jairang

Jimin’s clothes don’t fit. 

His lavender silk button-up keeps slipping off his shoulder, exposing his collarbones to the cool night air. It makes him tremble slightly, and Taehyung must notice because he pulls Jimin tighter against his chest. 

“How’s it going, love?” Taehyung hooks his chin over Jimin’s shoulder and turns his head to the side when he whispers the question. His voice is raspy from talking all night, and the deepness of it warms the pit of Jimin’s stomach, even in his sour mood. 

Jimin shrugs, and Taehyung lets out an amused huff at his boyfriend’s indecisiveness. His breath tickles Jimin’s neck. 

“Bored?” 

Taehyung smells like vodka and ginger beer from the Moscow mule he’s been nursing all night. He holds the copper mug in the hand that isn’t splayed against the lower half of Jimin’s tummy. As much as Jimin loves being in Taehyung’s embrace, the pressure of his hand is making Jimin’s skin crawl. He hates it when Taehyung touches his stomach. 

“I’m not bored,” Jimin says flatly. He’s not bored, but he’s not entertained, either. 

Going to Euphoria used to be the highlight of Jimin’s weekend. It’s Seoul’s most elite rooftop bar. Slipping past the bouncers guarding the glass elevator that takes patrons to the roof is possible thanks to being friends with Seokjin. Taehyung had met him through his best friend, Jungkook. It has been a little over two years since Seokjin came around, but he fit into their friend group almost immediately, even though Jimin and his friends are nowhere near as impressive as an actor. Seokjin is attractive, gregarious, and rich, but it’s his goofy personality that molds well with Taehyung and Jungkook's often childlike sense of wonder. 

Taehyung brushes his lips against Jimin’s neck as he murmurs, “Tired? Wanna go home?” 

The sensation makes the hairs on the nape of Jimin’s neck stand up, and the fire that seems to always burn in the pit of his stomach when Taehyung’s around flickers once again. It’s frustrating how easily Taehyung can make Jimin’s heart race, even when he isn’t in the mood for kisses and that velvety voice whispering in his ear. 

Jimin does want to go home, but he knows Taehyung and their friends are having fun. The whole reason why they’re out is to celebrate Taehyung graduating from his Ph.D. program and securing a position as a therapist. It would be rude of him to force Taehyung to leave his own party. He’s being a shitty boyfriend, bringing the mood down. Taehyung shouldn’t have to check in on Jimin while he’s celebrating such an important achievement. 

“Hyung, stop being so gross!” A voice cries out from Jimin’s left, and he turns to see Jungkook walking away from his conversation with Seokjin and a few people Jimin doesn’t know. 

Taehyung mumbles something into Jimin’s neck before straightening his posture. He finally lets go of Jimin, leaving his place behind Jimin to instead stand next to him. Ordinarily, the loss of contact would leave Jimin feeling cold, but tonight, he’s relieved. 

It makes Jimin feel awful. 

“Excuse me, I didn’t realize giving my boyfriend attention was gross,” Taehyung counters with a roll of his eyes. 

“The two of you are the worst about PDA!” Jungkook presses on with exaggerated exasperation. “You’re disgusting.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Taehyung parrots back. He reaches out with lightning speed to pinch Jungkook’s nipple through his shirt, twisting it with his index finger and thumb hard enough to make Jungkook squeal. 

“Aw, hyung, what the fuck!” Jungkook swats at Taehyung’s arm. He covers both nipples with his hands and turns to give Jimin a pout. It’s ridiculous. 

“You’re both being ridiculous,” Jimin mutters. He brings his drink to his lips, a gin and Coke that Taehyung nearly spit out when he took a sip earlier.

Jimin’s response isn’t what Jungkook was looking for, so he resumes harassing Taehyung about being “too whipped for his own good”. 

Normally, the playful altercation would make Jimin smile. It’s true; Taehyung is undeniably head-over-heels for Jimin, and they all know it – even before they started dating, back when Jimin and Jungkook were roommates, and Taehyung was simply “Jungkook’s best friend”. Taehyung had crushed on Jimin so hard it wasn’t a shock to anyone when he grew the courage to ask Jimin out. 

Taehyung’s love for Jimin is painfully obvious. It’s in the way Taehyung watches Jimin with such soft, kind eyes like Jimin is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. It’s in the way he holds Jimin in his large hands like he’s afraid Jimin might break. It’s in the way he melts under Jimin’s touch, even after five years of dating. Their honeymoon phase never ended. Despite how annoying, frustrating, and utterly terrible Jimin is, somehow, Taehyung still loves him. 

To avoid staring at Taehyung any longer, Jimin turns his attention to Jungkook. He looks good tonight, though he always does. 

Jungkook is big. What he lacks in stature, he makes up for in muscle. His biceps are getting thicker, and the buttons on his shirt strain when he moves his torso a certain way. He’s been working out more. 

Taehyung has gotten bigger, too. He has started going with Jungkook to the gym, mainly on the weekends, because Taehyung often offers late appointments for clients who can’t speak with him until after they’re off work. 

Over time, Taehyung has filled out, muscles developing in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been prominent before. When he wraps his arm around Jimin’s waist, Jimin notices the raised veins that run along his forearm, exposed from his sleeves being rolled up. 

It’s hot, but Jimin can’t enjoy his boyfriend’s developing physique. 

He looks down at his body as Jungkook and Taehyung bicker, their voices mixing in with the music playing from overhead speakers. 

Jimin is small. 

He can see his hip bones protruding from his skin-tight black jeans. He should’ve worn looser pants, but Taehyung likes Jimin in these jeans. He’s not sure why. All they do is accentuate how frail he is. 

It’s disgusting. 

Jimin shifts uncomfortably in Taehyung’s embrace. He can feel Taehyung’s fingers against his ribcage. When Jimin adjusts, Taehyung’s hand slides down to hold Jimin’s hip. 

Jimin’s waist is tiny enough that Taehyung can wrap his hands around him. When he inhales, he can see his ribs poking through his skin, and he knows from countless hours of staring at himself in the mirror that the knobby vertebrae of his spine are visible, too. 

Jimin prayed for his “adult body” to show up for years. He figured as he got older, he’d fill in a bit. He tried working out, but he’s not confident enough to lift weights at the gym with all the gym bros watching him, waiting for him to embarrass himself. And when he does cardio, he just loses more weight.  

All he wants is to be less… plain, bony, and unattractive. Not a stick, easily knocked over and bent in half. He wants to be soft and pretty. He wants hips and thighs for Taehyung to squeeze and hold onto. He wants to fill in his jeans and for his shirts to fit against a chest that isn’t so flat. No one wants to touch and kiss and fuck a skeleton. 

And he really wishes he could grow taller, though that obviously isn’t in the cards for him. 

He looks up at Taehyung and watches his side profile while he talks. His eyes are bright from being a bit tipsy, and he talks animatedly, swinging the hand holding his drink. Luckily, it’s nearly empty, or he’d have spilled it all over himself by now. 

Taehyung is gorgeous. He’s tall, all legs, with beautiful tan skin and beauty marks that make Jimin want to kiss him all over. Even when he was a little on the skinnier side, it made sense on him. He looks like a supermodel. 

Jimin can’t understand why Taehyung, someone so perfect, would want to date him. Especially when Taehyung could have anyone he wants. 

One of those anyones chooses now to saunter over to where the trio are talking. Leaning against the rooftop balcony’s glass railing, Jimin watches the man with growing irritation.

“Tae! Congratulations, my friend. I’m so happy for you.” 

And there’s that blinding smile so large it pushes deep dimples into the man’s cheeks. He’s just as tall as Taehyung and absolutely gorgeous, with tan skin and muscles that rival Jungkook’s. Jimin forces himself to take another sip of his drink to avoid scowling as Taehyung’s arm slips from his waist to wrap around the newcomer’s body instead. 

“Namjoonie hyung, thank you!” 

“I’ve got a gift for you, but it wasn’t ready yet. I’m sorry.” 

Taehyung waves Namjoon’s concerns away. “Ah, hyung, you didn’t need to get me anything at all.” 

“Don’t be silly, Tae,” Namjoon insists. “I’ll find a time for you to come over to my place so I can give it to you.” Namjoon brushes his shoulder against Taehyung’s. Although the force is light, it makes Taehyung take a step backward, and he bumps into Jimin. 

“Sorry, love,” Taehyung apologizes with a smile that makes Jimin’s head spin. 

Taehyung doesn’t look at Namjoon the way he looks at Jimin, but maybe one day he could. And why not? Namjoon fits Taehyung better. They look perfect together as Namjoon lifts his phone up to take a selfie, his cheek pressed against Taehyung’s. He and Taehyung met in college, years before Jimin moved in with Jungkook. Taehyung never said anything happened between the two of them; he always referred to Namjoon as a close friend. But he never said nothing happened, either. Just thinking about it makes Jimin’s stomach churn. 

Fueled by jealousy that he doesn’t feel like addressing, Jimin’s fingers pull at the sleeve of Taehyung’s leather jacket. 

“What’s up, baby?” 

“Can we go home?” 

Taehyung nods immediately without asking why, and warmth blooms in Jimin’s chest even as he feels like he’s going to be sick. 

☁️

“I’m sorry you didn’t have fun,” Taehyung mumbles the apology while he looks down at the space between where he and Jimin sit in the backseat of the taxi. He plays with Jimin’s fingers, paying particular attention to Jimin’s pinky, which is equally endearing and annoying. 

Their hands look pretty intertwined, Taehyung’s long and tan, the fingers of an artist and musician, while Jimin’s are short and stubby. It’s funny how even Taehyung’s fingers are perfect, whereas Jimin’s are just as ugly as the rest of him. Life works in mysterious ways, Jimin supposes. 

“I did have fun,” Jimin lies. 

He watches the city fly past them in streaks of white light and doesn’t look at Taehyung. If he does, Taehyung will know the truth. He probably already knows. It’s soulmate behavior, Seokjin would say. Jimin and Taehyung are tethered in a way no one understands. Jimin swears they’re so deeply connected that his soul aches when Taehyung is unhappy. 

Taehyung swears he feels the same way, which makes Jimin feel even worse.

Time passes strangely in the middle of the night. A twenty-minute car ride to their apartment feels like an eternity, yet hardly anything has changed once Jimin and Taehyung scoot out of the backseat. The air is chillier now, though Jimin’s sensitive response to the temperature may be due to the taxi driver blasting the heat on the drive over. He also doesn’t have any body fat on him to keep him warm, a thought that further sours his mood as he follows Taehyung into the lobby, where they wait for the elevator. 

Once inside, Taehyung hooks his finger through Jimin’s belt loop and pulls him forward until their fronts are pressed together. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, baby,” Taehyung murmurs into Jimin’s fluffy blonde hair with a squeeze of his hips. “I know you weren’t thrilled about going out, so I appreciate that you still went with me.” 

Despite his mood, Jimin melts into Taehyung’s embrace. Taehyung hugs like he’s trying to absorb the tension Jimin holds inside his body. Jimin breathes in his cologne, oak and spice, and the bite of vodka as he buries his face in Taehyung’s chest. None of the antidepressant medications lining the nightstand on Jimin’s side of the bed can give him the sense of relief a hug from Taehyung gives him, even if Taehyung’s hugs remind Jimin of how different their bodies are. Even if Jimin knows he can’t find a cure for his problems in another person. Taehyung feels good; some things are as simple as that. 

The sob that shudders through Jimin’s chest is abrupt and unexpected. He knows it catches Taehyung off guard because Jimin feels him suck in a deep breath, and his arms reflexively tighten around him. 

Honestly, it catches Jimin off guard, too. He cries so infrequently that Taehyung has commented on it. Something about occasional tears being psychologically good for him. 

Jimin doesn’t understand how crying can ever be a good thing. Embarrassment and shame ripple through him with each sob. There is a level of helplessness that comes with crying episodes. Losing control of one’s emotions is disheartening and sometimes even scary. It’s upsetting to know that Jimin will never be okay, no matter how hard he tries. 

“Oh baby,” Taehyung murmurs as he cups the back of Jimin’s head to hold him against his chest. “Will you tell me what’s wrong? Please?” 

“I f-f-feel…” Jimin’s whimpers prevent him from speaking clearly, though Taehyung has always been the more patient of the two. “I’m so ugly , Tae. I hate myself.” 

These aren’t words Taehyung hasn’t heard before, but he’s sincere when he asks, “What makes you say that?” Because the answer is always different, even when it’s the same. 

Jimin shrugs in Taehyung’s embrace. The ding of the elevator reaching their floor punctuates his silence. 

Bending slightly, Taehyung grabs the backs of Jimin’s thighs just below his butt and lifts him. Taehyung’s ability to easily carry Jimin has always been hot, though Jimin hasn’t dared to admit that out loud. Not that Taehyung has ever made him feel bad about his interests; it’s just that there are many things Jimin is too afraid to say to anyone. 

Jimin quickly wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist and hugs his broad shoulders as Taehyung carries him out of the elevator. It’s late enough that the hallway is empty, though Taehyung wouldn’t care if someone saw them like this. Jimin keeps his face buried in the crook of Taehyung’s neck so he wouldn’t know either way. It’s safe here, breathing Taehyung in with his eyes squeezed shut. 

Taehyung adjusts his hold on Jimin to input their apartment passcode and kicks the door open. He doesn’t speak as he carries Jimin to their bedroom, though Jimin tunes into his steady breathing and attempts to mimic it to calm himself down. 

Once in the bedroom, Taehyung gently sits Jimin down on their bed. His thumbs swipe across Jimin’s closed eyes, brushing tears from his eyelashes. It’s gentle, far gentler than Jimin has ever deserved. 

“Jagiya,” Taehyung calls out to him softly. 

Jimin slowly opens his eyes and does his best to meet Taehyung’s. His expression is gentle; eyes crinkled at the corners as he looks at Jimin with so much love and adoration that Jimin feels he’ll combust from the warmth. 

“Which Taehyung would you like me to be tonight?” 

Jimin smiles despite his bleary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. It may be an odd question to an outsider, but for Jimin, it’s everything he loves about Taehyung. 

It’s a habit they’ve fallen into after five years of dating, developed after Jimin snapped at Taehyung for “psychoanalyzing” him one too many times, as a way for Taehyung to understand what Jimin needs from him in a moment of distress. Occasionally, Taehyung goes into Therapist Mode, as Jimin calls it. Therapist Taehyung can be helpful when Jimin is desperate for relief from the horrors of his mind. Still, sometimes Therapist Taehyung can make Jimin feel like he’s being poked and prodded, evaluated, and assessed, even when Taehyung doesn’t mean to come off that way.  

Boyfriend Taehyung doesn’t go into Therapist Mode. Boyfriend Taehyung is gentle and understanding without being judgmental. 

“I need Boyfriend Tae,” Jimin replies once he clears his throat. 

“Alright, Boyfriend Tae, it is,” Taehyung confirms with a boxy smile. “Boyfriend Tae needs to shower, and he’d like you to join him. Is that okay?”

Jimin nods and takes Taehyung’s outstretched hands, allowing Taehyung to pull him up from the bed. In one sweeping motion, Taehyung lifts Jimin into his arms, carrying him bridal-style into the bathroom. 

“I hate that you can manhandle me,” Jimin grumbles once Taehyung places him on the counter. 

“That’s very interesting,” Taehyung remarks in a sing-song voice as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. Inch by inch, golden skin on display. “Usually when I pick you up and throw you around, you’re babbling about how much you love how str–” 

“Shh!” Jimin presses his finger to his puckered lips, cheeks pink and sufficiently embarrassed. For a moment, his insecurities are forgotten, replaced by heat simmering in his stomach when Taehyung’s pretty hands begin unbuckling his belt. 

He watches Taehyung’s eyes zero in on his finger and knows he isn’t looking at his mouth but instead the tattoo of a seven on the inside of his finger: July 7th, their anniversary. When Taehyung strips out of his slacks once his shirt is discarded on the floor, he reveals his matching tattoo on his thigh. They got them on their first anniversary – a decision most of Jimin’s friends warned him against. Rightfully so. Getting matching tattoos after only a year of dating seems like a risk, but Jimin knew Taehyung was his forever since their first kiss. 

“You don’t have to shower with me if you don’t want to, jagiya.” 

Taehyung stands between Jimin’s legs, grabbing the counter's edge on either side of his hips. While Jimin was lost in his thoughts, Taehyung finished undressing. The only thing remaining is a thin gold chain resting on his pronounced collarbones. The chain matches the dangly earring hanging from his left earlobe. Taehyung looks so pretty in dainty jewelry yet still holds onto his particular brand of elegant masculinity. 

“Chim?”

Jimin blinks, forcing himself to stop thinking about how pathetic he looks next to Taehyung.

“Hmm?” 

“Are you going to shower in your clothes?” 

“No…” 

Unable to meet Taehyung’s dark eyes, Jimin tucks his chin to his chest. While Taehyung reaches behind his neck to remove his chain, Jimin wiggles off the counter to remove his clothes. He keeps his back to the mirror, afraid to look at what he knows he’ll see there. It’s bad enough that he can watch the front of his body as he sheds his clothes, each one a protective layer, like a snake shedding its skin. But Jimin isn’t strong beneath the fabric; the more he takes off, the smaller he becomes. 

“Can I help?” 

Taehyung’s fingers brush against Jimin’s neck as Jimin steps out of his jeans. The touch makes him shiver. He nods, and Taehyung gently removes Jimin’s diamond stud earrings, placing both on the counter alongside Taehyung’s chain and dangly earring. 

“There you go.”

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers. 

“Of course, baby.” 

Stepping away, Taehyung slides the glass shower door open and sticks his hand under the running water. Jimin’s not sure how he keeps losing track of reality; he only now realizes that the shower is running. Perhaps it’s his way of stalling, of avoiding what’s about to happen. 

A shower is never just a shower. 

“C’mon, love.” 

Showers are easier with Taehyung. Jimin gets to close his eyes and lean his head back as Taehyung’s nimble fingers massage shampoo into his hair. He doesn’t have to look at his body because Taehyung washes him with a sudsy washcloth. When it’s time to get out, Taehyung wraps Jimin in the fluffiest towel they own and whisks him away before he can catch a glimpse of his naked body in the mirror. 

Jimin keeps the towel wrapped around his body while he sits on the bed and watches Taehyung. Nudity disgusts him when it’s his bare body, but he can never grow tired of the beauty of Taehyung’s naked body. Taehyung saunters around the room with confidence Jimin could only dream of. Even with his wet hair and soft cock, he looks like a god among men as he puts away their jewelry for safekeeping. 

Catching Jimin’s eye through the mirror, Taehyung grins, boxy and wide. 

“Were you checking out my ass, Park Jimin?” 

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin tugs the towel tighter around his body. Such a ridiculous question doesn’t deserve a response. 

Taehyung, however, is stubborn. Kneeling on the bed, he invades Jimin’s personal space as he leans forward, his hands resting on either side of Jimin’s thighs. He’s wearing the mischievous grin that makes Jimin’s stomach flip. 

“Do you know how cute you are?” Taehyung asks, cocking his head to the side as he admires Jimin – what on him, specifically, he has no idea. “So fucking cute. I could eat you.” 

Jimin shivers. He leans back as Taehyung crawls forward until he’s eventually flat on his back. 

“Boyfriend Tae is turning into Menace Tae,” Jimin mumbles, unable to meet Taehyung’s eyes. They’re dark and lidded. 

“Hmm.” Taehyung presses his palms into the mattress on either side of Jimin’s head, just above his shoulders. 

Jimin naturally parts his legs so Taehyung can fit between them, causing the towel to hike up. When he shifts slightly, he can feel Taehyung’s cock rest against the inside of his thigh, warm and heavy – and a source of comfort, as odd as that may seem. The feeling is difficult for Jimin to explain. Having Taehyung so close that nothing separates them has always shaken Jimin to the bone. Nothing is so pure or sure of a reminder that Taehyung is here . He is alive, perfect, and present – all for Jimin to drown himself in the vanilla scent of his body wash and the fruity tartness of his shampoo. To be suffocated by such warmth would be more than Jimin deserves. 

“Menace Tae would like to kiss you. Would that be okay?” Taehyung wets his lips as he waits, eyes gentle even if he does look like he wants to eat Jimin whole. 

“Yes,” Jimin says with an exhale. 

Gently cupping Jimin’s face, Taehyung leans down and slots their lips together. Jimin feels his stomach swoop, an exhilarating energy thrumming through him when Taehyung sighs into his mouth. Despite the drag of Taehyung’s tongue along Jimin’s bottom lip and the light nibble he gives it, the kiss is relatively chaste.

Taehyung gently runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair, tugging the ends with the slightest force needed to tilt his head to the side. The new position allows him to deepen the kiss as their mouths move together effortlessly. Taehyung’s lips are soft from the lip balm he always uses after a shower. It tastes lightly of strawberries and cream and easily makes his lips glide over Jimin’s. 

Being with Taehyung is always like this: easy. Love flows from him effortlessly, and Jimin takes takes takes. They don’t part until Jimin whimpers into Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung pulls back slightly, just enough to give them space to catch their breath – as if Jimin could possibly be anything other than dizzy in such proximity to him. 

Jimin can’t remember the last time they kissed like that. He can’t remember when they last kissed at all, aside from the (usually) innocent little kisses Taehyung likes to cover him with. Rarely is it that Jimin’s cheeks, forehead, and nose escape Taehyung’s kisses. Physical intimacy was once a love language they both shared. 

Eventually, Jimin became distant. And Taehyung, sweet Taehyung, never pushed him even though it meant little to no intimacy with the love of his life. 

All the more reason for Taehyung to find someone new. 

“I love you so much.” 

Taehyung's whispers are the crackle of embers simmering in a fireplace. Jimin can taste their smokiness on his lips if he concentrates hard enough on his words and less on how scared he is that Taehyung will touch the ugly parts of him. 

When Taehyung leans further back, Jimin’s startled to see a small, sad smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Do you not love me anymore, Jimin?” 

“W-what?” Jimin swallows around the lump forming in his throat, apprehension building inside him. 

He watches with bright, glossy eyes as Taehyung reaches out to skim his fingertips along his jaw. It tickles as Taehyung starts just below his ear and glides like a ghost along the sharp edge until he reaches the curve of Jimin’s chin. 

“Just tell me,” Taehyung commands softly, pressing his thumb against Jimin’s plush bottom lip. He pulls down on it slightly, forcing Jimin’s lips to part. “Please.” 

The answer is so obvious Jimin wants to scream. He wants to take Taehyung by the shoulders and shake him until his pretty hair is in disarray and his cheeks are flushed. How can Taehyung not know? How can Taehyung hover over Jimin, damp hair haloing his bent head, honey gold skin glowing in the soft bedroom lighting, and think that there could be a universe in which Jimin doesn’t love him? 

Tears prickle at the corners of Jimin’s eyes as he struggles to maintain eye contact. His hands shake when he presses his palms against Taehyung’s cheeks, their arms interwoven like the rest of their bodies.

“Of course, I love you,” Jimin whispers. 

Taehyung hums, leaning into Jimin’s touch. “Say it again.” 

“I love you,” Jimin repeats. He shouldn’t say what comes next, but he does. The confession tumbles out of him just as haphazardly as his confession in the elevator, though this one isn’t one Taehyung is familiar with. “I-I don’t deserve your love, Tae.” 

Taehyung’s reaction is expected. His eyes fly open, hard and blazing, and a sharp wrinkle forms between his eyebrows. 

“What did you just say?” 

Jimin lets his hands fall from Taehyung’s face. He lowers his gaze and tries to turn away, but Taehyung grasps his chin to keep him in place. “I don’t deserve you.” 

Tilting Jimin’s chin, Taehyung returns his thumb to Jimin’s mouth, this time pulling his bottom lip away to stop Jimin from chewing on it. 

“You deserve even more than I could ever possibly give you, Park Jimin,” Taehyung murmurs. 

The praise is too much for Jimin to bear. He wants to be defensive, to tell Taehyung that he’s being ridiculous. There can’t possibly be truth to what he says. He even opens his mouth to say so, but Taehyung’s lips lock with his before any self-deprecating words can come out. 

It’s impossible not to fall into the trap of Taehyung’s sweet taste. All it takes is the slight pressure of Taehyung’s tongue swiping against his bottom lip for Jimin to melt completely. Parting his lips, he lets Taehyung lick at the inside of his mouth. Their tongues brush against each other before Taehyung bites Jimin’s plump bottom lip and tugs, sucking on it lightly before he finally lets go, only to dive back in to press an even more bruising kiss to Jimin’s lips. The words are unspoken, but Jimin feels them through the electricity that passes between their bodies: I love you, mine, mine, mine. 

Jimin’s stomach flutters as he feels Taehyung’s hand slip beneath the fluffy folds of his towel and slide along his hip bone. His touch is cold compared to the heat of Jimin’s skin from being snuggled in the towel. 

“It hurts me to hear you talk about yourself like that, jagi,” Taehyung’s voice cracks with emotion. He speaks against Jimin’s lips. “Please don’t say those things.” 

Their eyes remain closed as they breathe in each other, the dizzying feeling of having Taehyung so close to him making Jimin need to hold onto something. He grips Taehyung’s biceps and relishes in the feel of the muscles flexing beneath his fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin apologizes, meaning to say even more, but Taehyung hushes him because no apologies are needed. Only change – the promise to be kinder to himself. It’s something Taehyung practically begs of Jimin, and it seems like it should be so easy. Yet they’ve gone through this before. 

“You are so beautiful, Chim,” Taehyung speaks into the air they breathe between them. “Not just your body, but your soul, too.” 

Squirming at what feels like unearned praise, Jimin tries to scoot up the bed to get from under Taehyung. “Okay, Jesse McCartney.” 

“Shut up. I’m trying to be serious here.” The biting words are paired with a lopsided grin as Taehyung stalks Jimin up the bed, his hands caging in Jimin’s head and his knees spreading Jimin’s thighs. “Let me appreciate my baby for a second, okay?” 

“I would rather appreciate you,” Jimin mumbles. 

“Ah, none of that. No diverting the attention away from yourself, Jimin-ssi.” 

In response, Jimin lets out a shuddery breath when Taehyung traces his fingers along his inner thigh. It’s a sound that Taehyung notices because they’re both in tune with each other’s bodies. It scares Jimin sometimes, even as delicious as it is when Taehyung uses that connection to touch all the right spots to light Jimin up. Taking advantage of how Jimin’s eyes have fluttered shut, Taehyung leans down to press a kiss at the corner of his jaw and then trails them, hot and open-mouthed, down Jimin’s neck. 

“I don’t want to talk about me,” Jimin finally manages to get out, his voice nearly breaking when Taehyung dips his tongue into his collarbone. 

“Talking about you is my favorite thing to do,” Taehyung gently scrapes his teeth against Jimin’s clavicle in a playful bite, “aside from kissing you. Loving you. Fucking you .” Taehyung whispers those last few words, and Jimin can feel him smirk against his skin when he shivers. 

“Such vulgar language,” Jimin scolds, yet he loosens his grip on his towel to let it slide off his shoulders, exposing more skin for Taehyung to plant kisses against. Heat pulls in Jimin’s gut as Taehyung sucks a hickey on his throat. He throws his head back against the bed, long, pretty neck on display. 

“Not vulgar, just honest.” Taehyung presses his finger to the underside of Jimin’s chin and gently coaxes him to turn his head in the opposite direction so he can have access to the other side of his neck to devour. 

A quiet moan slips from Jimin’s plump, parted lips when Taehyung’s semi-hard cock brushes against his own. At some point, the rest of his towel fell away, and Jimin realizes he forgot how powerful Taehyung’s attention is. As long as Taehyung has been kissing him, he hasn’t thought about the self-conscious embarrassment of being naked. 

Taehyung rests his forehead against Jimin’s, his pretty eyes fluttering closed. 

“Let me worship you, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs. “You deserve to be worshiped. I’m so sorry I haven’t done a good enough job showing you just how divine you are. ‘Cause that’s what you are, love. Divine. Heavenly.” 

“It’s not your–” 

“Yes, it is. It’s my job to take care of you, just as you take care of me. And you do so well, baby. You’ve been there for me, even when it’s been hard for you. I can’t begin to express how much I appreciate you. So, please, let me show you?” 

Taehyung watches Jimin with an intensity that makes Jimin feel like he’s flayed, raw, and waiting to be consumed. But, rather than feel scrutinized, Jimin feels safe under Taehyung’s undivided attention. 

Waiting for Jimin’s response, Taehyung sits back on his heels, knees still spread with Jimin’s thighs resting on the outside of Taehyung’s. He rubs his thumbs along Jimin’s hip bones in a swirling pattern that gives Jimin something to ground himself in. 

“I love you,” is Jimin’s response, and the lopsided grin returns to Taehyung’s face. He licks his lips and runs his palms flat against Jimin’s sides, gliding upward to his chest. When his thumbs brush Jimin’s nipples, Jimin lets out a little gasp that makes Taehyung’s grin widen. 

“So sensitive,” Taehyung murmurs, his voice thick with desire. He drags his hands down Jimin’s torso until they rest on his spread thighs. “Can I suck you off, jagi? Will you let me make you feel good?” 

Instinctually, Jimin tenses his thighs and squeezes Taehyung’s legs. “Y-yes, please,” he whimpers. 

“Always such good manners, hm, jagi? Such a well-behaved boy for me,” Taehyung praises as he lies between Jimin’s legs. He looks so pretty with his broad shoulders keeping Jimin spread open. The sight makes Jimin’s cock throb. 

“Tae,” Jimin whines, hands flying up to cover his face. It’s been so long since they’ve been intimate, and Jimin has always been shy about sex. Dirty talk never fails to make his cock twitch and his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“Hmm, baby? What was that?” Taehyung teases. He flicks his tongue against Jimin’s balls and releases an appreciative giggle when Jimin whines again. 

“Stop teasing me.” 

There is no denying that Taehyung has always given Jimin what he wants. It’s his weakness, his biggest character flaw. He can’t say no to the boy with fluffy blonde hair and pouty lips who looks at Taehyung with round eyes as Taehyung licks a stripe up his cock from the thick base to the wet tip.

“Anything for my soulmate,” Taehyung murmurs, his lips brushing against the head of Jimin’s cock, bottom lip sticking to the tip from the precum dribbling out. It’s beautifully sinful, filthy and loving, seeing Taehyung’s lips stretch around Jimin’s cock. 

Taehyung suckles the head, massaging his tongue against the underside where the nerves are sensitive. More precum leaks from Jimin just as quickly as moans spill from his lips. 

“Look at me,” Taehyung commands in a voice thick with lust. His tone makes goosebumps prickle across Jimin’s arms. 

Raising up on his elbows slightly, Jimin watches as Taehyung slowly takes Jimin’s cock down his throat, his dark eyes never leaving Jimin’s. His mouth's warm, wet heat is enough to send Jimin’s head back as a loud, broken moan rips from his throat. A hard pinch to the inside of his thigh has Jimin snapping his head back up, just to see Taehyung narrow his eyes and hum as he begins to bob his head. 

Look at me . 

Jimin has to behave because he said he would, and Taehyung likes it when he does what he’s supposed to. So he keeps his hips flat on the bed and watches Taehyung take him all the way until his sharp, pretty nose presses against Jimin’s pelvis. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Taehyung groans as he takes a moment to breathe. “You have the most perfect cock, jagi. So thick and pretty.” Taehyung dips his tongue into Jimin’s slit, and Jimin thinks he might cum already. 

Of course, Taehyung can tell. He’s teasing him on purpose, flicking his tongue against the tip of his cock repeatedly before suckling it, swirling his tongue around the ridge of the head. It’s maddening that he won’t take more of him into his mouth again, but Jimin knows Taehyung is trying to work him up. 

“Please, Tae,” Jimin tries to beg, knowing it won’t work. All he receives in response is a devilish smile as Taehyung tilts his head to pepper Jimin’s cock with open-mouthed kisses. 

“Pretty cock for a pretty boy.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“But you should know how pretty you are.” Pulling away from Jimin completely, Taehyung licks his lips free of precum and spit. “You’d look even prettier split open on my cock.”  

“Taehyung!” 

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?” 

Groaning with both hands covering his face again, Jimin gently kicks Taehyung in the thigh when he kneels on the bed to reach for the bottle of lube neglected in their nightstand drawer. His hands remain on his burning face when Taehyung settles back between his legs and he hears the bottle cap open. 

“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung calls out. His voice is gentle, and when Jimin peeks through his fingers, he finds a soft look has replaced the dark lustfulness of Taehyung’s eyes.

“Yes?” 

Something about Jimin’s straightforward response makes Taehyung chuckle. He shakes his head, making his slightly damp dark curls sway over his forehead. “I think we’re kind of horny.” 

“Stop being nasty!” Jimin tries to kick him again, but Taehyung presses his hand to the inside of Jimin’s thigh. 

“I’m serious!” Taehyung insists with a laugh. “I just mean, I don’t want us to rush into this when our emotions were so high earlier. I want to make sure you are okay with this since it’s been a while, and you’ve been sad...” 

It’s so sweet how Taehyung cares for Jimin. It may be unhealthy to think that there isn’t anything wrong with Taehyung, but Jimin truly believes it. Perhaps selflessness is his one red flag. Regardless, it hurts Jimin’s heart from how cared for he feels as Taehyung stares down at him with adoration that he still can’t believe he fully deserves. 

One day, he thinks. One day, he’ll be convinced. 

“Don’t make me say it,” Jimin complains with a pout and puppy eyes. It typically doesn’t work, but he tries it just in case. 

“You must.”

“Why?”

“Consent is sexy, love.” 

With a huff, Jimin spreads his thighs a bit wider and does his best to put on a brave face when he looks Taehyung directly in his eyes and says in his most polite tone, “I would like you to fuck me, please.” 

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.” Jimin gives him another kick. “Hey! You better watch it.” Taehyung’s eyes sparkle with nothing but love, and Jimin knows that despite his insecurities, his eyes sparkle like that, too. 

Taehyung was right, though. They haven’t had sex in a while due to Jimin’s insecurities, and Jimin certainly hasn’t fingered himself recently. It’s evident in how tight Jimin is as Taehyung presses a lubed finger past his rim. It isn’t uncomfortable, but Jimin tenses anyway. Too many thoughts circulate in his head. Will he be too tight? Will he make Taehyung uncomfortable? What if they can’t have sex at all? What if it hurts Jimin? What if Taehyung thinks Jimin is being too difficult and gives up on him? 

“Jagi, can you relax for me?” Taehyung is gentle when he pushes a second finger in. Jimin watches him pour a little more lube to help with the slide. “You’re doing so good, just lie back, okay? Let me take care of you.” 

“Okay, okay,” Jimin rushes to say, dropping back onto the bed. He holds one leg to his chest while Taehyung pushes back the other with his free hand. “Can you keep talking to me?” 

“Dirty talk? Like how badly I want to fuck you? How I was thinking about it all night during the party because you looked so sexy in that outfit, wearing my favorite jeans on you that make your ass look–” 

“Oh my god, Taehyung.” Jimin smiles at the ceiling when he hears Taehyung chuckle. 

“Is it working?”

It is, but Jimin doesn’t want to tell him that. Besides, Taehyung already knows it’s working; he has three fingers in and is applying light pressure to Jimin’s prostate. Jimin trembles as Taehyung massages his most sensitive spot. Even though it’s slow and barely much of a caress, Taehyung’s skillful fingers work Jimin into a whimpering mess, coaxing moan after moan out of him until the room is full of Taehyung’s name and the squelch of lube. Jimin’s free hand fists the bed sheets above his head to give himself some semblance of self-control when Taehyung reaches up to circle a lubed finger around Jimin’s perky nipple. 

“Your nipples are so cute,” Taehyung muses, dragging his wet finger across Jimin’s chest to swirl around the other nipple. 

Jimin tries to scoff, but instead, he moans when Taehyung pinches his nipple. “N-nipples aren’t c-cute,” he stammers. 

“Yours are.” 

“They look, oh fuck,” Taehyung leans forward to suck one of Jimin’s nipples as he continues tweaking the other, “T-the same as, ohh god, as yours, fuck.” Distracted, Jimin doesn’t tense when Taehyung slowly thrusts four fingers inside of him. 

“So you think my nipples are cute?” 

“Taehyung, please, I’ll cum,” Jimin hiccups, moisture gathering at his eyelashes. Taehyung’s teasing is too much for Jimin to handle. His thighs quiver uncontrollably, and his cock leaks onto his stomach as Taehyung massages his prostate with the slightest of touches. 

Having mercy on him, Taehyung slowly removes his fingers and uses the excess lube to stroke his neglected cock. It hangs thick and heavy between his legs. Jimin can’t help but admire it as Taehyung applies a bit more lube, drizzling it directly onto his cock and hissing at the temperature. There are plenty of reasons for Jimin to adore Taehyung; his cock is most certainly on that list. 

When Taehyung’s hand pauses its stroking, Jimin flits his eyes up to see a slight smirk playing on Taehyung’s lips. 

“First, you were checking out my ass, now you’re checking out my dick.” 

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin tries to scold, but then Taehyung is pressing the fat head of his cock against Jimin’s rim, and suddenly he can’t seem to make his mouth form words. All he can do is let it hang open as Taehyung slowly pushes forward. 

“Fuck, you open up so beautifully for me, jagi.” Taehyung squeezes the back of Jimin’s thigh and adjusts the angle to open him up better. He slides into Jimin slowly, mindful of any potential discomfort, though Jimin can tell by how Taehyung clenches his jaw that he’s just as affected as Jimin. 

And, fuck, is Jimin affected. His arm gives out before Taehyung is even halfway in, and Taehyung has to throw Jimin’s legs over his shoulders because Jimin can’t hold himself open anymore. 

“S-sorry,” Jimin moans, scrambling to hold onto the sheets when Taehyung lifts his hips to pull him the rest of the way onto his cock. His big hands squeeze Jimin’s hips, thumbs massaging Jimin’s stomach as he slowly begins to thrust into him. 

“This okay?” Taehyung reaches out to brush a few strands of hair from Jimin’s face. His pace is slow but measured, each thrust hitting deep and sharp. 

“S-so good, Tae, you feel so good,” Jimin babbles, his entire body pulsing with desire as Taehyung hits his prostate with every thrust. 

“You deserve to feel good,” Taehyung whispers against Jimin’s leg when he turns his head to the side to press a kiss there. “And all I want to do is make you feel good. For the rest of my life.” 

“Fuck,” Jimin whimpers, blinking back tears. “Stop being so sweet. Go back to the dirty talk.” 

Taehyung tosses his head back in a deep laugh that rumbles from his chest, and it makes Jimin feel good to have a partner he can cry and laugh with during sex. 

Sex isn’t always so emotional with Taehyung. Sometimes, it’s sweaty and fast-paced, just skin slapping, scratches, and bruises. But tonight, Jimin has to hold himself back from crying as Taehyung whispers praises into his skin and rocks into him like it’s the only thing he wants to do. 

This is the embarrassing part where Jimin starts telling Taehyung how much he loves his cock, how full he feels, how special Taehyung treats him. It does nothing to help with Taehyung’s ego, of course, for he just grins down at Jimin and caresses the side of his face, and tells him, “My cock was made for you, baby. Made to fill up your perfect little hole and make you cry my name so prettily.” 

Taehyung’s thrusts are intentional; neither of them will last very long, and Taehyung knows that. He purposefully focuses on Jimin’s pleasure, fucking into him at the perfect angle. There’s something tender about how he places his right hand on Jimin’s lower stomach and presses down slightly. The pressure forces Jimin to relax his muscles while heightening the feeling of Taehyung’s cock diving deeper inside him with each snap of Taehyung’s hips. Years of being in a relationship have given Taehyung the time to learn Jimin’s body, but Taehyung’s care for Jimin makes him know his body. 

Even though Jimin hates his body more often than not, he can’t deny that Taehyung treats it with so much care that sometimes he thinks he can see the beauty Taehyung sees. Taehyung makes him beautiful. 

“God, you’re incredible, baby,” Taehyung says after he inhales sharply. “You take me so well, make me feel so good.” It’s hot how he looks down at where they meet as if he’s seeing them connected for the first time. 

Jimin feels lightheaded as Taehyung praises him, each languid declaration of adoration and love matching the easy roll of Taehyung’s hips against his. He squeezes the bunched-up bed sheets in his fists even tighter and tilts his chin in a silent request. 

Taehyung leans forward, pressing Jimin’s thighs against his chest to capture his lips in his own. They’re sloppier this time, Taehyung drawing Jimin’s tongue into his mouth and sucking it at the same smooth pace he’s fucking him. 

“I’m close,” Jimin gasps, quickly letting go of the bed with one hand to reach for his cock. 

“No,” Taehyung swats at Jimin’s hand, grabbing his wrist and holding it against the bed, “I’ve got you, jagi. We’ll cum together, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?” He smears the precum leaking from Jimin’s tip down the length of his cock and begins to pump his fist at the same pace as he fucks into Jimin. 

“Y-y-yess, please, Tae, I can, for you,” Jimin cries, and Taehyung has to hold him against the bed to stop his hips from bucking and throwing off Taehyung’s already slipping rhythm as he fucks them toward their release. 

It’s hot, letting Taehyung jerk Jimin off as he fucks him. It allows Jimin to give in to the pleasure without having to concentrate on getting himself off. He can let his brain turn to static, white noise enveloping him as he cums all over his stomach and chest with a silent cry. His mouth falls open in a perfect O-shape, and every muscle in his body constricts. 

The only sound that breaks through the static is Taehyung crying out his name in the sweetest of songs as he cums inside of him. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, his grip on Jimin’s waist bruising as he lazily fucks his cum into him, sliding all the way out to watch the thick head of his cock push it back inside. It’s messy and wet and makes Jimin’s legs shake, but he relishes the oversensitivity because it’s been too long since he’s been brave enough to share his body.

It isn’t until Taehyung fully pulls out that Jimin begins to cry. It doesn’t help that the sweet praises and whispered promises of care from Taehyung increase tenfold when he scoops Jimin up into his arms and cuddles him, cum and all, against his chest. 

“Baby…” 

“This is so embarrassing,” Jimin groans, frantically wiping away the hot tears sliding sideways down his face. “I swear, I’m not upset.” And he isn’t. There’s just… pressure inside his chest, and the longer Taehyung holds him in his arms, the less pressure he feels. 

“Crying is natural,” Taehyung begins, dangerously close to turning into Therapist Taehyung, but the roughness of his after-sex voice makes it hard for Jimin to pay attention to much else. 

Ignoring Taehyung’s comment, Jimin nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck as Taehyung runs his hands over his back. “Why are you so perfect?” 

Taehyung snorts. “Perfection doesn’t exist.” 

Jimin pulls back far enough to look into Taehyung’s eyes. They’re no longer dark with lust, but the intensity of his love for Jimin will always be there. 

“I thought you said I was perfect.” 

“Oh, hush.” With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung crushes Jimin into his chest and swings his leg over his hip, sufficiently locking him into place. “You are the only form of perfection that exists. Is that better?” 

Jimin doesn’t believe Taehyung, not entirely, not yet. But he smiles against Taehyung’s warm skin and thinks he will one day. 

Seokjin felt he got priority as the oldest of the group, picking a Thursday evening after all the guys were off work. It takes very little effort to convince Jimin to go for dinner with his friends, but it takes more effort to convince him to drink alcohol while they’re out. Still, ever-agreeable Jimin doesn’t want to disappoint his oldest hyung. 

So he orders himself a discounted margarita and tries not to make too twisted of a face when the waitress places it in front of him. 

Taking a bite out of a mozzarella stick, Jimin lets the stringy cheese pull away, instantly regretting the decision as the heat of the oil burns his tongue. Moving his attention from the mozzarella sticks to the electric blue frozen margarita in front of him, he uses his straw to stab at the slush on top. The drink's coolness soothes the part of his tongue that’s burned. 

“Tell us the rest of what happened, Jungkookie.” 

Namjoon props his elbows on the table and holds his chin in his hands. His bright eyes are eager as he stares at the man across from him. 

Jimin realizes he has zoned out of the conversation while trying not to make a face at the sourness of the margarita. So many of them are crowded around the table that it’s hard to keep up with all the side conversations. Right now, everyone appears to be focused on whatever Jungkook has to say.

The grin Jungkook flashes makes Jimin’s stomach flip. He continues sucking on his margarita; the slush keeps clogging the straw. He has to suck extra hard to get anything out, his cheeks hollowing and his lips puckering around the straw. Jungkook’s eyes flicker in Jimin’s direction, and he quickly releases the straw from his mouth, his face growing warm despite the cold drink. 

“You’re so dirty, hyung,” Jungkook accuses with a smirk that has Namjoon protesting until Seokjin is shushing him for being a baby. “Well, his head game was out of this world. I’ve never seen someone so eagerly gag on cock like he didn’t even need to breathe. But what really shocked me was his cock, though. It’s fucking massive.” 

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head. “I think we shouldn’t be talking about Yoongi hyung like this, especially when he’s not here.” 

Jimin inhales sharply and a piece of mozzarella stick gets lodged in his throat. It takes Taehyung slapping the shit out of his back for him to cough himself into shape. He’d had no idea that the person Jungkook was bragging about fucking was Yoongi. 

“How could he be mad at me? I’m only telling the truth,” Jungkook sniffles, his innocent pout slowly morphing into a grin. “If I was him, I’d be happy to know that my cock was being advertised so well.”

Seokjin lets out a loud snort. 

Jimin finds it concerning how Namjoon is hanging onto every word Jungkook utters. 

“ Anyway ” – Jungkook gives Taehyung a pointed look – “this whole time, I thought he would be a pillow prince. I was fully prepared to be doing all the work, but fuck was I wrong. We went so many rounds my dick is sore.” 

“Shhh, shut the fuck up; here they come.” 

Jimin follows Seokjin’s gaze to see Yoongi and Hoseok give the group little waves as they approach the table. Unsurprisingly, Yoongi chooses to slide next to Jungkook in the booth, even though the side Jimin is sitting on has more room. 

It’s not like Jimin and Yoongi aren’t like, best friends or anything. Not like they haven’t known each other for their entire lives, or anything. Nah. It’s fine. This is nothing to even think about, really. 

“Hey guys,” Yoongi says with the gummy smile everyone is so in love with. 

An image of Jungkook, sweaty and balls deep inside Yoongi, lodges itself in Jimin’s brain. 

Hoseok beams a greeting, quickly flagging a waitress to order more alcohol. They all know it’s a bad idea, but they let Hoseok do what he wants anyway. He deserves to let loose, even if it means becoming a zombie by the end of the night. 

The look Jungkook gives Yoongi makes Jimin taste bile in the back of his throat. He rips his eyes away from the plumpness of Jungkook’s bottom lip when his pink, wet tongue swipes over it while Yoongi watches. 

Jungkook is so tactless. 

Jimin can’t understand why Yoongi allows himself to get caught up in that type of behavior. Just seeing Yoongi tongue at the inside of his cheek when Jungkook’s hands disappear beneath the table makes Jimin want to throw up. 

Tactless and not subtle whatsoever. 

Jimin can’t believe he has to live with him. It was a split decision, agreeing to let Jungkook move in when his old roommate moved cities. Hoseok was the one who convinced Jimin to do it. “Jungkook is our friend!” Hoseok had said with a cheerful smile. 

The thing is, Jungkook has always rubbed Jimin the wrong way. Jimin doesn’t really know why. He just does.

Being roommates with Jungkook means Jimin is forced to spend too much time with him, especially when their other friends are busy. 

He’d be lying if he said Jungkook’s invitation to a secret rave hadn’t surprised him. Jungkook and Jimin rarely hang out alone. They had very little in common compared to their mutual friends, and Jungkook has a habit of making Jimin uncomfortable. It’s like he lives for finding ways to bother Jimin.

But this time, Jimin vowed to make an effort. After Hoseok’s plea for Jimin to stop acting like he has a stick up his ass, he’s determined to be friendlier to Jungkook. 

Only for Hoseok. No other reason. 

They met up with a few of Jungkook’s other friends, so Jimin didn’t have to worry as much about being alone with him. Even better, they drank before going to the club. Pregaming is the only way to do events like this the right way; having a buzz from the start makes it more bearable, even if Jimin isn’t fond of alcohol. Hanging out with someone he isn’t particularly close to, one-on-one, makes Jimin nervous. Some liquid courage usually helps.

This time, the liquid courage helps a little too much.

“I'm so drunk. Why did you let me drink?” Jimin rubs his bloodshot eyes with his palms. It’s been hours , and all the drinking and dancing has finally worn Jimin down. He can barely think straight from the alcohol buzzing in his system. 

He’s also pretty sure he did acid with Jungkook and one of his friends, but he can’t remember. 

“Do you wanna leave?” Jungkook asks. 

The thought of Jungkook leaving him alone, drunk, at a nightclub makes Jimin’s anxiety spike, but he doesn’t want to sound desperate.

“Maybe get some fresh air?” 

Jungkook nods and follows Jimin through the sea of people dancing and crowding the bar where Jimin had sucked down a glass of water. It takes deliberate steps to get to the front doors, and the chilly air nearly knocks Jimin over, but he welcomes the sharpness that cuts through his intoxicated mind.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jungkook points out once they’re outside.

“Well, I am so fucked up.” Jimin punctuates his statement with an uncharacteristic giggle. He feels like his heart is clawing its way up his throat, thudding against him, offbeat.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Jungkook’s typical teasing doesn’t bother Jimin the same when he knows Jungkook is also drunk and high. Which is probably why one of Jungkook’s arms wraps around Jimin’s waist. 

A small sound of contentment hums from Jimin as he leans into Jungkook slightly, appreciating the extra body heat. The response is his body running on its own, Jimin’s inebriated brain struggling to swim through the slosh in his skull. In any normal setting, he would have never thought to even touch Jungkook, let alone nuzzle against him. Jimin closes his eyes, hoping the world would stop swimming with him, and all he sees is pulsating darkness.

“Umm, we could…” Deep swallow, clammy palms sliding against the thighs of his jeans. Where is the Jimin who normally radiates confidence? “Yeah, go home. If you want.”

“Is that what you want?” Even without the psychedelic lighting of the rave tumbling along inside, Jungkook’s expression sparkles against the night. 

Jimin’s gaze moves from his brightly lit phone to Jungkook. Calling a rideshare or a taxi, checking his bank app to make sure he has money in his account, or texting Hoseok that he is maybe dying–all are tasks Jimin can’t complete when he feels like he’s getting sucked inside of the screen. He feels like he isn’t making sense. 

“I want you.” Jimin’s words fall out of his mouth faster than his brain can keep up. He quickly looks back down at his phone, realizing his error as his cheeks grow even pinker. “To decide. Where we go.” 

“Hmm, is that so?” Jungkook purrs. The deep tone of his voice is unexpected, and it brings heat nipping at Jimin’s chest and up his face. 

“I–” 

Jimin lets out an audible gasp when Jungkook’s firm grip on his waist pushes him backward. 

“You want me ?” 

Jimin is sober enough to feel nervous looking at Jungkook in his darkened eyes, so he settles for Jungkook’s tongue poking just outside of the corner of his mouth. 

Jungkook smirks. “I can make a decision for you.” 

His lips are soft as they drag against Jimin’s. Jimin suddenly feels hyper-aware of his lack of chapstick, having left it in the jacket he chose not to wear out. As Jungkook squeezes Jimin's hips and shoves him against the wall, Jimin pushes the thought from his mind as quickly as it came.

Jungkook moves with a commanding sense of power that has Jimin easily malleable in his hands. Jimin gasps against Jungkook’s mouth when he feels the firmness of his chest beneath his fingers. Maybe it’s the drugs or the alcohol, or simply Jungkook , but Jimin’s brain splinters and shatters when he shifts his body, causing his thigh to brush against Jungkook's. And that’s when the reality of the situation hits him. 

Jungkook is hard. 

Fuck.

Jungkook’s teeth dig into Jimin’s bottom lip when he pulls away. He’s sure his mouth is now shiny and pink like Jungkook’s. It’s all Jimin can focus on as he attempts to blink away the dizzy feeling in his brain. 

Jungkook has one hand pressed against the wall beside Jimin’s head, the other squeezing his hip. Something about being caged in, the heat of Jungkook’s body burning against his, makes Jimin feel small. He doesn’t want to think about why he likes it. 

“I’ll get us a ride, okay, Jimin-ah?” 

“Yeah.” He breathes the only word he can get out, widened eyes scanning Jungkook’s face, too shocked to be embarrassed by how his chest is erratically rising and falling. He immediately lets go of Jungkook’s shirt after holding on so tightly his knuckles ache. He watches Jungkook pull up the app on his phone and struggles to keep his mind from wandering into the darkness that is Jungkook’s eyes on him every time he looks up. 

They burn into Jimin’s core.

How the fuck did they end up here? 

“You’re shaking.” Jungkook smirks as he leans in to rest his chin on Jimin’s shoulder as Jimin struggles to unlock his apartment door. “Do I make you nervous, Jiminie?” 

Jimin is barely holding it together with Jungkook’s cheek brushing against his neck. He flip-flops between wanting to pull away and wanting to lean further into him.

“I don’t get nervous,” Jimin says. 

The statement is flat, and nowhere near as convincing as Jimin hopes. Maybe even laughable, with his pink face and his heart pounding in his throat. It doesn’t help that his fingers fumble so terribly with his keys that he drops them and has to quickly bend down to scoop them up.

Finally getting the door unlocked, Jimin kicks off his sneakers (proper house etiquette present even when fucked up) and turns a bit too quickly on his heel. His socks slip against the wooden floor as he wobbles to stay upright.

“What’s up?” Jungkook’s voice is filled with amusement, and his eyes are bright despite being bloodshot. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re not real?” Jimin stares at Jungkook, unable to pull himself out of the darkness of his pupils. He asks the next question quietly, just like the first, muted enough for only Jungkook to hear. But there is only Jungkook. “Or like you were meant to be someone else?”

Before Jungkook answers, Jimin brings his free hand against the back of Jungkook’s head to pull him into another kiss, this one harder and heavy with the weight of knowing he shouldn't be doing this.

A broken, pathetic whimper comes from somewhere inside Jimin when Jungkook grinds his hips into his, making their cocks drag against each other through their pants. The feeling is unlike anything Jimin has ever experienced. Kissing Jungkook is safe; Jimin can pretend he’s kissing anyone. But to feel Jungkook’s cock hard against his own, shifting to press against his thigh, then moving back again… There’s no denying what he’s doing, and there’s no denying who he’s doing it with.  

Reaching between their bodies, Jungkook rubs his hand over the bulge in Jimin’s jeans and another whimper escapes Jimin’s lips. The sound is so loud and pathetic that it startles him, but Jungkook seems to love it. 

“What was that, Jiminie?” Jungkook asks with a smirk. 

Heavy panting is all the response Jungkook is going to get from Jimin, especially when his other hand drops to unbutton Jimin’s jeans. The pressure of Jungkook pulling his zipper sends dull shocks of electricity through Jimin’s cock, making it twitch uncontrollably. He’s never been harder in his entire life, and he hates it. 

Does he hate it? Jungkook is so…

“You’re so fucking hot.” 

Jungkook verbalizes what Jimin can’t. Then he does exactly what Jimin is scared of: he curls those cute little fingers around the edge of Jimin’s jeans and tugs. 

“Mmm, hyung , why have you been hiding such a beautiful cock from me?” 

Jimin feels his face burn with heat so searing he thinks he might pass out. 

Jungkook presses his thumb against Jimin’s slit to smear the beads of precum around the tip. The gentle massage is enough to make Jimin buck forward. 

“Fuck,” Jimin whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“You’ve never done this before, have you, hyung?” Jungkook’s breath is hot against his ear. The deep chuckle that punctuates his question hints at the devious smirk he wears. “Never had another man touch you.” 

Jungkook clenches Jimin's cock. He’s leaking so much that working up a steady rhythm is easy. Jungkook drags his fingers through Jimin's hair with his free hand, pushing his bangs up and securing a solid hold on the soft strands. He tugs hard until a moan tumbles from Jimin’s pretty lips. 

“Not going to answer me?” 

Shame burns into Jimin’s cheeks and mixes with the unfortunately undeniable lust wreaking havoc on his body. “No, I’ve-I’ve, n-never–” Jimin moans, shocked to hear his voice come out with so much need. 

Jungkook hums with a bite of his bottom lip, eyes twinkling. “So I’m special .” 

Jimin tries to nod, but Jungkook’s fingers are still tight in his hair.

“You have such a pretty cock. So soft and heavy, with such a cute little curve, hm?” Jungkook swipes his thumb over Jimin’s tip as another bead of precum dribbles out. Then, with the liquid smeared on the digit, Jungkook locks eyes with Jimin as he sticks out his flattened tongue and presses his thumb against it. “Taste good, too, baby.” 

Jungkook tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. He keeps his eyes trained on Jimin but allows his body to sink slowly until he is on his knees in between Jimin’s legs. 

“Wanna choke on your cock. Will you let me? I promise I’ll do it better than those boring girls you’re always bringing home.”

"Jungkook," Jimin whines as he squeezes the base of his cock. 

He parts his lips slightly and drags the head of Jimin’s cock over his mouth, rubbing his precum like lip balm. When he seems to have enough, Jungkook lets Jimin’s cock rest on his face as he laps his tongue at the underside. Occasionally, he drops further to suckle Jimin’s balls, tonguing the smooth skin. In everything he does, Jungkook maintains eye contact with Jimin. His normally sparkly eyes are dark and lidded; the expression makes Jimin’s cock throb harder. 

“Yeah, hyung? Want your cock in my mouth?” Jungkook teases. “I want to hear you say it. Ask me to ruin you like a good boy, okay?” 

Waiting for his response, Jungkook swirls his tongue around the tip of Jimin's cock. 

"Oh god," Jimin sobs. He reaches down to dig his fingers into Jungkook's shoulders and tries not to buck his hips into his face. His mind is screaming at him to relax, to think this all through because every ounce of this interaction feels laced with the promise of regret. But his mouth is speaking before his brain can keep up. "I want it." 

Sliding his hands up Jimin’s thighs, Jungkook grabs his ass cheeks and pulls his body flush against his own. In one swift motion, Jungkook swallows Jimin until the head of his cock rams against the back of his throat. His moans make pleasure ripple through Jimin’s abdomen.

Jimin’s legs shake and he grabs Jungkook’s shoulders to steady himself. “I’m- I’m…” 

Jungkook's jaw goes slack as Jimin gasps, feeling his nose press into his abdomen. No one has ever taken Jimin all the way like that before. Jimin can feel Jungkook swallowing around him, constricting and relaxing his throat muscles while humming against him. Jungkook's tongue against the underside of Jimin's cock has Jimin bucking forward. 

Instead of pulling away and scolding him as Jimin expected, Jungkook tightens his grip on Jimin's ass, rocking his body forward and forcing himself to gag.   

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jungkook.” A weak moan is the only warning that Jimin was quickly spiraling.

Colors blossom and then burst behind Jimin’s eyelids as he shoots his release down Jungkook’s throat. Every swallow further milks more of his cum until his cock is so sensitive that the head hitting the back of Jungkook’s throat makes Jimin tremble violently. 

“Jungkook, please,” Jimin lets out a strangled moan and weakly pushes Jungkook away from him by his shoulders. 

“Shit,” Jungkook groans once he sits back and stares up at Jimin with glassy eyes. “I wanna fuck you so bad.” 

Fear dances with desire in Jimin’s chest, stirring up his heart until it’s beating through his ribcage.

“I… I don’t think I’m ready for that. Not… not yet.” 

The disappointed look on Jungkook’s face makes Jimin’s heart shrivel up.  

“Okay,” Jungkook says softly, his expression eventually growing into a small smile. “That’s okay.”

The only sound in the room is Jimin’s heavy breathing as he attempts to calm himself down. 

After a moment, Jungkook stands up. He catches sight of himself in the mirror hanging in the hallway. If he wasn’t already struggling to breathe, Jimin would have had difficulty inhaling as he watches Jungkook smooth his hair and adjust how his jeans fit against his crotch. 

Jimin can’t know what Jungkook is thinking, but he thinks Jungkook looks beautiful.

“I’m sorry.”

Holding the side of Jimin’s face, Jungkook kisses away whatever other apologies he has lined up on the tip of his tongue. “Don’t apologize,” he murmurs against Jimin’s lips, providing just enough time for them to breathe before diving in again. 

Jimin thinks he likes the way he tastes on Jungkook’s tongue.

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“What do you mean, you don’t wanna fuck?” The alpha’s fingernails dig into Jimin’s bicep. When he leans in, the stench of alcohol on his breath makes Jimin’s upper lip curl.

“I don’t have sex with people I’ve just met,” Jimin says, yanking his arm back. He doesn’t want to make a scene in the middle of the sidewalk outside a classy restaurant, but this alpha, Jeongho, can’t think beyond his knot.

Jimin’s peppermint scent spikes, permeating the surrounding air in a thick, invisible cloud.

Jeongho hisses as he wipes his watery eyes with the back of his hand. “So I just paid for that expensive fucking dinner, dealt with every fucking alpha who walked past you with their mouth hanging open,” he spits. “All for you to act like a prude bitch?”

“I’m not… I’m not a bitch.”

The wind is dead. Jimin’s distressed scent clings to his and Jeongho’s clothes. It seeps into their pores.

Jeongho leaves sometime between the first tear slipping down Jimin’s rosy cheek and Taehyung answering his phone on the first ring.

Jimin’s eyesight blurs with tears, and not because of the peppermint. The bright blue of his phone screen reflects off the water streaking his skin. He doesn’t understand why he’s crying so hard. Alphas ruining Jimin’s night is nothing new. So far, Jeongho is among the worst.

“Is the piece of shit still there? I’ll fucking kill him.” Taehyung’s contact photo wavers on the screen, but his voice cuts through the air with startling confidence.

“He drove away.”

Taehyung lets out a dark laugh. “What kind of alpha leaves a distressed omega in pre-heat alone on the side of the fucking street?”

The situation sounds pathetic when Taehyung lays it out like that. It makes Jimin sob louder, and that shuts Taehyung up. 

Jimin knows he shouldn’t have gone on a date during his pre-heat. Alphas expect an omega in their pre-heat to be cock-thirsty and ready to submit to any willing alpha for a knot. And maybe Jimin is desperate—just not in the way these alphas expect. He spends his heats alone because he wants to find the one.

Jeongho clearly isn’t that.

By the time Jimin settles into the passenger seat of Taehyung’s car, his eyes are bloodshot and burning. He doesn’t bother wiping the tears from his face. His tear ducts depleted, and the streaks dried.

“I thought you said this Jeongho guy seemed like a decent one,” Taehyung says. He reaches around to grab Jimin’s seat, rotating his body. Proficiency in backing out of a parking spot is a strange alpha flex.

Jimin stares ahead blankly. “He was nice in the beginning.”

“Then what? He wanted to get his dick wet?”

“Don’t be so crass,” Jimin says. His gaze glides to Taehyung, who is now focused on the road. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Taehyung complain about a bad date with an omega or beta.

“Sorry.” Taehyung spares a quick glance at Jimin when his pheromones flood the car in a bitter wave.

Alphas always love bomb Jimin. They make him think he’s worth something special—until they realize he won’t have sex with them. Even the ones who stick around for a second or third date always have an ulterior motive.

Just Jimin isn’t enough.

Jimin lets Taehyung’s apology linger the rest of the drive home. It floats to the car ceiling, mingling with bitter peppermint and the smell of stale cigarette smoke from Taehyung’s days working in construction. There’s no hint of basil, though. Scent blockers smother the sharp, earthy scent Jimin likes on Taehyung. It is proper etiquette for office workers to use scent blockers. Jimin still permits himself to scowl at Taehyung while he rubs the dreaded cream into his skin every morning.

“Come on, Chim.”

Their apartment parking garage is desolate on a Friday evening. Jimin kicks loose pieces of asphalt that spray in Taehyung’s direction.

“Hey!” Taehyung skips to the side with his knee slightly bent to sweep his hand across his white Converse. “New kicks.”

“Taehyung-ah.”

“I’m just saying.”

The garage elevator pings in time with Taehyung winking at Jimin. It’s a counterattack to a glare that disappears once they reach the seventh floor.

“Why do I do this to myself?” Jimin sniffles as Taehyung steers him into their apartment.

Taehyung squeezes Jimin’s shoulders, digging his fingers into muscles taut with the tension between expectations and reality. “You aren’t doing anything wrong, Jimin-ah. It’s these alphas’ fault. They don’t know how to treat an omega right.”

With a pout, Jimin kicks off his shoes and throws himself face-first onto the living room couch. The cushion muffles his voice when he says, “But I’m the one choosing to go on dates with them.”

“You have a kind heart!” Taehyung shouts from the kitchen.

Jimin hears the fridge open and Taehyung rummage through it. “Maybe I should become heartless.”

“Having a heart isn’t a bad thing. Just means sometimes shitty alphas take advantage of that, y’know?”

Whatever Taehyung says won’t really matter. There’s a common factor in every failed relationship: Jimin. If he isn’t at the root of the problem, then what is? Even if shitty alphas are taking advantage of him—as Taehyung claims—it still stems from Jimin being too kind, too weak. What a typical omega he is. Of course, he would attract the wrong type of alphas.

It’s all hopeless.

“Chim, stop wiping your boogers on the couch.”

Jimin turns his face to the side so he can watch Taehyung carry two pints of ice cream into the living room. Despite his bleary eyes and runny nose, a small smile blooms across his face.

“Do you know you’re a psychopath for liking plain vanilla ice cream?” Jimin asks as he sits up.

Taehyung rolls his eyes and hands Jimin one of the pints and a spoon. “Shut up. Vanilla is a classic.”

“Normal people at least add a topping to it.”

Jimin peels off the lid and tosses it onto the coffee table. He normally savors the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, wanting it to last long since the brand he likes is a little pricey. But today he’s going to eat the entire thing.

“Normal is boring, isn’t it?”

“As annoying as you are, I wish more alphas were like you, Tae.” Jimin takes a large bite of ice cream, licking the spoon clean after. He doesn’t mean to stare at Taehyung when he does it, absentminded as he considers his words. “The world would be a much better place.”

It may be a trick of Jimin’s senses, but he thinks he notices a hint of basil waft over him when Taehyung wiggles onto the couch. The scent blocker cream wears off eventually. Jimin’s skin tingles from the scent, imagined or not. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything after his comment, but Jimin understands him with no need for a verbal response. They’ve been roommates for a year and close friends for even longer. The highs and lows of Taehyung’s scent are easy signals for Jimin to read, even when weakened by scent blockers. Besides, his basil goes rather well with Jimin’s peppermint. 

They are a calming pair when they’re together. It’s nice having Taehyung as a best friend. Even though he’s an alpha, Taehyung brings Jimin more peace than anyone else he knows.

If only the other alphas were like Taehyung. Maybe Jimin’s love life would be a lot less miserable. If only, if only.

Jimin goes to Hoseok’s apartment for his heats, desiring the privacy and understanding of his childhood friend. Instead of sexual gratification, Hoseok, another omega, provides him with a safe space to weather his heats. Initially, Jimin’s rejection of Taehyung’s presence as an alpha offended him. It took time for him to understand the omega perspective and how alphas can taint the experience for unmated, celibate omegas. He sees the benefits—even though he knows he would be a perfect alpha for Jimin’s heats. For Jimin.

That’s a thought Taehyung tries not to dwell on. It’s an animal scratching at the far corner of his mind, caged and restless, claws buried in his gray matter. 

Instead, he thinks about how strange it is for the lamp in the entryway to still be on as he slips into the apartment. All the other lights in the apartment are off. It’s just past midnight, long since Jimin texted him an update that he’d be going to bed soon. Work has been kicking Taehyung’s ass, roping him into long hours that go deep into the evenings and have him up early in the morning. Jimin must have left the lamp on for him.

After taking off his shoes and removing his suit jacket and tie, Taehyung heads to his bedroom. There are a few hallway floorboards that squeak, so he’s quick on his feet as he creeps past Jimin’s bedroom. He’s almost in the clear when his attention snags on a sound—a soft, needy whimper so faint it nearly disappears beneath the rush of his own exhale. His body stills, ears straining to hear that sound again. Breathy, almost wet. He cocks his head toward Jimin’s bedroom door as if a certain angle can clear the white noise in his head. 

“Jimin-ah?”

Silence from the ajar door greets Taehyung. Odd, since Jimin grows wary of his vulnerability during his pre-heat and never sleeps with the door open. The feeling is pure, instinctive paranoia. Heats are omegas’ most defenseless moments. Even Taehyung’s ruts can trigger a desire for security.

The hair on Taehyung’s forearms raises with goosebumps from a second faint whimper drifting through the still hallway.

Taehyung doesn’t hesitate further, disappearing into the darkness of Jimin’s bedroom and closing the door behind him. His alpha instincts draw him toward the whimpering omega. Poor Jimin, Taehyung’s sweet Jimin, utterly exposed during such a vulnerable moment. The thought fuels a wildfire that claws up his chest and curls his top lip, only extinguished by the sound of the bedroom door’s lock clicking into place. 

Inside Jimin’s bedroom, the mixed scent of slick and peppermint thickens in the back of Taehyung’s throat. He runs his tongue along his teeth, slipping the tip out to swipe across his lips. Drool gathers in the corners of his mouth. Taehyung inhales deeply, pulling the air through his flared nostrils as if Jimin's scent is coke and he's seeking the sweetest fix. It makes his tastebuds tingle, and his cock swell. 

Jimin’s heat is early. Taehyung knows because he’d checked the heat tracker app he keeps on his phone earlier that morning. Jimin never remembers to update it, but that’s okay. Taehyung always remembers. 

The first step toward the bed is a stumble caught by Taehyung grabbing the cluttered edge of Jimin’s dresser. Little Lego figurines take flight and land with a clatter under furniture or take a gentle dive into a pile of dirty laundry. Taehyung feels just as stiff-legged and off-balance as the yellow plastic. 

Should he call Hoseok? Should he wake Jimin? Or would that just make everything worse?

Jimin is sprawled on his stomach across the bed, his cheeks squished and flushed against his pillow. One knee hiked up, right arm curled under his pillow, plush lips parted with each small whimper. It’s hot in the room, musty even, beneath peppermint and slick. Sweat plasters Jimin’s dark bangs against his forehead in stringy strands. His pajamas look lightweight and easy to peel off. It’s cute. He’s cute in pink—a cropped band t-shirt and flimsy panties, the kind with lace trim and a tiny bow on the front.

Taehyung stares. He lets his gaze glide up the smooth skin of Jimin’s legs, stalling between his thighs where a dark spot stains his underwear. The sight is too intimate, too delicate. He’s never seen Jimin like this. It makes his chest ache with a piercing, hungry kind of love. 

If only Jimin would let himself see it. If only he’d understand how perfect they are for each other. 

Taehyung’s fingers reach for the bed almost absentmindedly, running along the fuzzy blanket tossed across it. He helped Jimin pick it out when they first moved in together. It was then that they discovered their shared love of the color purple. One of many similarities they found they share.

There’s another whimper, and this time Jimin’s eyebrows tighten just slightly, creating little wrinkles between the subtle arches. How can he be so adorable like this? There’s something innocent about him, an angel laid down to rest. His little fist grips the bedsheet beneath him like he’s holding onto his dreamworld, unwilling to let his heat pull him back to reality. 

Taehyung’s cock throbs. The heat of it spreads, sweat dampening the armpits of his dress shirt. Picking at the top button, he presses it into the base of his throat before thumbing it halfway through the hole. He should get Jimin a glass of water, maybe turn on the ceiling fan. He should do something more than just stare, watching the rise and fall of Jimin’s body as he sleeps. 

Swallowing, Taehyung gulps down the thick scent of slick and peppermint. His fingers pick at more shirt buttons, pushing them through each hole. His omega is suffering. What kind of alpha would he be if he ignored Jimin’s needs? All this self-inflicted suffering in anticipation of a future mate is pointless; Taehyung has been right here the whole time. If he has to pick Jimin up from another shitty date with another shitty alpha, he swears he’ll fucking kill the next one.

Virginity isn’t even real. It’s a concept—he has tried convincing Jimin of that plenty of times. 

I’ll be gentle. The thought crosses Taehyung’s mind, weaving between melodic chants: mine, mine, mine.

Shaking fingers unclasp his belt, and his slacks pool on the floor beside his wrinkled shirt. Basil, peppermint, and slick cloy in the stagnant bedroom air. He’s sweating off his scent blocker cream, and, fuck, does the mix of his and Jimin’s scents smell divine. Each inhale moves through his body, pushing the rush of his blood further south, until his cock is twitching and leaking in his briefs.

I’ll be gentle, he thinks again, kneeling on the bed between Jimin’s legs. Just enough to take the edge off, to satiate Jimin so he can at least sleep more soundly.

But Taehyung’s hands are trembling too hard. He grips the back of Jimin’s knee, forcing his bent leg higher to open his thighs more. It’s too dark to see the pink spots bloom across Jimin’s skin where his fingertips had been. He grabs the curve of Jimin’s ass with a firm squeeze. His fingers slip beneath the lace trim, tugging the fabric to one side of Jimin’s pussy, exposing his plump lips. Slick clings to his underwear in shining strings, glittering in the faint moonlight peeking through the window blinds. Taehyung gathers the slick, breaking the strings with his fingers. When he accidentally grazes skin, Jimin’s peppermint pheromones explode, sharp and dizzying. 

He tips his head back and takes a loud, shuddering breath. “Fuck.” 

Tongue still heavy, it rolls in Taehyung’s mouth. He smacks his lips, tonguing at the inside of his cheeks, licking across his front teeth. He feels like he’s got cotton in his mouth, but he has to suck his teeth to swallow the saliva Jimin’s mouthwatering scent triggers. All he can think about is how good Jimin would taste. It would be easy to stick his fingers in his mouth and suck the slick off each one. He could lie between Jimin’s thighs and feast on what he knows is his. Something tells him he could eat Jimin alive and always want for more. 

Maybe next time he’ll give himself permission to indulge. But the focus tonight is on giving his omega relief. 

Taehyung watches Jimin’s face as he runs his fingers along his glistening pussy, pushing through his lips to press his fingers into the part of his omega that makes his mouth water the most. Hot and swollen, Jimin’s clit grows slick as Taehyung spends time circling it. Dipping down, he uses his thumb to collect more slick from Jimin’s entrance to drag up his clit again. He occasionally flicks it, digging hard into each side before flipping back again. Though the room is dark, he can see how shiny and wet Jimin’s pussy grows. 

No other alpha can anticipate what Jimin likes the way Taehyung can. It’s automatic how Jimin’s body responds to his touch. His peppermint scent spikes when Taehyung scratches a nail down both sides of his clit. A hooked thumb in his pussy makes his walls flutter. A pinch to his clit makes his inner thigh muscles spasm. But it’s the tight fit of two long fingers shoving inside his pussy that makes Jimin’s whimpers grow ragged. Breathy and high-pitched, they’re edged with something desperate, yet tender, like relief.

Taehyung freezes. Like in the hallway, his lungs tighten in his chest, body locking up. If Jimin could feel a look, Taehyung’s gaze would carve into the side of his face. 

But Jimin’s eyes remain closed, pretty lashes still resting against fever-flushed cheeks.

Good.

It’s better this way, letting Taehyung help while Jimin sleeps. There’s something romantic about it, Taehyung considers as he leans forward, letting drool fall from his numb mouth to pool at Jimin’s entrance. Saliva and slick, flowing in mixed rivers through Jimin’s pussy. Romance is exactly this—wet, messy, uncontrollable. Pure love, in its rawest form. A pure love guides Taehyung’s fingers as they fuck Jimin’s pussy, hard enough to make his ass jiggle with each thrust. It’s the same kind of love that tries to escape Taehyung through moans he has to hold back with bitten lips. He knows Jimin feels it, too. It’s clear in the way he shifts in his sleep, hips gently rolling to the pace Taehyung sets for them. Little fist gripping the bedsheets even tighter, knuckles whitening.

Love makes Taehyung grow bolder. He shoves his fingers even deeper inside Jimin and stays there, dragging them along the hot, sticky walls sucking him in. He presses into the front wall to flutter his fingers until Jimin’s slick squelches between them. It gushes out, dripping down Taehyung’s wrist and pooling on the bed.

Jimin sighs into a fragile, angelic moan half-smothered by his pillow, just debauched enough to make Taehyung shiver. So beautiful, so innocent. Taehyung wonders if Jimin is dreaming about the pleasure that makes his mouth fall slack and his eyes shift beneath his lids.

With his free hand, Taehyung reaches for Jimin’s chest. Though Jimin is still lying on his stomach, he’s twisted slightly on his side, just enough to expose his midriff. Taehyung shoves the cropped t-shirt out of his way, bunching the fabric just underneath Jimin’s collarbones. Fingers still buried in Jimin’s pussy, Taehyung leans forward, trapping him against the bed from behind. He closes his mouth over a nipple. It hardens beneath the wet swirl of his tongue and the sharpness of his teeth scraping against it. 

If only he could ink this moment onto his skin, devote it to memory, so he may recite the curves of Jimin’s body like scripture. There are parables hidden in his whimpers, lessons to be learned in the tremble of his body. Taehyung doesn’t believe in heaven, but he closes his lips around Jimin’s nipple and hears the sigh of an angel speak back to him. 

Releasing Jimin’s now perky nipple, Taehyung leans back. He pulls his fingers out of Jimin’s pussy, dragging the slick across the back of his thigh. Jimin is so wet, and Taehyung’s cock is aching, dripping precum that stains the front of his briefs.

“My omega… so beautiful, my omega…” 

Jimin squirms with a whine angled into his pillow. Virgin or not, stubborn or not, he’s crying out for Taehyung’s touch. Taehyung knows it. 

Guiding himself with one hand, Taehyung presses the head of his cock to Jimin’s dripping pussy. He eases just the tip inside, gasping at the tightness before dragging it out again, watching slick wet his skin. Even in the dark, he can see the glisten. It’s torture, pure torture, when he could so easily… push further… His jaw aches from clenching, biting his molars to keep himself grounded. 

Jimin deserves to be cared for, in a way Taehyung knows only he can. Steadying himself with a fist in the mattress, he pushes in a little deeper. A millimeter. Nothing too far. He’s a good alpha, he tells himself. He won’t hurt him.

But then Jimin shifts in his sleep, and fuck, it’s like he’s pushing back on Taehyung’s cock. His hips lift, and Taehyung gasps. More of his cock slides in, hugged tight by wet, fiery walls. It’s such an easy fit with how wet Jimin is. 

“Oh, fuck.” His head drops, eyes locked on the sight of his cock half-buried in Jimin’s pussy. How can he resist when Jimin’s body is inviting him in?

Taehyung looks up when an explosion of pheromones fogs his brain. Jimin’s mouth hangs open as his breathing grows heavier, almost ragged with need—but the intrusion doesn't wake him. 

Exhaling slowly, Taehyung pushes forward until he bottoms out, his cock fully buried inside of Jimin’s pussy. His arms tremble with the effort to hold himself up as he begins fucking Jimin with deep thrusts, slow enough not to wake him. But it feels too good, better than anyone he has ever had, better than he could have ever imagined. Maybe it’s because Jimin is tight. Jimin’s little body grips Taehyung’s cock so tightly he can watch it try to suck him back in each time he pulls back.

And of course they fit together better than anyone can. They’ve always fit together. Even asleep, Jimin’s body moves with Taehyung, spilling pathetic moans into his drool-soaked pillow.

If they weren’t meant to be, it wouldn’t feel this perfect.

It’s after one perfect, gorgeous moan that Jimin rouses, eyelids fluttering open. He blinks, pretty brown eyes glassy and unfocused from the mental fog his heat brings him. Even when recognition flickers across his face, he still stares at Taehyung blankly, as though he doesn’t know him. The expression only changes once he looks over his shoulder further and registers Taehyung’s position between his legs.

“I’m…” Jimin swallows, opens his mouth, then closes it again with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry I woke you up,” Taehyung murmurs, voice thick. He brushes his caramel hair from his face with his forearm and doesn’t miss how Jimin’s eyes track the flex of his bicep.  

Taehyung’s cock twitches inside him, and Jimin’s face flushes a deeper pink. He tries to turn onto his back, but the alpha’s weight pins him down. His face contorts as he reaches behind himself, little fingers unable to curl around Taehyung’s muscular forearm. For a second, it looks like he’s pushing him away.

“Taehyung—” Jimin says, voice breaking with each quiver of his body. His nails dig into Taehyung’s forearm, clinging to him with a fervor that melts into a tremor when Taehyung grinds his hips deeper.

Shuddering, Taehyung closes his eyes for a moment. How long has he waited to hear his name from Jimin’s lips, broken and desperate? Groaning, he wraps his hands around Jimin’s tiny waist. He rams his cock deeper inside him, driving Jimin into the mattress.

“Shhh, it’s me, baby. It’s just me. Your alpha. You’re safe,” Taehyung murmurs.

Pushing his hips back against Taehyung, Jimin cries out with a shattered sound, thin and desperate. His frantic rhythm is all the confirmation Taehyung needs. 

Taehyung tightens his grip on Jimin’s hips, his thrusts deepening and making the headboard crack against the wall.

Jimin gasps, the sound ripped from his lungs as Taehyung pounds into him. A dizzying rush of distressed pheromones blankets the bedroom. Jimin throws his arms out above his head, stubby fingers raking over the bedsheets, unable to bunch the fabric into his fists with how violently Taehyung launches his body forward and back.

Hooking his arm around Jimin’s waist, Taehyung attempts to haul him onto his knees. “Come on, omega,” he grunts when Jimin’s knees give out. “Present for your alpha.”

“No, no, Tae, no.”

Taehyung frowns. The pleasure is probably too overwhelming for Jimin. In his excitement, Taehyung has almost forgotten that this is Jimin’s first time. He should let Jimin rest, but he knows his heat will only get worse.

“It’s okay,”—Taehyung leans in to nuzzle Jimin’s nape—“you don’t have to be shy with me.”

Jimin slumps forward, deadweight in Taehyung’s arms. He mumbles something into his pillow that Taehyung can’t hear.

With a sigh, Taehyung hooks his chin over Jimin’s shoulder. He nuzzles the side of his neck, running his wet tongue across his scent gland.

“Fine, Jimin-ah. I’ll give you what you want tonight. But, you’ll be on your knees for me at some point.”

Jimin shakes his head, his silky chocolate hair mussed from the pillowcase. Stubborn little omega. He’s a good boy, though, when he lets Taehyung wrap his arms around his waist a second time.

“But I’ll be nice,” Taehyung continues as he lifts Jimin to toss him on his back. “I won’t tease you when you do it.”

Jimin’s body bounces with the force, his arms flopping at his sides. Slick and spit dribble down his thighs. His shaking fingers reach between his legs to feel the mess. They skirt over his swollen clit, and a subdued moan slips from his lips. The sound seems to surprise him. Or maybe it’s the realization of how wet he is for Taehyung.

Sweat drips down Jimin’s temple and plasters his shirt to his body. Taehyung can’t let his omega be uncomfortable. Grabbing the t-shirt’s hem, he rips it over Jimin’s head, maneuvering his arms to peel it off.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Taehyung murmurs, squeezing Jimin’s bent knees in his palms. “And see how your body opens up so nicely for me.” He yanks Jimin’s legs apart when they stray inward, forcing his pussy on display. “You can feel it, though. What those other alphas could never do for you.” 

Taehyung meets Jimin’s glassy stare, cock lined up again, and he can tell that Jimin is trying hard to focus. It’s so cute, his little omega so fucked out that he can’t think straight. 

“Alpha?” Jimin blinks his wet eyelashes, pushing a single tear across the swell of his cheek and down the side of his face. 

“That’s it,”—Taehyung’s nails dig crescents into Jimin’s hips, and he thrusts into him hard enough to make him choke—“that’s right. Your alpha’s gonna take care of you.”

Jimin moans an angelic chorus of Taehyung’s name, over and over, tears of pleasure streaking his cheeks. He moans Taehyung’s name like it’s all he knows how to say. And maybe it is all he knows, all his brain can muster, as Taehyung's cock fucks the first of multiple orgasms out of him. Omegas need to cum countless times throughout their heat, and Taehyung intends to take care of his omega. 

“Fuck, yes.” Taehyung’s fingers slide across Jimin’s clit, rubbing hard circles as he fucks him through it. “Gonna come for your alpha, yeah?”

“Taehyung, st—”

Jimin lets out a muffled sob swallowed by Taehyung’s mouth. His tongue is hot as it slides against Taehyung’s, spreading hot spit across hot lips, lapping at the sharp edges of their mouths and the points of their teeth. And when he comes a second time, his cries of pleasure dance across Taehyung’s face with hot exhales.

He’s hot everywhere. Yet he shivers as his body clenches around Taehyung’s cock. 

“Come on, omega.” 

“Alpha, alpha,” Jimin pants, hazy eyes gliding over Taehyung’s face. They nearly cross with the effort to look at him so closely. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Taehyung says. He keeps a hand pressed into the mattress beside Jimin’s head. The other squeezes one of Jimin’s thighs, hiking it over his hip and holding it in place. 

When Taehyung’s knot tugs on him, Jimin lets out a weak cry. Tears glitter down his cheeks, little streaks of moonlight on blushing porcelain skin. A dark bruise blooms where the long column of his throat dips into his collarbone. His body yields—no, molds—to Taehyung with ease because they’re meant to be.

“I know you stayed home for me,” Taehyung says with his head dropped so he can watch between their bodies where his swollen knot is stretching Jimin’s pussy. Strokes loose and sloppy. “You could have told Hobi hyung about your heat coming early. But you wanted me instead, didn’t you, jagiya?” 

It isn’t until Jimin grabs his biceps that Taehyung looks up again. 

“I know you want me, Jimin. You keep making me pick you up from all those fucking dates on purpose.” Taehyung thrusts harder, forcing his cock as deep inside Jimin as he can with each subsequent stroke. He’ll knot him soon.

Jimin shakes his head, the wispy strands of his bangs hooking into the curl of his eyelashes. He tries to look away, but Taehyung grabs his chin. 

“You’re doing it to fuck with me, see how far you can push your alpha.” 

Another deep, sharp thrust. Taehyung’s eyes narrow, and a hiss slips from his gritted teeth. 

Jimin runs his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, tugging until he throws his head back. It’s wrong, baring his throat to his omega. But the feel of Jimin’s tongue and teeth on his skin makes his knot ache. 

“It’s okay, jagi. You don’t have to play games with me.” Taehyung grabs Jimin’s hand, yanking it from his hair and pinning it to the bed. “‘Cause you’ve always been my omega. And I’ve always been your alpha,” he says with a final thrust that locks his knot inside Jimin. 

Jimin’s third orgasm hits him harder than the first two. He squirts slick when Taehyung knots him, soaking them with his sweet, sticky mess. Each orgasm melts his little body into the sheets, leaving him pliant beneath Taehyung’s weight. Shaking. Slumped. 

Even when Taehyung’s knot goes down, Jimin doesn’t get up, just lets his body slump into the bed. Seeking comfort only Taehyung can give him. 

Omegas like to be held down, to be protected. Taehyung cages Jimin against the bed to comfort him as he empties inside him, cum plugged by his knot, safe and exactly where it should be. He knows Jimin is content from the muted hum that vibrates his chest and makes his skin pebble with goosebumps.

“Fuck, I love you, Jimin-ah. Love my omega.” Taehyung rolls his hips into Jimin again. His cock may be soft, but it will only take a few more thrusts before it fattens up again. He feels like howling, like pressing his teeth into the softest part of Jimin’s neck and ripping his name into his skin. He has always been Jimin’s protector, someone Jimin can trust to care for him. And now he can prove it fully. He’ll make his omega feel good, just as he deserves, for the rest of their lives.

“TaeTae,” Jimin whispers, voice crackly from how vocal he was as Taehyung fucked him. His words turn into mumbles, low and slurred.

But Taehyung picks out the important parts, knows Jimin tells him he loves him back.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, jagi.”

And, God, who wouldn’t want to be loved by Jimin? The prettiest omega. Bright eyes, plump lips, a body that is strong but soft in all the right places. Kind, intelligent, gentle. Jimin is perfect, and no one seems to respect that as much as Taehyung does.

Smiling, Taehyung buries his face against Jimin’s damp neck and inhales deeply. Peppermint and basil, sweet and sharp, tangled together. Nothing in the world has ever smelled more perfect.