jairang

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.