tilting his head toward Jimin. “Did the sight of him sprawled on the concrete wound your heart?”

Jimin’s breath catches, his brows drawing together. “Yes! In truth, it did.” The words leave him before he can stop them. “Soobinie is just a pup, Jeongguk. You didn’t need to be so severe.”

Jeongguk inhales sharply, gripping his chopsticks tightly as he forces himself to keep eating. He does not trust himself to meet Jimin’s gaze just yet. His irritation coils hot and insidious in his chest, spreading like wildfire. The thought of Jimin sparing concern for another man—another alpha—makes his blood boil in a way he cannot rationalize. He grits his teeth, his voice tightly controlled. “His attention was elsewhere. He needed discipline.”

Jimin huffs, exasperated. “Yet, Soobinie is young, still learning—”

The sudden slam of chopsticks against the table makes Jimin flinch. The sound reverberates through the space, shattering the stillness of their dinner.

“Soobinie this, Soobinie that.” Jeongguk’s voice is a low growl, his presence pressing heavy upon Jimin’s senses. His hands curl against the polished wood, dark eyes burning as they lock onto Jimin’s wide gaze. “Stop saying his name. It vexes me beyond reason to hear it from your lips.”

Jimin swallows, his fingers tightening against the edge of his seat. Jeongguk’s possessiveness is nothing new, but tonight it feels different—sharper, unyielding in a way that makes the air thick with possessive pheromones.

Before Jimin can react, Jeongguk moves. His hand reaches forward, fingers wrapping around the delicate column of Jimin’s throat—not with force, not enough to harm, but with intent. Jimin inhales sharply, hands coming up to grasp at the alpha’s wrist, uncertain whether he wishes to push him away or keep him there.

Jeongguk leans in, his breath warm against Jimin’s skin. His voice drops, rough with an emotion Jimin does not dare name. “Do you fancy him? Is that it?”

Jimin’s eyes widen. “What?” he breathes, incredulous. He tries to turn his head, but Jeongguk’s grip tightens just enough to keep him still. “Have you lost your mind?”

Jeongguk’s eyes darken further. “No? Then tell me why the fuck , even now, after hours have passed, your thoughts still linger upon him.” His thumb strokes once against the soft skin of Jimin’s throat, his expression unreadable. “Why does it trouble you so?”

Jimin shakes his head, attempting to push against Jeongguk’s chest, but the alpha does not budge. “Let me go,” he murmurs, though the command lacks conviction. Something about the intensity in Jeongguk’s gaze, about the sheer force of his presence so near, leaves him breathless.

The alpha does not release him at once. Instead, his gaze roams over Jimin’s face, taking in the parted lips, the flush painting his cheeks, the visible flutter of his pulse beneath delicate skin.

Then, at last, he lets go—abruptly, as if touching Jimin any longer might shatter whatever restraint he has left. He leans back, fingers running through his dark hair before he reaches for his chopsticks once more. The fire in his gaze has not dimmed, though he pretends otherwise.

“Eat, Jimin,” he orders, voice rough with lingering emotion.

Jimin does not move at first, his fingers ghosting over his throat where Jeongguk’s hand had been. The warmth still lingers, the phantom touch like an imprint seared into his skin. His breath is shallow, uneven, as if drawing in air might disturb the moment’s delicate balance.

But Jeongguk is watching him, waiting. The command is not up for debate.

Slowly, Jimin reaches for his chopsticks, picking at the food on his plate. He places a bite of rice into his mouth, chewing with small, careful movements. He should feel relieved that Jeongguk has let it go, that the tension has settled, but there’s a stubborn flicker of defiance beneath his obedience. A quiet rebellion taking root.

His gaze flickers toward his plate—toward the pieces of meat that the alpha had placed there for him earlier, a small gesture of care.

Jimin carefully picks up one of the pieces with his chopsticks. Then another. One by one, he places them back onto Jeongguk’s plate with meticulous precision, as if returning a debt he never asked for. As if to say— I don’t need you to take care of me.

The act is petty. He knows it. But he doesn’t stop.

Jeongguk’s eyes darken as he watches, his jaw tightening, his fingers curling into fists against the table. A muscle ticks in his cheek, his expression unreadable but brimming with something lethal, something that smolders and sparks in the depths of his gaze.

For a moment, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t speak.

Then he scoffs. A sharp, disbelieving sound that barely contains his fury.

The chair scrapes against the floor as he stands abruptly, the movement jerky with restraint. The air shifts, thick with the tension of something unspoken—of something dangerously close to snapping.

Jimin’s heart pounds, but he keeps his expression carefully neutral, forcing himself to meet Jeongguk’s glare with feigned innocence and challenge.

Jeongguk doesn’t fall for it.

His nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling with barely controlled breaths. And then, without another word, he turns on his heel and strides out, the door swinging shut behind him with a force that rattles the silence.

Jimin exhales, the air leaving his lungs in a rush he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Outside, the night air bites at Jeongguk’s skin, cold and bracing, but it does nothing to cool the fire burning beneath his ribs.

He stalks into the woods, his pulse a furious drum in his ears, his thoughts a chaotic mess of irritation, frustration—possessiveness .

That damn brat. That insolent, infuriating, irresistible brat.

Jeongguk drags a hand down his face, his fingers pressing into his temples as if he can physically shove the emotions away. But they cling to him, wrapping around his ribs like a vice.

Jimin had looked at him like that on purpose. Had taken what he gave him and given it back —not out of gratitude, but to throw it in his face. To remind him that Jimin is choosing this game, that he is not as helpless as Jeongguk wants to believe.

He exhales sharply, eyes flicking up toward the trees. His instincts hum, restless and electric. He needs something to focus on. Something to burn this feeling out of his system before it swallows him whole.

His gaze sharpens as he catches movement in the distance—a deer, grazing quietly beneath the moonlight.

His fingers tighten around the hilt of his knife.

Hunting should calm him. It always has. The thrill of the chase, the sharp precision of movement, the satisfaction of control.

But as he moves, as his body slips into the practiced rhythm of predator and prey, his mind is still elsewhere.

Still stuck on the ghost of a touch against Jimin’s throat.

On the way Jimin’s fingers had lingered there, like he wanted to remember.

Jeongguk swallows hard.

Control. He needs control.

Because if he goes back now—if he sees Jimin sitting there, acting like he hadn’t just pressed every single one of Jeongguk’s buttons—he won’t be able to hold himself back.

And that’s a dangerous line to cross.

Jeongguk had expected Jimin to be difficult. He had expected the pettiness, the cold shoulders, the little acts of defiance meant to get under his skin.

He had not expected to be ignored completely.

For two days, Jimin has refused to acknowledge him.

Not a word. Not a glance. Not even a huff of irritation when Jeongguk deliberately moves too close, when he lingers near Jimin’s chair, when he stands behind him long enough for the tension to become unbearable.

Jimin carries on as if Jeongguk is nothing more than air, an invisible presence in the room.

And it’s driving him insane .

He had told himself to be patient. Had clenched his jaw through the first day, willing himself to let Jimin have his moment, let him sulk, let him be a brat about it.

But by the second day, it’s more than he can tolerate.

Jeongguk has been snapping at everyone. Everyone treads carefully around him, their voices quiet, their movements cautious, as if afraid one wrong step will set him off. Even Taehyung, the only one bold enough to push his buttons, has taken to watching him with wary amusement, raising a brow every time Jeongguk lets out a sharp command or slams a door harder than necessary.

Jeongguk knows it’s obvious. Knows everyone can see that something is off —that he is off.

And it all comes back to him.

To Jimin, who sits there, sipping his tea with nonchalance, flipping through a book as if Jeongguk doesn’t exist.

Jimin, without a flicker of emotion, his face carefully neutral, his lips pursed in a way that makes Jeongguk’s blood boil.

The alpha clenches his jaw, fingers twitching at his side.

He has been trying. Trying to let Jimin ride out whatever childish tantrum this is. Trying to remind himself that Jimin is still upset about Soobin—that this is his way of punishing him for it.

But patience has never been his strong suit.

And he can’t do it anymore.

He’s tried to be patient, gritting his teeth through the sharp sting of Jimin’s silence, telling himself that Jimin would come crawling back soon enough, desperate for his attention again.

But Jeongguk patience has limits.

And he’s reached them.

Because Jimin—his Jimin, his brat —is smiling.

Not at him.

At an alpha.

And not just one.

Jeongguk has counted four today alone.

Four times he has watched Jimin tilt his head just so, lips curling up into that soft, demure smile. Four times he has seen those pretty eyes glimmer with something warm, something inviting. Four times he’s smelled his omega’s scent sweeten at the sight of a random alpha.

And none of those smiles were for him.

He watches from across the room, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand, so tight he swears it might shatter.

Jimin laughs at something the alpha says, the sound light, airy, so fucking sweet.

Jeongguk sees red.

His control—thin, fragile, barely hanging on— snaps.

Before he even realizes it, he’s moving. His steps are slow, purposeful, his presence heavy and dangerous as he approaches.

Jimin doesn’t notice him at first, too busy flashing that smile again, tucking a golden strand of hair behind his ear in that innocent little way that Jeongguk knows isn’t innocent at all.

It makes something dark coil in his chest.

The moment Jungkook reaches them, the alpha looks up.

His smile falters.

His body stiffens.

The air changes, thickens—like a storm about to break. The lively hum of the pack’s morning activities dims as heads instinctively turn, wolves shifting uneasily at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Jeongguk doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to.

Even at nineteen, his presence alone commands respect, fear. His scent—rich, dark, threaded with a warning—spills into the clearing, sinking deep into every instinct-driven mind around him.

And right now, he is not just any alpha.

He is Jimin’s alpha.

A crazed bastard for Jimin.

And he does not like what he’s seeing.

The alpha across from Jimin—one of the many fools he’s had to endure today—flinches under Jeongguk’s gaze, his instincts screaming for him to run.

Because Jeongguk is young, but he is already a head alpha.

Born to rule.

And no one, not even an older, experienced wolf, can stand against his red eyes and the absolute authority rolling off of him in waves.

The alpha doesn’t stand a chance.

He drops his gaze, shoulders hunching, throat bobbing in a dry swallow before he stumbles backward.

Then—he flees.

Jeongguk watches him go, jaw clenched so tightly it aches. His pulse is a dull, pounding thing in his ears. His fingers twitch at his sides.

And then—his attention snaps back to Jimin.

Jimin, who is still sitting there, lips twitching, watching the scene unfold with the air of someone who is far too pleased with himself.

Like he’s proud of it.

Like he likes pushing Jeongguk past his limit.

Jeongguk sees red.

Before Jimin can react, Jeongguk grabs his wrist.

Jimin gasps, his head whipping toward him. “Jeongguk—”

The alpha yanks him up, fingers wrapping tight around his wrist, grip unyielding. The warmth of Jimin’s skin beneath his touch is maddening, but he’s too wound up to focus on that now.

Too pissed.

Too possessive.

Jimin stumbles forward, his smaller frame bumping into the alpha’s chest, but Jeongguk doesn’t stop.

He drags him away from the clearing, out of sight of the pack, past the scattering of wolves who have long since learned to stay out of his way when he is like this.

Their footsteps are quick, Jimin half-tripping to keep up, his breath coming faster.

But he doesn’t fight.

Because he knows.

He knows what this is about.

The path winds up toward the head alpha’s cabin, a structure built higher than the rest, standing tall, overlooking the entire pack grounds. A home meant for him —for the alpha who rules.

But right now, Jeongguk isn’t thinking about his rank.

Right now, he is thinking about Jimin.

About his omega.

And the way Jimin has been smiling at every fucking alpha in sight while ignoring him.

The moment they step inside, Jeongguk slams the door shut behind them.

Jimin barely gets a breath before he’s pushed back against the wooden wall, a firm, unrelenting arm braced beside his head, caging him in.

Jimin’s chest rises and falls rapidly, golden strands of hair falling messily across his forehead. His wrist is still caught in Jeongguk’s hold, his delicate fingers flexing slightly beneath the alpha’s rough palm.

Jeongguk doesn’t miss it.

He notices everything about Jimin.

The subtle, uneven hitch in his breath. The way his throat bobs, pink lips parting just slightly. The heat radiating from his skin, the faint scent of something sweet teasing at the edges of the alpha’s control.

Jeongguk’s voice is low, dark, barely restrained.

“What the fuck was that?”

Jimin blinks up at him, those wide, caramel pretty eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

But Jeongguk knows Jimin too well.

He sees the flicker of challenge beneath the feigned innocence.

Sees the way Jimin’s lips press together, how his chin tilts up just slightly— defiant.

Jeongguk doesn’t wait for an answer.

He leans in closer, closer, until their noses nearly brush, until Jimin has nowhere to look but at him, no air to breathe in if not Jeongguk’s thick coffee scent.

“You’ve been ignoring me for two days,” Jeongguk murmurs, voice rough with irritation, “and now you’re smiling at every alpha who breathes in your direction?”

Jimin exhales, a shallow, barely-there sound, before lifting his chin just a little higher.

“So?” he says.

Jeongguk laughs.

It’s not a pleasant sound.

It’s sharp, bitter—tainted with disbelief.

His fingers flex against the wall, his whole body thrumming with barely-contained frustration.

Jeongguk’s fingers tighten against the wooden wall beside Jimin’s head, his scent spilling thick into the space between them—spiced coffee, dark and potent, laced with irritation so sharp it nearly burns. His other hand is still wrapped around Jimin’s wrist, grip firm, unrelenting, thumb pressing against the delicate skin where his pulse beats fast, betraying him.

Jimin meets his gaze head-on, chin lifted despite the way his breath hitches. His golden robes are slightly rumpled from Jeongguk’s hold, the intricate embroidery catching the dim lantern light of the room—a stark contrast to the alpha’s own darker, heavier attire, embroidered with the markings of his rank.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” Jeongguk’s voice is low, rough, tinged with something deeper than mere anger. “That I’d just let you go around handing out smiles like fucking candy ?”

Jimin inhales sharply, fingers curling at his sides. His heart thuds once, twice.

And then, because he is angry, because he wants to irritate Jeongguk the way he’s been irritated for days, he exhales slow, deliberate.

“What are you going to do about it?” Jimin challenges, voice sweet as venom. His lips part, curving slightly. “I’ll smile at every alpha I see.” He tilts his head, golden strands falling across his forehead. “You don’t own me, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk stills.

The air thickens.

And then—he laughs.

A slow, humorless chuckle, deep and low, like something is unraveling inside him. His face scrunches, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tight.

And then his laughter fades.

His expression smooths, his dark gaze locking onto Jimin’s with something deadly beneath the surface.

“I don’t own you?” he murmurs, voice eerily soft.

He leans in closer, lips inches from Jimin’s ear, his breath warm, sending shivers down the omega’s spine.

“I’ll behead every head alpha you smile at.”

Jimin’s breath catches.

His smile drops.

Because he knows.

Knows that Jeongguk isn’t speaking out of jealousy alone.

Knows that Jeongguk is serious.

Because that is how he became Head Alpha.

And the very reason Jimin stands before him now—as his mate.

Jimin watches, wide-eyed, as Jeongguk straightens. Watches the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something dangerous in his gaze, the shift of his weight like he’s about to leave, to do something —

And panic seizes Jimin’s chest.

“Jeongguk—” he breathes, reaching out, fingers fumbling to grasp at the dark sleeve of Jeongguk’s embroidered tunic, but the latter doesn’t slow.

Jimin tightens his hold, desperate now. “You can’t do that,” he whispers, tugging, pulling him back. “That’s—”

But before he can finish, Jeongguk moves.

In one fluid motion, he turns, pushing Jimin back against the wooden wall once more.

This time, it’s different.

This time, the air between them is thicker , heavier—not just with anger, but something raw, something broken.

Jimin gasps softly, stunned by the sheer intensity in the alpha’s gaze.

There’s something else there now, something past the fury and possessiveness—

Something that looks like hurt.

Jeongguk exhales slowly, his voice dropping into something almost pained.

“Don’t you see?” he murmurs, dark eyes scanning Jimin’s face, searching for something he never finds. “This vexes me furthermore.”

Jimin barely gets a breath in before Jeongguk’s hands frame his waist, pressing him further against the wall, his grip strong but not painful, just unrelenting.

His fingers twitch against the silk of Jimin’s robes, gaze burning into his.

“Why?” Jeongguk murmurs, voice rough, edged with something dangerously close to despair. “Why are you always worried about others— never me? ”

Jimin swallows hard. “Jeong—”

But Jeongguk isn’t done.

His head dips lower, until their breaths mix, until Jimin can do nothing but look at him.

“Why is your smile not mine? ” he whispers, voice cracking ever so slightly, gaze filled with something vulnerable, something aching.

Jimin’s lips part, but he can’t speak, can’t find the words, can’t breathe past the weight of the alpha’s presence.

Jeongguk tilts his head, so unbearably close now, so close Jimin can feel the heat of his breath ghosting over his skin.

“What do I have to do?” He breathes. “What do I have to be—for you to see me? For you to want me, only me?” Jeongguk breathes, “to receive your smile? Your attention?”

His fingers flex against Jimin’s waist, as if fighting the urge to pull him closer.

His voice dips lower, almost pleading now. “Why am I always fighting for something that already belongs to me? ”

Jimin feels his pulse in his throat.

Because this is different.

Jeongguk has always been possessive, always been demanding—but this—

This is desperate.

This is pain.

Jeongguk’s lashes lower, his gaze flickering between Jimin’s eyes and lips, his breathing shallow.

Jimin’s breath is shallow, lips parting, but Jeongguk doesn’t stop.

His voice is quieter now, but it cuts deeper, slides under Jimin’s skin like something inescapable.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” He asks, his tone raw—like he’s been stripped bare. “With confusion… with hesitation… with accusation.”

It’s so quiet, so utterly wrecked .

Jimin’s fingers tremble against Jeongguk’s sleeve, lips parting slightly, unable to break the moment, unable to pull away.

The alpha exhales, lashes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second before he looks at him again—deep, dark, aching.

Jimin’s stomach churns, his body instinctively leaning into Jeongguk’s warmth despite himself, despite everything.

“Why is it never me?” he whispers, voice breaking, breath warm against Jimin’s lips. “Why, in your eyes… am I invisible?”

Jimin can’t breathe.

His words land heavy, sinking into Jimin’s chest like a weight too deep to move.

Jimin’s heart clenches.

Because he doesn’t know the answer.

Because— maybe —he does.

And yet, he had ignored it.

He watches Jeongguk’s face, the way his eyes dim, the storm within them pulling away, receding like a tide taking something with it. Jimin should feel relieved. He should be grateful that Jeongguk is stepping back, that the oppressive weight of his presence is loosening, that the dark cloud of his fury is shifting elsewhere.

But he isn’t.

Instead, something sharp digs into his chest, coils tight around his ribs and stays.

Because Jeongguk—his alpha—has done everything for him.

Everything.

And Jimin—

Jimin has given him nothing.

His fingers twitch at his sides as memories rush in, unbidden.

Jeongguk had taken a life for him. Had stolen him away from a future he had never wanted, from an alpha who had never deserved him. And in return—Jimin had given him cold glances, had ignored him, had made a habit of denying him in the most humiliating ways.

And yet, Jeongguk had never once demanded anything of him.

Not when he made sure Jimin had the softest furs to sleep on, layering them himself before Jimin ever stepped into their shared space. The furs were thick, stitched together with care, the stitching rough from Jeongguk’s own hands, but Jimin had never said anything. Had never acknowledged the effort.

Not when he hunted daily , bringing back the finest cuts, setting them aside with quiet care even though Jimin had barely acknowledged them. He always picked the ones Jimin liked most. Always. Never bringing back what he knew Jimin disliked, never expecting anything in return.

Not when he pulled Jimin’s hood over his head when the winds got too harsh, his fingers brushing over his forehead like a whispered stay warm.

Not when he wordlessly wrapped an extra layer around Jimin’s shoulders when he sat too long in the cold, when he tucked a steaming cup of herbal tea into his hands with a gruff drink.

Not when he had stood at his side during the mating ceremony, firm and unwavering, even as Jimin had refused to look at him.

Not when he had spent the last two months treating him as something precious , even when Jimin had done nothing but push him away.

And most of all—

Not when he scented him.

Every. Single. Day.

Jeongguk had never claimed him properly, never taken what was rightfully his, but he had scented him, over and over again, laying his claim in the only way he could.

Their scents would never be fully intertwined, not like mated pairs who had consummated their bond, but Jeongguk had never let his scent fade from Jimin’s skin. Every morning, every night, with careful touches and unspoken words, he would press close, scent glands brushing over Jimin’s throat, his wrists, his pulse points.

Mine, his scent always whispered. Mine, even if you won’t have me.

And Jimin—Jimin had let it happen. Had never once protested. Had expected it, even, though he had never admitted why.

Two months.

Two months of marriage, of mating.

And Jeongguk had never once claimed his right to consummate the bond.

Not once had he pushed, not once had he forced.

And yet, Jimin had let everyone believe otherwise. Had let them assume that Jeongguk had taken what was his.

When the truth was—

Jeongguk had done nothing but wait.

And Jimin—Jimin had let him. Had let him suffer in silence, had let him endure the quiet humiliation of a mate who refused to acknowledge him.

And still—Jeongguk had persisted. Had done everything he could to make Jimin comfortable , to make him happy.

And Jimin—

Jimin had given him nothing.

His breath stutters, hands trembling slightly as his fingers curl at his sides. His scent—usually warm, sweet like candy qnd sugar—shifts, becoming uncertain.

Across from him, Jeongguk is staring at him still, gaze unreadable, his chest rising and falling with heavy, measured breaths. His lips are parted, his brow furrowed just slightly, like he’s waiting— hoping —for Jimin to say something.

To do something.

But Jimin—Jimin can’t.

Because for all his defiance, for all the ways he’s pushed Jeongguk away, he knows —he has done nothing to deserve the depth of devotion the alpha has shown him.

And so, when Jeongguk finally exhales, finally steps back, Jimin’s heart lurches.

Because he can feel it.

The moment Jeongguk lets go, the moment he takes one step away, the air between them turns frigid.

And Jimin—

Jimin wants to stop him.

His hand lifts, fingers stretching out toward Jeongguk’s sleeve, toward the dark fabric that he’s grown so used to seeing, toward the warmth that has always been there, always been his.

But he’s met with air.

Jeongguk is already moving, turning away, the scent of charred wood and rain following him as he walks toward the door.

And Jimin—he knows he could stop him.

But he doesn’t.

Because he knows—

He knows he’s wrong.

He lets his hand fall back to his side, fingers curling into his clothes, guilt sinking heavy into his bones.

He watches Jeongguk’s retreating back, the sharp line of his shoulders, the way his fingers flex at his sides—like he’s barely holding himself together.

Jimin swallows, his throat tight.

Jimin sat on a low-seated wooden bench, hands curled into his lap as he took a steadying breath. The cabin felt emptier without Jeongguk inside, the absence gnawing at him in ways he hated acknowledging. His fingers traced over the grain of the wood, following its natural ridges as if it could anchor him.

“It’s okay… it’s just a little thing, Jimin,” he whispered to himself, voice barely above a breath. His heart pounded harder than it should for something as simple as waiting for Jungkook to return. But the weight of the past days sat heavy on his chest, and he felt restless, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

The cabin was quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire, its embers casting flickering shadows across the walls. It was small but sturdy, built from thick logs carefully selected and arranged by Jeongguk himself. Every beam, every polished edge bore the mark of his hands, carved and constructed with the skill and precision only an alpha like him could possess.

The door creaked open, and the cabin seemed to shrink around him as Jeongguk stepped inside. He was dressed in his usual hunting robes, but tonight, they hung looser than usual, parted at the chest to expose the defined planes of his torso. A thick leather belt was cinched around his waist, emphasizing his broad frame, and his dark hair was slightly disheveled from the wind outside. The moment their eyes met, Jimin’s breath hitched.

Jeongguk looked… impassive. Unreadable. Gone was the usual warmth, the teasing glint, the quiet adoration that always softened his sharp gaze. Instead, there was distance—a chasm Jimin had unknowingly carved between them with every cold shoulder, every ignored glance, every forced smile given to another alpha instead of him.

Jimin rose to his feet, hands wringing the fabric of his sleeves as he struggled to find his voice. "I—I made something new for lunch. I hope you like it."

Jeongguk didn’t say anything at first, merely inclining his head in acknowledgment. Then, with a curt nod, he moved towards the table. The usual closeness he maintained—the way he would brush his shoulder against Jimin’s, or lean in just a fraction too close—was missing. He sat at a noticeable distance, his posture rigid as he picked up his chopsticks and began eating in silence.

Jimin forced himself to eat as well, though every bite felt heavy. The stew was rich, simmered to perfection just the way Jeongguk liked it, with thick cuts of venison—Jeongguk’s latest hunt, one he had brought back just for Jimin. He had taken the time to prepare it carefully, hoping it would bring back a sense of normalcy between them.

And then, just as always, Jeongguk quietly moved a portion of the tender meat onto Jimin’s plate.

Something in Jimin’s chest tightened. Despite everything, despite how hurt Jeongguk was, he still did this—still cared, still made sure Jimin ate enough, still held onto the smallest remnants of what they used to be.

"It’s good," He murmured finally, his voice even, devoid of emotion.

Jimin wanted to say something—wanted to reach across the table and take his hand, to thank him, to tell him he was sorry for the past few weeks, for the distance, for the way he had made him feel like he didn’t matter. But before he could gather the courage, Jeongguk placed his chopsticks down, stood up, and left the kitchen without another word.

"Jeongguk," Jimin called after him, startled by the sudden departure. He pushed himself up quickly, his heart thumping in his chest as he followed the alpha up the stairs. "Jeongguk—wait!"

The alpha didn’t stop. His strides were long and purposeful, his broad back rigid as he ascended the steps leading to their shared bedroom. He didn’t even glance back, didn’t acknowledge the way Jimin’s voice trembled slightly, the way his scent wavered with uncertainty.

Jimin’s fingers curled into a fist as he chased after him, frustration and guilt warring within him.

Jeongguk was halfway across the bedroom, his mind set on leaving before the weight of his thoughts suffocated him, when Jimin’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Alpha.”

The single word was soft yet commanding, delicate yet undeniable, and it sent a shockwave through Jeongguk’s entire body. He went still, his back to Jimin, and for a second, he wondered if he had imagined it—if his desperation had conjured the sound from thin air.

But then Jimin called again, quieter this time, the syllable shaky and uncertain.

Jeongguk turned around slowly, his breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs. He found Jimin standing there, hands clenched into the fabric of his tunic, dark eyes shimmering with something unreadable. His plush lips were parted, his small frame tense as though every nerve in his body was urging him forward.

The room around them felt suspended in time. The wooden cabin, built with Jeongguk’s own hands, stood in comforting silence, the flickering lanterns casting a soft glow upon the intricately carved walls. A single woven rug lay beneath their feet, the hearth at the side dimmed from neglect, as neither of them had bothered to keep the fire burning. Their bed—large enough for two, yet still untouched in the way it should be—stood against the farthest wall, draped in thick furs Jeongguk had carefully prepared for Jimin over the past weeks.

But none of that mattered. Not when Jimin was taking a hesitant step forward, his fingers twitching at his sides before they reached for the edge of Jeongguk’s robe.

The alpha sucked in a breath as the omega’s delicate fingers ghosted over his exposed skin, curling into the fabric as if seeking an anchor. Jimin’s gaze remained lowered, his head slightly bowed, and when he finally spoke, his voice was small and uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, stumbling over the words. “I’m really sorry.”

Jeongguk felt his entire world tilt.

Jimin had never said those words to him before—not like this, not with sincerity laced into every syllable. His grip on the robe tightened slightly, fingers pressing into Jeongguk’s side as though afraid he’d pull away.

“I won’t—” Jimin swallowed, gathering his courage before forcing himself to continue. “I won’t smile at any other alpha anymore.”

Jeongguk stiffened.

Jimin exhaled softly, nervous fingers smoothing over the fabric of the alpha’s robe before gripping it once more. He hesitated, then whispered, “I’ll smile only at you.”

Jeongguk’s breath hitched.

The words echoed in his head, sinking into his skin, curling around his heart like a vice. His mind struggled to comprehend it—this shift, this admission—but before he could even begin to process it, Jimin lifted his head and smiled.

It was soft. Shy.

And it was his.

Jeongguk felt the air leave his lungs.

The omega’s cheeks were dusted pink, his lashes fluttering slightly as he gazed up at him. There was no mockery in his expression, no hidden defiance or forced submission. Just quiet, hesitant affection—a gift offered to him and him alone.

Jeongguk’s body moved before his mind could catch up. His fingers twitched, itching to reach for Jimin, to pull him closer, to do something—anything—to ground himself in this moment. But he didn’t have the chance.

Because Jimin leaned in first.

The kiss was barely there at first—just a press of soft, plush lips against his own, so light and fleeting that Jeongguk thought it might have been an accident. But then Jimin parted his lips ever so slightly, exhaling shakily against his mouth, and Jeongguk felt his entire body ignite.

A low sound rumbled from deep within his chest, primal and unbidden, as his arms moved on their own, hands settling on Jimin’s waist and pulling him flush against him. The omega let out a small gasp against his lips, fingers tightening in his robe, and Jeongguk took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, angling his head as his mouth slanted over Jimin’s with more urgency.

Jimin trembled against him, his breath hitching, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed closer, his hands sliding up to rest against Jeongguk’s broad chest, fingers splayed over the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his robe. Jeongguk groaned softly at the sensation, his grip tightening instinctively.

The cabin felt smaller. Hotter. The air around them crackled, charged with arousal. Jimin’s scent—sweet, warm, intoxicating—wrapped around Jeongguk like a drug, and he wanted more. He wanted everything.

Jeongguk’s lips moved against Jimin’s, slow yet insistent, savoring the taste of him like a starved man given his first meal. He could feel the omega’s heart pounding against his own, his breaths coming in shallow pants, and it only fueled the fire burning in his veins.

Jimin made a small, needy sound when Jeongguk pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. His lips were red and swollen, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over, his expression dazed yet undeniably wanting.

Jeongguk swallowed thickly, his thumb brushing over the omega’s jaw, the warmth of his skin searing against his own. “Jimin,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint.

Jimin shivered at the sound of his name, his hands tightening against Jeongguk’s chest. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at him—the way he leaned in again, hesitating only for a moment before brushing his lips against Jeongguk’s once more—was answer enough.

Jeongguk’s resolve snapped.

He cupped Jimin’s face with both hands, tilting his head as he claimed his mouth again, this time with more fervor. The omega melted against him, hands sliding up to clutch at his shoulders, pressing so close that Jeongguk could feel every inch of him.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, wrapped up in each other, lips moving in slow, intoxicating sync. All he knew was that for the first time since their mating, Jimin had come to him willingly. Had touched him. Had kissed him. Had chosen him.

And Jeongguk would never let him forget it.

His mind is struggling to catch up—to fully process that Jimin is pressed against him, that he kissed him, that those shy, whispered words were meant for him and him alone.

I’ll smile only at you.

It replays in his head like a prayer. His hands twitch at his sides, desperate to hold him tighter against his body, to claim him, to demand he say it again and again until it’s engraved into his very bones.

Jimin pulls away just slightly, breaking the kiss with a small pop, enough to look up at him through heavy lashes, searching for a reaction.

Jeongguk swallows thickly. His gaze flickers down to Jimin’s lips—pink, glossy from the kiss, parted ever so slightly. He wants more. But he doesn’t take. He can’t. Not yet.

Instead, he exhales through his nose, slow and measured, before lifting a hand to cup the side of Jimin’s jaw. His thumb strokes over his cheekbone, gentle, reverent. “Say it again,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

Jimin’s face flushes deep, but to Jeongguk’s pleasure, he doesn’t look away. “I’ll smile only at you,” he repeats softly, as if it’s a vow.

Jeongguk hums, pleased. He lets his forehead drop against Jimin’s, relishing the warmth of him, the scent of him, the way their breaths mingle in the small space between them. It’s not enough. It will never be enough. But for now, he’ll take what Jimin gives.

Later that evening, Jimin busies himself outside their cabin, gathering wood for the fire. The air is crisp, the scent of pine thick in the wind, and he enjoys the quiet moment of solitude. His fingers work swiftly, picking up the heavier logs first, piling them neatly in his arms. He wants to be useful. Jeongguk does everything—hunts for him, scents him daily to remind the pack of their bond, even builds things with his own hands. Jimin wants to contribute, even if it’s something small.

But as he reaches for another log, a sharp sting shoots through his palm. He hisses, jerking his hand back, only to find a fresh scrape along the heel of his palm, blood welling at the surface.

It’s not much—just a small scratch. Nothing worth worrying over. He shakes his hand out, rubbing the wound against the fabric of his sleeve before carrying the wood inside.

Jeongguk arrives home not long after, his presence filling the cabin the moment he steps through the door. His robes are slightly disheveled from the meeting, his chest still partly exposed, and Jimin tries not to let his gaze linger. He turns quickly to the fire, focusing on stacking the logs just right.

But Jeongguk is perceptive—too perceptive.

“Come here,” he says suddenly, voice firm.

Jimin blinks at him. “What?”

The alpha strides toward him, gaze locked on his hands. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” Jimin tries to dismiss, but it’s no use. Jeongguk is already grabbing his wrist, flipping his palm over to examine the scrape. His expression darkens.

“Who did this?”

Jimin huffs. “No one, Jeongguk. I was just carrying the logs—”

“You were what?” Jeongguk’s eyes snap to his, disbelief flashing in them before it turns to something more dangerous.

Jimin hesitates. “…Getting firewood?”

The alpha inhales sharply, nostrils flaring. “I could have done that.” His voice is tight, controlled, but his fingers clench slightly around Jimin’s wrist.

Jimin nods hesitantly. “Yeah, I thought I’d help out a little—”

“You thought you’d help,” Jeongguk repeats, his voice laced with something sharp, and dark. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his dark hair before leveling Jimin with a stare that makes the omega swallow. “I could have done that. That is my job.”

Jimin frowns at the clipped tone, something defensive curling in his chest. “Just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean I’m useless, Jeongguk,” he says, chin tilting up slightly.

Jeongguk’s nostrils flare, his scent spiking with frustration as he takes a step closer. “I never said you were,” he mutters, but his tone doesn’t soften. “But you’re not just any omega, Jimin. You’re mine.” His hand finds Jimin’s bruised arm, fingers gentle despite the tension in his body. “You were just made to sit pretty, to be taken care of. To be loved by me. You don’t need to lift a damn thing. That’s my job.”

The words settle over Jimin like a blanket, warm and suffocating all at once. His cheeks heat against his will, and he quickly ducks his head, biting back a smile. He fails miserably.

Jeongguk narrows his eyes, confused. “What’s funny?”

Jimin shakes his head, failing again to suppress the breathy laugh that escapes him. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, but there’s no real bite behind his words. His heart feels so full it might burst.

Jeongguk glares at him, but there’s something softer in the way he rubs a thumb over Jimin’s wrist, something tender in the way his grip lingers as if reassuring himself that Jimin is still there, still whole.

Jimin exhales, his chest tightening with something dangerously close to fondness. He thinks he might be falling in love with this ridiculous, overprotective, insufferable mate of his.

The days after their first kiss shift something between them—subtle yet impossible to ignore. Their routine remains largely the same, but there’s an added intimacy, a quiet understanding woven into every moment they share.

Jeongguk still wakes up before Jimin, his body tuned to instinct, his mind already on high alert. But instead of pulling away from the warmth beside him, he lingers now, allowing himself the indulgence of watching Jimin sleep. The omega is curled against him, his smaller frame tucked close, lips slightly parted as he breathes softly against Jeongguk’s naked chest. His scent is so sweet, calming—something that settles deep in Jeongguk’s bones.

He never used to allow himself these moments, afraid that if he did, he’d want too much. But now, Jimin makes it impossible to resist. Especially when, in his half-asleep haze, he nuzzles closer, his fingers seeking Jeongguk out even in his dreams.

Jeongguk lets himself stroke a hand down Jimin’s back, slow and tender. It’s not even conscious anymore—this need to touch him, to remind himself that he’s here.

When Jimin finally stirs awake, blinking up at him with sleep-heavy eyes, Jeongguk is already watching, already waiting. He always is.

“Morning,” Jimin murmurs, voice husky from sleep.

Jeongguk hums in response, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Jimin’s waist. It should be innocent, but the way Jimin’s breath catches betrays them both.

Jimin has become bolder in the days following their first kiss. It’s nothing drastic, but Jeongguk notices. He notices in the way Jimin doesn’t hesitate before pressing into him, in the way his hands now linger longer on Jeongguk’s chest, his arms, tracing the defined lines of his collarbones.

And, most of all, Jeongguk notices in the way their kisses change.

At first, they had been small things. Shy. Testing. Jimin’s lips brushing against his in fleeting touches, his eyes fluttering open almost immediately after, as if afraid to be caught indulging in something so fragile. But as the days pass, as they grow accustomed to each other’s presence, those kisses become something more.

They’re longer now. Deeper. Jeongguk always lets Jimin take the lead, never pushing, never demanding. But Jimin is naturally curious, naturally hungry for more.

It happens in increments. One evening, when they’re sitting by the fire, Jimin turns to him, fingers playing with the hem of Jeongguk’s sleeve. He leans in—just a brush of lips at first—but when Jeongguk’s hand cups the back of his neck, Jimin lets himself melt into it.

The next time, it’s after dinner. Jeongguk is cleaning up, his back turned, when he feels a hesitant touch at his wrist. He barely has time to register it before Jimin pulls him down just enough to kiss him, a slow, lingering press of lips that sends a warmth curling through Jeongguk’s stomach.

It’s getting harder to pull away.

Jimin learns quickly that Jeongguk isn’t just all restraint. He has edges, sharp and possessive, that slip through the cracks when Jimin gives him too much. When Jimin sighs against his lips, when his fingers tighten in Jeongguk’s robes, when he tilts his head just so, offering himself without words—Jeongguk’s control threatens to snap.

It’s unfair.

Jimin has no idea what he does to him, how much control Jeongguk has had to exercise just to keep himself from dragging him into his arms and ruining him.

But tonight, there will be no more restraint.

Jeongguk steps forward, his resolve solidified. His hands move to the tie of his robe, loosening it before letting the fabric pool at his feet. He moves soundlessly, the warmth of the chamber enveloping him as he lowers himself into the water.

Jimin had been enjoying the bath in peace, the warm water soothing against his skin, steam curling softly into the air. He hummed to himself, idly running his hands through the water, his body completely at ease.

But then—

The water shifts.

A ripple, subtle at first, but then stronger, the heat surrounding him disturbed by movement. His breath catches in his throat, his body stiffening as his mind races. And then, before he can fully process it, he hears it—the deep, quiet exhale of someone settling in behind him.

Jimin turns sharply, and the moment his eyes land on Jeongguk, he shrieks.

The sound is high and startled, echoing in the enclosed bathing chamber. His entire body jerks back, arms wrapping instinctively around himself as his cheeks burn scarlet.

“J-Jeongguk?! What—what are you—” His voice trips over itself, wide eyes darting to the broad, bare shoulders emerging from the water, to the way droplets slide down Jeongguk’s collarbones, catching in the dips of his toned chest.

The alpha doesn’t flinch at Jimin’s reaction. If anything, there’s a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes, barely visible through the steam.

Jeongguk leans back slightly, letting the heat seep into his skin, but his gaze never wavers from Jimin’s face.

“Joining you.” His voice is smooth, casual, but there’s a weight behind it, a promise that makes Jimin’s breath hitch.

Jimin stares at him, torn between scandalized and flustered. His face is already a deep shade of red, eyes darting between Jeongguk’s bare torso and the water that conceals the rest of him.

“You—you can’t just do that!”

“Why not?” The alpha tilts his head, amusement lacing his words. “I thought you liked having me close.”

Jimin’s heart pounds. He tries to look anywhere but at him, but it’s impossible when Jeongguk is all muscle and heat, his dark hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, his eyes fixed solely on Jimin.

“Hmm, why not?” Jeongguk asks, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “You’re mine, aren’t you ?”

Jimin swallows hard, his fingers tightening against his own arms.

Jeongguk watches him for a long moment before his lips twitch into something almost teasing. He lifts a hand, slow and unhurried, and Jimin’s breath catches when those warm fingers trace the curve of his shoulder, skimming over damp skin.

Jimin shivers.

“Do you want me to leave?” Jeongguk murmurs, though they both know the answer. His fingers slide down Jimin’s arm, sending heat curling through his stomach.

Jimin doesn’t answer.

He can’t.

Not when Jeongguk is this close. Not when his body is betraying him, heat coiling low and tight with every slow caress, every inch that the alpha closes between them.

Jeongguk leans in slightly, lips brushing just near Jimin’s ear.

“Tell me to leave,” he whispers, “and I will.”

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut. His breathing is uneven, his body frozen between the urge to push him away and the desperate, unbearable desire to pull him closer.

Jeongguk moves in slowly, the warmth of the water curling around them as he leans closer, his nose brushing against Jimin’s. He feels the way the omega’s breath stutters, the slight tremble in his exhale, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he presses a tiny, lingering peck to Jimin’s soft and moist lips—just a whisper of a touch, nothing more.

And then he hovers, watching, waiting.

For Jimin to push him away. To protest. To shy away like he usually does when Jeongguk’s touch gets too heavy, too possessive.

But it doesn’t come.

Jimin doesn’t move.

His lips are parted, glistening, his pupils blown wide as he stares at Jeongguk, his body still half-submerged in the water.

A rush of heat surges through Jeongguk’s veins.

In an instant, his arms wrap around Jimin’s waist, pulling him flush against him. Their bodies press together, slick with warmth, skin against skin. Jeongguk’s muscles ripple as he adjusts his hold, broad chest meeting the soft expanse of Jimin’s frame. The omega is smaller, delicate, but pliant in Jeongguk’s grip, his own hands grasping onto Jeongguk’s biceps as if to steady himself.

The water laps gently around them, carrying their mingled scents—spiced coffee and musk from Jeongguk, thickened by arousal, intertwining with the sweet, sugary notes of Jimin’s scent. It’s intoxicating, heady, making Jeongguk’s instincts flare to the surface.

And then, he kisses him.

Not soft. Not careful.

He tilts his head, capturing Jimin’s mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. His tongue presses in, teasing, tasting, devouring. The omega lets out a breathy whimper against his lips, and the sound makes Jeongguk tighten his hold, his fingers pressing into the slick skin of Jimin’s lower back.

Jimin is so warm, his body trembling slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he melts further into Jeongguk’s embrace, his thighs brushing against the hard muscle of Jeongguk’s legs beneath the water. His hands—small, hesitant—curl against Jeongguk’s chest, pressing lightly against firm muscle.

Jeongguk groans low in his throat.

The feeling of Jimin against him, the way he’s responding, makes something primal curl deep in his gut. He deepens the kiss, his tongue stroking against Jimin’s, their breaths mingling, water shifting around them as they move.

Jimin’s scent is thick in the air, wrapping around Jeongguk like a vice. His lips are swollen, his skin flushed from heat, and when he tilts his head back slightly, gasping softly for air, Jeongguk’s mouth chases after him—kissing the corner of his lips, trailing down the slope of his jaw.

“Jimin,” Jeongguk murmurs against his skin, voice thick with want.

Jimin shudders in his hold, his grip tightening.

Jeongguk isn’t sure he can stop now.

He groans into Jimin’s mouth, his hands skimming down the omega’s slick back, trailing over the curve of his waist before gripping the soft swell of his ass. His fingers flex instinctively, kneading the plush flesh, pulling Jimin even closer until there’s no space left between them. Their bodies are pressed so tightly together that Jeongguk can feel every slight tremor that runs through Jimin’s frame, every stuttered breath against his lips.

Jimin gasps softly, a high, breathless sound that sends a shiver down Jeongguk’s spine. His small hands grasp onto Jeongguk’s biceps, fingers pressing into the hard muscle, desperate for purchase as he’s held firmly in place. The contrast between them is intoxicating—Jimin’s softness yielding against Jeongguk’s raw strength, his delicate frame fitting so perfectly in the alpha’s strong grip.

Jeongguk tilts his head, his lips moving from Jimin’s mouth to his jaw, then lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the omega’s throat. He feels Jimin’s pulse racing beneath his lips, the rapid flutter betraying just how affected he is. The water shifts around them, rippling softly as they move, as Jimin’s body presses against Jeongguk’s.

The omega whimpers when Jeongguk’s fingers tighten on his ass, kneading possessively, pulling him forward so their cocks align. The heat between them is unbearable, thick and intoxicating, their mingled scents filling the bathing chamber. Jeongguk’s grip on Jimin is firm, unrelenting, his touch claiming, branding.

And still, Jimin clings to him.

Still, he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, his fingers slide higher, trembling slightly as they curl around the nape of Jeongguk’s neck, tugging him back into another kiss—desperate, breathless, intoxicating.

Jeongguk lets out a low growl, something deep and possessive curling in his chest as Jimin clings to him. That’s all he needs—all he can take—before his hands tighten on Jimin’s ass, gripping firm, warm flesh as he hoists the omega up effortlessly. Jimin gasps against his lips, arms winding around Jeongguk’s neck as his legs instinctively wrap around Jungkook’s waist. Their slick, wet bodies press together, skin flushed from the heat of the water.

Jeongguk steps out of the tub, water cascading down his sculpted muscles, rivulets tracing every defined ridge of his torso. His broad shoulders glisten under the soft glow of the lanterns, droplets running over the thick bands of muscle in his tattooed arms, his powerful thighs flexing as he strides toward the bed with single-minded determination. Jimin is weightless in his hold, small against Jeongguk’s towering frame, his damp hair clinging to flushed cheeks as he pants softly, eyes hazy with sweet lust and trusting.

Jeongguk’s grip is unrelenting, fingers digging into Jimin’s plush thighs, keeping him locked in place as he walks them to the bed. The air is thick with the mingling of their scents—Jeongguk’s arousal palpable in the way his chest rises and falls in quick, unsteady breaths.

And then he’s lowering them onto the mattress, his knees pressing into the soft sheets as he lays Jimin down beneath him. The omega bounces slightly on impact, his legs still locked around Jeongguk’s waist, refusing to let go. Jeongguk looms over him, droplets from his damp hair dripping onto Jimin’s collarbone, sliding between the delicate dip of his ribs.

Jeongguk exhales sharply, his gaze dark and heavy, his hands framing Jimin’s waist as he takes in the omega beneath him—skin flushed, lips kiss-bitten, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. And then he dips down, capturing those parted lips in a searing kiss, his weight pressing Jimin into the mattress as his hands start to roam, desperate to touch, to claim, to feel every inch of the omega laid out beneath him.

He pulls back just enough to grasp Jimin’s thighs, his fingers digging into soft, damp flesh as he gently pries them apart. The omega lets out a breathless little whimper, lashes fluttering as his legs fall open, exposing everything to Jeongguk’s dark, hungry gaze.

Jimin is laid bare beneath him, glistening—skin flushed pink from the lingering heat of the bath, dewy with water droplets that catch the dim candlelight. His chest rises and falls in shallow, unsteady breaths, pink nipples hardened from the chill of the air against damp skin. And then there—lower, where his thighs tremble ever so slightly—Jeongguk drinks in the sight of his omega in the most vulnerable position, slick pooling beneath him, the sweet, candy-like scent thick in the air.

Jeongguk swallows hard, his jaw tightening as his gaze zeroes in on the way Jimin’s hole clenches, pink and swollen, winking and dripping syrupy slick that glistens like molten honey. His cock twitches at the sight, heat pooling low in his gut, his instincts roaring at him to claim, to mark, to take.

Jimin whines softly, cheeks burning under Jeongguk’s intense stare. His fingers curl into the sheets, his body shifting ever so slightly as if to entice, to beg without words. Jeongguk drags his gaze back up to Jimin’s face, taking in the way the omega bites his bottom lip, eyes glazed with need.

“Beautiful,” Jeongguk murmurs, voice thick with restraint, hands squeezing the insides of Jimin’s parted thighs. His thumbs stroke over the heated skin, pushing them even wider, marveling at the way Jimin shivers under his touch. “You’re so—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if words aren’t enough to describe the overwhelming want flooding his system.

Jimin whimpers, shifting again, his hole twitching, slick dripping down in slow, glistening trails. The sight alone makes Jeongguk’s control snap.

Jeongguk doesn’t resist any longer. His breath leaves him in a sharp exhale before he’s diving in, gripping Jimin’s thighs and dragging him closer, closer, until his nose is buried between the omega’s plump, slick-drenched cheeks.

Jimin yelps, body jolting as Jeongguk licks a bold stripe over his pink hole, tongue flattening against the syrupy sweetness that coats his entrance. The taste—hot and sweet, thick with the omega’s arousal—has Jeongguk groaning low in his throat, his fingers digging into soft flesh of the omega’s thighs as he spreads Jimin wider and dives back in.

The omega trembles, his thighs instinctively trying to clamp shut around Jeongguk’s head, but the alpha growls, firm hands forcing them apart. “Stay open for me,” he husks, voice raw against Jimin’s slick skin before his tongue is back, swirling, teasing the sensitive rim before pushing inside.

Jimin chokes on a moan, back arching as he fists the sheets, his chest heaving. His wet hole clenches around Jeongguk’s tongue, sucking him in deeper, the stretch and warmth making the alpha’s head spin. He laps at the slick spilling out, drinking it in like a man starved, lips latching onto the fluttering rim as he sucks, hard.

“Ah—ahh, Jeongguk—!” Jimin sobs, his whole body trembling, heat consuming him as pleasure sparks up his spine. Jeongguk growls against him, the vibrations making Jimin’s toes curl as his thighs twitch with the urge to close around the alpha’s head.

But Jeongguk isn’t letting him escape. He eats Jimin like he’s lost in it, his grip unrelenting, his tongue fucking in deep, wet and filthy, his mouth working Jimin’s spongy walls open with obscene slurps and hungry sucks.

Jimin gasps, his fingers finding Jeongguk’s hair, tugging, pleading, his voice cracking with every desperate moan. “Gguk—alpha, please—” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, lost in the wet heat of Jeongguk’s mouth and the overwhelming pleasure flooding his system.

Jeongguk groans against Jimin’s skin, his breath hot and ragged as he tightens his grip on the omega’s trembling thighs. “So sweet,” he murmurs, voice thick with need, before diving back in like a starved man, his tongue pressing deep, claiming every inch of Jimin’s wet warmth.

Jimin gasps, his body arching as Jeongguk’s mouth works him open, relentless and unyielding. His tongue moves rough and fast, delving in deep, curling and stroking his velvety walls, each movement sending sharp pleasure racing up Jimin’s spine. The slick heat of it, the way Jeongguk groans against him like he can’t get enough, makes Jimin’s head spin.

The omega’s fingers claw at the sheets, his thighs shaking, toes curling as he gasps out broken moans. Jeongguk’s hands keep him steady, strong and firm, his grip possessive as he spreads Jimin wider, as if he wants to take in everything, taste everything.

Jimin is dizzy, overwhelmed, every nerve alight with pleasure. “Alpha—” he sobs, his voice breathless and desperate. But Jeongguk doesn’t stop, his hunger insatiable, his tongue pushing deeper, devouring Jimin’s sweetness like he never plans to let go.

Jimin gasps, his entire body tightening as waves of pleasure crash over him, sharp and all-consuming. His fingers curl into the sheets, knuckles white as he trembles, his thighs shaking where they frame Jeongguk’s head.

The wet, obscene sounds of Jeongguk’s mouth working him open fill the space, his tongue thrusting deep, hot and insistent. Jimin sobs, overwhelmed, his body reacting on instinct, clenching down around the slick muscle teasing him open. The pressure builds, unbearable, twisting into something blinding, too much—

And then it snaps.

His spine arches as the pleasure overtakes him, raw and dizzying, his breath stuttering as he lets go. Heat floods his veins, his thighs trembling, his body wracked with shudders. His mind blanks, reduced to nothing but sensation—the wet glide of Jeongguk’s tongue, the firm grip keeping him open, the relentless hunger pressing him deeper into the mattress.

Jimin shudders, his body tensing before unraveling completely, pleasure bursting through him in hot, shivering waves. His aching cock twitches pitifully, spurting thick and sticky ropes of cum, painting his stomach in milky streaks, like white nectar.

Jimin whimpers, overwhelmed, boneless in the aftermath. But Jeongguk doesn’t stop. He groans against Jimin’s sensitive skin, tasting, savoring, as if he wants to wring every last tremor from Jimin’s body. His tongue soothes over the omega’s fluttering entrance, slow and indulgent now, until Jimin is left gasping, shivering in his hold.

Jeongguk watches, spellbound, as Jimin quivers beneath him, body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. His chest heaves, lips parted as he struggles to catch his breath, his skin dewy with sweat and slick, flushed a beautiful shade of pink. His thighs twitch, weak and spread open, exposing the way his hole flutters, still pulsing from his release.

And Jeongguk wants more.

He drags his fingers through the mess on Jimin’s stomach, gathering the warm, pearly slick that mixed with the omega’s own syrupy wetness, coating his fingers in the obscene mixture. His own being cock twitches at the sight—at how utterly wrecked Jimin looks beneath him, pliant and needy despite the pleasure still humming through his veins.

With a low hum, Jeongguk spreads Jimin open again, thumbs pressing into the plush flesh of his ass as he watches the pink rim flutter. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat. “You’re dripping for me, sweetheart. So messy. So perfect.”

Jimin whines, toes curling as Jeongguk circles his entrance with a slick-coated finger, teasing, pressing just enough to make him squirm. Then, slowly, carefully, Jeongguk pushes in.

Jimin gasps, his fingers twisting into the sheets as Jeongguk’s finger sinks inside him, slow but unyielding. The slick makes it effortless, his body welcoming the intrusion with a soft, wet sound that has the alpha groaning under his breath.

Jeongguk doesn’t rush. He savors the way Jimin clenches around his finger, the way his walls flutter as if trying to pull him in deeper and snug. He curls his finger, stroking along the soft heat within, and Jimin shudders, a whimper spilling from his kiss-swollen lips.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk exhales, eyes dark as he watches Jimin’s body react to him. “You’re so tight, baby. So fucking wet.”

Jimin’s breath stutters. “Gguk,” he whines, hips shifting, instinctively seeking more.

Jeongguk hums, dragging his finger out only to push back in, deeper in the wet heat this time. He adds another, stretching Jimin open, scissoring gently before curling just right—

Jimin cries out, his back arching, thighs trembling as pleasure spikes through him.

Jeongguk grins, a wicked glint in his eyes. “There,” he murmurs, pressing against that spot again, drinking in the way Jimin gasps, his legs kicking weakly, his body trying to chase the pleasure even as it overwhelms him.

The omega is a mess beneath him, his skin dewy, his sugary scent thick and sweet in the air, tangling with the heat of the moment. The room is filled with nothing but the wet and sloppy sounds of slick and the breathy, needy moans spilling from Jimin’s lips.

Jeongguk presses a kiss to Jimin’s trembling thigh before lowering his head once again. With his fingers still buried inside, he licks a slow, teasing stripe over the omega’s stretched rim, his tongue gliding between his own fingers.

Jimin chokes on a sob, his hands flying to Jeongguk’s hair, tugging desperately. “Alpha—! Ahh, oh, God—”

Jeongguk moans into him, the vibrations making Jimin shudder, his thighs twitching around Jeongguk’s head. He doesn’t stop, fucking his fingers in deeper as his tongue laps at the slick, his hunger insatiable.

“Gonna make you come again, baby,” he rasps, voice raw against Jimin’s heat. “Gonna make you fall apart for me.”

And then he does.

Jimin’s body jerks as Jeongguk’s fingers press deep inside him, his hole fluttering around the intrusion while his neglected cock twitches, leaking precum onto his stomach. The stimulation is too much, too overwhelming, his nerves set ablaze as Jeongguk curls his fingers just right—

“Ahh—Gguk, I—I can’t—” Jimin’s voice cracks, his thighs trembling around Jeongguk’s head, his cock pulsing against his stomach, slick with his own arousal.

Jeongguk groans, drinking in the sight of Jimin, spread out and utterly wrecked beneath him, straight from a wet dream. His fingers fuck into the omega with wet, obscene sounds, stretching him open as he licks a messy circle around Jimin’s leaking rim, tongue and fingers working in tandem.

Jimin sobs, his back arching off the bed as his cock throbs, a thick bead of precum dripping down the flushed round head. The stimulation, the pleasure, the overwhelming fullness—it’s all too much, and yet not enough.

Jeongguk notices. Of course, he does.

He hums against Jimin’s heat before pulling back just slightly, letting his breath ghost over slick skin. “You’re throbbing,” he murmurs, his free hand gliding up Jimin’s trembling thigh before wrapping around his cock, giving it a slow, teasing stroke.

Jimin wails, hips bucking up instinctively, desperate for more friction, more of Jeongguk, more of everything. “G-Gguk, please—”

“Please, what?” Jeongguk presses, giving another stroke, his thumb swiping over the sensitive tip, smearing precum. “Tell me what you need, prettiness.”

Jimin’s head lolls back, his lips parting on a gasping moan as his cock twitches in Jeongguk’s grip. “M-more—ngh, please—”

Jeongguk grins before leaning in again, his tongue diving back into Jimin’s dripping heat as he pumps his cock with steady, firm strokes. His fingers curl, pressing right against Jimin’s sweet spot, and that’s all it takes—

Jimin chokes on a cry as pleasure crashes over him, his cock jerking violently as he spills between them, hot and sticky, painting Jeongguk’s fingers and his own stomach. His walls clamp down shut around Jeongguk’s fingers, his entire body shuddering as he rides out his climax, overstimulated and utterly gone.

Jeongguk groans at the sight, at the feel of Jimin pulsing around him, his tongue lapping up every last drop of slick as he watches the omega fall apart.

And he isn’t done yet.

He watches, mesmerized, as Jimin writhes beneath him, his body slick with sweat and his chest rising in uneven gasps. The omega’s cock jerks against his stomach, flushed an angry red, leaking helplessly as Jeongguk slowly, deliberately presses a third finger inside.

Jimin’s breath catches, his back arching as his thighs try to clamp shut, but Jeongguk doesn’t let him. “Shh, baby,” he croons, his free hand smoothing over Jimin’s trembling thigh as his fingers scissor him open, stretching him further, stuffing him more.

Jimin sobs, overwhelmed, his now sloppy hole clenching desperately around Jeongguk’s fingers, imprisoning them in deep. The stretch burns in the most delicious way, the added fullness making his head spin. He’s leaking slick in messy rivulets down his thighs, soaking Jeongguk’s hand, his body on fire with sensation.

Jeongguk groans lowly, his own arousal nearly unbearable at the sight of Jimin, so flushed, so wrecked, so utterly pliant beneath him. “You’re taking me so well,” he rasps, watching his fingers disappear into Jimin’s dripping heat. “So damn tight—fuck, you’re squeezing me.”

Jimin mewls, barely able to form words, his fingers clutching at the sheets as his cock twitches violently, needy and untouched. His body is taut with tension, the pleasure coiling unbearably in his gut, sharp and insistent.

And then Jeongguk crooks his fingers just right, pressing against that sweet, sensitive spot deep inside him.

Jimin shatters.

A high, broken sob leaves his lips as his cock jerks, untouched, spilling thick ropes of cum onto his stomach for the third time. His walls clamp down hard around Jeongguk’s fingers, his entire body trembling as his orgasm crashes over him in intense, overwhelming waves.

Jeongguk groans at the sight, his fingers still working inside him, coaxing out every last drop, stretching him through the aftershocks. “So pretty when you come for me,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger as he watches Jimin twitch and whimper, his body utterly spent.

And Jeongguk can’t take it anymore.

He groans low in his throat, his grip tightening as he strokes himself, Jimin’s slick and cum mixing in a sinful sheen over the thick length in his hand. His tip is flushed an angry red, the broad mushroom head leaking, aching, as he slowly drags his palm over the pulsing heat, smearing everything Jimin has given him over every ridge and vein.

Jimin’s gaze is locked onto it, his breath coming in shallow pants, his pupils blown wide with something helpless and wanting. His own length stirs between his spread thighs, sensitive and glistening, twitching at the sight of Jeongguk palming himself—at the sheer size of him, the weight of it heavy and intimidating, yet so enticing that Jimin’s body tightens in anticipation.

“Look at you,” Jeongguk murmurs, his voice thick and husky, his thumb gliding over his swollen bulbous tip before he brings it down, teasing the slicked head against Jimin’s quivering entrance. The omega’s breath catches, his hips jerking minutely, as if instinctively trying to take more.

Jeongguk’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, his free hand pressing firmly against Jimin’s stomach, feeling the tremors rippling through him. “So needy,” he breathes, dragging the head over the sensitive, glistening skin, watching the way Jimin clenches, already trying to pull him in.

Jimin gasps, his fingers digging into Jeongguk’s arms, his back arching slightly as heat coils deep in his gut. His body is still trembling, still oversensitive from the waves of pleasure that had just crashed through him, yet he wants more—craves more—his thighs twitching as his body betrays him, tilting toward the alpha’s touch.

Jeongguk hisses through his teeth, his patience unraveling at the sight of Jimin so pliant, so ready beneath him. His fingers flex against Jimin’s stomach before he dips down, their noses brushing, their lips mere inches apart.

“You’re already dripping for me,” Jeongguk rasps, his voice thick with restraint. “Tell me how much you want it.”

Jimin barely manages a whimper, his lashes fluttering as he grips onto Jeongguk tighter, his voice breaking as he finally breathes out, “Please—”

And that’s all Jeongguk needs before he tilts his hips, finally pressing in.

leasure that consumes them both.

Jungkook sinks in slowly, the thick, flushed mushroomy head of his length pressing against Jimin’s entrance, stretching him open with a delicious, burning heat. The omega gasps, breath stuttering, his body instinctively trying to clench down against the intrusion, but the slick warmth makes it easy—too easy—for Jeongguk to push forward, inch by inch.

The sensation is intoxicating. Jimin can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein as Jeongguk fills him, the slow, deliberate slide sending shivers up his spine. His toes curl, his hands gripping onto the alpha’s shoulders as his walls flutter around the sheer thickness pressing into him.

Jeongguk groans, his brows furrowing as he watches the way Jimin’s body takes him, how his entrance stretches taut around his cock, hugging him in a hot, wet cavern. He swears under his breath, the pleasure so intense it makes his muscles tense, his thighs flexing as he fights the urge to bury himself all at once.

“So tight,” he grits out, voice rough, his fingers digging into Jimin’s waist as if to steady himself.

Jimin whimpers, his thighs trembling around Jeongguk’s hips as the alpha sinks deeper, deeper in the wetness—the sensation so overwhelming it sends a flush crawling up his neck. His chest rises and falls rapidly, pleasure and heat pooling low in his stomach as he feels every inch of his meat dragging along Jimin’s sensitive walls, pressing into places so deep he can’t help but moan.

Jeongguk hisses through his teeth, head dropping to rest against Jimin’s temple as he finally bottoms out, fully sheathed in the omega’s unbearable heat. A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he feels Jimin flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in, his body molding to fit Jeongguk so perfectly it makes his mind go blank.

For a long moment, they stay like that—panting, trembling, drowning in the unbearable warmth of each other. The only sounds are their ragged breaths, the wet slide of their bodies pressed together, the way Jimin whines when Jeongguk twitches inside him.

And then, as Jimin shifts slightly, his inner muscles tightening around the thick and girthy intrusion, Jeongguk curses, his control hanging by a thread as he pulls back—just a little—before slowly, deliciously, sliding back in.

Jeongguk pulls back slowly, grinning as Jimin shivers beneath him, his body already reacting to the teasing motion. His breath is ragged, but the smirk on his lips never wavers. “Can’t handle it, can you, baby?” he teases, voice low and dripping with amusement.

Jimin’s chest rises and falls quickly, his body arching up instinctively in response. “Jeongguk…” he breathes, frustration and need clear in his voice, but Jeongguk just chuckles, the sound dark and teasing as he pulls back again leaving just the tip snug inside, leaving Jimin feeling empty and desperate.

“Aw, poor thing. You wanted it so bad, huh?” Jeongguk mocks, his tone thick with satisfaction as he slides back in, slowly, just enough to make Jimin tremble and whimper.

“Shut up,” Jimin manages, his hands gripping the sheets as he forces himself to meet Jeongguk’s gaze, his eyes fiery with annoyance and want.

Jeongguk’s eyes glint with mischief, and he leans down, his lips brushing against Jimin’s ear. “You’re so cute when you get like this. So needy. Want me to fuck you faster? Or do you like it just like this, huh?”

Jimin can feel his face flush, every nerve on fire with the mix of desire and frustration. He wants to push Jeongguk, wants to make him stop teasing, but at the same time, there’s something intoxicating about it—the way Jeongguk makes him beg for it, makes him feel like he’s losing control when it’s all he can do to stay grounded.

Jeongguk’s cocky grin fades as he watches Jimin part his lips in pleasure, his breath coming harder as he feels the tension in the air snap. Without a second thought, he shifts his grip on Jimin’s hips, pulling him closer, and then starts thrusting hard and fast, with raw intensity, no more teasing, no more holding back.

Jimin gasps, the force of each thrust leaving him breathless as Jeongguk drives deeper, faster. His hands claw at Jeongguk’s back, his body unable to keep up with the onslaught of pleasure that’s hitting him from every angle.

The sound of their bodies slapping together fills the room, mixed with the frantic, breathless moans they both can’t contain. Jimin’s entire world narrows to the feeling of Jeongguk fuck his thick cock inside him, the roughness of it, the sheer power. His mind is spinning, and he can’t think past the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by Jeongguk’s every movement.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Jeongguk mutters through clenched teeth, his pace not once faltering as he pushes Jimin to the edge. His voice is darker now, possessive, the tease completely gone, replaced by something deeper, and it has Jimin’s heart pounding in his chest.

Jimin’s hands grip Jeongguk’s shoulders harder, nails digging into his skin, pulling him even closer. “Jeongguk, I can’t—” he gasps, his body shuddering with every deep thrust, feeling like he’s being torn apart and put back together all at once. Impaled on his alpha’s cock.

Jeongguk just groans in response, pushing his cock in further, harder, not giving Jimin a chance to breathe, to recover. “You don’t get to back out now, Jimin. Not after everything,” he growls, his voice rough as he keeps the pace relentless, his body craving the release, needing to stuff Jimin and feed him his cock.

Jeongguk’s pace quickens, each thrust hitting harder than the last. Jimin can’t hold back anymore, every push sending shockwaves through his body, his breath coming in broken, desperate gasps. His hands clutch at Jeongguk’s arms, his nails digging in as he tries to ground himself, but the overwhelming sensation of Jeongguk inside him makes everything feel like it’s spiraling out of control.

“Alpha—ah…” Jimin’s voice cracks, a moan escaping him that he can’t contain, even if he tries. His chest rises and falls with every movement, his body trembling and jostling every time Jeongguk pounds inside, his mind unable to catch up with what his body is feeling. He wants to say something, anything, but the only sound that escapes him is another breathless whimper.

Jeongguk’s grip tightens, his hands on Jimin’s hips pulling him into each thrust, not giving him a chance to recover. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans, his voice rough with need as his pace doesn’t relent. The sound of their bodies meeting fills the room, and the intensity of it drives them both further, faster. “Taking me like this… fuck, Jimin.”

Jimin can barely form words anymore, his body responding instinctively to the rhythm that Jeongguk sets. Each thrust leaves him breathless, moaning softly, his body completely at Jeongguk’s mercy. The urgency, the rawness of it all leaves him gasping for air, as everything around him begins to blur.

Jeongguk’s grip on Jimin tightens, pulling one of the omega’s legs over his shoulder. Jimin’s body shudders, Jeongguk’s cock hitting new spots with this new position, digging in deeper in his heat— to a point where he feels like he’s going to snap in half.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin breathes, his voice desperate, broken, his entire body convulsing with anticipation. He’s barely able to keep his composure, every inch of him on fire as he’s pushed to the edge by Jeongguk’s hungry pace. The way Jeongguk moves, his strength, his determination—it drives Jimin mad.

Jungkook leans down, his face close to Jimin’s ear as he mutters lowly, “Fuck, Jimin. Fucking shit,” his breath hot against his skin. He pulls back and slams his cock into him again, harder this time, the speed picking up. “You feel so good wrapped around me, can’t get enough of you.”

The room seems to close in around them, and the only thing that matters is the way their bodies move together, as if they can’t be separated.

“I’m—ah, I’m cumming,” Jimin gasps, his hands grabbing at Jeongguk’s shoulders for some kind of grounding as everything inside him tightens, pleasure and tension swirling in every inch of his body.

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat, every muscle in his body tightening with the impending rush. The world around him blurs, and all he can focus on is the way Jeongguk’s body moves against his, the weight of his alpha’s warm cock inside. He’s lost in it, unable to hold on any longer, the overwhelming sensations pulling him deeper into the abyss.

“J-Jeongguk—” Jimin gasps, his voice a shaky whisper, the tension in his body nearly unbearable. He feels his heart racing, pulse thundering in his ears, and then, like a dam breaking, it all crashes over him.

The rush hits him first—a flood of heat and sensation that leaves him breathless, trembling in Jeongguk’s arms. His body convulses with the force of it, hole claiming violently shut around every inch of Jeongguk’s girth. His hands clutch at Jeongguk’s shoulders, fingers digging in as his breath comes in desperate gasps, his entire body shaking with the intensity of the moment.

Jimin’s entire body tightens, the pressure inside him building to an unbearable peak. His breaths come in short, uneven gasps, and he feels every muscle in his body coil, preparing for the release that’s threatening to overtake him. His hands clutch Jeongguk’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the sensation washes over him, consuming him whole.

With a low, breathless moan, Jimin’s body shudders violently, his entire form trembling as he loses control. He feels a rush of warmth, spreading through him as his body convulses with the force of it. His head falls back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, his breath ragged as the pleasure ripples through him, making his chest heave.

His own cock shoots ropes and ropes of thick gooey cum, punting both their bodies in pearly release.

Jeongguk watches him, his chest heaving with his own desperation, but there’s something in his eyes—a hunger, a possessive satisfaction—that makes Jimin’s heart race even faster. He can feel Jeongguk’s control slipping, but for now, it’s Jimin who’s spiraling, his body trembling in the aftermath of his release.

The air around them is thick with tension, but Jimin’s mind is blank, consumed by the sensation still lingering in his body. It takes him a moment to steady himself, to gather the fragments of his thoughts, but even then, he can still feel the warmth of Jeongguk’s presence, his sloppy hole split open on the alpha’s hard shaft, like a fire that hasn’t quite burned out yet.

Jeongguk watches him closely, his gaze intense, though his own composure is barely holding. The way Jimin’s body reacts—the way he comes undone in his arms—pushes him even closer to the edge.

Jimin’s face is contorted in a mixture of pleasure and disbelief, his eyes squeezing shut. His lips parted, barely able to stifle the moan that escapes him, and his brows furrow in that sweet, desperate way that drives Jeongguk wild. His cheeks flush, his breath quickening as his body trembles under the weight of it all. It’s a look of pure vulnerability, one that makes Jeongguk’s heart race and his resolve shatter.

Seeing Jimin come undone in front of him, so vulnerable and beautiful, makes his heart race, his breath hitching in his chest. That face—the way his lips part in a soft, broken moan—makes Jeongguk go absolutely crazy. It’s all he can do to hold on as his own body surges toward release, unable to stop himself as the raw, consuming need overwhelms him.

With a guttural groan, Jeongguk’s body follows Jimin’s lead, the intensity of the moment pushing him over the edge. He can’t tear his eyes away from Jimin, the way he’s still trembling beneath him, the way he’s completely lost in the moment. And that sight—his cock drowning in Jimin’s heat—drives him to the brink of madness, his own release crashing over him with a force he can’t control.

Next thing he knows is his own angry cock slamming inside to the hilt, lodged deep inside his omega, leaking cum like a broken dam, filling Jimin with his thick and scorching hot cum.

As Jeongguk reaches his peak, he feels everything inside him lock in place, a deep, instinctual connection surging through him. It’s the kind of bond that feels almost primal, something deep and rooted in their very souls. His grip tightens on Jimin, holding him in place as if marking this moment, making sure Jimin absorbs inside him every single drop of his gooey seed.

The sensation is both overwhelming and possessive, as if he’s ensuring this connection lasts.

Jeongguk’s breath comes in shallow pants as he rests his forehead against Jimin’s, cock still bound between Jimin’s spongy and soppy wet walls, before pecking his sweet plush lips with a small open mouthed kiss.