Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was only a matter of time before it happened. He had been preparing himself for this since the moment he decided not to study business and finance to push forward his family's company. They had made it very clear.

“If you want to pursue that shit degree then you will owe us something. And when the time comes, you can't say no.”

Now, there were few directions in which that could go. There weren't many ways in which he could contribute to his family's business and he was sure they meant that the favour had to be about the business at some point. Either he would have to drop everything and go help – no matter what – sometime in the future or be forced to marry someone who brings something to the table.

During his early 20s he desperately hoped they would never need that favour from him, especially not the latter, which wasn't that uncommon as some might think. Wealthy families, powerful people, usually arranged marriages of convenience between their children for the businesses to grow and for the family connections to become stronger.

That hope was ultimately crushed the day of his 27th birthday, during lunch, when his parents announced he was getting married soon. After listing all the business-related reasons on why it needed to be done, they were quick to remind him that he was getting old, and as an omega, he couldn't live without a mate forever, right? ‘His reproductive system aged along with him’ as his omega mother had plainly stated.

Jimin didn't contribute much to the conversation, eating in silence and nodding when necessary. Any attempt at convincing them otherwise would be in vain. So why try?

Once they were done, he set down his cutlery and clasped his hands together. “You spoke for half an hour and I still don't know who I'm marrying.”

“You will meet him tonight. Since it's your birthday, it's only fair for your fiancé to get you a gift, am I right? How would you like a surprise, hm? We’ll let you find out later today, but you can rest assured that we made a great choice.”

He would find that to be an overstatement soon enough.

The dinner was held at the Park's mansion, though Jimin had been living on his own for almost 6 years by then.

He arrived early, ever the stickler for time, so he wasn't that entertained by the fact that his supposed fiancé came 30 minutes late.

In those 30 minutes, he got to know his in-laws somewhat. They seemed apologetic about their son's behaviour – as apologetic as a couple of two alphas could get.

Jimin never had a close relationship with his parents and he was fairly sure he wouldn't be having one with his in-laws. His degree in psychology did come in handy.

Of course, he had heard about the Mins before, his parents did business with them often and he was aware they were into some more shady stuff in order to obtain things. But that was the extent of his knowledge.

He tried to be optimistic. That didn't mean anything, right? They could still be good people. The rock sitting at the bottom of his stomach begged to differ.

When his betrothed – Yoongi – arrived, bringing along a short-tempered apology, the omega managed to catch the slightest hint of his scent despite the scent suppressant he probably used. It was that of the air right before it would start to rain, like nature's raw underlayer, petrichor-like. A hint of honey, but maybe his nose was tripping. All that, paired with the strong aroma of tobacco smoke that had stuck to his clothes. Heavy smoker from the looks of it, he noted.

He bowed to Jimin’s parents and offered the blond a nod, with not much of a glance, and easily took the seat beside him, getting comfortable.

The dinner came to an end soon enough, the two barely saying a word to each other, which induced quite a bit of anxiety in Jimin. What amplified it tenfold was the phrase his dad pronounced as the guests were getting up to leave.

“You’re moving in with Yoongi, Jimin-ah.”

“Yeah? I know– wait, you mean now?”

“I mean, yeah. Why not? A day more or less won't change a thing. You two are getting married in less than two weeks so–”

“Dad, now is not the right time to joke. I have paid the rent for my apartment this month and I need time to move everything. I may as well move in after we sign the papers.” Jimin was very polite to his parents at all times, however he could feel the attitude dripping through his words and it just pissed him off further. Did he deserve such a treatment?

It was at this time that his beloved fiancè decided to make himself heard. “Look, we can take care of moving the stuff tomorrow. I'll have someone help you pack and then load everything into the moving truck. But you can come with me tonight and we'll worry about the rest tomorrow. What do you think? We could chat a little bit, it would do us good.”

Jimin was unable to say no then. The explanation was reasonable enough to make him nod, though he couldn't hide the dejected look on his face.

A crooked smile crept across his father's mouth, and Jimin immediately knew what he was thinking. Yoongi could put Jimin in his place just right. And it made the younger’s skin crawl.

He gathered his belongings and followed Yoongi outside. While his in-laws said their goodbyes, his betrothed led them to his car – and to his defence, Jimin had always had a thing for cars. His jaw fell to the ground at the sight of Yoongi’s gorgeous Aston Martin in matte black, a DBS Superleggera. If he wouldn't be able to love his husband, he sure as hell was going to make use of that pretty baby.

He came back to reality when his beloved didn't bother opening the door for him, instead hopping into the driver's side without sparing him a glance.

The drive to his new house was too quiet for Jimin’s liking. “So uh, how old are you, again?”

Yoongi glanced at him with an admirable poker face. “Thirty three.”

Jimin fumbled with the dainty bracelet that adorned his wrist. “I'm twenty-seven, as of today!” He chirped, though he was feeling all but cheerful.

The other only hummed in response, eyes fixed on the road. Remaining kind of speechless, Jimin only stared at him, taking in all the details.

His features were quite delicate for an alpha, but those feline-like eyes were not to mess with. Jimin's eyes shifted to his perfectly ironed suit down to his arms until they settled on the hands wrapped around the steering wheel. Slender bony fingers tapping on the leather incessantly.

“Can you please stop the tapping? It makes my brain itch.”

He didn't miss the annoyed roll of eyes he was dealt with, but the tapping ultimately stopped.

Couldn't his parents find a more antisocial alpha for him?

Jimin ran a hand over his face and ultimately leaned against the cold window, until they arrived at Yoongi’s house.

The mansion stood like a painting come to life – elegant, imposing, and undeniably opulent. Its whitewashed brick façade, kissed by soft hues of twilight, seemed to glow beneath the moody, cloud-streaked sky of that October night. Tall, arched windows framed in bold black trimmed the house, their panes glowing warmly from within.

Two symmetrical wings extended like open arms from the stately centre. At the heart of the mansion, an arched double doorway to welcome him with ironwork as intricate as lace, framed by slender lanterns casting golden halos on the stone steps below.

He noticed a chequered marble path stretched from the grand entrance like a runway of sophistication, flanked by sculpted shrubs and lavender tufts that perfumed the air of the night. The lawn hinted at a gardener’s devotion because Jimin highly doubted that Yoongi did anything besides work.

This wasn’t merely a house, it was a statement. A place where chandeliers surely dripped from high ceilings. He was proved right as soon as he stepped in.

The interior was gorgeous, but the house seemed to lack something and he couldn't point out what. It didn't feel home-y enough for him and his omega was already feeling uncomfortable in the unknown place.

It did smell a lot more like what he picked up from the alpha, though, and Jimin had to admit he didn't mind the other's scent at all.

Setting his keys on the table, he turned to Yoongi only to catch him shrugging off the jacket and loosening his tie. Jimin wasn't one to get flustered easily, he was told to be easygoing, but the other wasn't giving him anything to work with.

“Should we sit down and talk a little?” He broke the silence, pulling on the sleeves of his sweater and crossing his arms over his chest. He was so glad to have used more scent patches, the thought of his scent being all over the place made his skin crawl.

The same way it did when Yoongi snorted.
Literally snorted.

“You– no, Jimin. No. Did you really think–” another laugh in disbelief, “I only said that so there wouldn't be a debate between you three. I don't need to talk to you, nor do I want to talk to you. This is merely a contract we will be signing. We’ll share a house and that will be it.”

Jimin opened his mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by more harsh words spit out. “You can do whatever the fuck you want with your life the same way I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Yoongi rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, sighing deeply. “Don't go all optimistic on me. Neither of us wanted this, we just gotta live with it. Let's keep our presence the least known possible to the other and we will be fine.”

“It would be much easier if we got along–” he started, only to be met by the sight of the other's eyes rolling back.

“I don't have time for this shit. You can sleep in the first room on the right, second floor. We won't sleep together, God knows what you've been thinking.” He stalked closer to Jimin, pointing a finger to his chest. “You are far off my type, anyway. I wouldn't be able to get with you, gun to my head. So make sure you understand what you're getting into.”

Younger Jimin would've cried at the harsh words being thrown his way mercilessly and totally undeserved, but the work he had done with himself over the years stopped him just in time.

“Oh, I'll stay out of your way just fine, you'll see. But you will fucking learn to talk to me, because I don't do this spitting-out-venom shit you just did. Have a little respect. I thought you were more mature than this, but that's my mistake for thinking you're capable of that. Good fucking night, Yoongi.”

As he made his way to his assigned room – which had only pissed him off further – he tried to find solace in the way Yoongi's eyes had widened at his response in pure disbelief.

If he thought he was marrying a pliant omega who wouldn't talk back, he was wrong.

At least his future husband had not lied about having someone help him with packing up his stuff and moving them into the house. He had to wake up early to start the tedious process of packing. He was thankful it was a Sunday so he didn't have to go to work, that's why he was trying to finish everything within that day.

Starting off with his clothes, he managed to fill three big boxes of them and then all his accessories and the knickknacks that were scattered around his house. The worst part though was packing his collection of books.

You see, the shitty degree his parents were talking about was a double degree in psychology and education which later on allowed him to pursue a license in teaching and he finally became a librarian at a high school.

To say that he loved books would be an obvious understatement since he was little he would hide in his father's library room and just read whatever he got his hands into. His parents didn't really want to indulge into buying him children's books, not at the extent he wanted them to, so after he finished reading what was bought for him, he would move onto classics he would find in that room, law and economy books and so on.

Once he moved into his own apartment, he had collected a considerable amount of books. He was an avid believer of the phrase ‘people should read whatever they want to read’. While his parents firmly insisted that romance books, fantasy books and novellas like such were totally useless and didn't contribute in any way in a person's education, Jimin believed that just reading in general was good for the soul.

Who cares if one reads middle-grade books to escape adulthood and trauma, or comic books because they find them easier to digest, or thick classics because they like to drown in issues of other eras? That's the way he ran his school's library. Judgement-free.

He had been working there for three years now and the kids loved him already. He was a very intuitive omega, so he usually knew exactly what one student or the other needed that day, what type of interaction.

Most of them had gotten so comfortable with him that they asked to have a box of confessions put into the library for their open hours. The open hours were another initiative of Jimin.

Every two weeks each class would come into the library and basically do whatever they wanted. They could spend that hour reading in the library checking books or join the others into different discussions that Jimin chose for each group of students.

And saw the box of confessions would work this way: during different hours, whether they were checking in a book or checking it out or whether they were there for their open hour, if the students felt the need to share something with him, they would write a note fold it up and place it into the confessions’ box. They wouldn't write their name, just their class and so at the end of the week, Jimin would open up the box and sort each note into piles of which class it belonged to.

It did not necessarily mean that they discussed each note, in fact, most notes were just appreciation for his work or they shared random facts about their life.

What he chose to discuss instead were notes that contained a deep burden the student carried. Most of the time, he would eventually find out who had written the note, whether because the student would come up to him at some point and admit to it to ask for an opinion or a more thorough discussion, or simply because of his intuition and the way he studied their behaviour.

He was very proud of the little community he had built and how much the students' lives had improved, having one more person who cared about them deeply.

While dividing all his books into boxes he got a little emotional, flipping through his old notes, tabs and phrases he had underlined at the time, but he eventually managed to put everything away. It was way past midnight when the last truck was filled with his belongings and sent to his new house.

The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted with the sight of his fiance sitting on an armchair with a folder splayed open on his lap. The whole hallway was littered in boxes of different sizes, basically containing his whole life. Just the thought that he had to put everything away gave him a headache.

“Hey, how's it going?” Jimin greeted, because he wasn't an asshole, no matter what. When Yoongi merely kept looking at him, he rolled his eyes and proceeded to head into the kitchen.

Then the alpha's voice came from afar. “You don't need all this shit here, you could’a gotten rid of some instead of blocking the entire entryway.”

“Oh, there's another truck coming,” he sing-songed sweetly, while stirring his hot cocoa drink. “This place needs some personality anyway.”

“As if you had any,” the other muttered, but Jimin still picked up the sound, choosing to ignore him instead.

Drink in his hand, he walked over to the living room and plopped down on the couch, bringing his feet up on it, and started quietly sipping and scrolling on his phone.

He could feel eyes on him, but he didn't bother looking up.

“Do you have to be here? I'm working.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he replied. “Then go to your studio. I'm sure you have one. Stop being pissy, I'm not making a sound.”

“You sure ‘ve got a mouth on you.”

“Yes, darling, learn to appreciate it,” he smiled, briefly glancing at him to take in the absolutely fuming image of his betrothed. Of course he wasn't openly showing it, but Jimin could tell by the tight grip he had on the folder and the way he was toying with the pen between his slender fingers.

The next few days were so busy for Jimin that he barely had time to eat. Between unpacking everything into the new house, organizing all of his belongings and also going to work from 9 am to 4 pm, he was both mentally and physically exhausted by the time the weekend came.

The voicemail his mom served him with, listing all of the things he had to do in preparation of the wedding, did not help alleviate that exhaustion.

They – meaning his parents and Yoongi's parents – had decided to hold a small ceremony with only their closest family and of course some paparazzi, in order to announce the merger.

The days passed on a whim. Jimin was sent different options for the floral arrangements and the decor of the small venue along with different suits that he could choose from. He was somewhat thankful that the families had decided not to make such a big deal out of it, because he couldn't fake liking his husband for a long amount of time.

In the two weeks they had lived together, Yoongi had made sure to let him know he was going to ignore Jimin’s presence as much as possible. He would brush past him without acknowledging him, he wouldn't greet him at all, or let him know he was going to be late at work. In fact, Jimin noticed him arriving home later and later each day, causing a nagging feeling to grow roots in the younger’s chest.

The night before the wedding, Jimin was determined to get Yoongi to talk to him.

He had cooked a full Korean dinner, the kind that made the whole house smell warm and alive. There was bulgogi – thin slices of beef marinated in soy sauce, garlic, and pear, then seared until just caramelised at the edges. A pot of kimchi jjigae simmered on the stove, its deep red broth bubbling around soft tofu and bits of pork belly. He’d prepared sticky white rice, neatly mounded in bowls, and laid out a row of banchan: spicy cucumber salad, sesame-dressed spinach, soy-braised potatoes, and, of course, a small dish of pungent, homemade kimchi. At the centre of the table sat a steaming gyeran jjim, its silky surface trembling with every movement. It wasn’t fancy – but it was the kind of meal you made when you meant it as a peace offering, in his case.

He sent him a text, a simple ‘come have dinner early tonight’, but as the hands of the clock ticked and the food grew cooler, he understood.

Eating his own portion out of anger more than hunger, he left the rest on the table, bitterly hoping the other would feel bad after he'd see the effort Jimin had put on the dinner.

He locked himself in his room, staring at the ceiling in silence until a sob broke out and then another followed, and so on. Until he was full-on wailing. Until he felt sick to his stomach and emptied all of its contents in the toilet.

That was not the life he wanted, arranged marriage or not. He did not notice the sour scent of rotten flowers that had filled the house.

The next morning, he woke up puffy and did his best to fix his face before the lunch ceremony. He stood before the mirror in his blueish grey suit, a handkerchief neatly tucked in his jacket’s pocket, an embroidered sprig of lavender to match with his scent, as his mother suggested.

“Okay, you just have to get through this and then you can settle down. Just hold off your tongue for the ceremony and then you can tell that asshole alpha to go fuck himself.”

The pep talk seemed to work, because when Yoongi came home to get him – they had to arrive together – he refused to acknowledge him altogether.

The drive was silent. His soon-to-be husband had stuck to a black suit, the red handkerchief in his pocket being the only pop of color. Black shirt. In the closed space of the Aston Martin, he soon picked up on the obvious scent of the alpha. He had grown accustomed to it the past two weeks, since the house contained the same smell, however in the small cabin it was amplified tenfolds, because he was sure the other had not worn scent patches. The scent was heady and it was making his mind go fuzzy. Somewhere deep within him, his omega nuzzled into himself.

Only then did it dawn on him: they were going to have to scent each other at the ceremony. He had totally forgotten about that.

“Uh. Do we– will we have to scent each other? I forgot… about that part. I wore a scent patch.”

He turned to look at Yoongi who scoffed in annoyance.

“Then do something to amplify your scent. I don't care.”

Jimin slapped a hand across his thigh in disbelief. “I swear to god, could you be more fucking annoying? I ain't gonna do shit, if you don't care, I don't care either.” He crossed his arms and leaned away from the other, staring out the window. His inner omega cried softly, dejected, but Jimin tried not to sniffle.

His emotions were a mess.

His jaw was so clenched he could feel his teeth hurt, so he eventually forced himself to loosen up. There was a tight knot sitting at the bottom of his stomach and it was making him feel uneasy, unwelcome and unwanted, and quite frankly he was not used to the last two.

When they arrived at the venue, Jimin was pleased to see the place had been decorated just the way he wanted. However he noted many paparazzi waiting on the sides of the carpet that lead them to the main area.

Determined not to care, as he had stated, he remained seated and made no move to get out.

He could feel Yoongi staring at him incessantly.

“What are you waiting for?”

He refused to answer.

“Jimin, come on. We have to get going.” He sounded exasperated and that pleased the younger.

“You can't do this right now, they are waiting for us–”

“You're so dense,” he murmured, mindlessly fixing up his suit.

The other echoed the look of someone that was taken aback.

“What do you– oh.” Okay, maybe he caught on faster than Jimin anticipated.

Soon enough, Yoongi was getting out of the car and making his way to Jimin’s door, opening it for him and holding out his hand.

Jimin debated on whether he should or shouldn't take his hand, but he was forced to do it because of the cameras pointed at them. He offered a gentle smile as the other helped him out of the car. He linked his arm through his future husband's and they walked inside the venue mostly ignoring the cameras. Jimin wore a (fake) serene smile while Yoongi didn't let much show on his face.

The guests were waiting for them. They had to walk right down the aisle and in front of the officiant.

Jimin caught sight of his two best friends standing on the side and he felt some weight being lifted off his shoulders. He felt less alone.

The officiant introduced the betrothed and initiated his speech to which Jimin paid little to no attention to. His attention was shifted to the way Yoongi cradled his hands into his own bigger ones. He didn't expect the older one to have such smooth and gentle hands.

He was pulled out of the trance when he heard his name being called multiple times and at Yoongi squeezing his hand hard to get his attention. He had snapped up towards Yoongi and then towards the officiant. His fiancé looked slightly panicked. As if Jimin was going to back off at this point.

“Do you, Park Jimin, take alpha Min Yoongi, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”

Jimin almost cursed under his breath. Why did he have to be asked first. He ultimately nodded. “I do. I, Park Jimin, take you, Min Yoongi, to be my husband. I promise to love, honour and cherish you every day of your– my life,” he finished off, smugly. He felt proud of the implication that he would outlive the other. Tiny revenges.

He stared into the other's eyes with a bright grin and he could tell the other wanted to wipe that grin from his face.

The officiant continued. “Do you, Min Yoongi, take omega Park Jimin, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”

Jimin almost winced at the brute force with which Yoongi was squeezing his hands.

“I do. I, Min Yoongi, take you, Jimin, to be my husband. I promise to honour you, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

Jimin was sure Yoongi was feeling the same urge to roll his eyes at the meaningless words that he was forcefully pushing out of his mouth.

“May I have the rings? These rings are a symbol of your love and commitment. As you place this ring on Jimin’s finger, repeat after me:
‘With this ring, I give you my heart. I promise from this day forward, you shall not walk alone.’”

Yoongi took the ring between his fingers while he held Jimin’s left hand in his own and reluctantly repeated the words, slipping the ring on the other's finger. Jimin repeated the same process, the silence around them just reminding him how much of a formality everything was.

“By the power vested in me by the State, I now pronounce you spouses for life. You may kiss!”

Jimin had forgotten about this part too.

Yoongi's arm snaked around his waist. His hand, now adorned by a new ring rested on his cheek as he leaned down, pressing his lips to Jimin's chastely, pulling away a few seconds later. Jimin didn't have time to process it, Yoongi having moved to just holding his hand and turning towards the small crowd of guests who were cheering them on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honour to present to you, for the first time, the newlyweds!”

Pictures were being snapped left and right, Jimin looked around disoriented, the reality of what was happening finally hitting him.

His friends picked up on his state and got closer to the couple to congratulate them.

Taehyung pulled Jimin in for a tight hug. “It's okay, Jiminie, you did great. Everything's gonna be alright, pull it together,” he whispered in his ear, holding him close.

Jimin nodded, blinking away tears. He was officially tied to an alpha that didn't love him, that didn't even want to be civil with him. How was he gonna get through his days like that?

“Now, for the more traditional part, to keep in touch with our ancestors, you may scent each other,” the officiant stated.

Jimin turned to Yoongi so fast it made his head spin. Yoongi gave him a small nod and pulled the younger one to himself, one hand going to cup his jaw as he spoke quietly, only for him to hear. “Wanna go first or should I go first?”

“You– I… I don't know–” he was overwhelmed and disoriented, words remained stuck to his throat.

“Here, you go first, okay? Just– just nuzzle into my neck, yeah?” He sounded so gentle that it made Jimin want to pull his hair out. He gave a firm nod and then Yoongi guided Jimin’s face into the crook of his neck.

Jimin’s eyes watered and widened at the intense scent that awaited him there. He took a deep breath, pressing his nose against his husband’s scent gland which made him calm down visibly. He ran his nose over it twice, urging more of that intoxicating smell to enter his system and then he pressed his lips to it. If he sensed Yoongi tensing under his touch, he didn't let it show. Then smoothly, he turned so he would rub the side of his neck to the other's briefly, and then Yoongi pulled him away with a nod.

“See, you did it. Now, my turn. Just stay still, yeah?”

‘Yeah,’ he was going to answer, but the answer got slapped back in his face when Yoongi pressed his face against his neck.

Goosebumps arose on his skin and his eyes fluttered shut. His hand reached up to hold onto Yoongi’s for leverage, while the other rubbed his scent all over the omega. He was sure the scent patches had worn off by then, with the amount of pheromones he was unconsciously releasing.

Yoongi hummed against his neck at some point and then pulled back, pupils dilated as he stared at Jimin, before snapping out of the trance and moving away.

They managed to quickly compose themselves and then rushed to greet the guests, glasses of champagne in their hands.

“So! Have you two gotten accustomed to each other yet?” Yoongi's mum asked, patting Jimin’s back.

The smile he gave could fool anyone. “Oh, yes. Our schedules work well together, we are slowly getting used to living together.”

“Yoongi can be a nuisance with his late nights, but it's the job that requires him to do so. I hope you will be able to understand with time that work is always going to be his priority,” she smiled, as if she was telling him the opposite instead. Who in their right mind would tell a newlywed that he is never going to be his husband's first priority? The Mins, apparently.

He nodded lightly, not wanting to ruin the mood. After all, it was a marriage of convenience, though convenient to everyone but him.

“I understand that, I won't ask anything more than respect from him. I would never want to become an obstacle to his success.” His eyes darted to his husband, who was talking business with some people, at their wedding reception. Of course.

“Oh, Jimin, we couldn't have made a better choice than you! I'm so glad you understand. Yoongi-yah! Come here, darling.”

Yeah, he understood alright. He almost rolled his eyes at his husband showing up without sparing him a glance.

“You should take some pictures, the photographer is waiting for you in the corner there. It will be part of the next Business weekly.”

“On the magazine?!” Jimin squeaked, looking between the two.

“Yes, darling. You will be just fine, you're very pretty.”

“That's not–”

Before he could finish speaking, Yoongi practically dragged him there. Jimin was quick to replace the horror on his face with a forced smile, as the photographer congratulated them.

“Let's move on to the hallways of the cathedral, there are some cool hallways and balconies to take gorgeous, old-money vibes, pictures.”

Yoongi gave him a short nod and followed suit, along with Jimin attached to his hip, because he was scared to get lost.

The grand hall rose around them like a cathedral of silence, its towering columns brushed with centuries of stories, their veins of grey and ivory catching shadows like secrets.

“Do you have any poses you want to try out or do you need me to–”

“You tell us,” Yoongi rushed to say. “We don't have much time.”

He didn't have much time on his wedding day.

“Oh, in that case, I will have you lean against that balustrade. I will be taking the picture from the stairs to capture it better. Mr. Park could lean back, while Mr. Min sort of cages him in? What do you say?”

“Sure,” Yoongi shrugged and went to get into position, while Jimin was still awestruck by the ambiance. At least he was going to have a few beautiful pictures from his wedding day.

Jimin was a gracious omega; that no one could deny. He walked toward the balustrade with quiet grace, his dress shoes echoing softly against the marble floor. The cavernous grand hall opened around him as though he’d stepped into a painting.

Reaching the edge, he turned and leaned back against the cold stone railing, the chill of it meeting the warm curve of his back. His hands found the balustrade’s smooth top rail, fingers splayed, as if grounding himself in the stillness of his own heart. Above, statues watched from their perches, eternal. The coronation of a nonexistent love.

A heartbeat later, Yoongi followed. No words passed between them; none were needed. This was pure business. Business in eternal beauty. His eyes darted as he closed the distance, his dark suit a striking contrast to the pale serenity of the marble around them. He came to stand between the columns and the glow of the overhead light, casting a soft shadow over the younger.

He leaned in, one hand resting beside his on the balustrade, the other brushing his waist. No permission needed – he treated the ordeal like a job transaction. The air shifted, it got heavier and expectant.

Jimin stared into his eyes as he inched closer. He wasn't going to kiss him, right?

He didn't. He got close enough so their noses were almost touching, looking at the other's smooth skin through dark lashes.

“I got it!”

Jimin jumped in place, startled. Yoongi pulled away smoothly, running a hand through his perfectly combed black locks.

“Now let's move on to the staircase. We will take a closeup of your hands, Mr. Min, hand facing up, Mr. Park gently place yours on top. Needs to be delicate. Then I'll move away to take a shot from the bottom of the stairs – Mr. Park, you have to look back at Mr. Min, try to keep the lines delicate, as if you're pulling him along.”

They moved along quickly, but Jimin found out he had trouble calming down his heart whenever the alpha touched him or leaned too close. There was something about his scent that was getting to his head.

As they walked down the stairs and struck a few poses as instructed, the photographer, from the bottom of the stairs, asked for one more embrace.

Jimin wondered how many times Yoongi had rolled his eyes that day. It had to be in the hundreds for sure. He sighed and leaned closer, arms around the other's neck, while Yoongi held onto his waist.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he muttered into Jimin’s ear. “I can't wait for this shit to be over.”

Jimin refused to answer, instead doing his job and then thanking the photographer once they were done. Yoongi disappeared into thin air shortly after, while Jimin opted to take a moment away from everyone.

He was glad to be found by his friends.

“Jiminie, you look gorgeous. Don't let anyone bring you down, okay? That stupid man is blind if he can't see what a blessing you are. Please, take care of yourself,” Hoseok mumbled, cupping the other's cheeks and shaking some sense into him.

Taehyung was jerking his head in agreement. “Yes, my baby. Maybe he will come around soon, living with you might soften him up a little.”

Jimin shook his head dejected. “No, you guys. You don't understand. He isn't – he refuses to talk to me, altogether. I don't know how we'll make it work.”

“Look, think of him as a housemate, okay? You just have to live with him,” Hoseok chirped up, leaning against a column.

Jimin’s chin dipped in agreement. “But Hobi, you know I am an affectionate person, it makes my mood go south when he doesn't even greet me when he comes home. I think I'll crash at you guys’ houses more days than not.”

“You know you're welcome anytime, Jiminie, but you have to find comfort in your own home.”

“I don't know if I can call it home yet, guys, I haven't assembled the bookshelf in my room yet-”

“What do you mean ‘your room’?”

“Well, he has a library but it's mostly full and I don't want to mess with his order, so I bought one to have in my own bedroom. The room is spacious so-”

“You don't sleep together?”

Jimin looked at them perplexed. “Have you been listening to me at all? Which part of what I've said made you think he'd want me in his bed?”

“The part where you're his husband?! Jiminie, you know you're expected to have babies at some point, right?”

Jimin froze for a moment. “I haven't thought that far ahead, Hobi, let me deal with the present-time problems.”

Taehyung gripped his arm, shaking him lightly. “Jimin, just get through today, okay? Maybe ask him to assemble the bookshelf? Who knows, he might be in a good mood. Alphas have a provider's instinct, don't they?”

“Not him, Tae. I might try,” he sighed. “I'll give it a try. He did refuse to eat my full-on Korean dinner, though, so my expectations are really low.”

“Oh, I'm gonna fuck him up! What do you mean he refused to eat it? Your cooking is delicious as fuck!”

Jimin snorted at his friend's reaction. He knew they loved his cooking. “Well, he didn't try it so he wouldn't know. You can come over for dinner on the weekend and I'll cook for you, my babies.”

“We are taking up on that offer immediately. Next weekend we will be there, in fact we can have a sleepover,” Taehyung was quick to add. “In all seriousness, we won't let you feel lonely, okay? You might not have a partner who is present all the time, but you are not alone. You are the most lovable and caring person I know, you have a lot of people who care for you so don't let him bring you down.”

“Easier said than done, Tae… but I will try my best. Thankfully, I have my work and I will fill my time with things and people that make me feel good,” he murmured, hugging his friends to brush off how emotional he was getting.

He had known Taehyung and Hoseok since he was in middle school so they were basically like his brothers. Though Taehyung was an alpha, he wasn't pretentious like the others and never made any advances romantically, so Jimin felt very lucky to have his friendship and protection at the same time.

People often assumed they were dating, given how protective they were of each other, but their bond was nothing like that. If anything, he felt more like a brother than a friend.

He had been a non-confrontational person for most of his life, so having someone stand up for him felt good. Though he no longer needed either of them to protect him, it still felt like they carried home with them. Wherever they were, it felt more like home than his own parents’ house ever did.

Hoseok was a beta, but growing up with these two, he understood all dynamics really well. He was emotionally intelligent, always lightening the mood with his bright smile and playful jokes, and endlessly caring. Without a doubt, he fit perfectly into the beta role, his protective and providing side perfectly balanced by his nurturing, caring nature.

They were such a well-balanced trio that Jimin often got emotional about that.

“Okay, guys, okay, I need to go back in. Don't want them to think I fled my own wedding. My dear husband might be capable of that, but I'm not.”

And so they went back into the venue, mingling with the others and tasting appetisers, until one after another, the guests slipped away, leaving behind a hush where chatter once echoed.

Jimin didn't catch a glimpse of his husband until the very end, when they had to greet the guests one by one, standing next to each other, while the younger pretended he was the happiest person alive, his husband maintaining his serious persona.

They drove home around mid-afternoon…

… and Jimin jumped the gun, because he hated the anticipation and overthinking process that came anytime he had to ask for help.

“I bought a bookshelf to put in my room. Do you mind assembling it for me? I'm not really used to doing that and I don't want to mess it up.” He was fidgeting into his seat as the mansion came into view.

He waited for a few seconds, which turned into a minute, then the engine was being turned off and a deafening silence surrounded him.

“Yoongi? Listen, I hate it when you do this. I haven't done anything wrong to you, at least don't ignore me like this.” He could barely hold his voice from breaking at the end.

“No, you listen. Act as if you're on your own, okay? I really don't want to be in this situation, but I was forced to, so the less you remind me of your presence, the better it will be.” Yoongi tossed him a bunch of keys.

“You've got the keys of the main doors and the key fob for the garage. You can put your car there.”

With that being said, he got out of the car and slammed the door, heading inside, leaving a perplexed omega to drown in his thoughts and to fill the car with the rotten smell of decaying flowers.

Chapter Text

The following days passed without much excitement. On Monday, he returned to work, then spent the afternoon at home building a bookshelf of his own. That evening, he ordered takeout and ate alone in his room, where he stayed tucked away – working, reading to his heart’s content, and eventually drifting off to sleep.

Tuesday wasn't that different, but at least he had an open hour with his favourite class of year 11.

He was scanning some returned books when the teens entered in a rush, greeting in cheery voices and roaming around the library for a bit until Jimin joined them at the teaching space he had created.

Tucked into a quiet corner of the school library was a cozy little reading nook, clearly set apart from the rigid rows of bookshelves and study desks. Jimin had carefully taken into choosing some soft, mismatched cushions in shades of teal, maroon, mustard and forest green that were now scattered across the carpeted floor, forming a loose half circle that invited students to sit, sprawl, or curl up however they liked. Jimin’s own cushion was the one that allowed him to have his back to a big white board that covered that portion of the wall.

Right beside it sat a small, wheeled book cart, its top shelf stacked with randomly chosen titles. Some books they had discussions on lately, while others were just random books that the students had been flipping through the last few times they were around. It was a dynamic cart, it changed each day, each class leaving a little bit of their personality around the corner. It wasn't much, but the space had a warmth to it, a softness that made conversations feel easier and stories more alive.

It was where the librarian gathered the quiet ones, the curious ones, the troubled ones and the ones who hid emotions with their loudness. A place where books sparked dialogue and dialogue made the books feel real. But that hour of the day was not only about books.

In fact, on the lowest shelf of the book cart resided a wide spherical vase with a thick cork lid that had a slit to the side for the students to submit their thoughts.

Once Jimin settled down on his spot, the others were quick to join. When he first started this initiative only two or three students would sit down with him and talk while the others wearily stood around corners hidden between bookshelves, some listening, some not caring about what was happening. But he was proud to notice that the circle was almost full this time around.

He clapped his hands once to announce the beginning.

“So! Hello guys, you know I always like to introduce myself first.” His statement was followed by playful groans. “I'm Min Jimin, your school’s one and only librarian–”

“Mr. Park?! What do you mean Min?!” A lot of gasps and murmurs filled the room. They usually would tease Jimin incessantly about his habit of introducing himself each time though everyone knew him, but this time around Jimin caught them off guard.

He angled his left hand so he could show them his ring. A marquise-cut diamond sat at the centre of an intricately engraved gold band. The band featured delicate leaf-like patterns and small marquise-shaped side stones, giving the ring a refined, vintage look.

The collective gasp of shock rang into his ears as he chuckled. At least some people were excited about his marriage.

They took turns admiring Jimin’s ring. “Mr. Park, when– I mean, Mr. Min!! When did this happen?! You hadn't told us you were engaged!”

“We need to see pictures of the wedding!”

“Who is your husband? Will you bring him here to meet us one day?”

“Okay, guys, okay, let's all calm down first, okay? It's not that big of a deal, my parents decided I was getting too old and they found someone for me–” he said that with a nonchalant grin and of course, his students thought he was joking. He really wished he was joking.

He unlocked his phone and opened the email that was sent to him by the photographer. He tapped on one of the pictures that happened to be the one leaning against the balustrade.

Before he turned to the students to see it, he asked, “This might be rated as suggestive, are all of you 16 yet?” Which was followed by a chorus of ‘yes's and then some whines of protest.

He chuckled and finally decided to stop teasing them, letting them pass his phone until everyone could see the picture.

“Oh my god, sir. You look stunning! He gives off mafia vibes.”

“Oh yeah, surely! This looks like a royal wedding!”

“Isn't that–” Jaewon, one of the more rebellious students, a recently presented alpha, stuttered. “Isn't that Min Yoongi? Soon-to-be head of the Min Intelligence Group?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Jaewon has been one of the more sceptical students about his work in the library and the discussions he held, but who eventually had come around and even submitted a note himself – that Jimin later found out was his anyway – and he had learned to respect the librarian along the way. His family was more traditional and they had imposed a lot of wrong views onto him.

“I’ve overheard my father talk about him. I think they did business together at some point,” he cleared his throat.

Jaewon’s family's business wasn't exactly legal, from what Jimin had managed to tell from cut up information the young alpha had shared.

“It is him, yes.” He confirmed, because where was the harm in that, right? He had already shown them the picture and he couldn't really take it back.

“Ah! Now that I think about it–” Areum, a beautiful young lady who usually kept to herself, perked up. “Isn't he the one that was seen pulling out a handgun when he was cornered by a group of men that were threatening him?”

Jimin realised he had made a mistake in showing them who his husband was.

“Ah, Areum dear, those are rumors,” he settled, but some of the boys had already started nodding along.

“Mr. Park, I told you he looked like a mafia boss of some sorts!”

“It's mr. Min now,” someone corrected with a snicker and he rolled his eyes.

“I can assure you he is not part of the mafia or whatever you're thinking. Anyway, now that we got my wedding out of the way, we can continue with today's conversation. You can keep calling me Mr. Park if you want, I don't really mind,” he mused and then picked up a book from the cart. They settled pretty quickly, showing how much they enjoyed the librarian's discussions.

“I was glad to have mostly positive feedback and thoughts in our letterbox, so I decided to discuss this book instead. I did recommend it a few weeks ago, I don't know if anyone read it?”

A few of them raised their hands, while the others listened attentively. He proceeded to have someone briefly skim through the summary and then they smoothly picked out a few topics related to the book and appropriated them to modern society.

He arrived home to an empty house, took a quick shower and then curled up on the couch reading a book…

…only to be shaken awake from his deep slumber by a strong hand shaking his shoulder.

“Jimin, wake up. My friends are coming over for dinner,” he spoke clearly, not an ounce of gentleness in having interrupted his sleep.

“Yoongi? What do you mean?” He blinked sluggishly, still half-asleep. “Do I need to cook?”

A little pause.

“No. I can order takeout, just– you didn't meet them at the wedding, they were out of the country for business,” he rubbed at the back of his neck.

Jimin had noticed he'd do that often. He tilted his head slightly.

“Mine were at the wedding and you didn't speak to them,” he stated. He was obviously going to properly meet and greet Yoongi’s friends, but he was trying to understand.

“That– You can invite them over sometime. I talked to so many people there, I don't even remember,” he looked almost apologetic.

It made Jimin nod slowly and hum, as if he was thinking about it.

“Okay,” he sat up, straightening his clothes. “Do I need to change? What type of friends are we talking about?”

Yoongi let out a breathy laugh. “No, you're fine. You're at your own house now. It's nothing formal, I’ve known them since high school. They're like family.”

And then, as an afterthought, “I think they'll like you.”

“I’d rather have you liking me, than them,” Jimin offhandedly commented, standing up, coming face to face with the alpha. The comment of that being his house did feel good, though.

“Yeah, well. Such a bummer.”

“Tell me more about them,” Jimin asked, walking around Yoongi to go to the kitchen. “I can cook, I don't mind. What's the time? When are they coming?”

“Ah, you really don't have to,” he seemed flustered. “It's a little past six. They said they'd be here around eight-eight thirty.”

“Okay, how many are we talking?” came Jimin's voice from the kitchen, already pulling out pans and pots, spoons and more groceries.

“Three.”

“Fill me in,” Jimin chirped, pulling the cutting board out and started chopping up the vegetables in perfect shapes. He was trying to act unfazed, but inside he was buzzing. The alpha was finally engaging in conversation with him and – God, Jimin could invite the older man's friends over for dinner every night if it meant easy conversation like this.

“So, there's Seokjin, he is a year older than me, his family and mine are really close – though I don't understand how his angel-like parents find things in common with mine – but that's beside the point.”

Jimin let out a chuckle, eyes trained down on his work.

“He’s very funny, you’ll see. Easygoing. Then there's Namjoon, he works with me, he's a data engineer –” Jimin whistled, impressed, “– and him and Seokjin are mates,” Yoongi concluded.

“Really? That's amazing! Wait, arranged or..?”

“No, more like love at first sight,” Yoongi chuckled fondly and it caught Jimin by surprise. It was the first time Yoongi was relaxed like this around him and he already dreaded the moment when that would come to an end.

“Ah, I can't wait to meet them,” he sighed happily, turning back to the fridge. Jimin loved being around love and he could be he would be surrounded by it that evening, be it the two mates or the friends altogether.

“Then there's Jungkook. He’s the youngest of us– Are those cauliflowers? Since when do we have cauliflowers at home?” Yoongi seemed puzzled, trailing off.

“Since I did some grocery shopping. Go on,” the younger one motioned with his hand to continue and proceeded to cut the cauliflower in horizontal circles. “Wait, is anyone allergic to anything? Are you?”

“No, no. So yeah, Jungkook is the youngest. He works with Seokjin. Jin’s parents own a Data analysis firm and we work together often since we do that too. They're like a sister company.”

Jimin nodded in understanding, marinating the vegetables in a baking tray and then turning on the oven. “That's nice. Nice. Are you all fine with chicken for dinner?”

“Like I said, you didn't have to do anything. Whatever you cook is fine, no one's picky. Well, maybe Jin, being an omega, might be a little spoiled,” he recalled, with a smirk.

“Hey, that's very judgemental!”

“No, that's just stating facts, Jimin. I've known him long enough, trust me.”

Trust. This mystical concept.

He ended up rolling his eyes and moving on to prepare the meat in the silent company of his husband, who had ended up taking a seat by the counter, just watching him work.

“I’ve not been the warmest,” he spoke up at some point, “but I hope you don't expect me to be, I was clear the first day.”

Jimin snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “Rest assured, Yoongi. I wouldn't ask that from you.”

He was somewhat happy to be reminded that nothing would change. Knowing himself, he could get delusional quickly, if given some attention.

When the doorbell rang, Jimin was alone in the kitchen. He had just finished taking out of the oven the chicken and the vegetables. He had also taken out some kimchi from his secret batch.

Jimin looked around, called for Yoongi, but the older one was getting changed.

He wiped his hands and took a deep breath, walking to the door.

He was taken aback by how intimidating the three men standing there looked, in suits, tall and broad all over, faces straight.

“Y-You're Yoongi’s friends?” He asked, stuttering a little while looking up at them from where he was peeking through the half opened door.

Then they broke into genuine smiles and Jimin breathed sharply.

“Ah! There's Jimin! Yes, that would be us,” the omega spoke, Jimin calming visibly at the sweet scent that reached his nose. He ruffled Jimin’s blonde hair and stepped in pushing the door open further.

Jimin was stunned. Jin was very tall for an omega, almost as tall as the other two alphas that trailed behind him.

Jimin closed the door and watched them get comfortable in the living room, shrugging off jackets and loosening ties, rolling up sleeves.

“It smells heavenly here, what did Yoongi order?”

“Ah, I cooked something light,” Jimin sheepishly said, which had the others looking at each other.

“You– we are very disrespectful, I apologise. I'm Namjoon, nice to meet you,” the alpha extended his hand for Jimin to shake, and then so did Jungkook, much more laid back, almost apprehensive.

“I'll be setting the table, I'll call when it's ready– ah, let me get Yoongi first, he is showering,” he stammered, going halfway to the kitchen and then turning back to go knock on Yoongi's bedroom.

Namjoon looked at Jin with a smile tinged with sadness. They knew their friend wanted nothing to do with the omega, but it still looked weird, having to knock on his husband's bedroom door. They wondered if they were even sleeping together.

“Yoongi, your friends are here, are you done yet?”

Before Jimin could finish his phrase, Yoongi opened the door and yanked him inside, closing it and pushing Jimin against it.

The omega gasped, eyes wide in surprise.

There stood the alpha, hands caging him in, chest bare except for the dragon tattoo that curled around his shoulder and disappeared in his back. His hair was damp and messy, dripping on the floor, eyes so sharp they had Jimin stunned in silence.

He could feel a thrum deep in his chest, a silent voice at the back of his head that whispered ‘he can be yours, make him yours’.

Jimin could swear that he didn't do it on purpose, the way his scent became more enticing and powerful, it spiked up, became more alluring and inviting.

“Y’can act a little more home-y when there are people around, y’know? They don't need to be reminded of the fact that I can't stand you every time you act polite towards me. Have you ever seen couples knock on the door of the bedroom they supposedly share and then just wait out for an answer?” He scoffed in disbelief, fingers drumming against the door impatiently. His nose twitched.

“We don't share a room, though,” Jimin stated dumbly, not clearly registering what Yoongi was saying due to the distracting scent coming at him from all sides. Yoongi smelled so fresh and good that Jimin was having a hard time focusing.

He didn't notice the alpha’s nostrils flare, but he did watch his pupils dilate as he moved closer. His thumb made contact with Jimin's full lower lip, harshly swiping at it.

It had the omega gasping softly, eyes fluttering shut as he parted his lips, swiping his tongue over them and touching the tip of Yoongi’s fingers in the wake.

He didn't register the alpha cursing under his breath and repeating the action, this time making the omega’s lips redder at the pressure. To his major surprise, Jimin wrapped those pretty lips around his finger, hooded eyes snapping open and looking at the alpha with the intensity of one hundred eyes.

The alpha looked away and pushed himself off the door. “Don't do that again, omega. I told you, you're not my type,” he muttered, pulling a Tshirt over his head and sadly covering the tattoo that had intrigued Jimin to no end.

The omega cleared his throat and nodded, opening the door and ushering out, cheeks tinted in embarrassment as he refused to make eye contact with the guests until he was sure he could hold a conversation. Instead he headed for the dining room, already working on setting the table.

He didn't see the amused look in Yoongi’s friends’ faces or their surprised smirks paired with raised eyebrows. As he was starting to fill the plates, the interesting scent of coffee reached his nostrils.

Jungkook stood with his arms crossed, head tilted. “Need help with that?”

He could hear the others chatting away in the living room. Yoongi had followed right behind Jimin and greeted his friends.

“If you'd be fine with plating the meat while I do the vegetables, I wouldn't mind,” Jimin smiled gently.

Jungkook wasn't talkative and Jimin couldn't tell if the boy liked him or not. He didn't seem convinced.

“How old are you? Yoongi said you're younger than him, but it doesn't take much to be that,” he jokes, which ripped a smile out of the alpha. “You do look pretty young, though,” he added softly.

“I'm 25. You?”

“27. So I’m older, you must respect me then,” he piped.

“Ah, you’re basically a baby yourself. I’d be fine if we acted as if we were the same age,” the alpha shrugged, a light tease.

“Alright deal. One of my best friends is also my age, so maybe we can form a trio someday. I will introduce you if you want.”

“Sure, why not?”

Then they settled into a comfortable rhythm until the table was set. Jungkook looked more relaxed around him and Jimin couldn't be happier.

It rubbed him the wrong way each time people disliked him without knowing him.

Such as his husband did.

“Wah, Jiminie, this is amazing! The chicken is so savoury, I love it. You have to give me the recipe sometime,” Jin exclaimed excitedly, stuffing his mouth full of food. “And the kimchi is exquisite. I wonder how you let it ferment.”

“Ah, thank you so much! Next time I make a batch of kimchi, I will make some for you too,” he beamed, quite literally glowing at the praise.

“You're such an angel,” he managed around a mouthful, enjoying the food to the fullest.

“You really don't have to, Jimin, his mom never leaves our stash empty,” Namjoon chuckled, used to his fiancé's antics.

“Yah, but Jiminie’s unique,” Jin scolded, slapping the other's arms. Namjoon shook his head fondly.

“I really won't mind, I promise. Do you want some too, Jungkook?” He half-stood up to serve him some at the nod. Jimin noticed how he looked almost shy to ask for anything. “I will make some kimchi for you too, to have at home. If you like it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened when he tried it, then he took some more. “This is amazing, Jimin. I don’t want be a bother though, I’ll just come eat here,” he jokes, which made Jimin laugh.

“You're welcome anytime. I take it that you live alone or..? You two live together, right?”

“Yes, they've been basically married since high school,” Yoongi commented, who until then had been quietly eating, almost gloomy.

“I live alone, since I started making some money.”

“It hasn't been that long. Really,” Jin commented, which made Jungkook kick him under the table.

Jimin watched them interact with a bright smile. He was a real people-person: happiest when he was surrounded by kind, easygoing people. Being around them just brought out the best in him. He smiled more, joked more, and seemed lighter somehow. He never needed anything fancy, just good company and a bit of conversation.

Whether it was chatting over a meal, hanging out in someone’s living room, or just sharing a quiet walk, he felt most like himself when he was with the right kind of people.

He still did enjoy his alone time a lot, but lately he had been having too much of it, so he was glad to have people over.

He’d have to invite his friends over soon, he really missed them.

“Do you want to join Yoongi and I at the club sometime? I’ve been telling him to bring you along these days we’ve gone, but he keeps shrugging me off,” Jungkook half-complained.

“Yah, did I not tell you not to invite people places on my behalf?” Yoongi scolded.

“I am inviting him on my behalf,” Jungkook insisted with a roll of eyes.

Jimin’s smile slowly fell off his face.

‘So that's where he's been late at night,’ he thought to himself, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.

He forced himself to smile again, not sparing Yoongi a glance.

“Don't worry about it, Jungkook. Maybe someday, we'll see.”

He unconsciously ended up zoning out for most of the dinner, barely eating anything. There was a nagging feeling in his gut that was bothering him.

The others had fallen in easy conversation. They glanced his way every now and then, to include him or just check up on him; he didn't care enough to dissect their actions.

They left with promises of coming back soon and requesting more food.

Jimin turned to the alpha as soon as they drove off, arms crossed over his chest.

“So that's where you've been all those nights, huh?” He tried not to let the hurt show.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, then turned to walk away. “It's none of your business.”

Jimin held him back, wrapping a hand around his forearm. “Except it is. I'm your husband, the least you can do is tell me where –”

Yoongi yanked his arm away. “Don't. You're my husband on paper only. I couldn't give less fucks about you, so just do the same, yeah? Stay out of my business and I'll stay out of yours.”

“You cannot live as carelessly as you used to!”

“Says who? The marriage law? Just shut up, I couldn't care less who you fuck, so neither should you.”

A beat of silence. Jimin froze in place, eyes wide, lips parted in shock.

Partying was one thing, and it already didn't sit right with him that he went without Jimin having a single clue. But having sex? Had he been with other people even after they got married?

And then. Did it even matter? 'He's right. We are not really together, so why is my heart hurting like this?’

“You’ve been– You’ve been fucking other people all this time?” He shouted, pushing at the alpha's chest. He saw something flicker in his eyes, but his own anger didn't let him analyse much.

“Well, I'm not fucking you, am I? I gotta get it somewhere,” the alpha muttered, too nonchalant for the intensity with which Jimin was feeling emotions. He caught Jimin’s wrists and pushed the hands away from him.

He felt like he was burning up, heart racing, scent flaring up randomly in different tones. Spiralling down.

“You fucking piece of shit!” He roared, repeatedly pushing him away, punching his chest rather hard. “You have no principles and no values, no dignity, nothing! How can you be so calm about this?!”

Yoongi scoffed as he watched the omega come to tears.

“Don't be so dramatic. I told you from the first day you came here. Separate lives at all times. That means sex life too, what did you expect?”

Jimin growled in frustration, tears rolling down his cheeks as his angry eyes shifted on Yoongi's beautiful face that he wanted to claw off. He had never felt so disrespected ever in his life.

His hands slid through his own hair, tugging at it. Yoongi instinctively reached to pull the hands away, but Jimin slapped his hand away.

“Fuck off, you shitty excuse of an alpha. Couldn't man-up even after getting married, huh? Fucking child,” he raged on, pacing in circles as he tried to hold on to his sanity. “What did I expect?! I expected to have a somewhat understanding relationship, you motherfucker! We are supposed to build a family, or are you just gonna bring home one of your bastards for me to raise?!”

Yoongi pushed him at that, growling. His scent turned angry, like a thunderstorm building up. It made Jimin want to shrink onto himself, but the anger didn't let him; he pushed right back.

“Get your fucking hands off me.”

“You have no right to talk about me like that.”

“What, you already have some children on the side that you're waiting to introduce to me?”

“Shut the fuck up! There's nothing like that!”

“If you're unwilling to have a relationship with me, how the fuck will you build a family then, how?!” They were basically screaming in each other's faces by then, pacing around the corridor, air stuffy from all the pheromones being released.

Yoongi’s pupils were dilated, the scent of the omega in distress was making him feel weird and wrong.

“Oh, I think I can manage to fuck you once and knock you up, omega. I’ll suck it up and deal with your appearance and scent for a night.”

Jimin’s hands trembled and his lip wobbled. He felt himself regress through all those years of therapy, anger taking over him completely as his eyes snapped to every glass item there was around the house. The need to break something was too strong.

“Do I disgust you that much?!” he managed through clenched teeth.

“It's not disgust, really. I just don't like anything about you.” The alpha was good at not showing emotion, that was sure.

Stab after stab after stab to Jimin’s poor heart. It was another thing having an unrequited crush, and another one being blatantly refused and hated by one's husband, and Jimin could vouch that the latter hurt like a bitch.

Jimin knew he was attractive, pretty even. Most alphas he had met had found his scent nice and enticing. The way Yoongi was speaking to him made him feel disgusted by himself.

It was an ugly feeling.

“Oh my fucking god, you hate me so much, you're saying you’d manage to get through fucking me in order to have a child?! Are you even hearing yourself?” His voice trembled with anger, more teardrops falling on the floor.

“It's not like that, I just don't like you. I already said that. Stop making such a big deal out of this. Find a boy toy to please you on the side and when time comes we'll have a baby. We’ve barely spent one week living together, why are you getting so emotional–”

Jimin held back the urge to slap him across the face. He was better than that. Instead he dug his nails into his palms. “You’re a fucking dickhead, Yoongi. Do not speak to me again.”

He stormed up the stairs into his room and slammed the door closed.

His hands were still trembling as he held them in front of himself. He needed to break something, to hurt something, someone – anything.

‘Water. Cold water,’ a voice in his head reminded him.

He ran into the bathroom, opened the shower faucet and turned it to the coldest setting, stepping inside, clothed.

He let the cold seep into his bones, making him shake until he felt numb enough to stop.

The tears stopped too, leaving him empty and finally calm.

Jimin stepped out of the shower a different person… quieter, heavier somehow.

Then, as if determined to make himself feel even worse, he reached for one of Fredrik Backman’s unapologetically sad masterpieces.

If he was going to be miserable, he’d rather cry over the lives and misfortunes of fictional characters than dwell on his own. Despite the chill of late October, he chose the floor over the bed.

He binged the book until the sun rose and he had to get ready for work.

The days blended seamlessly, lifeless, until the weekend.

He had avoided Yoongi all week, which had proved to be easy with how little the alpha stayed home.

He hadn't told his friends anything about what had happened and he wasn't planning to, but he missed them a lot.

After texting them in the groupchat, they had agreed to have a sleepover at Hoseok’s place. Jimin had specifically asked them to bring ice cream and had stated that anything regarding his marriage was off-limits, so he expected to have a peaceful nice time with his friends.

Since his dear husband had explicitly stated that they have separate lives and that they didn't need to know about each other's plans, he didn't tell him that he was going away for the weekend.

He packed a bag full of what he would need those two days, got into his Mercedes Benz – an S-class, the latest of the year of his 25th birthday, a gift from his parents, and his so called babygirl – and drove to his friend's house that was on the opposite side of the town.

He had never been happier for the distance between their houses until then.

What he didn't know was that, that Friday night, when Yoongi got home and noticed that Jimin’s car was gone, he freaked out a little. Just a little.

It would be such a disappointment if his husband had left him altogether. All because of his incompetence. He could already feel his parents’ rage.

Chapter Text

Jimin had snuggled up between Taehyung and Hoseok, limbs tangled. He had a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, keeping him even warmer, a few marshmallows that were melting on top.

His head was mostly free of thoughts, just a numb buzzing sound.

They were watching one of his favourite movies, ‘The Notebook’.

The first time he had watched it he had cried like a baby, because even though he had connected the dots that the old couple was just the young ones later on, he still didn't want to believe that love could end that way, with one of them forgetting. And then the ending had been the last straw.

It had caught him off-guard. Jimin liked to turn his brain off when he watched movies. He wasn't one to try and find out the ending or solve the mystery. He liked being surprised, he loved feeling all the feelings. Happiness, hurt, shock, anger.

It bit him in the ass most of the time.

His friends didn't ask too many questions, but they could sense something was wrong, more than usual.

When Jimin started sniffling in the middle of the movie, they put it on pause and turned to him.

Taehyung carded his fingers through Jimin’s soft locks and gently cooed, releasing more of his calming scent. “Baby, why are you so sad? It's making my chest hurt,” he spoke softly, searching the omega’s eyes for an explanation, a sign.

That's all it took for Jimin to proceed to full-on sob, curled up into Tae’s chest.

Jimin was meant to be a soft creature. A gentle and lovely omega to be heard and cherished. People had misunderstood that a few times.

But really, he was a soft creature… most of the time.

Hoseok’s eyes widened as he rubbed the younger man's back soothingly, whispering gentle words.

They didn't push until Jimin’s cries subsided.

The quiet that followed was eerie. They’d known Jimin long enough to know what was going through his head after a breakdown like that. And it wasn't pretty.

“Jiminie, look at me,” Taehyung demanded and Jimin complied, empty eyes staring deep into the alpha’s soul.

“What happened.” It wasn't even a question anymore.

“Yoongi is probably cheating on me.”

Hoseok gasped aloud, hand flying to cover his mouth.

“Did you catch him? Or is this a hypothesis?”

“He’s been going to clubs whenever he's not home at night and he mentioned that our sexual lives should be separate just like every other aspect. So he is cheating.”

The air itself had been stunned into silence. He sat there, unmoving, surrounded by the quiet aftermath of something violent yet invisible. The walls felt too close, the light too dim, the shadows stretched and watching.

Tears had dried on his cheeks, leaving pale, glistening traces that caught the faint light like scars. His eyes were red, rimmed with the ruin of what had just been, but the fire behind them had burned out. They stared ahead with a kind of vacancy that was more disturbing than rage, more chilling than grief.

He was scaring both of them. “Jimin-ah, that's not necessarily what it means, don't go there. Maybe try talking to him once more, settle this once and for all. Set some rules…”

Jimin’s breathing came slow, deliberate, as though his body had remembered the rhythm but forgotten the reason. His fingers lay slack, his shoulders heavy, his lips slightly parted as if he might speak again, but no sound came. The silence was not calm. It was the silence of something left behind, something that had cracked open and slipped away.

There was something eerie in that emptiness. Not peace, but the eye of the storm after it had swallowed everything whole. The world around him held its breath, waiting for a sign, a twitch, a flicker of what remained.

And then he smiled. It was a slow, crooked thing, almost imperceptible at first. A curl at the edge of his mouth, faint and wrong in its timing, as if some private joke had just taken shape in the ashes of his breakdown. A breath followed, soft and sharp at once. Then a sound – low, bitter, like a laugh that forgot how to be joyful.

He chuckled, just once, under his breath.

“Oh,” he said, voice hoarse, brittle with the weight of whatever had been torn loose inside him. “He really should’ve gotten to know me better before doing this shit.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, curling around the silence, tainting it. The kind of line that didn’t sound like a threat, but felt like one.

And just like that, the room no longer felt still.

It felt watched.

His friends shared a look and Hoseok shook his head feverishly, eyes wide. Taehyung tried to take control of the situation, to no avail.

“Jimin, listen to me. You're past that. Don't stoop to his level, you hear me?” He forcefully gripped his bicep, shaking him tightly.

Jimin cracked his neck loudly, sighing. “Mhm, you're right. But he doesn't know I am not above doing that, Taehyungie. He doesn't know how easy it is for me bring to the front the fucked up part of me.”

“You won't do shit, Jimin. You will kill him with kindness–”

Another chortle. “No, Tae. That's a load of bullshit. I tried that these two weeks. Just pray I don't catch him with some bitch, actually. I hate the feeling of blood on my hands.”

“What are you even talking about?!” Hoseok pushed him, getting a hold of his jaw. “Jimin, you need to get back in therapy, this shit is messing with your head and your health is too important for you to give it up like this.”

“Not before I scare him a little. Ah, he really should've taken my offer to get to know each other,” he shook his head slightly, still in his friend's hold.

“Do you remember what happened the last time you did that, do you? Was the revenge worth it?” came Taehyung’s quiet deep voice, which made Jimin freeze momentarily. Taehyung had tried not to bring the past into the light, but if it meant it would bring his Jimin back, he would take the risk.

“That's not– it's not the same.” Some emotion flickered in his eyes. Taehyung looked at Hoseok, briefly nodding.

“It won't lead to that. I won't get hurt.”

Taehyung cupped his cheeks. “Darling, please don't make rash decisions. I'm sorry I asked, okay? Forget we ever had this conversation and forget whatever's going through your head right now. The only action you will take is talking to him, at home.”

Jimin nodded, blinking away whatever state he had slipped into, and slumped against the couch, fresh tears welling in his eyes.

“I think– My heat is coming up. Next few weeks. That's why I'm– Fucking hell, imagining him with someone else is messing with my brain to extents you can't fathom. I swear. And I don't even love him. Can you imagine? Can you imagine how I’ll end up if I fall in love?”

Hoseok’s eyes turned sad. “We know. We've had a front row seat, Jimin-ah. But that was an obsession. You are past that. You're better than that.” He gently brushed off the hair that had fallen to cover the omega’s eyes.

“You can spend your heat here, if you don't want to go to heat rooms, baby. I know you don't like them.”

Jimin rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “Ah, no, I'll be fine at home. I will kick Yoongi out.”

Taehyung nodded, a little smirk playing on his lips, though his eyes were still worried. “That's much better. Show him how he doesn't deserve to be around you at your most enticing.”

“He couldn't care less, trust me. Mentioned something about not liking my face, nor my scent. Which is weird, because he has a path of lavender leading up to the entrance of the house. Maybe there's something else mixed in my lavender,” he sighed, looking a little dejected.

His friends were just grateful he had snapped out of the spiteful, bitter and rancorous state he had entered. And Taehyung. Oh, how he wanted to land a few punches in his friend's future mate’s face. But he’d ask Jimin for permission. Later. When he’d be more relaxed.

Jimin tried to make his leave as long as possible, so he ended up stepping into his house at 1 am on Monday. He would sleep enough to go to work the next day.

As soon as he opened the door, Yoongi’s scent surrounded his senses and made him feel hot like thunderclouds aching to break.

“You remembered the way home?”

His voice echoed before Jimin could locate where he was standing.

Jimin rolled his eyes earnestly, toeing his shoes off and shrugging the jacket on the hanger. He kept walking through the corridor, bag slung over his shoulder, not sparing a glance to the shadow by the window, bathed in the warm light of the lamp that decorated the coffee table.

“I don't know the way home. I don't have a home. I can damn well remember the way to this house though. Missed me much, dear husband?”

He couldn't see the way Yoongi's nose twitched in distaste.

“Where have you been? You smell like a fucking forest.”

“None of your fucking business. Do you see me asking you where you've been? I smell like a forest, you smell like a fucking garden.” Jimin's voice was floating away, the omega leaving the room promptly, stomping his way upstairs.

“You answer to me,” he growled, much closer this time. He had stalked his way after Jimin, quietly, like a cat up to mischief.

Jimin turned to properly look at him, head tilted. He caught the other's eyes roaming over his body, eyes shining with something dangerous, which Jimin mimicked perfectly.

“I don't answer to anyone. Get that shit inside that thick alpha skull of yours,” he emphasised by tapping his finger against the other man's temple, who by then had caught up to him, standing one step below.

Yoongi grabbed his wrist, but Jimin just pulled it out of his hold. “Your father warned me, to be fair. He said you can be a brat sometimes.”

“Well, yours did not warn me about how much of a hypocritical asshole you are, unfortunately,” he snarked in reply. “Do you wanna fight? Is that why you are not letting me leave right now? You had no interest in talking to me for the past few days so why now?”

Yoongi’s hand flexed by his side, fingers curling and stretching.

“I can't have you smelling like some other fucking alpha in my house,” he stated, nostrils flaring.

Jimin laughed in disbelief, carding his fingers through his hair and pacing in place. “Un-fucking-believable. You fucking two-faced piece of shit. You smell like a fucking dozen omegas have rubbed themselves all over you, dickhead! When you stop bringing that shit home, I will consider doing the same.”

“It's not– My friend owns the club and I go there to chill. I don't fuck every omega that throws themselves at me,” Yoongi growled, stepping up to be on the same level as Jimin, though he loomed over him, being taller.

“Oh, no, of course not!” Jimin pushed him away, palms spread flat on the alpha’s chest. “You pick and choose!”

Yoongi circled the omega’s wrists again, pulling him flush against his chest.

A soft gasp escaped from Jimin’s parted lips, but he fixed his expression in a second.

“You’ve misunderstood.”

“You're not very keen on making me understand.”

They were a breath's width away. Jimin's heart was hammering against his ribcage, a swirl of emotions brewing inside him.

“I haven't fucked them. I haven't fucked other omegas.”

Jimin scoffed, trying to pull away from the other's hold, to no avail. “Oh, am I supposed to believe you now, after the stunt you pulled a few days ago?”

He shook Jimin in place. His eyes had not left the other pair since he’d first settled on them. “I was in a bad place.”

“You, my dear, have a fuck-ton of issues. Get the fuck away from me.”

“Take a shower, Jimin.”

He didn't back down. “You take a shower, Yoongi. You stink.”

“Fine, then,” he agreed, and Jimin thought that was it. That he was finally giving in, letting him go. But no.

He was soon pulled along by Yoongi back down the stairs, his bag falling on a step.

“What the hell are you doing? Let go.”

Yoongi didn't dignify him with an answer. He was making his way to the master bathroom that was connected to his room. He got in and dragged Jimin too, locking the door behind himself, then ushered him into the shower, without giving him time to process what was going on or to react in any way.

He quickly opened the water faucet and soon they were both getting soaked by the fancy, big shower head hanging over their heads.

Jimin shuddered at the cold water seeping into his clothes, trembling. His fingers clutch the alpha's black button-up. Water dripped down his parted lips, pupils blown wide.

“Are you fucking insane?! You are crazy!” He managed through a shocked gasp, to which Yoongi smirked lazily.

“You told me to shower. I told you the same. So I'm fulfilling both requests.”

Jimin slid his hands to the edge of his collar, then slowly wrapped them around his throat, as if savouring the pressure, the control. “I could kill you right now. I want to kill you so bad right now.”

His voice trembled with barely contained anger, same as his hands did–

But when Yoongi’s lips tipped up, his eyes darkening visibly, Jimin’s hold almost faltered. He had never wanted to lean into someone more than in that moment and it scared him.

“I know,” came the alpha’s low voice, his pale fingers wrapped around Jimin’s wrists and easily pulled them away from his neck.

Then in a swift movement, he had his own right hand wrapped tightly around the column of the omega's throat, slamming him against the tiles that covered the wall. His thumb and fingers pressed hard on the sides of his neck, right against the thick veins.

“But don't you like this better?” He whispered by his ear, hauntingly close.

His knee settled between Jimin’s legs. His fingers pressed against the sides of his neck, deeper, making Jimin take a stuttering breath, not because of lack of air – Yoongi had no intention of crushing his windpipe.

His next little gasp sounded more like a moan, when Yoongi applied just a little more pressure.

Water was dripping from the black strands of hair that stuck to his forehead.

The sound of the shower running mimicked the one boiling inside Jimin’s head.

“Yeah, I definitely think so,” the alpha mused to himself, nose brushing against the blond’s jawline. He felt another tremble run through his body, though he was slowly growing heavier in his hold.

“Yoongi…” Jimin’s hands rested against his chest, not taking action or even trying to get away. His eyes fluttered closed and open, feeling lightheaded, a few black spots filling his field of vision.

Yoongi let go then – and Jimin’s head fell forward, onto Yoongi’s strong chest.

“Yes, baby,” he prompted – too soft for his own liking, but he let it slide – cupping Jimin’s cheek and raising his head so he could look at him.

It took a few seconds for the blood to rush to Jimin’s brain again, til he managed to focus his gaze on the alpha. He mumbled something Yoongi didn't quite catch.

“Come again?” He leaned in.

Jimin tried to blink through the sudden charge in the air. “Just soaking won't remove the scents.”

Yoongi couldn't hide the surprise that overtook his features fast enough. That was not what he expected the younger one to say after the stunt he pulled. It was needless to say that he was full of surprises. Maybe he did match Yoongi’s freak more than he realised.

Jimin wasn't afraid of the alpha. He was more afraid of what was going on inside his own head and why his body was thrumming with need, to feel Yoongi closer.

His fingers slowly undid all the buttons of Yoongi’s shirt, pushing it open and off his shoulders and revealing his lean chest and that goddamned tattoo that Jimin felt an overwhelming urge to trace with his tongue.

So he did.

In a moment of bravery, he leaned down, tongue peeking out of his wet lips, and followed the outline of the dragon – from its tongue to the start of its tail, that disappeared on the back of his shoulder.

Yoongi was mesmerised. He let the omega lead for a bit longer, just enough to get him in the right headspace.

The water had long since warmed up and it had fogged the mirror and the shower door. Mist hung heavy in the air.

Then the alpha pulled Jimin back by the hair, to reveal a wicked smile on those sinful lips that he was licking. A playful glint in his eyes.

“I know another, faster way we can fix the scents,” he murmure, lips pressed against the omega’s neck, nibbling on his scent gland that tasted sweet like honey.

Jimin held back a breathy sound, digging his teeth deeper into his pillowy lower lip. “Y-yeah? Go on then, the faster the b-better,” he stuttered, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

Jimin found himself naked in a matter of seconds. Yoongi worked with the deft touch of a seasoned expert, as if his job title was professional undresser.

It pissed the omega off so bad he wanted to knock him out right there, but at the same time, his fingers were lighting trails of fire along every inch of skin they grazed – and he realised he didn't mind catching on fire.

Yoongi stepped back to look at the omega’s wet bare form.

“Not as bad as I thought,” he commented, to which Jimin snorted loudly. He touched himself – hands roaming the sides of his thighs, up to his hips, waist and then crossing over his stomach, and up again to his chest, grazing his perky nipples and then his throat, slightly flushed.

“This is every alpha’s wet dream, Yoongi. It was handed to you freely, you didn't have to work for it. Don't take it for granted.”

Yoongi cursed under his breath the same second his hands reached to get a hold of Jimin's hips, turning him around and pushing him against the wall. He pressed himself flat against the omega's back, the skin to skin contact satisfying a craving he didn't know he had.

Jimin pushed back against him, wiggling his ass, but Yoongi held him in place heavily.

“No, baby.”

He sank his teeth in the junction between his neck and shoulder, almost drawing blood.

Jimin moaned deep in his throat, blooming lavender flowers overwhelming the closed space.

Yoongi shut off the water as it was getting too stuffy and hard to breathe. He felt like he was eating raw lavender.

He swallowed hard and proceeded to suck pretty little marks on Jimin’s flawless skin, a hand working to unzip his pants in a hurry.

“Could've fuckin’ done this from the very beginning, dipshit. Instead of – ah – giving me nonsense.”

“Don't – don't talk,” he nibbled at his earlobe, hands gripping his asscheeks and parting them, thumbing at his fluttering hole. Slick was dripping down his thighs, shiny and sticky to the touch, when Yoongi gathered some to taste.

He was sure it could give him diabetes.

He shoved Jimin against the wall once more, pressing his face to the tiles when he opted to speak – and then he grabbed the base of his hard cock and lined it up with the omega's welcoming heat.

“Tell me if you don't want this.”

“Just fucking do it,” Jimin cursed through gritted teeth, neck straining to look back. He wanted to catch a glimpse of what the alpha brought to the table, but Yoongi didn't let him, getting him back in his place. “Stop fucking – shoving me!”

He landed a harsh slap against Jimin’s thigh. “You don't need to see, you're going to feel it. You're going to feel it mold your insides to perfectly house it and you're going to picture exactly what it looks like just from that.”

The alpha nested his cock between his cheeks, letting it slide over the puckered hole once, twice, before forcing it in.

Jimin was wet, but he wasn't in heat, and he most definitely hadn't done that in a while. He felt like he was being split open, a cry left his throat as he clawed at the wet tiles to no avail.

“Fuck, slow down– t-too big, ‘s too much–”

But Yoongi was already thrusting home in one more swift move, balls deep into the most gorgeous omega he’d had the pleasure of meeting, with the most mouth-watering scent to ever exist.

The omega let out a soundless sob, eyes wide. A feeling of immense fullness, so full he was sure he’d be poking places that had never been touched before. He saw stars, ears ringing as blood rushed to his head.

Then he whined, nice and high, itching with the need to move, but forced to take it like the good boy he was – which was however the alpha would want to.

At Jimin’s attempt to reach behind, he got a hold of his wrists and pinned them behind his back, between their glistening damp bodies.

“Alpha!” Jimin keened, eyes tightly shut. He was so stunned he didn't even dare wiggle his hips back, the sharp pain of the first penetrating thrust still sitting at the base of his spine.

Yoongi growled at the rank used, pressing his hips even more flush to Jimin’s perfect globes, one hand most definitely bruising his hip.

“Be good now,” he hissed, pulling back until only the tip was in – Jimin mewling high in adrenaline – and then plunged it in hard, skin slapping against skin.

That ripped a scream out of the blond, which transitioned into a moan in the thrust, and then continued in a string of those sinful sounds, each one in sync with the alpha’s thrusts.

The dark haired man settled on a brutal rhythm of dragging himself out purposefully slow, only to ram it back in again with no regard whatsoever.

He grunted lowly into the other man's ear, the heat of the omega's spongy walls overwhelming him as well – so much so that it pulled his animalistic side out of him.

His staccato moans only egged the alpha on to reach deeper, which he thought was impossible, until he hooked a hand behind Jimin’s knee and bent it up, sliding a few millimetres deeper.

Jimin was full-on blabbering a myriad of ‘alpha’, ‘too much’, ‘more’ and ‘oh, so good’, body buzzing with so much thrill. Each thrust pushed him further into the wall, his sensitive, leaking cock brushing roughly against the tiles each time, making him sob in overstimulation. The alpha had no intention to stop anytime soon while Jimin was already tipping over before the tenth minute could roll in.

He moaned Yoongi’s name so beautifully that the other had to stop and grind against him to delay his own climax, unknowingly abusing the younger one's prostate and wrenching the orgasm out of him all too soon. The omega's hole clenched impossibly tighter, making the alpha yelp and rub soothing circles against his hip to help him relax into it.

“Coming untouched, huh, omega? Were you that desperate for some attention from me?”

Jimin could barely register what the alpha was saying, chest heaving, toes curling. If it wasn't for Yoongi keeping him pressed against the wall, his knees would've already given out.

“Can't. Can't anymore, alpha– y’re too big, ‘s in my belly,” he whined and Yoongi moaned at the sound, which in turn made Jimin melt further into him.

Yoongi picked up the pace again, resuming the previous bullying tempo. It felt good letting go of his restraints – letting himself be heard as he panted and groaned into his husband's ear, kissing and biting his neck.

The humidity was high, Yoongi’s heady scent added to it, and it was making Jimin lightheaded. His dick hurt from being subjected to rub against the smooth tile endlessly. His wrists hurt from Yoongi’s deathly grip on them that had not loosened up yet.

“Puh-please, hurts, let me – hngh! Move,” he struggled to articulate.

Somewhere through the haze of pleasure, the alpha recognised how rough he was being and finally relented with a hiss.

He let go of his wrists and used that hand to pull Jimin’s hips flush against him as he took a step back. The omega's foot touched the ground again and Jimin’s weeping cock could finally take a break from the repeated stimulation and Jimin sobbed in relief.

His back arched beautifully as he rested his forehead on the wall, hands by his head while Yoongi took and took and took. He spanked him a few times, watching his bubble butt bounce back around his cock.

As he neared his peak, Jimin felt sore all over, whining when Yoongi pulled at his hair in order to get him off the wall. He wanted to have his head rest on his shoulder instead while he assaulted the omega’s neck with more hungry kisses, movements becoming sloppy. The squelching sound of Jimin’s slick being forced back into him each time echoed in his ears, making him feel filthy.

And then Yoongi muffled his growl into Jimin’s neck, nose pressed right against his scent gland, as he came buried deep inside his omega, their scents mixing to create the most intense misty field of lavenders.

Jimin came again with a cry, mouth falling open and lids slamming shut, fireworks exploding behind them. Pearly streaks covered his lower abdomen as his spent cock twitched uselessly.

He kept inhaling sharply, the illusion of not getting enough oxygen in his lungs forcing him to pant. Yoongi was in no better shape, though he wouldn't be feeling the aftermath of their little detour in the next few days the way Jimin would.

Once they both calmed down and Yoongi composed himself, he pulled out of the omega slowly with a pop. Cum mixed with slick trickled out of his hole that now clenched around nothing.

Jimin stumbled while trying to step away from the alpha, so the latter had to promptly hold onto him. It turned into some sort of embrace, his arm looped around the omega’s middle while he reached for the turn the shower on again.

Jimin slumped into the hug, letting the water wash off his sins – with Yoongi’s help. It was the alpha that lathered both of them in soap and then rinsed everything off, only then making Jimin turn around to face him.

His eyes and nose were red, lips plump from having bitten them, and wasn't that the most breathtaking sight ever. Not that Yoongi would admit it.

“You good?” He asked, pushing back his blond locks.

Jimin nodded, gulping as he tried to keep his eyes focused on the alpha.

“Let's get you to bed,” he stated, taking Jimin’s hand and stepping out of the shower first, but Jimin barely took a step forward when his traitorous knees gave way underneath him.

Yoongi cursed through gritted teeth, watching him in disbelief all while holding him up. He kept an arm looped around the other's waist to hold him up, until he could reach the towels to dry them both off.

“Can't walk?” He asked, eyes boring into Jimin’s, who averted his gaze.

“Just need a moment – my legs feel weak,” he muttered, embarrassed.

Yoongi smirked and licked his lips. “Happens. C'mon, it's late and I've got work in the morning. Don't got all time to mope around.”

“Me neither, asshole,” the omega hissed, wondering how he was going to make it to work.

“You ain't getting nowhere on those wobbly legs, unless you want everyone to know what you've been up to.”

“Hey; it's all your fault!”

Yoongi hummed dismissing.

As they passed through the corridor, he watched the clock strike 3 in the morning.

Yoongi had left right after getting Jimin into his bed, a ‘this means nothing’ bit out as he pulled the door closed.

The librarian was going to need to type an email first thing when he’d wake up.

He came to realise that – no matter how cocky he had sounded when he'd said it – the alpha was right.

The omega could feel the exact shape of the alpha, or rather the lack of it inside him. He pushed down the green monster that had nested in his chest and tried to get some rest. The exhaustion that seeped into his bones lulled him to sleep.

Chapter Text

The following morning – or rather, early noon – Jimin woke up sore as hell. He had set the alarm for 7 am, sent the email to the administration saying he would he absent and then fell asleep again as soon as he hit ‘send’.

Now he stood in front of the mirror, naked – because that's how he had slept – staring at a version of himself that he didn't recognise, that he hadn't seen in a long time – since his early college days.

He checked his phone, a few notifications waiting for him. One from the school, confirming his day off, a few from his friends, one from his husband.

I just needed to take the edge off. Don't get any ideas

He wouldn't. But the sentence rubbed him the wrong way.

Jimin was no saint. He had his own share of flings. There had been a time in his early 20s when he would sleep around frequently enough. That was until he met Taemin.

Older than him, more experienced, a great dancer that was studying to become a choreographer. Jimin had always danced for fun and he absolutely adored watching the other boy dance. He attended every showcase and competition of his.

However, the alpha turned out to be someone completely different from what he thought. He had never imagined things would unravel in the way they did. The control, the looks full of distaste, the jealousy, the arguments.

Jimin thrived on praise. He fed on it like a starved animal. It wasn't like he ever lacked attention to be honest. Being a pretty omega had its own perks. But even though he could've had anyone's undivided attention, he didn't want it.

At some point, the alpha had realised he could manipulate Jimin however he wanted, if he learnt how to play him right. It started with little comments on what he should change in his appearance because his boyfriend thought he would look better. He didn't think much of it at first. But he was slowly slipping in a deep state of self-consciousness. Jimin had been a healthy omega at the time, but that didn't stop him from comparing himself to Taemin’s dance partners and friends.

His mental health had slowly but surely deteriorated. It started with things Taemin wouldn't notice, like scratching at his arms whenever he would feel like he didn't belong in his own skin. Then that stopped helping. Couldn't keep his mind off the look of distaste and disappointment that his boyfriend showcased most of the time.

He was saying hi to one of his friend's dogs when the dog suddenly got aggressive and scratched his thigh, drawing out blood, when he realised red looked good on him. What a bitter coincidence.

If Taemin noticed, he never mentioned it. He would always take Jimin from behind, always in a hurry, mumbling about how he was tired and just needed to take the edge off. Jimin let him, until he started hearing rumours of Taemin seeing other people.

See, the alpha had slowly made Jimin’s friend circle smaller. He told him that he didn't like him going out in clubs and the eager-to-please puppy inside Jimin had accepted it rather quickly. Why would he need to go out for drinks when he could spend time with his boyfriend at home, right?

One night, when his boyfriend came home smelling like another omega, Jimin seemed to snap out of it. Of course cheaters became controlling, they knew how things happened because they did it themselves. The alpha selfishly wanted Jimin to himself, no matter what.

That night had been chaotic to say the least. Jimin didn't regret it though. The image of blood and glass shards scattered all over the floor, the angry now-ex couple huffing and puffing, wasted on the floor.

Angry tears marred Jimin’s cheeks, eyes almost glowing red with rage, hands bloody and stinging, burning pleasantly. “You bring shame to alphas, Lee Taemin. And if you think I will wish you well, you are horribly mistaken. You slowly picked apart every nice thing about me. So I wish you the fucking worst. I hope you never find love. I hope you’re never trusted. I really fucking wish you die alone and in pain. Because that's how you made me feel.”

Taemin was panting. Blues and purples blooming across his face, blood dripping down his cheek from where Jimin’s rings had cut him.

Jimin had never imagined he could ever take down an alpha. Neither had the other one, apparently. No one would think that much rage could be contained in that small, frail body of his.

He was not proud of how he handled the rest of it though. There was no peace for Taemin for several months after that. Jimin would follow him everywhere and make sure he felt haunted. He spread the word amongst their friends of what a horrible boyfriend he had been to him and all the mind games he had played. He was determined to make his wishes come true. The alpha didn't deserve his grace or his pity.

Breaking up with him didn't change how he viewed himself though. He still picked apart every flaw, still blamed himself. Still starved himself and still broke mirror, knuckles bloody more often than not.

He was glad that his friends convinced him to go to therapy. If it wasn't for them, he wouldn't be alive. Eventually, he started to put his pieces together. He dyed his hair blond because Taemin thought it didn't suit him, the liar.

His body dysmorphia got better with time. Following his therapist's advice, he stopped seeking attention from the other sub gender. He lived with his friends for a few months until he recovered fully, until less of his thoughts were about Taemin and how much he had fucked him over. Until he could look at himself in the mirror and not want to throw up. Until he could live alone in a house that had knives and blades and sharp objects without itching with the need to press them against his smooth skin.

He didn't know that the alpha still looked over his shoulder every time he was outside, in fear that Jimin would pull another stunt. If he'd known, he would have been happy though. He wasn't above that.

His parents never found out about the gravity of his struggles. Jimin was sure they wouldn't have cared much anyway.

The situation he found himself in didn't help. Another alpha hating his guts didn't help at all.

Jimin blinked his thoughts away. His skin was bruised in different spots, hips, neck and shoulders taking the crown for the most colourful bunch. A myriad of shades, varying from light pink to deep purples, painted the canvas that was his body.

Jimin didn't know how they'd ended up having sex in the shower. He didn't understand, how he’d gone from (almost) physically assaulting his husband to (almost) pliantly taking his cock the way the alpha had wanted him to take it.

Just thinking about it had Jimin’s cock standing at attention. He scoffed at himself, muttering a ‘pathetic’.

He decided he had been under the spell of the alpha’s mouthwatering scent. It had overpowered any coherent thought and led to whatever that was.

He didn't know if it changed anything, Yoongi hadn't spared him those last words before he was out the door. The words didn't stop the slightest flicker of hope lighting up in his belly.

He applied some soothing cream on his bruised body, taking his sweet time, then he got dressed for the day.

Hope would be the death of his soul.

When Yoongi arrived home, he found Jimin working on some reports on the kitchen island, headphones on, blasting the most random playlist he had created. A forgotten coffee cup to his left.

The omega perked up, the scent reaching him before he noticed the presence of his husband at the door.

He sighed, going back to his work, masking that look of anticipation. He needed to stop hoping for love. He was cursed and he needed to accept the fact. He was destined to be lonely.

The alpha had placed a box of takeout on the island. “Eat,” he’d muttered before leaving and slamming the door to his room.

Jimin felt his stomach churn, eyes watering, mouth salivating. He hadn't realised how hungry he had been, the act of eating had flew out of his mind completely.

Opening the box with trembling fingers, he revealed a variety of sushi, so tasty-looking.

He ended up eating every last bit of it.

The following day he did his best to hide the marks that were stubbornly still stuck to his skin, but he couldn't escape the teasing remarks of his older students whenever they would pass by him.

Jimin would roll his eyes in annoyance, making a mental note to get a better concealer – though he doubted he would need it ever again. Blush crept up his cheeks every time someone hinted at something.

Yoongi has gone back to ignoring him all the same, barely even nodding at him.

The hot and cold was making Jimin feel anxious, not knowing what to anticipate and how to behave around him. It was nerve wracking. He found himself picking at his nails, tugging at his hair. The telltale signs were obvious and there. He stopped the second he realised what he was doing.

He had been checking in some books, the beeping of the scanner keeping him company during lunch hours when his phone had chimed.

Min Yoongi

Comin @ the school's cafeteria, come there in 10

Gotta talk

He squinted at the screen in disbelief. What did Yoongi need to come to his work for? He started worrying his lip between his teeth as he left everything in order and rushed to the cafeteria.

Precisely 10 minutes after the text, Yoongi walked through the doors of the overfilled room. Jimin was waiting for him on one of the round tables by the window, two cups of coffee on it.

While Yoongi was in one of his signature suits and a black coat on top, Jimin was dressed in black slacks, a white Tshirt and an olive green wool cardigan on top.

He waved at the alpha to catch his attention and Yoongi stalked towards him.

Jimin stood up, a small smile on his lips. “Hey, how's it going?”

Instead of taking a seat right away, he watched Yoongi get closer and closer to him until he could wrap an arm around the younger one's waist, pulling him in for a hug and pressing a kiss right below his ear.

The hair on Jimin’s arms rose, goosebumps all over, lips parting in surprise. He wrapped his arms around his neck, quickly catching on that Yoongi was doing it because they were in public – and public image mattered.

They separated and took a seat, at last.

Jimin noticed a few of his students looking at them and snickering. He turned towards them and glared at them.

“Guys, get back to your stuff! It's disrespectful minding other people's business,” he scolded, crossing his arms and looking threatening enough for them to bow and apologise, but not before chirping “You two look cute, mr. Min!”

“Ah. Stop that and get back to your lunch, Sooyeon,” he scoffed, returning his gaze to Yoongi who was watching them thoroughly amused.

“What brings you here? I got you a coffee, by the way. I noticed you bring this kind home sometimes,” Jimin mentioned, taking his own cup and sipping.

“Thanks. Your students are nosy,” he commented offhandedly, shrugging the coat off.

“They really are. Teenagers,” he sighed fondly.

“Are you not eating? It's lunchtime.”

“Ah, no, I'm fine,” he shook his head and then prompted Yoongi to get to the point.

“So there's this gala I'm meant to attend next Friday night. First one since we – you know. It's held at White Hill Hotel, a charity event, if you will. Starts at 8. Thought I could stop by to give you the details in person,” and then as an afterthought, quieter, “it's not bad for people to see us together every now and then.”

Of course.

Jimin gave him a nod. “It's not like I’ve got a choice, do I? Thanks for letting me know.”

Yoongi nodded in return. “How long's your break?”

Jimin checked his smart watch. “I’ve got about 20 minutes left, but if you have business to attend, don't let me bother you. I'll just go back to the library. I don't usually come down here anyway.”

“I've got about half an hour before I'm needed again. I'm gonna grab something to eat here though. Wanna stick around?”

Jimin had just given him an out and he was opting to have lunch together instead. That characteristic squint of his made a comeback. “Did you hit your head somewhere?” He hissed. “This is so unlike you. You must have a concussion.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes in annoyance. “C’mon don't ruin it. What do they offer here?”

“Sandwiches?” Jimin was still squinting suspiciously at him, words tilting upwards in a questioning manner, rather than stating.

“Sandwiches it is. Anything you don't like in ‘em?”

“Huh?”

“Like– just tell me which one you prefer.”

Jimin was looking at him like he had grown a second head.

“Whatever, I'm getting two chicken sandwiches,” Yoongi settled, leaving before Jimin could collect himself.

He blinked at the dark figure of his husband that became smaller and watched as he came back with a tray holding two sandwiches and two cups of water.

He murmured a ‘thanks’ when he placed it down, only to have his eyes widen in surprise when Yoongi took the seat right beside him instead of in front of him.

“W-what are you doing?!”

He leaned closer, to mumble in Jimin’s ear. “Do you know you're quite popular? Too many students looking at you all lovesick and shit. Even some professors, darling.”

Jimin scoffed, lightly pushing him away with a hand on his chest – which could easily pass as an affectionate gesture.

“You're full of shit.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, getting closer to Jimin again, this time nosing at his neck and leaving a trail of his own musky scent in the wake. “Nuh-uh. I know if an alpha is purposely posing and puffing up to get an omega's attention.”

“Who even–”

“Second table to the right, tall, bulky, brown hair, white shirt. Last table to the left, third row, red hair–” he wasn't even looking at them as he spoke, which only weirded Jimin out more. His lips moved over the sensitive skin on Jimin’s neck.

“What does that even matter? I'm wearing your ring. You– You don't need to scent me in public,” he squealed, but the omega within him soared in happiness at being claimed like that.

Yoongi pulled away with a snort and bit into his sandwich, pushing Jimin’s closer to him. “Y’ain’t leavin’ til you finish it all so hurry up.”

“Says who?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms to his chest, challenging.

“Stop this. Don't need the whole world to know what an annoying brat I had to marry.”

Jimin relented, more because his stomach grumbled than anything else. He told Yoongi about his day unprompted; how he had dissolved a fight between the cutest couple in his class, how he still had to bring down the number of books to be ordered because the budget for the library was very low and they rarely had donations, how he had some time and started a new thriller book — and then the time was up.

The school's bell rang, startling them. Teachers started ushering students out of the cafeteria and towards their classrooms, the loud sound of chatter and steps making Jimin wince. He got reminded that he was a librarian for a reason.

“Well, that's my cue to go,” he pushed the chair away from the table, standing up. He looked at the empty tray, paper towels dispersed and food consumed. He hadn't meant to have lunch that day. “Will you be working late tonight?”

Yoongi just gave him a nod, shrugged his coat on and walked with him to get rid of the tray properly.

At the exit, Jimin hesitantly edged closer, looking around. Did they have enough audience to put up a show? He really wanted to hug the alpha nonetheless, something was demanding him to.

The ringing of Yoongi's phone made him take a step back and put a stop to his thoughts. He stole a glance as the name ‘Sohee secretary’ blinked on the screen.

“Yeah? I'm on my way… No, had a job to finish… See you.”

Another step backwards. He put his hands in the pockets of his cardigan, tugging it closed tighter, shivering from a breeze. The end of November was proving to be chilly.

So he was a job that had to be done.

Yoongi turned back to him, doing the same thing – looking around, then pulled him in for a hug.

Jimin stiffened in his hold, moving away all too soon. “Have a nice day at work.”

“You too,” he said back, turning and getting into his car. Jimin watched him drive off, lost in thought, until he got reminded of his work and rushed inside.

Jimin found out why the alphas had been ‘looking at him’ as per Yoongi’s observation a few days later, when he woke up with an all-too-familiar fever and a weird sensation sitting at the bottom of his belly.

When he noticed his husband had already left for work, he shot Yoongi a text.

Can you come have an early dinner at home? Gotta talk.

He looked at his flushed cheeks in the mirror and did a symptoms check. According to his own prediction, he could go to work that day and file for a week off – as all alphas and omegas could, 3 times a year, due to their cycles.

Jimin hoped Yoongi would be more understanding and cooperative this time around. He really hated spending his heats alone; he forgot to eat on normal days, let alone during a sex-crazed period of time that would leave him unsatisfied. It was exhausting and it usually took him a few days to fully recover from it afterwards.

He did realise that hoping that the alpha would want to spend it with him was a stretch. Yes, he had been somewhat civil, but that was it. It fluctuated between ignoring and being civil – from negative to zero – no positive values whatsoever.

Lost in thought and with a weird feeling of anticipation, he prepared the form that he would need to submit to ask for the leave and applied some scent patches to keep the unwanted attention away.

It was a very unproductive day at work, but he at least managed to make clear to-do lists for when he would be going back, piles of books with different notes attached to them.

He ordered food for dinner and set everything out, waiting for Yoongi – who had left his message on ‘read’.

Yoongi did not make it home for an early dinner, but rather for a late one. Jimin heard the car parking in the garage at a quarter to ten.

He was fuming by the time the alpha graced him with his presence. In his anger, he had already finished his dinner and cleaned the house til it was spotless. It smelt like bleach and lemon-based detergents.

Jimin waited, sitting back on the dining table, arms crossed and fingers tapping on the opposite arm to distract him.

“So I need to write an exact hour next time because apparently 10 is you being early, or did you just ignore my text entirely?” He snapped as soon as the alpha entered his field of vision.

“Don't start now. I got held up at work,” he muttered, dropping his stuff on the coffee table with a loud clank and then bluntly slid into the chair, diving into the food with his chopsticks. “What’d you wanna tell me?”

Jimin was flabbergasted to say the least. It took him a few moments to collect himself and not punch him in his pretty face.

“My heat’s starting.”

Yoongi choked on his rice, coughing and wheezing until he could breathe again while Jimin watched unimpressed.

“Huh?” His pupils dilated, like a deer caught in headlights, but he soon fixed his composure. If the scent that got to him was affecting him at all, he didn't let it show. Bleach was much stronger than Jimin’s flowery scent.

“My heat. It's gonna start tomorrow or the day after that,” he deadpanned.

“And– what do you want me to say..?”

Jimin rubbed his temples, the constant headache he had sported all day amplifying tenfold. “I swear to God– I'm just letting you know. They expect us to mate–”

“That's gonna be done when our cycles match,” the alpha interrupted, resuming to eat his food.

Jimin rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He could already see the end of this conversation and it was going to come rather soon. “If they match. You're barely home and we don't really have sex. It will take a while for them to match.”

“Well, who cares? However long that takes. ‘S not like either of us is going anywhere.”

“Alright. I put it out there. I am not answering our parents when they start questioning the lack of a mark on my neck; that'll be on you,” Jimin finished and stood up. Emotions were bubbling up his chest, slowly but surely. Most of them were self-deprecating. “So, just to be clear– you won't spend this heat with me.”

Yoongi looked at him somewhat dumbfounded, as if Jimin was asking him the most absurd questions he'd ever heard. “No? Do you need me to?”

“No, I don't need you to, Yoongi. But if you're not gonna, you'd better live somewhere else until I let you know that it's over.”

Yoongi scoffed in unmistakable annoyance. “What, you think I can't hold myself back around an omega in heat? You can't kick me out of my own house.”

Yes, Jimin thought he wouldn't be able to hold back and Jimin would not complain about it. But leaving it unsettled beforehand would complicate things even more, and they definitely didn't need that.

“Look, you already don't come home much. Just sleep somewhere else for like four days. Don't make a big deal out of it.”

“Jimin, you're mine on paper only. I don't have any obligations towards you as an omega. I didn't choose you myself. I won't be affected.”

They were just other words to say the same thing: he wasn't attracted to the omega. Jimin did not need those words, especially not right before his cycle started. He felt a knot forming in his throat.

Then why had he railed him in the shower that day? Why was he so damn mercurial?

“I will come home late to sleep a few hours and change and then I'll leave. You can take care of yourself, right?”

The omega was biting his tongue so hard he tasted metal. His fingernails dug into his forearms where he was standing.

“So you're not attracted to me at all?”

Yoongi set down his chopsticks and raised an eyebrow. “What are you getting at? Do you want me to help then?” He made it sound like Jimin was inconveniencing him with his dumb questions.

The omega felt pathetic to even ask. Humiliated. “No, you don't need to help me out of pity, thanks a lot. I don't want nor need you at all,” he snapped, voice breaking at the end. He turned around and picked a bottle of cold water up, leaving the dining room, and locked himself in his own bedroom.

He let the tears finally spill, anger and sadness mixing into something bitter. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin, the same way he did years ago.

He didn't need him.

He really didn't.

Chapter Text

Jimin despised spending heats alone. He had come to that realization time and time again those past few years.

A few omega friends of his had told him they liked spending them alone better, because they knew exactly what they needed and could take greater care of themselves. The blond knew what he needed too: a strong alpha to keep up with his high libido and that can get him pliant and fill him up.

The thought of having a random alpha friend help him had never appealed to him, though. He had tried it before and had been on edge the whole time. He wouldn't trust anyone at his most vulnerable. But at the same time, he hated how clingy and needy he got. Being alone tugged at his heartstrings in all the wrong ways, a reminder of the times love had failed him.

Yet, he would have allowed Yoongi. Even though they'd been through a bumpy ride – still were – he was going to be with him for the rest of his life. Jimin did not want to spend every cycle alone. It was nerve wracking to think about how they would need to mate at some point.

Yoongi had explicitly stated it would happen when their cycles would match, but Jimin thought that to be a load of bullshit. Having both of them high on hormones made the whole ordeal too volatile. Limits would, without doubt, be blurred and overstepped, if they threw themselves into that without getting to know each other first. It was a formula for disaster, given their very obvious inability to communicate.

If that had been Yoongi on a random Tuesday night, Jimin couldn't even fathom how animalistic, raw, rough and snappy Yoongi could get on his rut.

Discomfort ran through his body, never feeling quite satisfied.

That night, he was restless. He was too uncomfortable to fall asleep and too sleepy to do anything else. The lack of familiar scents in his room made it even more frustrating. The room barely felt like his own, no matter what he did. His skin was clammy and he could feel the arousal building in his belly, but he didn't feel like taking action yet. He could endure it for the timebeing. There would be plenty of time to do that and he wasn't looking forward to it.

He quickly let his friends know about the situation at hand, promising to keep them updated through text so they wouldn't worry about his wellbeing. They knew how intense his heat could get, but he was used to them now.

Only when he heard Yoongi’s car driving off in the early morning could he relent to the pull of arousal and need that was making his skin flush.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and slowly caressed his body, removing his clothes and getting himself in the right head space. Sticky slick was slowly slithering down his thighs.

And he acted as if he was putting on a show for his favourite alpha, with the most delicious scent, the most comforting and leading touch, that could give him the best sex.

The man had no face – just a silhouette of flawless features and traits that, deep down, Jimin was certain couldn’t all belong to a single person.

It was only a matter of time until the room got filled with the omega’s sweet needy voice, moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls. Three of his short fingers tried to get him off, pumping in and out of his heat sloppily, the lewd sounds of slick being added to the symphony.

Bum up, face pressed into the soft pillows as he reached behind, whining in frustration. His other hand tugged at his penis, angry red head leaking precum in the sheets pathetically. ‘Just to take the edge off,’ his brain prompted, annoyingly.

He soon painted the dark blue sheets in white and collapsed on his side, discontent, still hard and clenching around nothing.

For some reason, his omega was antsy. He got up, wiping down his stomach and shrugging on a silky robe then made his way downstairs.

The groceries had arrived earlier in the previous day. He had ordered some stuff online; the alpha apparently didn't care enough to do that, he probably lived off takeout at work anyway.

He rounded the island and went directly to the fridge. Flames were licking at his skin. He reached for a pineapple popsicle and started munching on it right away, like a teething baby.

Flopping on the couch, he sent the first thumbs up to the group chat with his friends: first check-in.

His head thumped back onto the headrest with a sigh, but then he snapped upright. The omega took a deep breath and then his stare zeroed in on the fluffy cushion right next to him. He leaned in to sneak a sniff, eyes rolling back and he felt something tickling down his thighs.

Mortified, he threw the cushion away, eyes wide and scandalised as if he had … set something in motion that couldn't be undone. He rushed to his room and locked the door twice. The popsicle was melting in his hand as he groaned to himself, reaching into a box in his drawer, pulling out a few sex toys. Getting through the current inconvenient heat was proving to be more difficult than he thought.

Each hour that passed, the mysterious alpha he longed for as his mate, the perfect one, slowly took the shape of someone he knew.

It started as he imagined slender fingers pressing against his lips, pushing into his mouth and pressing down on his tongue, testing. Long agile fingers, making sure he'd be able to handle the alpha's cock.

And then, that same hand wrapping around his throat – like it had already done before, though he wouldn't note that – possessive, controlling, making sure he knew who he belonged to. Green veins prominent on snow-white skin, thick and pulsing.

The next time he came, it was to the image of broad shoulders and a godforsaken dragon tattoo curling around one of them. Strong shoulders that could carry the world – Atlas himself would nod in approval.

From that, his fantasies switched to this still-faceless alpha he was piecing together like a puzzle – working out at the gym. All sweaty and panting from the workout, but not tired enough not to fuck the omega into the yoga mat, pulling at his hair with the (already decided upon) strong hands and making the blond look at himself get wrecked in the mirror in front of him.

It appeared that each time he got off on his fingers, toys, pillow – another piece of the puzzle would be revealed. It kept him eager, curious, made him delirious even, to know what this dream alpha would end up looking like. It kept him going, keeping his mind steady and warm, away from bad thoughts regarding how lonely he felt.

Jimin had absolutely lost count of how many times he’d sent himself to climax just to make this realisation, but to complete it all – the alpha would have small, pretty lips to suck and nibble on his skin, on his scent gland, to torture the omega and tip him over the edge and into the next dimension.

Cat-like eyes to follow each movement of his willowy figure as he writhed and gasped underneath the attention he craved oh-so-much.

A lovely nose to take in as much of Jimin's exhilarating scent as possible. And raven black hair, dripping with sweat, almost covering his eyes as he pushed into the tight wet heat of the omega, chasing release.

It was like the smoke around the alpha's figure had cleared off and the lens could finally, properly focus.

That's when he screamed for the alpha.

~~~

Yoongi had totally forgotten he had an omega in heat at home. So when he reached for the door handle and pulled it open, the sugar coated, alluring scent that he was met with, was like a slap to the face, like a bucket of ice cold water being dumped on his head.

It wasn't even that intense – later he would realise the omega had barely spent time in the living room and had purposely left the windows open to air the house out. But it still clung to the walls. It hung in the air like an expectation. An invitation.

He looked around as he toed off his shoes, shrugged off his coat and suit jacket. The house was immaculate, if not for a cushion on the floor that he picked up and put in place.

Stealing a glance at the clock, he noticed how late he had come home again. It struck two in the morning just then.

He smelled of liquor and smoke, making his scent more heady, edging towards the smell of weed. After taking a thorough shower and washing off most of the scents that had clung to him throughout the day, he quietly made his way upstairs, like the stairs would scream if he breathed too loud.

He didn't even need to get too close to Jimin's room to realise how much richer the lavender was on the second floor.

It was like smoke, curling under the door, colourless but potent enough to get him dizzy. His chest constricted, skin burning up suddenly.

He swallowed harshly as his mind offered many images as a film playing in his head.

A demanding, aching call rang in his ears, raw, definitely a plea. “Alpha..!”

His cock jumped in attention and he stumbled back a step. “What the fuck?” He whispered to himself in disbelief, pupils blown wide. His large hands rubbed over his face, in order to shake himself out of it. His pupils were blown wide, no trace of brown remaining.

Lavender had always been his favourite flower and scent. It wasn't overpowering like other flowers and it soothed him considerably. It was the reason he had so many of them planted around his house.

When he had been informed he was going to marry Jimin, he hadn't been particularly interested to find out much about him. So imagine his surprise when the soft scent assaulted his nose the first time he met the younger man. Hence, he followed the next most logical option: gaslit himself into thinking he hated the particular variation of lavender that Jimin emitted.

It was too coy and daring, removing the innocence the flower portrayed. It pissed him off.

He didn't like thinking about his husband. It had been something he had to accept because it was convenient for him. He had made it clear to Jimin multiple times.

However, since the night he'd had the omega under his control, his thoughts unconsciously veered towards him.

To the way he had arched, and whined, and cried, and begged, and taken everything so pliant… for him.

Yoongi hadn't lied when he had told Jimin he wasn't his type. His past could confirm that he usually gravitated towards sharper looking omegas, typically females, though with enough exceptions to not make that the norm.

He had surprised himself by being so turned on by the feisty, but soft-looking omega, so he had projected that entirely in the way he’d taken him. Rough and punishing, no emotion whatsoever.

To his blatant surprise – once again – the omega had appeared to enjoy it much more than he'd anticipated. A fragile looking thing like him should've pushed him away. He should want a soft love, not that bruising one he’d given.

‘He deserves a soft love,’ his brain supplied, frustrated.

The alpha was slowly realising how little Jimin matched the image of him that he had created in his head and it made him feel uneasy.

The omega wasn't afraid to snap at Yoongi, but at the same time he avoided most debates and tried to settle it quietly. It was a game of push and pull that Yoongi couldn't decipher – not that he wanted to.

Another low, needy moan slipped under the door, unguarded and warm with wanting. It snapped Yoongi out of his thoughts, heat pooling at the bottom of his belly. He turned around and rushed downstairs to his own room, slamming the door shut.

At least the omega was doing fine..?

Yoongi did not go upstairs the next day, nor the day after. He didn't need to. He could hear and smell everything from downstairs.

Ignoring the burning sensation on his chest, he only went home to sleep for a few hours at night. ‘Sleep’ was an overstatement, though. It was more like staring at the ceiling and cursing every higher being for hating him so much and putting him through this.

Those few minutes that he slipped into unconsciousness, his brain betrayed him with full filthy scenes of Jimin writhing underneath him, arching, bending, singing for him in that pretty and breathy voice of his, lost in lust.

When he would wake up, straining against his boxer briefs, he would find his hand rather frustrating and unsatisfying. His wolf nagged him, reminding that what he wanted was just upstairs, all for him to take.

But his pride was a silent poison which sweetened the tongue and soured the soul.

On the third night, as soon as he stepped inside his house, his nose picked up a new unknown scent. He had encountered it somewhere, he was sure, but his mind was blank from all thoughts except a persistent one: check up on Jimin.

He warily made his way upstairs, his alpha fuming and on edge. It was another alpha’s scent. In his house. While his omega was in heat.

His eyes saw white as he stepped in front of the door that led to catastrophe – or well, so he thought. He was ready to rip someone's throat open.

Before he could reach the doorknob, the door quietly hissed open, a tall figure appearing – walking backwards like a quiet mouse. When he turned around, barely a metre between him and Yoongi’s puffed out chest, he lightly startled. The alpha's expression turned back to serious, head cocked to the side. He extended his hand to Yoongi.

All Yoongi could feel was the way this alpha’s rich sandalwood scent was littered with sparks of lavender. With Jimin.

That’s where he'd encountered that scent. On Jimin, on that Sunday.

“It's nice to finally meet you, Min. I'm Kim Taehyung. Jimin's best friend,” he introduced himself, hand still stretched out, not at all taken aback by the angry way in which Yoongi’s scent was challenging him.

He didn't shake his hand. Taehyung shrugged. “He is asleep, I made sure he got taken care of. You can rest assured.”

Yoongi wanted to punch the smug smirk off his face – and he would've – if the frustration and tiredness of the past few days wouldn't have made his brain foggy.

He narrowed his eyes, shoulders stiff and posturing unconsciously. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

The alpha, in that tall and quiet way he held himself, had the audacity to snort and roll his eyes. ‘That motherfucking bitch.’

With a salute, he nodded, clearly not wanting to start a fight in Yoongi’s own house. “Right away, Min. I can tell I'm not welcome here, but my Minnie happens to live here too, so you will suck it up. Have a heavenly good night,” he finished, making his way down the stairs and not looking back.

Yoongi’s teeth were gritted so hard he could swear they'd break, jaw clenched and muscles tense all over. What upset him the most was that he didn't take action.

Why didn't he just straight up punch the goddamn alpha?

He did tell the omega to find someone to help if he wanted to, but not like this. Not at all.

Furiously, he grabbed his jacket and rushed back out of the house.

The car's tires left behind the burnt smell of gasoline and rubber.

~~~

On the fifth day, Jimin’s heat finally broke. It was late in the afternoon when Jimin got out of his room, freshly washed, no thrumming need in his body.

Just a sizzling exhaustion slowly settling in his bones… but at least he felt in control of his own thoughts and body. He'd really been all over the place during this particular cycle, but he reluctantly blamed it on the relocation and the rollercoaster of emotions he'd been subjected to. A lingering soreness kept him awake.

He ruffled his hair with a towel. After having finished cleaning up his room and airing it out, doing the laundry and hanging it to dry, he finally listened to the grumbling of his stomach.

It was unclear to him whether he had eaten anything these days. He felt extremely drained, so he assumed he hadn't.

Jimin recalled his friend, Tae, checking up on him – upon his request to bring him a few scented clothes because he was going insane in the unfamiliar place. That and the controlled scenting Taehyung offered had soothed him a little.

He made a mental note to treat his friend to lunch one of those days for being a literal, godsent angel. Jimin trusted the alpha with his life.

Munching on a protein bar as the pasta was boiling, he zoned out, looking at the garden that stretched out the window. A light drizzle coming from the sky darkened the green of the grass and the tall trees.

His husband wasn't there. He had no recollection of the alpha checking up on him or even coming home. He'd heard the engine of his car at some point – now having learnt to distinguish its sound – but that was about the extent of his knowledge of what Yoongi had been up to those days.

Maybe he had listened to Jimin after all and slept elsewhere.

The omega rubbed at his chest, a hollow feeling heavily resting on it.

Jimin soon realised it was something he never thought he would feel. He missed the alpha. Even after all their problems, he missed him.

He missed him in the quiet, bitter way a wound misses the knife that made it: aching not for the pain, but for the shape of it. There was no reason left to think of him, not after all he’d done, not after all he knew, but reason had nothing to do with the way his omega kept folding themselves around his name like a secret.

It felt like betrayal, this missing. A betrayal from his own wolf, who apparently forgot or forgave everything he’d broken in him. He was the last person he should think of, let alone ache for.

He hated that he missed him.

And in that contradiction lived something crueler than either emotion alone.

He finished eating mindlessly, leaving the rest in the pot, just in case Yoongi would want some, and then crashed on the couch out of pure exhaustion… and the slow-burning unease that made his heart beat a little faster. He had to wait for the alpha to come home. He surely would come tonight, right?

The omega was shaken out of his deep slumber by a loud thump against the door, followed by some obnoxious feminine giggles. Much to his confusion and growing horror, the jangling of keys was next and then the door was being pushed open, loudly slamming against the wall. Jimin was sure the handle would leave a dent on it. He sat up startled, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

Jimin understood what the quiet tug at his chest had been now.

He didn't move, didn't reach for a vase to somewhat protect himself from the intruders. Because he knew who it was and he dreaded the confrontation. Would he be able to handle another betrayal?

The blond just kept his eyes fixated on the beginning of the hallway, waiting for them to come into view. Bracing himself.

They didn't let him wait long, bless their hearts. Stumbling inside, there was his beloved husband, as he pushed the female omega into the wall, tongue down her throat. The sound of lips smacking loudly followed each movement, joined by the shuffling of clothes and the breathy moans coming from her mouth.

Yoongi’s dark hair was tousled, sticking in every direction, where her fingers were threaded through.
He was only in a white button up, full of wrinkles and fold lines.

About the girl – Jimin could see her dark red hair that reached her shoulders, could somewhat make out her black dress, too, whenever Yoongi’s groping hands would shift to another portion of flesh, but he couldn't see her face; it was fully hidden by Yoongi's head as he practically ate her face.

It was making him sick to the stomach.

And then, Yoongi tangled his hand into her hair, angling her head just right. He nosed along the column of her neck, making their scents mingle together in a strong combination that Jimin couldn't stomach.

Only then did the heavy scent of roses hit him in full force. It was like he had been thrown in a pool of roses in full bloom and he couldn't breathe. He was drowning in it, unable to reach the surface. No oxygen was reaching his lungs. A sharp pain shot through his sternum.

She was pretty, Jimin noted. Plump lips, small nose, full cheeks, pretty lashes. All caressed by the gentle light of the moon, shining through the massive windows.

‘It makes sense why we’re not his type,’ his wounded omega prompted. He could feel them curl up and whimper, portraying the exact way he felt.

This time, he did reach for a vase.

He didn't notice it was his favourite one until it was shattering on the wall right beside her head, pinks and light greens flying like confetti.

He wasn't really thinking when he stood up and stalked towards the couple: the shrieking omega and the startled alpha who, oh finally, was sobering up a little, realizing his lawful husband actually lived with him. The alpha shielded the woman, pulling her behind him and away from the thunderstorm that was approaching.

The smell of alcohol invaded his nose, adding to the mix, and he swallowed down the rising bile in his throat. He was already too overwhelmed by scents because of his heat. The situation was a literal slap to his face, affecting him in all the wrong ways.

His voice was terrifyingly still as he spoke, the total opposite of what was going on inside his head. “Get the fuck out of here. Go do it somewhere else. You bring someone home another time, I will cut your dick off and then feed it to you for dinner, you motherfucking piece of shit. Get the fuck out!” He finished in a screech, eyes a little wild.

He was breathless by the time he finished, but that didn't stop him from actively shoving them out of the door they hadn't even managed to close yet.

“You should've thought twice before signing the papers, fucking asshole. You don't know who you're dealing with.”

“Jimin– it's not– Listen to me!” Yoongi's calls fell on deaf ears, as Jimin slammed the door in their faces and locked it.

“You don't know who you're fucking dealing with!” He screamed at the door, crazy eyes shifting all over the place.

Yoongi still had the keys – he could open it – but Jimin hoped he was smarter than that. He really, really didn't want to get blood on his hands. ‘They’ve been clean for too long, don't taint them,’ he thought through the haze.

It took a while for the shock to wear off and for it to leave its place to much uglier feelings. Anger, rejection, jealousy, sadness. So much fucking anger that he screamed on top of his lungs until his throat hurt and he dragged his nails across his arms in an attempt to ground himself.

Then he let himself slide down the same wall they'd tainted in their sins, tears streaming down his face as he buried his hands into his hair, head perched on his knees. The air smelled sour, so sour he couldn't breathe.

It's not like he didn't know. He knew Yoongi was getting his hunger satiated elsewhere, since he hadn't touched Jimin since that one night. They were married on paper, but they weren't really together, Yoongi had made it clear as day: he could do whatever the fuck he wanted and so could Jimin.

Jimin knew. He had smelt different omegas on Yoongi's clothes while doing laundry.

But to disrespect him so openly, to bring them home, that he couldn't allow. Because he didn't deserve that. He didn't do anything to deserve that. He wondered what he was paying for. Whose mistakes was he mending?

‘Who hurt him, for him to be so cruel?’

Yoongi had not been tempted by him even during his cycle. Was he repulsed by the omega to that extent? His lip trembled.

He stared at his splayed palms in front of him and the way they trembled too, and then he tilted his head to the side.

One would be glad there was no one to experience the nightmare-inducing look on his eyes.

His eyes zeroed in on the light pink broken glass pieces on the ground and he felt an urge to bury his hands in them and watch the crimson blood drip slowly, down his forearms and to his elbows and then–

Drip. Drip. Drip… To the floor. Crimson red. Like her hair.

So that he could rub his face raw with the glass shards that would stick to his palms. How much more unappealing could he get? He stared at the sharp objects for minutes on end, frozen, until his tears dried and his hands stopped shaking.

How much time had passed?

He slowly stood up and started cleaning the mess he made. Then he rushed to the bathroom on the main floor to empty the contents of his stomach, the food still undigested as it scratched his throat, forcing its way out. Splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth, he accidentally sneaked a glance at the mirror… at his disheveled look.

No wonder Yoongi didn't like him.

There were dark circles under his puffy red eyes, a bone-deep tiredness dragging his features down.

He couldn't keep his hands clean of blood anymore. The shattering sound didn't really get through the ringing in his ears as his fist made contact with the mirror.

Blood traced delicate paths down his hand, like the mirror had carved its answer into his skin. Like haunted rivers.

The sting of torn skin, the throb of split knuckles – it was all distant, muffled, like his body belonged to someone else.

He stared at his hand, at the ruined mirror, and felt nothing. Not the pain, nor the heat. Just the strange, hollow stillness that came after something had already broken inside. Not that he had ever been mended.

It was almost surreal, how quiet everything was, except for the slow, rhythmic sound of blood hitting the floor.

His fingers twitched, coated in red, but the ache never came. Maybe it was the shock. Maybe it was rage. Maybe he’d gone too far past feeling to recognise physical hurt for what it was.

He calmly plucked away every glass shard that had remained stuck to his skin and then washed and disinfected his hand, bandaging it lightly. His face was hauntingly void.

The omega did not clean the place up. At least his image wasn't there to haunt him anymore. He lay awake until the sun rose, then he got up, ready to start another day. He felt like he would throw up rose petals from one moment to the other.

Yoongi had not come home again that night.

To Dad:

How much money do you lose if I divorce Yoongi? [05:57]

Chapter Text

Everyone’s probably heard what they say about changing one's hair colour after a traumatic experience. Jimin had been through a lot of hair colours, if that aids in understanding.

He'd had brown and black in both softer looking haircuts as well as sharper, sexier ones; orange at some point – which surprisingly suited him well; pink, in his ‘soft omega’ era, as his friends had labelled it; and different shades of blonde, his ultimate choice and favourite by far.

So when he went to the hair salon and the words ‘I want to dye my hair blue’ left his mouth, it didn't seem like a rushed decision or weird in any way.

When he left the salon, his previously blonde hair was dyed a dusk-kissed blue, like twilight caught in motion, cool, luminous, and touched by a whisper of violet. It shimmered with quiet rebellion, a hue that lived between serenity and boldness, neither loud nor tame.

Styled in a soft undercut, the longer strands swept back and to the side with effortless grace, like a breeze had sculpted them into place. It was a look that spoke of elegance laced with edge, a portrait of someone who wears intensity lightly, like a secret. Someone that forces others to notice him, a rare beauty that cannot be read or understood by the common eye.

He remained hidden in his own room for the rest of the day.

He hadn't told his friends about what had gone down, the weight that was crushing his soul. Whatever he said to Taehyung when he visited didn't count, as a mutual agreement.

He could’ve told them. Instead, he dyed his hair the next day and told no one why. Not that anyone had seen him yet.

The change felt impulsive, but it made sense at the time, like he needed to shed something. He stayed quiet, and the silence thickened.

He told himself he just needed to breathe, to rest, to pull himself together. But deep down he knew he was avoiding them – not out of anger or pride, but because he didn’t want to explain. Not this time.

The truth was still sitting heavy in his chest: the night, what it brought back, what it did to him. He hadn’t said a word about it to them. Not when it happened, not after. Not even when the panic hit like a wave that wouldn’t let him up for air. He’d sat alone in the dark, holding his breath through the worst of it, telling himself it would pass. Convincing himself he would not tip over.

It wasn’t the first time he’d shut down like that. That’s what frightened him – the familiarity of it. Somewhere along the way, he recognised the pattern, the way he was slowly closing off. The way he avoided his phone, the way his mind spun in circles at night and then flattened into numbness by morning. The anger that came from nowhere. The aching silence.

He thought about telling them every single thing. But the moment always passed. He didn’t know how to explain what the night had done to him. Didn’t know how to put it into words that wouldn’t sound messy and incoherent… and also didn't want to burden them once more. So he let the silence grow.

And in that silence, he felt it begin again. The pull inward, the narrowing. The road he’d walked once before was rising to meet him, and this time, he wasn’t sure who would notice he was slipping.

Maybe he really needed to tell them.

Only when a reminder came through his phone around 8 pm did he remember that it was Friday. The chime pulled him out of the trance. He had completely lost track of time with his heat and all the other stuff, but it was Friday. Which meant that the next day would be Saturday. Which meant that he had to attend the gala his husband had informed him about more than a week ago.

His husband whom he wanted to throw into a fire and never hear of. Same husband whose scent had started to wear off the house, and which he (angrily, unprecedentedly and confusingly) missed.

The husband with whom he really wanted to make it work – until the previous night. Because Jimin, no matter how ugly it could get in his head, didn't deserve that. But revenge was a dish best served cold, he knew.

And something was brewing in his mind. If no one talked him out of it, it would cause chaos. It's why he needed to talk to his friends. Ruining the lives of everyone involved seemed too appealing for the moment.

Jimin heard Yoongi come home around 3am that night. He left again at 6:30 in the morning.

Jimin was ready for the gala event by 7pm. He was waiting on the couch, scrolling on his phone, demeanour unbothered even though he was fuming on the inside.

He wore a sleek black suit with a satin lapel that caught the light just right, adding a soft sheen to the dark fabric. The deep V of his shirt gave the look a bold, stylish edge, while the large Chanel brooch pinned to his chest added a touch of luxury and flair. His tousled, slightly damp blue hair gave off a cool, almost rebellious charm.

When Yoongi stepped inside to retrieve him, he froze in his steps as soon as he caught sight of the omega.

Jimin had worn scent patches to block his pheromones, so he was as unreadable as possible. He’d been complimented on his poker face before. He didn't look up, though he had noticed the newcomer standing by the door.

“Jimin– we should get going,” Yoongi mustered, eyes cast downward.

Jimin stood up, not sparing him a glance as he gathered his keys, wallet and pocketed his phone on the inside of his jacket. He stepped around the alpha, beelining to the car. The DBS still remains a love of his.

He is reminded of a moment, a few years back. How he'd not thought twice about his ex’s GR86 when he’d keyed the hell out of it and then spray painted a few lovely words on it – on the windscreen and all. He wouldn't do that to this baby – not for Yoongi’s sake, though. An idea popped in his head, the smallest twitch of his lip as he got inside the car. He could have some fun.

Yoongi joined him shortly after, looking puzzled and shifty as he drove them to the venue. He wore a sharp, three-piece grey suit with subtle pinstripes, giving off an air of quiet power and sophistication. The matching waistcoat and neatly tied brown tie added a classic touch. He had thrown his long black coat on the back of the car carelessly when he got in.

His dark hair was slicked back in soft waves, framing his face in a way that felt both polished and effortlessly cool. Yoongi knew how to impress – or well, it was probably, his stylist.

When he stepped out and walked around to open the door for the omega, he looked nervous and out of place for the first time since Jimin had known him. The cameras were snapping away immediately, the bright flash almost blinding them.

Jimin did not take the offered hand to step out of the car, but he did get a hold of Yoongi’s arm on the walkway to the venue. His lips didn't tip up even once, sharp eyes looking into different cameras, alas not complying to any of their directions.

There had always been expectations that he'd have to live up to. Always have a gracious smile on, politely nod and show interest, don't talk back, no matter how much they try to get a reaction out of you. Just the way an omega should carry themselves, his father had prompted.

Questions were thrown left and right, but he blocked them all out, transforming it into just a dull hum that worked as a background for his thumping heart.

Once inside, he pulled away his hand as if Yoongi’s touch burned – not the pleasant kind.

The ballroom was glowing under big, sparkling chandeliers, with soft light bouncing off the shiny marble floor. Tall windows showed the city lights twinkling outside. Tables covered in white cloths had simple flower arrangements and candles flickering gently.

Well-dressed businessmen stood near the entrance, holding glasses of champagne and chatting quietly, most of them had their plus-ones hanging off their arm.

Jimin wanted to scoff at the scene. He never meant to attend such extraordinary events – he preferred to do charitable work in private. It was all too grandiose and extravagant. If all that money had gone to the cause, there would be no need to hold the event at all.

Yoongi seemed to collect himself quickly from the abrupt cold that occupied the place where Jimin had been, soon being pulled away by some colleagues – or whatever they were.

Jimin drifted away to get a hold of a champagne flute, needing some alcohol in his system. It was still early into the night, auctioning hadn't even started yet, and he needed to survive somehow.

In a surge of guilt, he snapped a selfie, sporting a half-smile, and sent it to his friends. There, done. Hair reveal and location reveal all at once. And proof of him being alive and well. As well as he could be, all things considered.

They had tried to check in with messages, so he needed to appease them before they came barging into his house to make sure he was alive and well.

He wandered off, nodding his head in greeting to whoever looked at him long enough and some people he vaguely knew through his parents. Jimin stepped out on a balcony, the buzz of the crowd distant as he blankly stared into the darkness of the winter night ahead of him. The tree branches bent to the wind, a haunting sound to accompany the haunting happening inside the venue. No leaves in sight, no hope.

The omega lost track of the amount of time spent in the balcony until he was startled from his thoughts by a hand placed between his shoulder blades.

He jumped away, placing more distance between them.

“Jimin. I was looking for you. Our parents are here and we should go greet them together. I couldn't find you –”

Jimin rolled his eyes and pushed at the alpha's chest to head inside, but he let him fall into step with him.

He could feel the hesitation when Yoongi placed his palm on the small of Jimin's back, subtly leading him towards the first pair: Yoongi’s parents.

As much as Jimin tried to make it look like a genuine smile and not a grimace, he wasn't sure whether he succeeded as he stood in front of his in-laws, head bowed respectfully.

Yoongi's mother offered him a gentle smile, getting a hold of Jimin's hand between her own. “Jimin, dear! I finally get to see you. I expected you both to grace us with your presence over dinner one of these past evenings, but my son insisted on how busy he was. As if that's anything new,” she chuckled, speaking in a light scolding tone.

Jimin licked his lips instinctively, letting them stretch into a less fake smile. “Ah, ma’am, surely you know how stubborn your son is. You can't expect me to convince him about anything, so soon into our marriage.”

She kept chatting his ear off, while Yoongi talked to his father. Jimin noticed how his alpha father's eyes kept drifting to him, while he entertained Mrs. Min, lending her an ear as she told some story about some friend's daughter and her betrothed – Jimin couldn't care less. Didn't even catch their names.

He soon got an answer for that weird feeling of being watched.

“Son. Why haven't you mated yet?”

Jimin kept his expression as impassive and serene as possible. He let the silence stretch, making no attempt to explain a decision that wasn't his.

After being stunned at the abrupt interruption, Yoongi cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “We're taking our time to get to know each other,” he started, to which Jimin turned to the side to hide his scoff into a cough. Yoongi's side-eyed him and then returned his attention to his parents. “Also, since the… bite takes better if our cycles match, we thought we could wait for that.”

We, we, we.

Jimin bit down hard on his tongue not to make any snarky remarks in front of the elder's parents, but he couldn't hold off, “Yoongi’s idea, I'd like to clarify.”

He topped it with a sugar-sweet smile, draping himself over the alpha's arm.

“I wouldn't have minded if we'd done it while I went through my… cycle,” he blushed slightly at having to discuss this in front of his mother and father-in-law. But he wouldn't let Yoongi off the hook easily.

His partner's father shifted his eyes to his son, a stern look on his face. “If your husband already had his cycle, you should've done it. Do you understand how his bare neck looks to the media? To families like ours, the link to our ancestors is way more important than some signed paper. The bite mark is heavily more binding than that contract. I thought you were aware of that, Yoongi.”

Jimin would've felt bad for Yoongi. A younger Jimin would've thought nobody deserved to hear that disappointment in their father's voice, but present Jimin didn't. He had grown up listening to that same tone from his parents and was fairly used to it. Yoongi deserved it for the half-assed way he took decisions in their so-called relationship.

“Yes, father. But you can't expect that from me after forcing me into this. I did not want a mate. So let me do things at my pace,” he evenly stated after clearing his throat, a hand unconsciously wrapping around the omega's waist, as he was perched upon him.

They didn't comment on the matter and soon Yoongi was pulling him away from them with a final greeting, and directing him to the opposite side of the room.

Jimin shrugged his hand off and picked up another glass of champagne from a nearby table. “Need a moment before we see my parents,” he grumbled, taking a sip soon after.

Yoongi sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. “I’ve been seen without you more than with you for the past hour. At least stay by my side as I meet people – you don't have to do much.”

“Aw, if I didn't know any better, I would've thought you missed me,” he cooed, all fake and grating voice on purpose, glaring at him right after.

“Trouble in paradise?” A sickeningly sweet voice approached them, hand landing on Yoongi's forearm.

“Oh. Hey, Jae,” Yoongi mumbled. From the look of it, he hadn't expected to see the younger.

Jimin turned toward the source, taking in the sight of a gorgeous young man, probably his age, an omega.

“Jimin, we haven't met. I am Yoon Jaehwan… a dear friend of Yoongi’s.”

Jimin did not miss the way his voice curled around the word ‘friend’.
Thick, voluminous brown curls framed his face, tumbling over his forehead in an artful disarray. His features were sharp and symmetrical, with a straight nose, full lips, and a smooth, fair complexion.
His scent was sweet and airy, something aquatic interwoven into it. “Water lilies,” Jimin nodded to himself. He shouldn't have been able to smell him, since it was somewhat common sense to wear scent blockers to such events.

Near his grandparents’ house, where he had spent most of his childhood, there was a lake, taken over by water lilies. He loved sitting by the lake and drawing the flowers for hours on end filling sketchbook after sketchbook. He would recognise that scent anywhere.

Way to taint a memory.

Jimin didn't offer his hand, but pointedly stared at where the man was touching his husband.

The other retreated the hand, barely holding back a scoff.

He had never allowed anyone to disrespect him in public like that and he wouldn't start at that moment.

“Then, Jaehwan, I would really appreciate it if you got your hand off my alpha,” he clearly stated, eyes shifting to the omega and pinning him down with his intense gaze. “Wouldn't want to start on the wrong foot, would you?”

Jaehwan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, head tilting slightly, clearly not expecting that kind of attitude from the omega. He had caught him on a particularly bad day.

Yoongi's head followed the interaction and he took it upon himself to shrug off the chocolate-haired omega's hand, tugging Jimin closer into his side instead.

All for show.

“Ah, no need for that,” Yoongi intervened, angling his body in a way that hid part of Jimin behind himself. “Jaehwan, they're looking for you,” he continued, jerking his head behind the man, who turned around to the people that were, in fact, looking for him.

“Oh, well. Maybe we can catch up some other time, alpha?” He threw a gut-twisting smile the alpha's way.

It had Jimin’s chest rumble with a growl he didn't want to let out. “Maybe not. You're excused,” he smiled his own threatening smile, before Yoongi could answer.

The omega turned around and left with a scoff, irritation radiating off him.

Yoongi pulled Jimin closer then, whispering in his ear. “If I didn't know any better, I’d think you were jealous.” He pushed a strand of Jimin's blue locks behind his ear.

Jimin placed his hands on his sturdy chest and pushed off him. “You don’t know any better. What's mine is mine, whether I obtained it by choice or not. I won't have all the omegas, alphas and betas you’ve fucked come here and flaunt that shit in front of me. The sooner you all get it, the better.”

As soon as he finished that sentence, another very familiar voice came closer making him freeze for a second. He had almost forgotten what he sounded like. One look confirmed his suspicions. How did he not think he could see them there?

“Well, well look who we got here. Jiminie who was oh-so sure he was going to marry for love, and his disgustingly in love husband.”

The alpha stood tall, taller than Yoongi, and he looked hauntingly beautiful. There was a reason he had the modelling industry wrapped around his pinky.

The sarcasm dripped from his voice like venom and seeped through the cracks of Jimin's broken heart.

Offering his hand to shake, he introduced himself to Yoongi. “Kim Jongin. You must've heard about me.”

Yoongi shook his hand in an iron grip, eyes piercing through the other alpha’s skull. “Not really. Should I have?” He turned to Jimin, raising an eyebrow.

Jimin let out an unamused chuckle. “Not necessarily, no. He's a model, his ego is the size of a mountain, that's why he expects everyone to know him.”

“Aw, I see you got your wit back. Happy for you, Park.”

“He's a Min now,” Yoongi clarified, hand on the small of Jimin's back.

“Whatever. With all due respect, I would be careful if I were you. Would probably get rid of him. This little omega is much more dangerous and deceiving than you think. Could kill you in your sleep.” His lips pulled in an easy grin, raising his glass of champagne in the air in cheers.

Jimin lunged forward and knocked it out of his hand in an attempt to reach his face. Glass shards scattered across the marble floor. Guests stepped back. Thankfully Yoongi was quick to pull him away, though Jimin struggled against his hold.

His eyes were feral, glowing under the warm lights of the venue, hands trembling from anger.

“You motherfucking piece of shit! Get the fuck out! You betrayed me once, I don't expect shit-else from someone as lowly as you, but you can't ruin my life a second time. I let it slide; what you did…” Jimin took a deep breath, trying to calm down his heart. He stopped trying to reach for the alpha, Yoongi’s hands loosely still around him. His alpha was saying something, probably trying to get Jimin to get himself under control, but it wasn't registering in the omega's brain.

They were receiving quite a lot of stares too, the people around them stopping their conversations to listen in, like the curious vultures they were.

“But you said it yourself, Jongin,” he continued, the fire in him replaced by an icy coldness, a calculated smile. The switch up even stunned the tall alpha, but he masked it quickly. “I am much more dangerous than most people think. You should've known better than to provoke me like this.”

“Ruin your life for a second time? I think your parents already did that the second they handed you off to this alpha. How many omegas has he brought home since you got married–”

Jimin lunged for him again, barely missing as Yoongi pulled him backward, away from the alpha.

“I suggest you stop spewing shit, Kim Jongin,” Yoongi warned in a still voice, that of someone that didn't need to get in one's face and be loud to get the point across.

The other alpha's eyebrow twitched, lips pulled in a straight line. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” the alpha stated flatly, jaw clenched.

Jimin had a hand wrapped around his husband's forearm and he was digging his nails into it to contain himself.

“I don't think I am. Word on the street has it that you're still in the game, Min. Word travels fast, once a player, always a player. Such a shame, Jiminie. History repeating itself. Think about it: if it happened twice, maybe you're the problem. Can't keep an alpha interested?” He raised an eyebrow, though his words were much tighter, forced, as his eyes flickered from Yoongi to Jimin frantically. He looked scared and thrilled at the same time, like he was aware that he was playing with fire.

Everyone gasped around them, whispers getting louder. Even Yoongi remained stunned for a moment, thrown off the loop. He blinked twice, his grip on Jimin loosened unconsciously – and that's all it took for Jimin to jump the taller alpha, clawing at his face with a snarl. They tumbled on the ground, the alpha not having expected the attack.

“Fucking cunt! How fucking dare you! You were supposed to be my friend, you- you backstabber!”

The alpha growled and pulled his hand back, balled in a fist ready to hit the omega, but Yoongi was faster, lifting Jimin off the other and carrying him outside.

“This is not over, Kim. Nobody raises their hand on my omega,” Yoongi loudly shouted over his shoulder at the alpha, who was cupping his cheek, a droplet of blood from the scratch bringing some colour to the scene.

Once they were out in the garden, Yoongi let Jimin down, but held his hand in a fierce grip, fearing that the omega would want to finish what he started. He was intrigued and stunned by the ordeal, to say the least. Even though he had gotten a taste of Jimin's temper already, he couldn't wrap his head around it. Though the omega had every right to react however way…

Jimin tried to shake him off. An angry growl resonated into the night, fire in his sparkly, wild eyes.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! Challenging an alpha like that and hitting him? Half the people were watching!” Yoongi exclaimed, pulling at Jimin’s wrist to shake some sense into him. He wasn't aware of Jimin's past and his demons. He was so out of the loop that he hadn't even known how to react there, but he couldn't let his husband be humiliated in front of everyone. Of course he had to take his side.

“Oh, fuck off! If it wasn't for your amazing reputation of burning through omegas like cigarettes he wouldn't’ve had anything to say. I fucking warned you… that- that your bullshit was going to come bite us in the ass.” His eyes were crazy, hand racking through his hair and messing up the carefully put together look. He tried to pull his wrist away again. “Let go you fucking–”

The alpha growled low in his chest. “Shut the fuck up. It's you who caused the scene. No one has anything to back up what he was saying- I don't fucking- I don't sleep around like that–”

“Oh, right, you sure as fuck don't, you just stick your tongue down–”

“I am saying that you should've been the bigger person and everyone would be on your side–”

Jimin snapped, getting close and personal to the alpha, nose to nose. “Fuck being the bigger person! No one is ever on my side. He- they fucking ruined my life and they're still doing it! You- you too! You're all–”

“Park Jimin!”

Jimin turned around, panting, eyes wide as he looked right at his father's face. He was practically fuming, eye twitching in anger, as he made his way to the couple along with his mate, who had a worried look on her face.

“You might not know the adequate etiquette for such events, but I didn't think you could ever stoop so low. How naive of me.”

His words etched themselves into Jimin’s already wounded heart and twisted themselves deep into it.

“You are a disgrace. I don't know where we went wrong with you,” he continued, then turned to the alpha. “I expected you to work some sense into him during this time, Yoongi.” Disappointment dripped from his harsh voice.

Yoongi only furrowed his eyebrows, pulling Jimin closer to him. The omega was in some kind of trance, letting himself be moved. “Sir, respectfully, he is not some kind of pup that needs to be disciplined–”

“That is not what you agreed on when we discussed this marriage!”

Jimin scoffed in disbelief, turning his head away. The new information coming in innuendos was making him lose his mind just as much as Yoongi’s indecisiveness on whether he was on Jimin’s side or against him. He protected him, but had also promised to keep him in check. He yelled at him, but also threatened an alpha for him. It made the omega's head spin.

He caught his mother's eyes, which were swimming in a mix of disappointment and resignation.

“Darling, come on. He's not our responsibility anymore,” she stated monotonously.

Jimin's heart stopped beating for a few seconds, vision blurring as he held eye contact with his mother.

So that was it then. He had just been a burden to them and they'd finally gotten rid of him.

The Parks left soon after, no words added.

Tears streaked Jimin’s doll-like cheeks as he remained frozen in place until Yoongi called his name for the third time. That snapped him out of the trance.

He reached into Yoongi’s jacket pocket and retrieved the keys to the car, harshly tugged his hand free and ran away, into the parking area.

The alpha ran after him, but when he reached the car, Jimin was already reversing out of the driveway and disappearing into the night with the loud roar of his car's engine.

“Fuck! Fuck! Stupid omega!” He yelled at no one, hands tugging at his hair in frustration.

Yoongi pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up, taking a long drag and letting it seep into his senses.

Then he picked up his phone. “Nam-il. Bring a car to the venue. Also, bring a kit with you.”

Chapter Text

Another phone call later, Yoongi had run through his second cigarette.

“Sent you a name, I need all the information you can find on him in the next 10 minutes. Be quick.” Brevity is the soul of wit or whatever.

Yoongi's personal driver and good friend came to pick him up in less than 10 minutes, but Yoongi did not want to leave right away.

The scent patches were wearing off sooner than they were expected to, maybe from the intensity of his emotions. His earthy scent, that of the soil right after a storm, was lightly floating around him.

“Stay near the parking lot.” A glimpse to his phone to make sure he was getting it right, then, “See the dark green BMW over there? Once they pull out, tail them.”

Nam-il merely nodded, cracking his neck. “Then what?”

“Do your thing until you're sure we can get the bastard out of the car and take him for a little chat.”

The whole ordeal ended up being surprisingly easy. Kim Jongin had not expected Yoongi to act upon his words at all, let alone that soon. He had come out of the event building alone, gotten into his car and driven off without really checking around or looking wary at all.

It pissed Yoongi off further. He didn't like careless people; unaware and stupidly sure of themselves. Especially when they underestimated him.

The other alpha should've done some research on him and the way he operated before coming after him or his partner. Whether he liked it or not, his name was now linked to Jimin’s. If anyone disrespected his husband and he did nothing about it, it would look bad on his end, right?

At least that was his train of thought, or rather, what he was convincing himself about.

Kim Jongin drove with one hand on the wheel, the road stretching ahead in a lonely strip of black. The fields on either side lay flat and silent, moonlight spilling over them like cold water. He hadn’t seen another car for miles, and after the run–in an hour ago, he was glad to be alone.

It took him a while to notice the headlights in his mirror. At first, they were just a pair of distant pinpricks, nothing unusual on a country road. But they didn’t fade.

He frowned, easing the BMW a little faster. The lights followed.

In the other car, the driver kept steady, letting the distance close bit by bit. Yoongi sat beside him, motionless except for the slow curl of his fingers on the armrest.

“Keep him there,” Yoongi said, voice low but carrying a bite that made Nam-il’s knuckles tighten on the wheel.

Jongin took a left onto a wider stretch, hoping to shake whoever it was. The headlights followed the turn without hesitation. His gut tightened.

Then the other car surged forward, pulling up alongside him. The alpha’s heart kicked. He gripped the wheel with both hands, eyes flicking to the passenger side and saw Yoongi staring at him through the open window.

An hour ago, Yoongi had barely said anything to him. But the look was the same, pure venom.

Jongin swerved slightly away, but the other car matched him, pressing him toward the shoulder.

“Now,” Yoongi ordered.

The driver swung hard across the front of the BMW, braking hard. Tyres shrieked. Jongin fought the wheel, the car fishtailing before jolting to a stop inches from the ditch. The other car slid sideways to block him in completely.

Both men were out before Jongin could throw it in reverse. Nam-il came fast, yanking the BMW’s door open. Cold night air hit Jongin’s face, then a fistful of his jacket dragged him out onto the tarmac. He stumbled but stayed on his feet, struggling against the older alpha’s hold. Nam-il was not a man to mess with, size and strength–wise. Yoongi was right there, close enough for Jongin to feel the heat of his breath in the cold air.

“What the fuck, man?! What's going on?”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his signature move at this point. “Don't act so oblivious now. Do you want me to shake up your memory a little bit? It barely happened a few hours ago, what do you think this is about?” He scoffed in disbelief at the audacity. Cracking his knuckles, he watched as Jongin rolled his eyes.

Oh, he was going to have some fun.

His fist connected with the gorgeous alpha's face in an instant.

Jongin woke up bruised and tightly tied up in a chair, in what looked like an empty warehouse.

He groaned in pain as he tried to properly open his eyes, the right one particularly swollen. Once he blinked away the haziness, he put into focus the two figures talking by the door.

Yoongi’s imposing broad shoulders were facing him, but as if he sensed the other waking up, he turned towards him sharply, eyes narrowed in disdain. He took a deep drag off his cigarette and then threw it on the ground, stomping it with his foot, before coolly moving towards his, well, hostage.

His bloodied, angry–red knuckles created a strong contrast with the porcelain skin as he combed his fingers through his messy black hair.

He stepped in front of the other alpha and bent down at the waist, head tilted menacingly.

“Slept well, princess?” He mocked with a wicked grin. “Feel like having a chat without that shitty attitude of yours tipping me off?”

The alpha held back a scoff, now understanding the volatile nature of the raven-haired man. Alpha or not, pride or not, he did not like getting roughed up. Just the thought of how long it would take him to recover and be able to go back to work pissed him off.

“What do we have to chat about? You weren't keen on talking when your fist said hello to my face multiple times.” He pushed through gritted teeth.

Yoongi seemed to contemplate, ignoring his jab. “Let's start with this. I want to know exactly what made you think you had the right to speak about my husband like that in front of me. At a public event.”

“He is an old friend–”

Yoongi interrupted carelessly, straightening up with a scolding look. “Nuh–uh,” a kiss to his teeth. “You don't do that to friends. You were obviously trying to humiliate him in front of me and everyone else. So what made you think doing that in front of me was a good idea?”

“I don't get– what do you want from me? Really? I don't think you actually care about the reasons.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue and took a step back.

“See– you shouldn't ‘think’. If you would've thought, you wouldn't have pulled that stupid stunt over there. Stop questioning me and start answering.”

“It's pretty fucking obvious that you can't stand him so maybe that's why, hm?” The other spat, wiggling in his restraints. “Get these off me. You can't keep me here, your life is fucking over once word gets out.”

The alpha chuckled briefly, gums on display as he looked amused at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “Ahh. Pomposity.”

He took to walking around the bound man, until he stood right behind him. A tug at his hair, making his head bend at a weird angle with a hiss.

“I think I'm gonna leave you here for the night, model boy. Maybe it will help with your attitude and grandiosity problem and then we can work toward a solution, hm?” he spoke lowly in his ear, tugging once more at his hair and then letting go.

The alpha brushed his clothes off and started walking towards the door, appearing calm and dead-serious in all he said.

“W–wait. Wait. You can't leave me h–” he swallowed, eyes shifting, panic building up. “Don't leave. Let's– we can try to clear this up. It's– It's all a misunderstanding.”

Yoongi hummed, stopping in his tracks. Then he pulled a chair from a corner and dragged it right in front of the other man. The harsh screech of the metal chair scraping across the floor grated even his own nerves, but it was a good addition to his nonchalant act.

“I'm tired. So make this quick. Talk.”

“S–so,” he gulped, visibly shaken at last. It looked like he was finally understanding the gravity of the situation. “I know, uh. I know Jimin from– from college. He used to– I mean we were friends first, but he used to date another friend of mine–”

“Stop stuttering so much, next you're gonna pee your pants.”

Jongin froze, taken aback, anger flashing in his eyes again as he watched Yoongi carelessly gesture for him to continue, before lighting up a cigarette.

Another harsh swallow. Swallowing his pride.

“Jimin dated my friend. Long story short, he– they broke up. And Jimin did all kinds of things– he was everywhere, my friend was constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for him to appear and pull a stunt or whatever hysteric shit he could come up with next.”

“Name.”

“Huh?”

“Friend’s name.”

“Uh. I don't think I should–”

Yoongi’s eyes snapped up, pinning him down with a look. “I will find out, one way or another.”

“Lee Taemin,” he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “So that's why. Um. I hadn't seen him in a while… heard about the marriage and… the rumours. Wanted to hurt him, I guess. Didn't think you'd care much, all things considered.”

“What things did you consider?” He blew the smoke up in the air, shifting his hips forward onto the chair to be more comfortable.

“The supposed arrangement. I mean, what man who even remotely likes his partner leaves him alone at the wedding ceremony?” He was slowly getting his wit back, fear subsided. Quick to forget.

Yoongi was a still figure. One could've mistaken the scene for a photograph if it wasn't for the smoke coming out of the burning cigarette and dispersing around them. “What did your friend do to Jimin?”

Jongin’s eyes widened. He did not think that would be something the other would be asking. With each question and remark, he just confirmed how mistaken he had been regarding Jimin’s husband.

“Nothing. What are you talking about?” Had Jimin told him? But Jimin wasn't the type to come forward about stuff like that, right? The alpha was messing with his head.

“Kim… I said I'm tired–” he sighed, toying with his cigarette and then leaning forward, letting the tip of it hover over the man's hand, flawless skin dirtied from their little altercation by the car. The promise of another mark on his skin hung in the air.

“He– he cheated on him. That's all!”

“That's all?”

“Yes! That's all.”

“Does that seem like something light to you? Like– like he fucking shrunk his shirt or some shit? Why are you using that tone?” Yoongi snapped, finally letting some of his temper slip through his voice.

“I didn't mean it like that. But you can't act like a saint. You’ve done it yourself! Don't you cheat on him as–”

A wet crack split the air, followed by a loud cry.

“No. Get that shit inside your fucking thick skull. I don't cheat on him. I haven't and I won't. And if I let you out of here, if I so happen to become a saint and let you out of here alive – I would really, really appreciate it if you never said that phrase, never say Jimin’s name again. Whatever the fuck went down when you were shitty children does not concern me. But Jimin is tied to my name now. And I will not allow anyone to taint it, let alone someone like you. Was I clear?”

The other nodded furiously, sweat slid down his throat as he blinked fast. Blood dripped down his nose. “Yes. Just, let me go, hm? Please.”

Yoongi shook his fist, opening and closing his palm multiple times to shake off the dull ache.

“I will have someone follow you. I will have them monitor your every move and every word. Every exchange with every single person. If a single word about what happened today goes out, you're as good as dead. I can see you are not aware of what I am capable of, Kim, but I can assure you, I know how to make a man disappear.” He paused, just to let the phrase haunt him a little.

“As soon as you arrive home, I expect you to make a statement. Use a news outlet, your social media, whatever the fuck you want. I want you to make a statement in which you apologise to my husband about what went down last night and I want you to explicitly state that it was your fault. You provoked him. That's the truth.”

The other was completely frozen, blood running cold. A million scenarios and consequences he would have to face were racing through his mind, but he eventually nodded.

“Yes. You won't hear of me again, I won't – won't approach him ever again, I swear.”

“Good, that's good…” Yoongi took one last drag of his cigarette, putting it out on the other’s suit. “I still don't think I did enough though… feels like I'm letting you off the hook too easily.”

“N-no! No, no. Please, I get it and I won't say a word and I won't bother any of you again. Just let me go.”

With one last sigh, Yoongi pulled out a knife from his pocket and placed it on Jongin’s hand. He snorted at the way his eyes widened. He barely managed to grip it, wrist tilting uncomfortably where it was tied to the chair.

“You're free to go. Remember. One mistake and you're over. Tell that to your friend too. ‘Cause when I find out the whole story…”

And with that, he left the alpha alone, steps echoing away.

He had Nam-il drive him to the apartment complex where Jimin’s friend, Taehyung lived. It was easy to find out the address through their system.

He clicked the button beside the name and was connected through the intercom.

“Who is it?”

“Hey, it's Yoongi. Jimin's there, right?” He knew. His car was parked right outside.

“No, he's not.”

“My car is here, Kim. Buzz me in, I need to talk to him.”

He heard a sigh and then the click of the front door of the residence.

He knocked the second he stood in front of the apartment and the other alpha opened the door.

“If you're here to further upset him, I suggest you leave. I’ve stayed out of your way and let you two deal with your shit in your inexistent, fucked up way, but I cannot have him break down in my arms another time, Min. It's happened way too many times already.”

His scent was potent and all over the place, Yoongi’s nose wasn't appreciating it, but he gritted his teeth and gave a curt nod.

“That's not my intention.”

Taehyung sighed and opened the door further to let him in, but with his eyes drifting down he caught a glimpse of his bloodied knuckles. He halted immediately, blocking the way again.

“What the fuck happened?” He cursed, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

“Kim, come on. Let me in, I need to talk to him.”

“Min. Why is there blood on your hands.” Sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Beat up someone.”

“Who?”

“Fuck’s sake, you're annoying as fuck.” He scrunched up his nose. “That Jongin guy. Gave him a piece of my mind.”

Taehyung stepped back surprised and then his face split in a bright grin. He patted the other's back and pulled him inside. “Hell yeah. Now that's my guy. Jimin's in my room though. Can you handle that without going all rude alpha on him?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and shrugged off his hand, heading for the room without taking off his shoes. “I'll try.” He halted for a second. “You two don't– Do you um… just tell me if you're hooking up, okay?”

Taehyung snorted and shook his head. “Not anymore,” he winked teasingly, pushing him forward.

After holding his breath and counting ‘til ten in his head, he moved.

The moment he stepped into the room, he came to the realisation that he had no idea what to say. The feeling only amplified when he noticed the lump of blankets on the bed, curled up on itself.

Since he was facing the door, Yoongi could only see his face that was barely peeking out from the nest. Pouty lips and rosy cheeks. Blue bangs falling on his forehead gently. The smell of rotten flowers hanging over his head like a death sentence, mixed with the other alpha's sandalwood.

Such a strong scent overwhelmed the room, to the point that Yoongi’s own scent, subsided by the medical patches, couldn't really reach the omega, hence why he thought it was his friend checking up on him.

“Tae, told you, ‘m fine. You were here literally five minutes ago,” he sighed gently, not even opening his eyes to look at the other.

“Jimin.”

That had him sitting upright so fast he gave himself whiplash.

“Yoongi? What the fuck are you doing here? Who let you in?”

He took a step further into the room.

“Taehyung. Just wanted to talk to you, if you don't mind.”

He looked utterly confused and no one could blame him.

“Can you stop with this confusing nonsense? It's been what? Two months? And now you wanna talk?”

“Doesn't have to be complicated. Just– maybe I really should know some more stuff about you and vice versa so that others can't have leverage over either of us.”

“Wow, glad you finally figured that out, Sherlock,” he sighed and scooted back on the bed, making room for Yoongi to sit without really inviting him vocally. “Look, I don't have any energy left to fight. So if it goes in that direction, it's best you leave.”

Instead, the alpha moved over and claimed the place on the bed, sitting at the edge.

“Don't have the energy either.”

That's when Taehyung knocked and delivered a small first aid kit, throwing it at Jimin who caught it wide eyed and on instinct only. Before Jimin could curse him out, he was already out the door.

“The fuck..?” He whispered to himself, staring at the kit and then at Yoongi, searching for a hint or something, until he ultimately noticed the bruises on his hands.

“Don't– it's nothing, I don't need tending to,” he beat Jimin to it, shaking his head. “Really.”

Jimin scoffed, pushing all the blankets off himself.

Yoongi's eyes raked over his frame. Somehow he looked smaller than he'd last really looked at him. Or maybe it was Taehyung’s clothes in which he was drowning. The black long sleeve dipped at the neckline revealing his prominent collarbones. He averted his eyes immediately.

Jimin brought his hands on his lap and shushed any further attempts to get him to stop.

“You need to stop being so reckless.”

“I don't think you're in a position to tell me that.” Yoongi’s stare was intense.

Jimin stared back just as hard.

“What was that thing with that guy about?” Yoongi continued.

“Do you really need to know?”

“Yes. Then I'll tell you why.”

The omega sighed, opening the kit and pulling out a few bandages and disinfectant.

“He’s my ex’s friend. One who cheated on me. Noticing a pattern?” He asked bitterly, looking up at Yoongi through empty eyes, which then averted back to lightly dabbing a cotton gauze on the knuckles.

“Before you continue. I know I lead you to believe some stuff on purpose, and maybe I can explain, and maybe you won't believe me, but I haven't cheated on you.”

“You and I have very different definitions of cheating, I fear.”

“Well, I haven't fucked anyone then. That what you want me to clarify?”

“I don't want you to say shit-”

“I haven't fucked anyone from the day I brought you home. And I will admit I attempted to, like right after the engagement–” Jimin’s scoff interrupted him, but he persisted. “But I couldn't go through with it. Didn't really want to, I was just being stubborn and I thought that would give me some sense of control over my life.”

“Good to know, I guess. But I'm over trusting alphas and taking their word for it, so forgive me if I'm a little sceptical. And to clarify, in my eyes, you have cheated. Because kissing someone else counts as cheating and you can say whatever bullshit you want, but I fucking saw it with my own eyes. It's a wonder she didn't fall pregnant from that kiss only.” His hands trembled where he dried the wound and started wrapping it. Though he tried to sound unaffected and unwavering, his body betrayed him.

“You're right.”

Jimin's head snapped up in surprise.

“No, you're right. That was very wrong of me. I was drunk and made a very bad choice.”

“If I hadn't been there, you would've gone further.”

“I don't know. But I'm glad I didn't and I apologise for that. Though late…”

For what it mattered, he did look apologetic and guilty, eyes downcast, foot tapping on the ground.

“Can you tell me what Lee Taemin did to you?”

The omega stilled, scent so sour Yoongi felt an urge to heavily comfort him.

Then his face scrunched in anger, eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know his name?”

“I will tell you later; I just need you to talk to me this once. As much as you can tell me.”

After tying the bandage tight enough on both hands, he shuffled back, resting his back against the headboard. He stared out the window for so long, Yoongi was convinced he wouldn't share anything with him, but then his voice was heard, monotonous and slightly detached.

“I was twenty-two when I met him. I studied education while he majored in theatre and contemporary dancing. It had always been an interest of mine, dancing. I attended most shows anyway, and that's where I met him. He was two years my senior,” a deep breath, “and well. I liked him and he said he liked me too so we got together. At first, it was such an intense love that I don't think I saw the early signs. Everything was going great, he practically worshipped me and I– well, others told me I was thriving and glowing. Until he no longer liked that fact.”

Yoongi managed to keep his instincts in check, mind racing at a thousand theories about how he stopped liking that fact. He scratched at his chest mindlessly, the uncomfortable feeling spreading across it.

“Started with little things. Not picking up my phone calls right away, cancelling dates minutes prior to the meeting time… I assumed he was just busy, though my instincts screamed the opposite. But at the same time, my omega wanted to please, so that's what I did for probably the next seven to eight months.”

The alpha let him take his pauses, only hummed to let him know he was listening. A hand rested beside Jimin’s hip on the bed, fingers stretched. ‘I’m here,’ he would've liked to say, but he was unsure of how true that was.

“I guess what really started hurting me was how his vision of me changed. He started saying he hated– um. Well, basically he didn't really feel attracted to me anymore, I guess. Hinted at it and showed it in different ways. Probably grew bored of me.”

A stutter in his breath, a few more seconds of silence, then he turned his piercing eyes to Yoongi, catching him off guard. Yoongi couldn't look away.

“I had been thinking of confronting him for a while, made a whole list of things we had to discuss and I was mentally preparing myself, but then I caught him with someone else in bed. I smelled it first, but that didn't really prepare me for it. In our bed. A friend of his from dance class. I knew him too. He looked fairly into it, a stark difference to how he was with me. So I broke up with him. After beating him up and breaking everything breakable in the house. That's it.”

That was not it. He was omitting the manipulation, the deterioration of his mental health and the aftermath. He wasn't telling him how crazy he became. He already overshared.

Yoongi gave him another minute before he spoke up. “I am really sorry that you had to go through that.”

“Thanks. You should be sorry that I'm going through it twice, though. As if that wasn't enough. Maybe I'm just not worthy of being happy, to be honest. Maybe even this isn't enough and God is going to find some other way to bring me back to my lowest. Like, a lower one, I mean,” he chuckled humourlessly and finally looked away, tucking his head between his knees that he had pulled against his chest.

As if on cue, Yoongi’s phone chimed. A notification stared brightly at him.

[link] All done, boss. Still keeping an eye on him.

He clicked the link and skimmed through the article before passing his phone to the omega.

Jimin squinted at him, eyes tired and confused. Yoongi nudged him until he took hold of the phone. The alpha watched as emotions coloured his face, different shades of it. From disbelief to relief to surprise and shock.

He read it a total of three times before locking the phone and handing it back.

“How?” His lips remained parted in disbelief.

Yoongi lifted his hands, as if to shrug it off, but only shifted the focus to the bandages on them, Jimin’s eyes widening once more.

“No way.”

Yoongi couldn't have possibly gone out of his way to clear Jimin’s name, right? He couldn't have Jongin’s blood on his hands. Because Yoongi didn't care. So why?

“He's taken care of. If you want me to, I can take care of Lee-”

“No, no. I think I’ve done enough to him.”

Yoongi blinked passively. “I doubt that.”

Jimin tilted his head, hugging his knees. “Jongin was right though. You don't know what I'm capable of.”

“Maybe. But I have a vague idea. Do you know what I’m capable of?”

“I have a vague idea too. But why did you do that? What did you do exactly?”

“Just roughed him up a little. Can't have assholes spreading fake shit around.”

“So it was to clear your name.”

“Both our names. Let's go home, Jimin.”

Jimin sighed softly before stretching his legs and then getting off the bed. He gathered his stuff around the room, but left the suit folded on top of the dresser. Snatching the car keys, he headed for the door. “I'm driving.”

“Don’t push your luck. You have yet to be forgiven for stealing my car like that.”

“Let me drive and then we can agree on a way to earn my forgiveness, alpha,” Jimin’s voice turned breathy for a moment as he stepped in the alpha's space.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed, eyes fixated on the omega’s sultry gaze. Gone was the sour, wilted scent, replaced by flowers in full bloom that almost choked him. “Fine. Walk on.”

Jimin grinned and let out a happy squeak before leaving the room, calling out to his friend to let him know they were leaving. He knew where Yoongi’s eyes would be following.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Tae. I love you so much, you know,” the omega gently smiled, giving his friend a long hug – longer than what Yoongi could tolerate. He was already restless from the deep scent that lingered around his omega, so he cleared his throat.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at Yoongi, arms secured around his best friend's waist, nuzzling a little. “Anytime, Jiminie. Get going now, before your alpha murders me in my own home.”

The drive back was quiet. Yoongi watched with interest how Jimin beamed to himself, music turned up, fingers tapping away at the steering wheel. He was a good driver. The alpha even thought he wouldn't mind getting driven around by the man.

“You're practically cheesing.”

Jimin side-eyed him.

“Do you like my car that much?”

“Yeah, so what?” He defensively threw, backing the car into the garage.

Nothing could make Yoongi admit he looked fucking hot while reversing it.

“You can take it for a ride every now and then, if I'm not using it. Since you like it so much.” He hid behind a cough.

Jimin turned off the engine and stared at his husband, his mouth agape. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Yoongi got out of his car and walked to the house, toeing off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket, only then noticing the droplets of blood littering it. “I need a shower.”

Jimin hummed behind him, dropping his belongings on the tray next to the coffee table. “I'll take one after you.” The mix of scents lingering on his skin was weighing him down.

He watched the alpha disappear inside the master bathroom and occupied himself with picking out his own change of clothes up in his room.

The rollercoaster of events had made him feel nauseous and sick, but deep down he felt like something had shifted for the better. However, he couldn't let himself get his hopes up that easily. Whenever he did that he ended up getting hurt worse than before.

The small lights of kindness that were offered to him made his heart feel warmer nonetheless. Yoongi could've easily turned his back on him. It would've been the perfect excuse to break off their marriage, but instead he decided to stick around and stand up for him. And now letting him drive his car?

It almost felt like he cared. He had gone after Jongin to set things straight, to protect Jimin and make sure no one would think of harming him again.

Jimin shook his head in disbelief. It felt heavy, from all the crying and screaming it had endured at his friend's place.

He realised how badly he needed to loosen up, let go of the thoughts that were eating him alive, how bad he needed to just switch off his brain.

Rubbing his eyes, he made his way into his bathroom when he heard Yoongi coming out of the shower. He quickly washed up, freeing his skin from all the lingering scents and feelings. Once finished, he already felt lighter.

Taking one look at the mirror, he realised that maybe he was more appealing than he gave himself credit for. Even though exhaustion was visible on his face and on the tension that his muscles held, his soft curves and skin didn't look so bad.

Then a thought popped in his mind. He needed to be forgiven, right?

Looking at himself in the mirror, he wrapped his lips around two of his digits, wetting them thoroughly, his other hand working his soft cock into full hardness. Bringing one knee up to rest on the lip of the sink, his wet fingers followed the valley between his asscheeks, slowly working himself up, feeling himself and eventually pushing inside.

Once he deemed it enough, slick starting to pool around his fingers, he pulled them out and washed his hands. His heart was already beating faster, a flush going up his neck from the ministrations and the mist hanging in the air.

Before he could overthink it, he threw on the first bathrobe his hand reached for and tied it at the waist. Then without missing a beat, he made his way downstairs, raptly knocking at Yoongi’s door.

Yoongi opened it in a matter of seconds, a confused look adorning his features. Strands of wet black hair covered his forehead and part of his eyes. The bare chest was practically glaring at Jimin, the goddamned dragon contrasting so well with his skin. His eyes travelled down to his lean abdomen and followed the happy trail that disappeared under the hem of the towel that sat dangerously low on his hips.

He cleared his throat. “Jimin? Do you need anything?”

“Yes,” he said without thinking, eyes snapping up again. He could finally smell the alpha. All heady, wet, a whole rainforest – so good.

“What is it?” God, he could feast upon him all night and day. He blinked and tried to clear his head.

“You.”

“Me?” He still looked confused, maybe a little apprehensive. “What about me?”

Jimin pushed him inside the room with gentle hands on his chest, kicking the door shut behind him. “I need you.”

A sigh. Though he really wanted to, the night had been exceptionally rough for the omega. It would only complicate things further. “Jimin, I don't think you–”

“Alpha, I need you to take care of me tonight, please. I just need my brain to shut up and… I thought you could help,” he whispered the last part, some doubt starting to creep in. His once intense, hooded eyes now shifted away from the alpha, but his cold hands were still in contact with his warm body.

Yoongi hummed, walking backwards and pulling Jimin with him until the older man was sitting on the bed and the omega stood between his spread legs.

“Too many thoughts?”

Jimin nodded right away, eager to provide any answer that would get him the result he wanted.

“Okay. I can help.”

The omega's eyes sparkled when he finally looked into Yoongi’s eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. But I need to know how far I can take it.”

“As far as you can,” Jimin readily replied, toes curling to stop him from squirming. Yoongi's fingers were still wrapped around his frail wrists.

Yoongi shook his head. “What's your safe word?”

“Red.”

“Hard no's?”

“Just the really gross stuff… I guess. I don't know – do we have to talk about this?” He was blushing profusely, but he couldn't look away from the alpha.

“Yes, we do. I won't touch you until I'm sure you know what you're allowing me to do.”

It sent an electric shock down the omega's spine. He really couldn't wait.

“You didn't really ask last time,” he sheepishly said.

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “That was different. However, from that, I gathered you're okay with choking and spanking, right? Hair pulling, overstimming, manhandling, being rough, hm?”

Jimin squeezed his thighs together, trying to prevent the sticky liquid from trickling down his legs. “Y-yes,” he stuttered, face in flames. “Just– I will use the word if it gets too much, I promise, just do it, hm? Just fuck me, please.”

“Such a polite little thing. Would do anything to get what you want, wouldn't you? Are you that desperate?”

Jimin nodded quickly, heart hammering against his ribcage.

“You're– You're my husband. Don't you want to fuck me, alpha? If what you told me is true, it's been a couple of months since – you know.”

Yoongi shook his head. “I fucked you a few weeks ago, didn't I?”

“Yes, but still. You know what I mean.”

“I know.”

Panic bubbled up Jimin’s chest, the lack of certainty getting to him. “If… if you don't want to, that's fine too. Just say it and I'll go. You– actually you've made it clear that I'm not really your type. I'm sorry, I didn't think this through –”

“Jimin. Omega. I want you too.” A hand caressed his soft cheek.

That shut Jimin up, wide eyes staring at the alpha.

“I want you. And I'll have you. Do you still want this?” The alpha's gaze had him pinned down.

“Yes, please,” he pleaded, fingers twitching against his chest, restless.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he growled, before hooking an arm around his waist and pulling him in a deep, hungry kiss, snatching a gasp from his plump lips.

They hadn't kissed since the wedding – Jimin wouldn't even count that one – and it was so excruciatingly good that a moan bubbled up his throat all too soon. Jimin wondered if he kissed his hookups like this. If he kissed them at all.

Yoongi knew how to kiss. He bit and licked and sucked and moved just right, numbing all of Jimin's senses as he drowned in the feeling.

In a moment of courage, he straddled the alpha's thigh, wrapping his arms around his nape and not-so-subtly grinding down.

The alpha moved over, shrugging Jimin’s bathrobe off his shoulders and nibbling at the skin teasingly.

The omega was quick to get rid of the piece of cloth, throwing it somewhere on the floor, an attempt to keep the alpha's attention on his body – to lure him in, even. Because no matter what anyone said, he knew how to use his body. He was an omega and he knew how desirable he was.

Yoongi took the bait, he was no better than other men. Bite marks bloomed on the omega's flawless skin. He was slowly but surely starting to look more like Yoongi’s.

The image of Jimin sporting his mating mark right over his scent gland produced itself in Yoongi's brain, no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

He kissed and licked his gland, tasting the sweet lavenders on his tongue and getting high on it.

Jimin whined high and bared his neck more, hips stuttering over his thigh.

“How can you taste so sweet and be so annoying at the same time?” Yoongi’s words brushed over his skin.

Jimin didn't feel the need to answer that. His sounds became more desperate with each ticking minute, the pressure building at the pit of his stomach.

Just when he was getting really close, the alpha took a hold of the younger’s hips and gripped them hard, holding him just a few centimetres above his thigh. Jimin's hips twitched helplessly into the air, needy whines filled with disappointment.

“Alpha!”

Yoongi tilted his head just so he could bump his nose against the other's cheek. “Yes, baby?”

“Y’promised to help…” The omega pouted, hands gripping the alpha's shoulders tightly.

Yoongi hummed, feigning thought. “I don't remember making a promise.”

Bright, wide eyes gazed back at him. “But you said you want me.”

Another hum, this one of approval, right when he pressed his lips back to the omega's neck. “I do want you. You're being impatient.”

“I want you to hurry. You're not helping me like this.”

“You're so whiny,” he muttered, just before he practically threw the blue haired man onto the mattress. Yoongi was on him in a second, taking advantage of the surprised look on his face and his parted lips to stuff three of his own fingers in that sweet mouth of his.

He pushed on his tongue, watching as the expression remained the same – that of surprise – but his pretty eyes betrayed him, showing how desperate he was for anything.

The sight deserved to be showcased in a museum.

Snapping out of his trance, Jimin started to put his mouth to use, licking between the fingers and soaking them in saliva, some wetting the sides of his mouth.

“Good boy, that's a much better use of your mouth than being whiny,” he praised mindlessly, eyes fixated on the way Jimin’s shiny, deep pink lips stretched around his fingers and worked around them.

The praise seemed to get to Jimin’s head, a deep blush dusting his cheeks as his breath hitched, movements halting.

It got Yoongi’s attention. “Baby likes that? You like being called good?”

Jimin nodded, still looking dazed, mouth still full of fingers.

“Then why don't you show alpha what a good omega you are and put that mouth to use somewhere else?”

He was so eager and needy that he pushed the other off until he was laying on his back. Then he sat back on his feet between the other’s legs. Without asking for permission, he pulled at the towel until it came undone, remaining on the bed underneath the other's body.

A gasp escaped his lips unwillingly at the sight. The previous time he had only felt it, he had not been allowed to look at it. Though he had created an image in his own head, nothing could prepare him for the real thing. He really couldn't think of another word to describe it except perfect.

Perfect length, perfect girth… perfect taste?

He felt like he had wasted too much time just looking at it already – though Yoongi was not complaining, if the smug look on his face meant anything – so he dove right in. His pillowy lips wrapped around with the thick pinkish head, tongue dipping in the slit and then licking around it.

The smell and the taste were so rich down there that his head was getting fuzzy, as if he had just smoked weed. Not being in the mood to tease and way too impatient for it, he proceeded to lower himself on the others' length, further relaxing his throat until only two or three centimetres weren't engulfed by the warmth of his mouth.

A deep moan of approval sounded from the back of the other’s throat. Jimin pulled back up and then repeated that same pattern of action; suckle on the head, lick around it, deepthroat. His movements only became more frantic, the greedier he became, his omega chanting more, more, more.

His naked back was arched beautifully, ass up in the air, slick coating the inner sides of his thighs.

And then to top it off, he finally snapped his eyes open and looked up, straight into black lustful eyes.

The intensity of the gaze had the other dropping his head back and loudly groaning. In a matter of seconds, long fingers were cradling the back of his head and guiding him into an unforgiving rhythm that barely gave him time to breathe. He was definitely going to sport a sore throat afterwards.

All of a sudden, Yoongi pulled his cock off the omega's mouth – a string of saliva stretching from the rosy, spit-covered lips to the purple-ish head.

Jimin held still, quiet, waiting with bated breath.

“On all fours, go on, present for me,” he murmured, patting Jimin’s hip.

His omega was eager to please, moving himself into position, hands pulling his cheeks apart.

A pleased look settled on the alpha's face while he situated himself behind the omega, bruising grip on his hips. Though he had taunted his baby blue about being impatient, his own patience was hanging by a thread.

Giving his arousal one swift tug, he nested himself inside the omega in a slide made smooth by the copious amounts of slick his omega was producing.

The alpha's lips parted in a silent moan, brain mushy from the warm and tight walls engulfing his cock. Jimin whined into the pillow, pushing back immediately to start fucking himself on the alpha's length.

Yoongi wasn't having none of that. He forcefully pinned him down by the neck, pressing his face further into the mattress and setting an unforgiving pace right away. His hips snapped fast and precise, the sound of his ballsack hitting the back of the younger’s thighs being added to the melodious voice of his dear husband.

The staccato moans failed to keep up with each trust, turning into wails some minutes into it.

Yoongi was not gentle. Jimin had specifically asked him to make all other worries disappear and Yoongi wasn't one to back down from a challenge. One thing he was sure of: Jimin didn't have a single thought in his pretty head at that moment.

“Ah! Ah-alpha, slow- slow down,” he managed, tears stinging in his eyes as one hand reached back to grip the alpha's forearm, nails digging in hard. “‘S too much!”

That just earned him a hum – no mercy. The alpha pushed him forward with the force of his next few thrusts. Hearing his name break into a scream halfway almost made him cum. He cursed under his breath as he felt the omega twitch and squeeze around him, the orgasm rushing over him and spilling into the sheets underneath.

He smoothed a hand down his back in a sick show of comfort, but his thrusts had a mind of their own – unforgiving til the end.

With the push of his hips, he had Jimin flat on his stomach, pressing him into the mattress, chest against his back as he drove into him ruthlessly.

The omega was full on sobbing, babbling words that didn't really make sense, lips bitten raw and curved into an ‘o’.

Yoongi blinked, trying to refocus for a second, wanting to make it last forever. “Colour, baby? You good?” He nudged Jimin’s shoulder with his chin, pressing a kiss right after.

Jimin nodded jerkily, mumbling about being okay between moans, so the alpha had the decency to switch to shallow thrusts. “Need a proper answer, omega.”

“Nngh! Green, fuck! Alpha ‘s so good ‘n hurts a lot, b-but want more! Want it all,” he whimpered, a hand cradling the side of Yoongi’s face as best as he could. The alpha turned his face to the side, planting a kiss on his palm.

“Alpha's got you, baby. Will you be a good omega and let me use your pretty hole to make myself cum, hm?” Another kiss on his nape. He felt him shiver.

“Yeah, use me all you want, alpha please…” he sighed, eyes closing during the conversation as he was given somewhat of a break.

Which didn't last long, because as soon as Min got his confirmation, he was already switching back to hard thrusts. The shaft was rubbing against his prostate each time, the abused gland now too sensitive and bordering between pleasurable jolts and painful ones.

Yoongi chased his release, feeling the pressure at the bottom of his belly building up rapidly.

Sitting back up, he moved the omega to his side, lifting his leg up to hook it on his shoulder and then bottoming out again.

Now he could see the angry red colour of Jimin's lovely cock which was weeping against his abdomen, so hard he didn't dare touch, not wanting to overwhelm him further. He did, however, wrap his slender fingers around baby blue's lithe neck.

He could feel each moan vibrate against his palm where he was barely pressing down.

The omega moaned his name like his life depended on it. He whimpered and cried and scratched at the alpha's arm to get a grip. He looked so dazed and out of it that it mesmerised the alpha. How could someone look so ethereal and angelic while doing such filthy things?

“Fuckin’ hell, you're gorgeous.”

Jimin mewled, chest heaving with each breath.

Just as the alpha readjusted himself and the omega in missionary, he felt him clamp down onto his length.

It snatched away a deep moan from the alpha, whose vision turned white at the tight feeling, quickly reaching his climax. His knot swelled in record time. He didn't have time to ease it in, rather slammed into him, urged by instinct. The name of the omega bloomed on his tongue just like his flowers.

The deep earthy scent surrounded the omega on all sides. It was all he could breathe, lungs full of it, brain full of it, too. A last, dry orgasm was forced out of him, twitching helplessly in bed and wincing when the knot pulled at his rim.

They were both panting when Yoongi collapsed on the other, legs around his waist.

He caught his breath for a moment, the fog clearing up slowly as he nuzzled against the omega's scent gland. The action only spurred more of the scent out and the alpha couldn't stop a moan falling from his lips. He licked and kissed the sensitive spot until the omega whined and weekly pushed his head away.

He felt possessive and weirdly territorial, though if he were more lucid he wouldn't know they reeked of each other.

Yoongi rolled them over with ease, so he was laying on his back with Jimin straddling him, head on his chest.

Running a hand through his sweaty, blue locks, he murmured gently. “Hey, baby. You okay?”

Jimin wiped his tears off his cheeks, a small sniffle coming next as he nodded. Then his lip wobbled and concern flared in the alpha's chest.

“Baby, is something wrong? Was I too rough?” His hands bracketed his face and looked into his eyes, not letting him shy away.

“Yeah, yes, but it's what I wanted and what I needed,” he sniffled again. “Nothing's wrong, alpha. Y-you knotted me…” he added as an afterthought.

“I did. You felt so good I didn't even feel it forming, it caught me by surprise,” the alpha admitted, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “I will take care of you, I promise. Rest until the knot goes down and let me take care of everything else.”

The omega blushed profusely at the praise thrown in randomly, then nuzzled into his neck to hide. “Thank you…”

The alpha was so endeared by the sight that a fond smile stretched across his face. Then he froze, heart hammering against his ribcage.

His hand mindlessly traced shapes into the sleeping omega’s back, but conflicted thoughts were brewing in his head.

He couldn't.

He couldn't make that mistake again.

He couldn't fall in love.