💜

The sudden and inexplainable zap of electricity was enough for you to put the manhwa back to its shelf where it belonged. You had enough for today, you thought. It must be your late nights that finally got to you. You turned and started to walk away when you heard someone called your name.

“Are you not going to buy that?”

You blinked owlishly, turning to look your surroundings before realizing that the voice had come from behind you where an old woman with a pleasant smile on her face stood. You didn’t hear her walk, sure that it was only you in that section of the bookstore.

“Excuse me?” you asked in confusion with her sudden question.

She offered you a smile before reaching for the manhwa you were touching moments ago. “This. Are you not going to buy this?”

You glanced at the book in her hands, the cover innocuous enough—a pale-faced man with dark eyes, his expression unreadable, a haunting sort of beauty that seemed to shimmer under the dim light of the store. The same man whose face had burned into your mind the moment you’d traced your finger over it.

"Huh?" you muttered, not entirely sure what to say. "Oh, no... I—" You fumbled with your words, caught between politeness and that unsettling pull you couldn’t deny. “I’m just looking.”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering, but there was something deeper there now—an unreadable warmth and perhaps... a warning? "Such a shame. This is the last piece," she continued, her fingers running over the cover with a tenderness that made your heart race. "Are you sure you don’t want to enter his universe?"

You stared at her, perplexed. The bookstore was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of other customers. But it felt like there was something else in the air now—something heavier. More alive.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking the strange tension that had settled between you and the clerk. You fumbled it out, your heart still racing. It was a text from one of your friends: "Did you finally get the manhwa? He's sooooo hot, right?!?"

You looked from your phone to the manhwa and there it was again. It was like something was calling you to touch the book. On the other hand, your flight or fight instinct had never been this high, urging you to walk away as soon as possible. The old woman’s gaze never left you, her expression still serene, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. The tension between you felt palpable, like a tether was drawing you back to the book, back to the man on the cover.

"You know what, dear," she continued, her voice now almost conspiratorial, "since we're almost closing, it’s on the house. Let me wrap it up for you."

When you asked her why, it was a line you should have taken in face value.

She said that reading this will change your life.

All that was how you found yourself on your bed with the manhwa and feeling bad for the second female lead. Okay fine, she was not exactly kind. She was a bit bitchy and the typical rich kid who fell for her childhood friend who of course, fell for another woman below their stature. She devised devious ways to get the main female lead out of their lives which only managed to push Min Yoongi, the male lead character, away from her. She wanted him so badly, and she had nothing else to cling to. In the end, he left her alone when all she had was him.

She was left alone, Yoongi gone from her life, and all she had left were her schemes and bitterness. You couldn’t help but wonder what she could have been if she had just let go. If she had let him go, instead of holding on so tightly that she suffocated herself.

She wasn’t a villain, you told yourself, though you knew she was far from a saint.

It wasn’t that you were defending what she did. It was just that you felt for her, strangely. You had no family of your own too, and maybe that was why you held on to your friends. You thought that if you were as pretty and as wealthy as her, then you wouldn’t spend all your time and energy pining after Yoongi. You thought about her—so pretty, so polished—and you wondered, If I were her, would I have acted the same way? If you had that beauty, that wealth, that presence, would you still feel this same deep ache for someone who couldn’t love you back? Sure, he was all that. He was handsome, smart, and so manly. For a while, it was just the two of them in their little world until he met the female lead. But then again, if you were her, you would let them be and look for someone who would love you as you were. Surely, there was someone out there for her. You wondered if it would be easy to just walk away, you thought. But then, you didn’t know what it was like to have everything and still lose the one thing that mattered most. To feel like there was no one left who could make you feel whole.

The story was so intriguing with the right amount of suspense that kept you up all night. Despite you being a non-mahwa reader, you could not bring yourself to stop reading until you reached the ending.

The words of the final chapters echoed in your mind as you read through them. Yoongi’s happiness came at her expense, and as you turned the page, you saw the final blow: She died. She died because Yoongi decided to save the main female lead from drowning instead of his childhood friend. Just like that. No grand redemption, no change of heart. She was gone. “Of course, she dies,” you murmured in annoyance as you flipped the page. “Was that really necessary for this Yoongi to get his happy ending?”

You put the manhwa down on your chest and looked up at your bedroom ceiling. You felt tears forming in your eyes and before you knew it, they were streaming down your cheeks and onto the manhwa. “Poor you. You deserved better,” you whispered as sleep took you away.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next time you opened your eyes, it felt like you were in a dream. More precisely, you woke up to a familiar room. You just couldn’t place it yet where you saw this room before. You sat up from the most comfortable bed you had ever been on, your eyes roaming over the whole room. Where were you?

You looked down and noticed that you were wearing a silk sleepwear…You didn’t own this. In fact, you never liked it because you couldn’t afford it. Did someone dress you in this? Were you kidnapped?

Panic surged through you like a wave, a cold knot tightening in your stomach. The thought alone pushed you to stand up quickly, your head turning rapidly to every corner of the room when a mirror across the room caught your eye. You walked over, unsure of what you were even looking for, but the reflection that met you made your heart stop.

Holy shit.

You froze in front of the mirror, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and panic. The face staring back at you was undeniably familiar but was definitely not yours. It was her—the woman from the manhwa.

Your hand lifted slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, and touched your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. The reflection mimicked your every move, except there was no mistake: it wasn’t you. This version of you was flawless—her skin porcelain smooth, her lips full and painted in a soft, understated pink. You blinked hard, willing the image to change, but it remained the same, impossibly perfect.

And then it hit you, harder than any realization should have: You were in her world. You were in her body. You were the second female lead.

What the fuck was this dream?!

You pinched yourself, willing yourself to wake up from this peculiar dream where you were not you, and instead, you were someone of a fictional character. All that it did was reddened her fair skin. You truly tried not to panic, but no one and nothing could have ever prepared you from waking up in someone else’s body! More so of a fictional one. Similarly, you knew this could not be possible. You must have been dreaming.

You were just dreaming…right?

The knock on the door snapped you out of your stupor, your mind reeling as the panic tightened its grip.

“Miss? Sir Yoongi is here to see you,” the voice outside the door called, timid, hesitant.

You blinked, the words barely registering at first. Yoongi? No. No, no, no. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and the world around you seemed to tilt at an impossible angle. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a shaky, disbelieving breath.

"Y-yoongi?" Your voice sounded strange, foreign in this body, yet with an edge of authority, the voice of someone accustomed to being looked at, obeyed.

“N-no. Why?”

“T-to visit you, Miss. He went straight here from the airport after his three-month work in New York,” she explained with a terrified tone in her voice as though one wrong word would upset you. It did upset you upon horrifying realization that you were in the first chapter of the manhwa. He was coming to see the second female lead, the one who would only ever be a part of his life for the briefest, most painful moments. The one who would disappear when the main female lead entered the picture, leaving behind nothing but heartache and regret.

This was the moment—the beginning of her unraveling. The beginning of your unraveling.

You stumbled back from the mirror, almost tripping over the hem of the silk nightgown that clung to your skin. It felt wrong. This wasn’t your body. This wasn’t you. You couldn’t be her. You couldn't.

But there you were—she was—standing in front of a mirror, and it was your face that stared back, the same face that would soon be abandoned in favor of the main lead. The face that would die tragically, just as Yoongi chose someone else.

A cold sweat broke out on your skin as you pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart race, the pulse throbbing in your throat. The maid outside the door was waiting. She was waiting. Yoongi was waiting.

“Miss? Are you coming?” The maid asked again, sounding more nervous now. “Sir Yoongi is waiting.”

You felt your legs walked to where the door was as though they had a mind of their own, as though they were simply following the plot where you had to face her childhood bestfriend, as though you had no choice in this. The door creaked as it slowly opened, and the maid stepped back with a small, nervous bow. “Miss,” she murmured softly, her eyes flicking between you and the hallway.

There he was. Yoongi. Standing in the hallway, waiting for you.

His broad back was turned to you, his focus was on the huge window overlooking the garden below. His hands were in his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the bags of designer clothes and jewelries beside him. It was always like this. Yoongi would spoil her with everything, his love a quiet promise wrapped in material things. His affection was given in expensive packages, just because he missed her. It was a thing the main lead, Yoongi, and her had for the longest times. He spoiled her rotten, and in turn, she loved him unconditionally until he realized that it wasn’t her love that he wanted. It was someone else’s.

You felt your chest tighten as you stepped forward, closer to him. And then, slowly, he turned around, his gaze landing on you, his eyes sharp and calculating, as though he was seeing you for the first time. He was just as handsome as you'd imagined, his sharp features bathed in the soft light of the chandelier overhead. His expression, however, was unreadable—his usual aloofness on full display. He had on a simple black jacket, the sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing his forearms.

He was standing there, just as he had been in the manhwa—distant, untouchable, and perfect. The kind of person who seemed to have everything. Everything except the one thing that would make him whole. His lips curved into a faint smirk, the usual aloofness settling over him like a second skin. Yoongi. So damn confident. So certain of himself. Yet there was something flickering beneath that exterior, something you couldn't place.

He took a step toward you, his gaze unwavering, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy, too real. The space between you both seemed like an eternity, but somehow you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

He raised his brows when you remained motionless – so dissimilar to how the second female lead threw herself in his arms in the first chapter. “What?” he said, his voice a quiet challenge. “Didn’t you miss me?”

His words hit you like a cold wave. Didn’t you miss me?

The phrase was so familiar, but it made you flinch. It was the same thing he had said to her. The second female lead. Her. The woman you had now become. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze leaving you paralyzed. How were you supposed to feel? What was the right answer?

Yoongi’s smirk deepened as he took another step closer, his presence commanding the space between you both. He wasn’t giving up.

“Aigoo,” he muttered, as though your silence had amused him. “Is my princess mad at me?” He reached out, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squishing them gently, his thumb brushing across your skin in a familiar, playful gesture. “I promise I won’t be away for that long again, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. My princess. Mad at me? It was just like the manhwa. Just like how the second female lead had fallen for him—how she’d craved his affection, how she had convinced herself that he was the only one who could make her whole.

How could she not fall for him? How could she not love him when he was this—this?

See, who wouldn’t fall for that? You understood the second female lead for falling in love with him, or why she did all those terrible things when he suddenly withdrew all his affections from her. But maybe…you could change the ending. Maybe you could find a happy ending of your own away from him. You could choose differently. You could walk away. You could find your own path, away from him, away from this tragic loop. Maybe—just maybe—there was a way for you to have a happy ending. Not the one written in the manhwa, but one you could choose. One where you didn’t lose yourself in the love of a man who could never return it.

What if you and him could all have your separate happy endings?

But also, what if this was just a dream where you’d wake up later and be in your own bed?

It was almost a week later when you realized that this wasn’t a dream. Despite repeatedly pinching yourself, you still couldn’t wake up from this nightmare. You hadn’t gone out of your room since Yoongi visited, and all messages and calls from him were promptly ignored.

You couldn’t even rule out that you were actively going insane because there was no way that this was now your reality. Something inside you was telling you to do something. It was urging you to fight, to survive, not matter how difficult it would be. It was proven when he visited you and you had no control over what happened. However, you also noted that you could do things somehow differently like not hugging him when he visited, or not being affectionate to him.

There were canon events, yes. There were things that should happen as were already dictated by the manhwa. But you also had a will in this story. And if there was a chance that this was your new reality, then you would do absolutely everything to make sure that you end up living.

You had to be smart. You had an edge, you surmised. You read the entire manhwa and you knew what was going to happen. You knew what to anticipate. And the next scene? The next scene was where Yoongi met the female lead and it would be in a charity ball you and him were attending.

You were dressed to the nines, your makeup was impeccable. Around your neck was one of the second female lead’s extravagant necklaces. The dress that she chose was immaculate, a light-colored floor-length gown that would later on be ruined by the female lead’s accident in the ball. You looked down from the unfamiliar eyes staring back at you in the mirror as your maid informed you that the car was waiting downstairs. You got this.

You weren’t used to her life of extravagance and you could feel a shot of anxiety pumping in your veins as the car neared the event. You could see reporters and cameramen lining up to capture the entrance of the wealthiest of the wealthiest. Nothing in your life could have prepared you for this. You were not a confident person…but she was. You only needed to get through this night and then slowly let the events happened. You would let the two of them fall in love with each other like it needed to be.

“We’re here, miss,” your driver announced, meeting your eyes from the rearview mirror. You took a deep breath and counted to three.

1…2…3-

The door opened and just when you opened your eyes, there he was.

Camera flashes illuminated the scene from his back, yet his focus was on you. His hand was outstretched, waiting for you to reach for it. But damn it, Min Yoongi was impeccable. Just like you, he was dressed to the nines with his tailored dark suit and his brushed up dark hair. He was the epitome of what a main lead should look like. Still, you couldn’t fault both the main and second female lead for falling in love with that face. If only you weren’t trying to stay alive, then you would most probably fall for that face, too.

Too bad you were trying to stay alive.

The weight of the moment settled heavily on your chest as you stared at his outstretched hand. The flashes of the cameras were relentless, their bursts creating a kaleidoscope of light and shadow that painted Yoongi's face with an almost ethereal glow. His dark eyes bored into yours, and for a split second, the world seemed to pause.

You hesitated, your hand hovering just out of reach. This was one of those moments, wasn't it? One of the canon events you couldn’t avoid. Taking his hand was expected, a necessary step to ensure the night unfolded as the manhwa demanded. Yet, the knowledge didn’t make it any easier.

“I don’t think you can hide from me now, princess,” Yoongi’s voice was soft but firm. In fact, there was no annoyance in his tone, only a quiet patience as though you didn’t spend the past days dodging him in every turn.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to push past the whirlwind of nerves. You had to remember who you were now—or at least who you were pretending to be. She wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t hesitate. She was poised, confident, the kind of woman who could command a room with a single glance. She was a woman who knew the power she had over society.

Plastering on a polite smile, you placed your hand in his. His fingers were warm, steady, and for a moment, the contact felt grounding. You couldn’t help but notice how his hand completely engulfed yours, how he made your hands seemed dainty in comparison to his. He helped you out of the car with a practiced grace, his touch lingering for a fraction longer than necessary. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that you felt the same electricity that you did when you first touched the manhwa.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear it.

You knew you had no choice as he guided you up the grand entrance. This was a canon event. The canon event leading up to their meeting. You had to play your part if you wanted to not experience dying in her body.

The flashes of cameras almost blinded you had it not been for Yoongi’s broad back that shielded you from them. The two of you stopped in the middle to smile for the camera, a PR thing Yoongi had to do for his company. His hand rested on the small of your back, gently pushing you closer to him. You knew what would happen like the back of your hand, and just as written, one of the reporters asked him to define his relationship status with you.

She’s the most important woman in my life.

“She’s the most important woman in my life,” Yoongi declared with unwavering sincerity, his deep voice resonating through the flashes and murmurs of the crowd. As he looked down at you, his lips curved into that signature, disarming smile—the kind that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

The ball was just as grand as you imagined. It was apparent that the rich spared no expense in this and you couldn’t imagine that you would experience this in your life. Yoongi’s gaze lingered on you, an unreadable expression flickering in his eyes as he watched you take it all in. There was something almost amused about the way he observed you, though he said nothing. It was almost comical to him how you were impressed with this when the friend he knew practically grew up in this extravagance. You were in awe at the intricate details, the food and drink being served, and the expensive jewelries that would be auctioned tonight.

“What do you want me to bid for?” Yoongi asked, his voice low and smooth as he tipped his wineglass to his lips, his dark eyes not straying from you.

You let out a short chuckle, already knowing what to say. “I want that old ring the Queen once owned,” you answered monotonously. It was the most expensive item in the auction, and exactly the kind of thing the second female lead would desire. You, on the other hand, felt that it was ridiculous to desire something that was given by someone who dearly loved the Queen. Yoongi merely lifted his dark brow before nodding his head.

As always, her will was always his command– until it wasn’t.

The bidding war for the final piece, the ring, didn’t take that long as Yoongi continuously bidded ridiculously high amounts that the businessmen could not keep up with the younger man. Yoongi didn’t even flinch as the bids shot up. He stood there, effortlessly cool, his back straight and shoulders squared, his eyes locked on the auctioneer like a predator stalking its prey. The others tried to keep pace, their offers becoming desperate, their faces flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation as Yoongi continued to raise the stakes, his voice cold and assured as he increased his offer without hesitation.

In the end, Yoongi won. And it showed with the way he turned back to you, that same smirk still dancing at corner of his lips.

This was it.

This was the moment.

Yoongi was walking to you, his expression still that of a triumphant victor as he made his way to you. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes to him. The way his dark eyes were trained on you was captivating and you were captivated. It was as though you were the only one in this room to him, like all other people could disappear and he wouldn’t even blink. In fact, you were too captivated that you almost forgot what the next scene was.

But just as was written by the author, a waitress tripped, your light-colored dress now splashed with red wine, a stark contrast. The sound of glass breaking, the accident itself, was enough to silence the whole ballroom. Your mouth hanged agape as you looked down at your dress, and then slowly, you lift your eyes to the waitress.

Your eyes met the female lead’s. Hers was comically wide as she continuously apologized to you, her expression that of panic as her manager and more people flocked to where you were.

“What happened?” Yoongi’s voice was sharp, his usual calm replaced by a low, controlled edge. His hands clasped your arms with a firm but steady grip, his gaze darting between your face and the ruined fabric of your gown. The pristine, light-colored dress was now stained with crimson, the deep red wine soaking into the fabric and spreading like an ominous bloom.

Your eyes flicked back to the waitress—her—the female lead. Just as the manhwa dictated, there she was, the unassuming heroine, standing in front of you with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she stammered apology after apology, her hands trembling as she bent down to pick up the shards of broken glass at her feet. You saw her flinched.

“I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please forgive me, Miss!” she pleaded, her voice shaky and sincere. The panic on her face was painfully familiar. You’d read this scene before. You knew every word, every gesture.

And yet, being in it now, living it—felt different.

Your dress was ruined, yes, but more importantly, this was the moment. The one where Yoongi, the ever-distant, untouchable main lead, would first notice her. Where his protective instincts would be stirred, his curiosity piqued by her clumsy, honest nature. This was where it all began—their love story.

Except right now, he wasn’t looking at her. He was still looking at you

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his brows furrowed as his thumb lightly grazed your arm, checking for any sign of injury. There was no recognition in his gaze for the woman kneeling at your feet, no acknowledgment of her presence.

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. By now, he should have been helping her, offering her a reassuring smile, gently lifting her to her feet. That was what the script demanded

But here he was, his focus entirely on you.

“I…” Your voice faltered as your mind raced to adjust. You needed to steer this back on track. The story needed to progress, or everything could spiral out of control. “I’m fine. It’s just the dress,” you said, forcing your tone to be light, dismissive, as though the ruined gown didn’t matter.

Yoongi’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “It’s not fine,” he said, his voice firm. He turned, his sharp eyes landing on the waitress. The poor girl visibly flinched under his scrutiny, her hands freezing mid-motion as she tried to gather the broken pieces.

“It was an accident,” you said quickly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Yoongi, it’s fine.” Your words were deliberate, almost desperate. You needed him to look at her, to notice her, to play his part in the story.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but at last, his gaze shifted to the waitress. There it was—that flicker of recognition. The moment his eyes softened, his expression melting into something less severe.

“Are you hurt?” he asked her, his tone still carrying a note of authority, but the sharp edges were gone. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for.

The girl shook her head quickly, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “N-no, sir! I’m fine. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Enough,” Yoongi interrupted gently but firmly. He crouched down, his movements slow, deliberate, as he began picking up the shards of glass alongside her. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath, all eyes on the enigmatic businessman lowering himself to help a clumsy waitress. “Be careful. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said with a much softer voice. His gaze lingered on her face, and it was apparent that you were now forgotten.

And there it was—their first connection. The moment the story truly began.

You exhaled slowly, stepping back as the crowd around you began to disperse, the murmurs of the guests returning to their usual buzz. This was how it had to be. You just had to step back now and let their love story grow.

You reached the balcony and you thanked heavens that you were alone. You breathed a sigh of relief, both for the gratitude that you were alone and for surviving that scene. You were looking up at the stars when you felt a suit jacket landed on your shoulders, safely engulfing you with warmth and against the cold night.

You turned, not knowing who to expect but he was definitely not it. You didn’t even know who he was.

The handsome man met your eyes before flashing you a charming smile of his own that was enough to disarm you. “What a shame…”

You blinked, confused by his sudden appearance, your heart still racing from the scene inside. "What is?" you asked, voice quieter than you'd intended, as your eyes darted back toward the ballroom doors.

"That your dress was ruined," he said smoothly, his tone playful, though his eyes seemed to hold something more—curiosity, maybe, or perhaps something deeper. "You were the most beautiful girl there. You managed to catch everyone’s attention when you entered the room– including mine."

Sputtering at his confidence, you felt your cheeks heated up from his statement. “Were?”

The side of his eyes crinkled as he looked at you. He couldn’t believe that the elusive and untouchable you were giving him the time of the day. You were always in Yoongi’s orbit, and everyone knew how powerful his family was. It was always the two of you in your own little world, and Yoongi was seldom far from you. It was the reason why suitors couldn’t reach you. No one needed the Min Yoongi for an enemy.

It was safe to say that the relationship between the two of you were always a question mark to the onlookers. In the world of the rich, the two of you should have been long engaged if that was the case. And a chance that Yoongi was far from you was not to be wasted. And so, he took the chance.

“You still are,” he breathed honestly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so magnificent and he understood why Yoongi was similar to a guard dog when it came to you. He extended his hand to you. “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

You only had to wait, but the waiting got boring. When you’d read the manhwa, the pacing had felt seamless, the love story unfolding with a rhythm that kept you turning the pages. Here, however, their love story took time.

It turned out that not only were you bored, but you were also extremely wealthy in this life. You rationalized that it would be okay to enjoy her life just a little.

Leaning on the balcony railing, you released your fifteenth sigh of the day, staring blankly at the sprawling estate below. Behind you, the ever-dutiful maid hovered, hands clasped nervously in front of her. Her expression flickered between concern and trepidation, as though bracing for one of the infamous tantrums her mistress was known for. Lately, though, you’d given her nothing of the sort—no sharp words, no impatient outbursts. That, in itself, seemed to unsettle her.

However, another sigh from you finally prompted her to ask you what was wrong.

Her eyes widened, startled by the question. “I… I suppose I’d pay off my family’s debts,” she admitted, voice small. “It’s been weighing on us for years.”

“How much?” you asked, your tone casual, as though inquiring about the weather.

“Three million,” she murmured, her cheeks coloring as though the very amount embarrassed her. “But I couldn’t possibly—”

“Consider it done,” you interrupted breezily, waving off her protests. “Next?”

“Maybe…I’d go to Paris?”

You nodded, your eyes gleamed as the spark of inspiration ignited within you. A brilliant, slightly impulsive idea. “That’s perfect. Grab your passport.”

It turned out that Paris was also someone’s favorite place.

You were sitting in a café one late afternoon, willing the time to pass by quickly so you could return to your life as evidenced by your poor attempt at reading a book when the chair in front of you was suddenly occupied. With your peace suddenly gone, you looked up and met his eyes. He was smiling at you, his dark hair brushed away from his face, so dissimilar to how formal he looked when you met him.

“We must stop meeting like this.”

He chuckled at your expression before he leaned in on the table. “In Paris, of all places. I have to say, this is starting to look like fate.”

Who was he exactly?

You tried to rack your brain of his scenes in the manhwa, and you had been ever since you met him in that ball. He wasn’t supposed to be in the scene…or was it possible that that happened behind the scene when the focus wasn’t on you, but on Yoongi and the female lead?

“Do you believe in fate, Mr. Kim?” you titled you head in curiosity, looking at him intently for any sort of familiarity that may come your way.

“I do and I don’t. I think that fate is an abstract concept that no man can ever define. There are some things that we are just too powerless to stop; and there are some things that we are too powerful to accept,” he stated with a smile on his face. “You’re here because of fate, Y/N. Don’t you think so?”

“What?”

Taehyung chuckled and patiently waited as the waiter placed his cup of hot chocolate on the table. “I think that you’re fated to be here at this exact moment.”

“What are you saying, Taehyung?”

“I’m saying, have dinner with me tonight.”

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. On the other hand, you could say that the past few days were one of the most interesting days of your life. You never knew that that little dinner with Taehyung could result to you gaining a true friend here. He was interesting, quirky, wise, and full of life. You also learned that he went to the same school as the original second female lead and Yoongi attended, and that he could never befriended you before because Yoongi was always with you. He offhandedly noted that it was so rare for him not to be with you when before, wherever you went, he would follow. Speaking of the character that you assumed, her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better. If you wanted to live, you had to do the opposite of what the second female lead did.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more with Taehyung. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Going somewhere?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in. You did your part by staying the hell away from them….so why was he here?

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. You could practically see the wheels turning in that intelligent brain of his as he sized you up. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

He stuck by you like a shadow and he all but bought the entire hotel floor. He was adamant on spending every moment with you. The most baffling part? He still kept in touch with her. He called, he texted, he checked in on the female lead—but here he was, right beside you, refusing to leave. It made no sense. To add confusion to the mix, Yoongi kept on shooting dark glares at your phone whenever it chimed from Taehyung’s messages and he felt himself getting irritated. He wondered who was brave enough to message you when no one used to before except him.

You had been away for him for just a short time and yet, he felt like you were so far away already, like something shifted, like your entirety changed. It was like you were not the best friend he used to have.

You looked down at your phone as soon as it chimed again and you couldn’t help but chuckled at the silly selfie he took with a duck. You were too engrossed in your phone that you missed the way Yoongi gripped his utensils. You and him hadn’t spent time together since you were so busy evading him and now that he finally caught up with you, your attention was somewhere else.

Why were your attention not on him?

Who was stealing your attention away from him?!

Was this how you punished him because of his current fling?

The sound of Yoongi’s sharp exhale pierced the air, and you glanced up just in time to see his fingers grip the edge of his glass with more force than was necessary. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed—not at the phone in your hand, but at you. He didn’t say anything, but the silence between you both was thick with something unspoken, a tension you had been drowning in since he followed you here.

It wasn’t that you wanted to ignore him, but the truth was... you didn’t know how to deal with this version of Yoongi. The one who wasn’t following the script. The one who was here in Paris, beside you, watching you laugh at Taehyung's ridiculous duck selfie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What’s so funny?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but it was sharp. He didn’t bother to look at your phone. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on your face, his eyes a shade darker, deeper than you remembered them being.

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden shift in his mood. “Oh, nothing, just a ridiculous selfie from my friend,” you said, still chuckling to yourself. “He’s with a duck.”

“He?” His voice held a dry amusement, but there was an edge to it that made you uncomfortable.

You could feel the subtle tension thickening in the air, like the weight of a storm about to break. Yoongi's question hung between you like a spark in dry tinder. You shrugged, pretending to be casual, though the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. "Yes, he. My friend Taehyung," you said, not looking up from your phone.

But you could feel Yoongi’s eyes boring into you, every syllable of his next words like a tightening coil. “Taehyung,” he repeated, his voice cold and deliberate, as though testing the name on his tongue. His grip on his glass had tightened to the point where his knuckles were white, but it didn’t stop the slow, calculated sip he took, his gaze never leaving you.

The way he said his name made it seemed like your friendship with him was a mistake, a simple blunder on your end that shouldn’t have happened. It did feel like you stepped on a live mine, and you wondered why you were feeling like this when from what you knew about his character in the manhwa, Yoongi was a pure person. However, right now he felt like a dangerous one.

What were you supposed to do?

“You’re thirty now,” you said instead, steering the conversation away from an unfamiliar territory as you placed the phone facedown. The two of you were having brunch in a famous restaurant and you were thoroughly enjoying the croissant moments before the conversation turned sour.

He regarded you for a moment, fully aware of how you this was your sad attempt at changing the subject until he decided to put you out of misery. He nodded, waiting for you to make your point.

“You’re not getting any younger-”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “What’s the point of this conversation, princess? You’re starting to sound like my grandma." He paused, as if savoring the thought. "By the way, she keeps asking for you. Says, and I quote, ‘her favorite grandchild never comes to visit anymore.’ Not even a phone call. Meanwhile, I’m still here, the actual grandchild, and I get nothing."

His glare was sharp, but there was no real venom behind it—just the familiar teasing edge that made you both roll your eyes and laugh, despite yourself.

“W-well! I’m just concerned that you won’t have a wife and any children of your own and that you’d grow old alone! I’m just a friend expressing concern over her best and oldest friend…” you rationalized. Fine, you were having fun teasing him while nudging him in the right direction. Yoongi was fun to mess with, you thought, if he was being himself and not the confusing and quite off-putting mood he was in a while ago.

You thought that he would react the way you anticipated him to, that he would get defensive and after which, hopefully, that he’d go back to their love story.

He did none of those things.

Instead, Yoongi leaned in, his manly scent permeating. He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, all while looking at you. “Why are you saying that I’ll be alone when I have you?”

You blinked, trying to process what Yoongi had just said. His voice, low and warm, carried a weight that wasn’t there a moment ago. You wanted to laugh, to brush it off like the teasing banter you two always shared, but the way his dark eyes held yours made it impossible. “I have you for always, right, princess? You’re not going to leave me for someone…beneath us, right?”

What?

His words seemed like he was pointing to another thing, like what he was asking you was a promise to be set in stone and not a mere assurance on his part. What was the real second female lead to say in situation like this?

“O-of course! We’re best friends! N-now let’s get out of here. I saw this beautiful necklace in that shop. It’s going to look beautiful on her. Maybe if you buy her that, then she’d forgive you for spending your birthday away from her,” you joked to deflect him, standing up and gathering your purse to escape the situation you found yourself in before he could even blink.

Think, Y/N. Think.

You gripped the stem of your wine glass, staring blankly at the flickering candle in the center of the table. The plot was veering off course, drifting further from the original narrative you knew by heart. Yoongi wasn’t supposed to be here with you, his steady presence upending the delicate balance of the story.

The main lead wasn’t supposed to stay by your side like this

Across the room, Yoongi was speaking with one of his father’s acquaintances, his posture relaxed but exuding the quiet authority that came so naturally to him. It gave you a few precious moments to breathe—and to think.

Ever since Paris, Yoongi almost never let you out of his sight. He would spend every free time of his with you. You couldn’t even refuse because he would get so suspicious. His best friend never said no to him, he knew that. Your previous actions of distancing yourself from him resulted in him latching on to you. What could you do to push him in the right direction which was to be with her?

What was the next canon event?

And then it hit you.

The company gala. The turning point. That was when he would bring her, the female lead, into the lion’s den. His family’s icy disapproval, their sharp-edged words of disdain, and their outright rejection of his choice would culminate in a dramatic declaration. Yoongi would stand by her side, rebel against his family, and announce that she was the one he wanted to marry.

It was a pivotal scene. A non-negotiable in the grand arc of his story.

You exhaled shakily. If you could just steer him toward that event, everything will fall back into place. You just needed to figure out when it was happening now that the timeline was unraveling in ways you couldn’t predict.

You just had another problem, though. The man that was now walking back to you was acting like someone who had his heart set on another, so unlike the Min Yoongi from the manhwa who only had eyes for her. His attention was unwavering, but it should not have been pointed to you but to her. The way his gaze softened whenever he looked at you, his refusal to leave your side—it was all wrong. None of it fit.

“Sorry about that,” Yoongi’s voice broke through your thoughts as he returned to the table. He slid back into his seat, his sharp eyes scanning your face. “You okay? You look… distracted.”

You forced a smile, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”

“About what?” He tilted his head, genuinely curious, and the warmth in his gaze made your stomach twist. He did hope that your attention was not being diverted by someone he didn’t even want to mention. He couldn’t even understand why the thought of you with someone else didn’t sit right with him. He couldn’t understand why he had this urge to remove the pest away from you.

“Doesn’t you company have an annual gala? I was thinking of what to wear. When is it again?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink to hide your nerves.

He was looking at you as though deep in thought, as though you were forgetting something. He tilted his head to the side, “You know it’s always in December. You always choose your dress a year in advance, princess,” Yoongi said, his voice laced with mild curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied you. “Why? You’ve never been one to care much about those kinds of things before.”

Your breath caught at his words. You always choose your dress a year in advance, princess. The familiarity, the ease with which he said it, threw you off. That line—it didn’t belong here. Not in this timeline. Not in this version of the story where your role was supposed to be temporary, a placeholder in the grand narrative between him and her.

“Right,” you said, forcing a light laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Guess I forgot for a moment. Been busy, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t buy it. His gaze sharpened, a hint of amusement mingled with curiosity. “You? Forget? That’s not like you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes piercing. “What’s really going on?”

The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist again. Stay calm. Don’t let him see.

“Nothing’s going on,” you said, a touch too quickly. You took another sip of your drink, using the motion to avoid his eyes.

“Anyway, December’s coming up fast, and I’m guessing you’re planning to bring her, right?” You kept your tone light, as if the question didn’t weigh heavily on your chest.

Yoongi’s expression shifted, the smirk fading as his brows furrowed slightly. “Her?”

You swallowed hard. “You know… the one you’ve been calling and texting all the time.” You gestured vaguely, hoping to seem indifferent. “The woman you’ve been—well, I thought you were planning to introduce her to your family at the gala.”

Yoongi smiled again, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s see, princess.”

“Admit that you had fun,” Taehyung teased you as he drove you home.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept across your lips. Against all odds, you’d genuinely enjoyed yourself. You did have fun. You always thought that movie dates were boring and full of cliché, but not with him. With Taehyung, everything felt effortless—light and uncomplicated, like breathing.

“Fine,” you conceded with mock reluctance, your tone carrying the weight of faux irritation. “It was a fun…”

“Date,” he finished smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement as your voice trailed off.

Your cheeks burned at his audacity, the straightforwardness of the word stealing your ability to respond for a moment. A "date"? Could you even call it that? The way your heart fluttered betrayed any argument you might have tried to form.

You glanced away, fidgeting with the strap of your bag as thoughts tangled in your mind. Was it okay to feel this way? To bask in fleeting moments of happiness when the life you were living wasn’t truly yours? When you were still determined to set things right, to restore the balance of a narrative that had gone astray?

So caught up in your musings, you barely noticed the car slowing to a stop in the estate’s driveway. The towering grand doors loomed ahead, a stark reminder of the world you’d return to the moment you stepped out.

“Thank you,” Taehyung’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was quiet, genuine, and when you turned to look at him, his face was softer than you’d ever seen it.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For being here,” he replied simply, his gaze holding yours.

The weight of his sincerity pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The world seemed to slow as his hand moved to cup your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart stutter.

Your breaths mingled, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips hovered so close to yours it was almost unbearable. You could feel the moment hanging on a fragile thread, teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

The room’s golden hues seemed to dim as the sound of the car horn echoed through the driveway, shattering the fragile intimacy between you and Taehyung. You jolted back, your heart pounding in your chest as if caught in an act of betrayal—though you hadn’t technically done anything wrong. Yet.

Taehyung sighed, his expression softening as he glanced toward the car behind him. “Looks like your knight in shining armor doesn’t know how to wait,” he said lightly, though there was a hint of tension in his voice.

You managed a shaky laugh, your hand gripping the strap of your bag tightly. “He’s just… overprotective.”

“Right,” Taehyung said, leaning back in his seat. His eyes met yours, warm and understanding, but with a flicker of something else—something that made your chest tighten. “Still, I meant what I said. Thanks for tonight.”

Before you could respond, the honk came again, sharper this time, as if Yoongi were making a point. You turned to glance at his car, the sleek black exterior glinting under the estate’s lights. Even from this distance, you could feel his piercing gaze locked on you.

“Goodnight, Taehyung,” you said hurriedly, fumbling with the door handle.

Taehyung smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped out of the car and started toward the grand door, the cold evening air biting at your skin. Yoongi’s car door slammed shut behind you, and the sound of his footsteps was a quiet storm approaching. You didn’t dare look back, your heart a riot of guilt, frustration, and confusion.

“Princess,” Yoongi’s voice cut through the quiet, smooth and controlled, but laced with an edge you couldn’t ignore.

You stopped in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He was already close, his dark eyes scanning your face like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His suit was immaculate, as always, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his posture—shoulders just a little too stiff, jaw a little too tight.

“You’re back late,” he said, his tone deceptively casual.

“I went to see a movie with Taehyung,” you replied, keeping your voice neutral.

At the mention of Taehyung, Yoongi’s gaze flicked past you to the car that was now idling at the end of the driveway. You followed his line of sight and felt a pang of unease as his expression shifted. His brows raised slightly as he studied Taehyung through the window, his head tilting just enough to convey an air of quiet disdain.

And then he smirked—a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the Yoongi you were used to seeing. In that moment, he was something else entirely: sharp, commanding, almost cruel. The kind of presence that demanded submission without a word.

“What did you say his last name was, princess?” he asked, still watching Taehyung with that same unsettling smirk. His tone was light, but there was something in it—something dark—that made your heart beat faster.

“Kim?” you replied thoughtlessly, your mind too preoccupied with wanting to escape the tension. “Why did you ask?”

Finally, he turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening just enough to make the moment feel surreal. The shift was so subtle, so practiced, that it left you second-guessing the sharpness you’d just seen. He reached out, his arm sliding around your shoulders with an ease that felt both natural and calculated.

“No reason, princess,” he said smoothly, steering you toward the grand doors of the estate. “Just… curious.”

The warmth of his arm contrasted sharply with the coldness that lingered in the air. It was disarming, the way he could shift so easily between roles—between the man you knew and the one you weren’t sure you ever wanted to meet again.

As he guided you inside, you cast one last glance over your shoulder. Taehyung’s car hadn’t moved, the figure inside still watching. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined the tension mirrored your own.

When the doors shut behind you, the weight of Yoongi’s presence beside you grew heavier. His hand rested lightly against your shoulder, his touch far gentler than the unease simmering just beneath the surface.

"Don’t you have better things to do than come to my dress fitting? Like, I don’t know, actually run your empire or something?" you asked, stepping out of the fitting room with a huff.

Yoongi sat sprawled on the plush sofa, one arm draped lazily along the backrest, a glass of champagne balanced effortlessly in his other hand. He looked utterly at ease, as if this boutique was his second home and not a place he had followed you to.

He shrugged, “Well, we can’t have you running away from me again, can we?”

“For the last time, I didn’t run away! I was in Paris because croissant sounded nice that day-”

“Sure, princess,” he agreed condescendingly. Yoongi’s gaze swept over you, lingering a moment longer than you expected. “On the other hand, you look immaculate in that dress,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You’re going to make the rest of the gala feel underdressed.”

Heat crept up your neck at his words, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, Yoongi. Save it for the boardroom or—better yet—for her.”

He raised an eyebrow, swirling the champagne in his glass as if you hadn’t just tried to divert the conversation. “Her?” he echoed, tilting his head with mock curiosity.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. “Yes, her. The one you met in the previous ball? The waitress? The one you’ll be introducing to your family at the gala, remember? Does she ring a bell?”

“We’re still talking about that?” Yoongi asked, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned back into the plush sofa. The glass of champagne in his hand tilted slightly, catching the light as he swirled the golden liquid. “Why are you so invested in my relationship with her?”

“I’m just concerned and curious as a friend.”

He chuckled softly, setting his glass down on the table beside him. “Curious, huh? And here I thought you were just jealous.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Jealous?”

Yoongi leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving yours. “You keep bringing her up. You’re obsessed with the idea of me introducing her to my family, of me texting her. You sure this isn’t just about you not wanting to share me?”

Your face burned, and you turned away, pretending to adjust the dress in the mirror. “You’re ridiculous and I refuse to discuss this further,” you muttered. “I’m going to buy this!” You announced before stalking back to the fitting room to avoid wondering about why your heart was skipping a beat and why you shouldn’t venture into that.

You were huffing as you tried to reach for the zipper behind you when the curtain suddenly opened and Yoongi stepped in, making the room felt impossibly small. You instinctively turned your back to him, clutching at the unzipped dress as though a protection against whatever this was.

“What are you doing here?!”

Yoongi leaned casually against the side of the fitting room, his smirk firmly in place. “Helping you, obviously,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t need your help!” you snapped, tugging at the zipper yourself but struggling to reach it.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said smoothly, taking a step closer. His fingers brushed against yours as he gently moved your hand away. “Relax, princess. I’ll take care of it.”

You froze, your heart pounding as his hands moved to the zipper. His touch was surprisingly delicate, his fingers grazing your back as he carefully pulled the zipper up. The sound of the zipper seemed deafening in the silence.

“There,” he said softly, his voice low and close to your ear. “All done.”

You were about to turn around when he stopped you. You met his dark eyes through the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze held you captive. His hands lingered lightly on your shoulders, warm against the smooth fabric of the dress. There was something unreadable in his expression—a mix of curiosity, amusement, and something far deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re very beautiful, princess. Do you know that?” he whispered, resting his chin on your delicate shoulder.

“Yoongi, what are you doing?”

He was quiet for a moment as though in contemplation whether to say what he wanted to say. Like in the manhwa, Yoongi was calculating. He never did anything without a reason, one of which would benefit him. “I had a nightmare the night after the ball,” he finally confessed, his voice low and almost distant, as if recalling something that lingered in his mind. “We were on the yacht. I think it was a party. You were there… She was there. I was there. And the yacht… it slammed into a rock. The two of you were thrown off.”

If he felt your body went rigid, he didn’t mention. He never broke eye contact, his arms around your waist as he told you of his dream. The one exactly what happened in the manhwa– the one where the main lead chose to save the main female lead first, only to find out the it was already late for the second female lead.

His body was so close that you could feel the slight tremble in his arms as he spoke, his fingers grazing your waist with the same careful intensity.

You met his gaze in the mirror again, and something twisted in your stomach. There was an almost predatory look in his eyes, but there was something else too—something far more vulnerable, raw. He didn’t break eye contact, and his grip on you tightened just slightly, as though he wanted to hold on, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

“In my dream,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “I saw you die because I saved her first. It felt so real, like I was remembering something that already happened.” He paused, and you felt the weight of his words sink in. “Why would I save her first when I know I can’t lose you?”

 “It’s just a dream…” you tried to console him. How could he remember something that happened in the ending? Was the barrier between the characters and the plot weakening? What was changing? And how could you go back to your own world when he was holding onto you so tight as though if he looked away, you’d disappear?

“It is, right? It’s not going to happen... I’ll make sure of it.”

December came.

It was the month you were both dreading and anticipating. You were almost at the end of the story, and so far, you did your absolute best to let their love story unfold without a second female lead antagonizing it. You did your part by staying away from them. One problem though, the male lead was not acting like he was written in the manhwa. He was not acting like a man in love should be to her. Instead, he was out there sticking to you like

It was safe to say that Min Yoongi went rouge.

You did not know what to expect in the annual gala. You no longer have the upper hand. You were in the blind as though you were a real character and no longer a reader. You feared that the longer you stayed in this fictional world, the more likely that you’d be incorporated in the story and no longer as a second female lead that could just easily disappear.

You needed answers on how to escape from this fictional world. Answers eluded you. Worse still, so did the only person who seemed to see you for who you were. Taehyung. Since that night, not once did Taehyung answer you calls nor respond to your numerous messages. You tried asking your trusted staff about him, but even they were mummed. It was only your closest maid who whispered to you what transpired and how Taehyung’s budding business empire had crumbled overnight, crushed under the weight of lawsuits—tax evasion, fraud, and other accusations you couldn’t fathom. The news left you hollow. You hadn’t seen this coming. The man who had been your one source of normalcy, the one who made you feel like a real person instead of a pawn in someone else’s story, had disappeared into the shadows of scandal. You thought to yourself that maybe you really didn’t know him at all and that it was best to just focus on how to once and for all, leave this universe.

But who could you ask?

You continued anxiously tapping your heels on the marbled flooring, observing the guests. You were in the corner, trying to hide in the shadows so you could freely look for her. He would be bringing her, right?

Where is she?

Your eyes scanned the room again, trying to keep your presence hidden in the shadows. The guests were mingling, lost in the glitter of conversation and champagne. Laughter bubbled up in the air, but none of it felt real. Not like it should have. None of this was real, in fact. This was a fictional world where you were stuck in.

You wondered what would happen if you stopped playing her role. But before you could dwell on that thought, the door opened again, and you stiffened. You were expecting to see the main female lead, yet instead, it was Yoongi. The man of the hour. He entered the room and all the guests he passed greeted and congratulated him for setting another record in his empire, yet his eyes always returned to you. Where was she? This was not supposed to be like this. Yet, you knew in the back of your mind that something integral changed. You were in denial about how you no longer had control over this, that you might as well be truly in the story now, no longer an observer, no longer able to hide behind the pages of the manhwa.

You stepped back involuntarily, no longer feeling the courage you had faked for so long. You lost control. You had to find a way out. However, when you slipped away and turned the corner, you bumped into an old, yet dignified woman. You bowed in apologies when it dawned upon you.

You have seen her before.

Slowly, your eyes lifted to hers. You knew her. She was the woman who gave you the manhwa… How was she in this world?!

Your mouth hanged agape as the corner of her lips lifted, her eyes crinkling when she saw the dawn of recognition on her face. “I told you reading it will change your mind.”

“It’s you,” you whispered, taking an unsteady step back. Your eyes darted over her, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t belong in this world. “H-how… How are you here? What’s going on? Y-you have to help me. Why am I here? How can I leave?!”

She studied you for a moment, her gaze steady, unreadable. “You’re here because someone wants you here, dear.”

“I don’t want to be here! I want to go back.”

Her head tilted slightly, her calm demeanor unwavering. “But why? What do you have in your old life that you so desperately want to return to? Aren’t you alone there? Didn’t you have no one to love you?”

“That’s not the point!” you shot back, a tremor running through your voice. “And it’s not different here. No one loves me—no one even knows the real me.”

Her smile deepened, a glint of something—mischief, perhaps?—in her eyes. “Ah, but who do you think was desperate enough, filled with enough sorrow, to pull you into this universe?”

Your breath caught, confusion clouding your mind. “I… I don’t understand.”

“When she died,” the woman began, her voice lowering, as if unveiling a truth long buried, “the manhwa ended. But did you think the characters would simply cease to exist? No, dear. They continued, burdened by the pain of their story. Yoongi was devastated. He regretted everything—every word, every choice, every moment that led to her death. He mourned her. His sorrow was so great, it transcended the story’s limits and reached you.”

Your head spun. “Me?” you repeated weakly, disbelief dripping from your voice.

“Dear, you are her. Just in a different universe. It’s the reason why you sided with her, why you felt for her, why her character called on you, why her pain felt like your own. You are her.”

“I don’t want to be her,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose this. Please—just send me back to my own universe.”

The woman sighed, her expression softening, though her eyes retained their strange, knowing glimmer. “The only way out,” she said slowly, “is through. The manhwa will only release you when its story ends. And you know how it ends, don’t you?”

A cold realization began to settle in your chest. “When he marries the female lead,” you murmured, dread weaving through every syllable. Your words hung in the air, heavy and final.

The sharp sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, breaking your trance. You barely had time to gather your thoughts before a familiar voice cut through the suffocating stillness.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s low, commanding tone sent a jolt through you, but it was his grip—firm but not harsh—as his hand closed around your arm that made your breath hitch.

You turned to face him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. They were intense, holding a darkness that made your stomach churn. Something simmered beneath his composed exterior, something unsettling.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, your voice unsteady.

His lips quirked into a small, unreadable smile. “I just arrived, princess,” he said, the pet name rolling off his tongue like silk. “What are you doing here? Alone?”

“I…” You hesitated, your mind racing for an excuse. “I was just talking to—”

When you turned back, the old woman was gone.

Your heart sank, panic surging through you. The corridor where she had stood moments ago was now empty, as though she had vanished into thin air.

Yoongi frowned, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. “Talking to who?” he pressed, his voice dropping.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but the weight of it was crushing. “No one,” you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “She must’ve left before you got here.”

Yoongi looked down at you, his expression calm, his gaze steady. Yet, something about the way he held himself—the deliberate gentleness, the faint curve of his lips—made unease coil tightly in your chest. A part of you whispered that this tenderness was a mask, that he wasn’t as naïve or benign as he seemed.

But then he smiled.

It was a tender smile, soft around the edges, and for a fleeting moment, your doubts dissolved like mist under the morning sun.

“Let’s get back to the party, princess,” he said, his voice a soothing balm against the tension humming in your veins. “Your parents arrived.”

Your steps faltered. “My parents?”

The mention of them sent a jolt through you. They were a peripheral presence in the story, barely more than a footnote in the manhwa’s narrative. They were always overseas, managing their company, distant figures who left their daughter to fend for herself. Their absence was a plot device, a catalyst for your dependence on Yoongi.

But now, they were here.

“W-why are they here?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your effort to steady it.

Yoongi stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His expression didn’t change, but there was something unsettling in the way his eyes softened, like he was trying to calm a skittish animal. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone quiet yet resolute.

The words only made your pulse quicken. He offered his arm to you, his demeanor so effortless, so composed, as though he hadn’t just upended everything you thought you knew about the storyline. “Shall we?”

Were you imagining things, or were the guests’ gazes lingering just a little too long as you and Yoongi re-entered the ballroom? Conversations paused, eyes flickering in your direction, a murmur of whispers spreading like ripples across the sea of elegantly dressed attendees.

Yoongi, as always, was composed. His hand rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with an ease that belied the tension curling in your chest. You tried to focus on the glittering chandeliers, the music, the familiar opulence of the space, but the weight of the stares made it impossible.

“There’s our little girl!”

The warm, dignified voice cut through the hum of the crowd, pulling your attention to its source. Your mother stood near the edge of the room, resplendent in a gown that rivaled the grandeur of the occasion. Her face lit up with delight as she strode toward you, arms outstretched.

“Y-you’re here…” you stammered, shock rendering you momentarily immobile as she pulled you into an embrace. Her movements were graceful yet firm, as though she’d been waiting for this moment.

“Of course, we’re here,” she said, stepping back to study your face, her smile warm but tinged with something calculating. “Why wouldn’t we be? It’s not every day that our dear daughter gets engaged.”

Your heart raced, panic rising as you tried to process what was happening. “I… I don’t understand,” you managed, your voice trembling as you looked between your parents and Yoongi.

Yoongi stepped closer, the warmth of his hand on your back turning into a subtle yet firm pressure. His voice dropped to a low murmur, meant only for your ears, as his sharp eyes held yours in an unrelenting gaze.

“It’s all been arranged, princess,” he said softly, his words almost tender but laced with steel. “Your parents and mine have been discussing this for some time. They thought tonight was the perfect opportunity to make it official.”

Your heart pounded in protest, the world around you narrowing to just him and the enormity of what he was saying. “I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “This is wrong! You don’t want this, Yoongi. You have her. And I—”

“You what?” he interrupted sharply, his eyes narrowing. “You have Taehyung?”

“No!” you snapped, shaking your head. “This isn’t about him. This is about them deciding for us. This is about tying your life to mine when you don’t even want to!”

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning but without any real humor. “Who says I don’t want to?”

“Yoongi—”

“Look, princess,” he cut you off, his voice soft but commanding. “We just have to act like we’re going along with this. Just pretend. Can you do that for me?”

Your breath caught, and you searched his face for some hint of his true feelings. But all you found was a calm determination that left you more uncertain than ever.

The murmur of the crowd reached you, the polite applause growing louder as you turned toward the center of the room. Yoongi extended his hand, his posture exuding confidence and charm as he guided you toward the raised platform where your parents and his waited.

The spotlight followed the two of you as you ascended albeit reluctantly, every step feeling heavier than the last. The room seemed to hush, the weight of their expectations bearing down on you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Yoongi began smoothly, raising his glass in a toast. His voice carried easily, commanding the attention of the entire ballroom. “Tonight is a special night, not just for our families, but for me. I’m honored to announce my engagement to this incredible woman beside me, my childhood best friend, the only woman who have never left my side. I cannot live without her, and soon, I’ll never have to.”

The applause erupted, deafening and overwhelming. You felt trapped, the walls closing in as Yoongi turned to you, his smile perfectly composed for the crowd.

“Shall we make it convincing, princess?” Yoongi murmured, his voice low and unreadable, carrying a weight you couldn’t quite place. 

Before you could respond, he cupped your face with a gentleness that felt at odds with the deliberate precision in his movements. His touch was warm, grounding, yet it sent a jolt through you—a mix of dread and something far more dangerous. 

Your breath hitched. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Min Yoongi—the composed, untouchable Min Yoongi—would lower his head to capture your lips. Even more unthinkable was the way his kiss shattered every expectation, unraveling something deep within you. 

Yoongi kissed like a man starved. His lips moved against yours with a consuming intensity, a hunger that left no room for hesitation. It wasn’t gentle or tentative; it was deliberate, almost punishing. He took and took, claiming you with every movement of his mouth. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing and demanding at the same time, leaving you breathless. 

His free hand cradled your face, tilting it to him as if to ensure you couldn’t escape—not that your body seemed capable of responding. Your knees felt weak, your heart thundered in your chest, and the noise of the crowd faded into an inconsequential blur. 

For a moment, there was only him. 

The crowd erupted into applause, the sound jolting you back to reality. The cheers and whistles surrounded you, the noise pressing in like a tidal wave. You blinked, realizing that your hands had gripped the fabric of his jacket, as though anchoring yourself to him. 

Yoongi pulled back slowly, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were dark, burning with something you couldn’t decipher. His lips curled into a faint, triumphant smile, as if he knew exactly what effect he’d had on you. 

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he took your hand in his. The velvet box you hadn’t even noticed being opened now sat empty in his other hand. And then, before you could process what was happening, there it was—a massive diamond glinting on your finger, its size almost blinding under the ballroom lights. It was familiar. How could it not when it was the same ring he won in the auction?

Why did he have this now? When was this entire fiasco prepared?

Your chest tightened as you stared at the ring, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should have. 

Yoongi raised your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours. To the crowd, it was the perfect picture of a devoted fiancé. But to you, it was something far more unnerving. 

“You wear it well,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. 

The applause swelled around you again, the sound nearly deafening as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. 

This wasn’t part of the story. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

But Yoongi, ever the master of control, seemed to have rewritten the script entirely. And you were left standing in the middle of his narrative, unable to tell where the performance ended and the truth began.

The evening air outside was cool and calm, a sharp contrast to the warmth and chatter of the grand party you had just left behind. As the crowd dwindled and the night settled, Yoongi offered you his arm, escorting you toward his sleek black car. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, and his dark eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual.

The night seemed to be endless. You were never left alone even for a moment. You wanted nothing more than to lie down and plan your next step. You had to, or else you were stuck here.

“I’m sorry I missed your speech,” you said as the car pulled away from the glowing mansion. “I’m sure it was great.”

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s fine. You’ll always be here to hear my next speech anyway.”

You returned his smile, but it was brittle, not quite reaching your eyes. Had your plan succeeded, this would be one of your last moments with him. You’d return to your world, leaving this Yoongi—and this universe—behind. The thought tightened something in your chest, but you pushed it aside.

“I’m sorry about the sudden engagement, princess.” His voice was soft, laced with what sounded like regret, but his eyes told a different story. “My hands were tied. Our families went behind our backs, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Lies. All of it.

What you didn’t know was that Yoongi had orchestrated everything. He had whispered into the right ears, pulled strings behind the scenes, and crafted a perfect storm to ensure this engagement would bind you to him. He didn’t care what the truth was, whether or not you were from this world. He cared about one thing only—keeping you by his side.

Something in him had shifted the moment he realized how easily you could slip away. The very idea of losing you—to this world, to Taehyung, to anything—was unbearable. It drove him to actions he never thought himself capable of, cruel and unapologetic. Taehyung was out of the picture now, his budding empire crushed under the weight of scandal. Yoongi had ensured that, and he felt no remorse.

What mattered was you.

You offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes because if what you were planning was successful, you’d return to your own world and he’d be left in this universe. Yoongi quietly offered you a champagne as the driver smoothly drove back to the mansion.

“Are we celebrating something?” you asked, eyeing the sparkling liquid.

“Just…for always, princess,” he said softly, the words carrying an undertone you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, but took the glass, sipping the sparkling liquid. The conversation flowed effortlessly, a dance of shared humor, mutual interests, and a surprising depth of understanding. With each exchange, you were reminded of why you had felt drawn to Yoongi in the first place. For all his intensity and mystery, he was undeniably charming, and being with him felt easy in a way you hadn’t expected.

The spirit of alcohol definitely made you forget about the ruckus that happened tonight. If he said that he didn’t have anything to do with it, who were you to question him when he was characterized in the manhwa as someone who was good?

Your conversation with him was fun. It was grounding.

Until the world began to tilt.

Dizziness crept over you, subtle at first but quickly overpowering. Your fingers loosened around the champagne flute as your head grew heavier, and before you knew it, your cheek was pressed against his shoulder.

“Yoongi…” you murmured, your voice weak as you leaned against him.

He steadied you, his hand moving to cradle your head as you slumped against his shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of finality.You tried to sit up, to stay awake, but your body refused to cooperate. Everything blurred together, and then, there was nothing.

Yoongi’s hand moved to steady you, his touch gentle as he adjusted your position so you rested more comfortably against him. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable, before shifting his gaze toward the driver.

“To the airport,” he instructed, his voice calm but firm.

The driver nodded without hesitation, changing course.

Yoongi turned his attention back to you, his jaw tightening as he studied your sleeping face. He’d heard everything earlier—the old woman’s cryptic words, your desperate plea to leave, and your determination to escape this world.

It all made sense. The nightmare that brought terrors in his heart really happened. You died because of his foolishness, because he chose someone else over you when he knew he couldn’t survive a world without you. It had been like living his worst nightmare all over again, the fear of losing someone he wasn’t ready to let go. But this time, he refused to let it happen.

He wasn’t a religious man, but your presence in this universe felt like a miracle—a second chance, no matter how strange or impossible. Whether you were the original her or not didn’t matter. You were here. You were his.

And he wouldn’t let you leave.

His gaze darkened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” he murmured softly, more to himself than to you.

The first female lead was no longer his focus. She was gone.

Now, it was you.

And Yoongi would do whatever it took to keep you by his side—even if it meant tying you to him so tightly you could never untangle the threads.

They say marriage dulls love eventually. That over time, it settles into something quieter... less magic, more habit. Maybe that’s just how it goes. Maybe that’s what people mean when they call it normal. You see fewer families that are still whole. You meet more children who learned how to cope with absence before they ever learned how to tie their shoes.

You're lucky, they say, if your husband still comes home at night. Not even with flowers or apologies just... home. That’s what your mother always told you. Maybe because it was easier to say that than admit she was waiting for a man who rarely looked her in the eyes. Maybe she believed it, after enough nights of watching your father’s gaze follow women who weren’t her.

And as you got older, resentment took root. Maybe it wasn’t just men you started to hate. Maybe it was love itself or the idea of it. The way it demanded pieces of you and called it devotion. The way it asked you to wait, to bend, to stay small. You built walls. You spoke in sharp edges. You told yourself you were safer alone than ever being seen and still not chosen. You wanted nothing of it; none of that soft, foolish ache your mother carried in her eyes when she thought no one was looking.

No one really tells you that even the strongest walls don’t always hold. That storms, no matter how loud, eventually... settle. And that the sky doesn’t bloom with colour until the rain has had its say. You didn’t see it coming. How everything you once said you’d never need, never want, could begin to change. Almost without asking permission.

All because of one person.

You still remember the day you met your husband.

“Hey.”

You froze at the sound of Kai’s voice, jaw tightening as you continued folding flannels at the booth with your back still to him. Cold. Distant. And he knew exactly why.

He sighed, because yeah, he fucked up. And now you were icing him out, and rightfully so. He, along with Taehyun, had worked painstakingly to earn a place on your side. Now here he was, ruining it in one careless moment. “Y/N, I’m sorry, okay? I thought you already knew that — ”

“That what?” Your voice cut clean through the air, sharp. You finally turned to face him, and for a second, he almost wished you hadn’t. Your eyes weren’t tearful or hurt, they were hard. Disappointed.

You weren’t just anyone, you were the spine of this whole group. The one no one dared cross. The one everyone looked to when things got messy. Queen of the batch, they called you. And right now? He knew exactly how small he was beneath your gaze. Kai cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands, his guilt too loud in the silence between you. He glanced at Taehyun, desperate for backup, but Taehyun didn’t even look up. He kept shuffling papers like his life depended on it, like the tension in the room hadn’t tripled.

He wasn’t getting saved.

Not this time. “Uh—”

“I told you to study for it, Huening Kai. Am I right?” The full name. Shit. Even he knows that’s when it’s bad. “So we could present together. And now you’re standing here telling me you didn’t even look at your assigned parts?”

“I forgot, okay?” he stammers, eyes wide and guilty. “There was band practice, and then—there was—”

“Stop. Talking.”

He snaps his mouth shut instantly, lips pressed together in a dramatic pout. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles, like a kicked puppy trying to look cute.

You sigh, deep and tired. Not just at him but at yourself, for expecting better. For thinking this time he’d actually take it seriously. Your fingers press to your temples as you close your eyes briefly, grounding yourself before you say something worse. He’s looking at you like he’s one bad breath away from a full apology or running.

A year ago, you would’ve let the anger win. You would’ve said something that bite, just to feel like you still had control, but you now don't. Because now… now you’re learning to make space for the boy standing in front of you.

“Kai…” you start, softer now, “I didn’t ask for perfect. I just asked for effort. Fine, I'll do it.”

Kai’s about to open his mouth, probably to try another sorry excuse — when a loud laugh echoes across the auditorium, careless. You glance up instinctively. There they are; two seniors strolling in like the place was built for them. The taller one with deep dimples flashes a grin, saying something that makes the other throw his head back in a laugh that fills the space. He’s all hair and arrogance, long strands brushing the tops of his shoulders. Your eyes narrow, tracking him across the room.

Do they even realize this is an important event? Do they care? You roll your eyes, jaw clenched as irritation flares anew, like a match struck just a little too fast. Beside you, Kai quietly mutters another apology, but your attention has already shifted, redirected like a storm changing direction. You hate it, how easily they command the room. How everyone watches them. How they know they’re being watched. Just because they’re seniors.

Entitlement looks good on them, and that pisses you off even more.

“I hate that guy,” you mutter.

Taehyun follows your gaze. “Be specific,” he says, monotone. “There are two.”

“The loud one,” you snap. “One with the hair.”

Taehyun hums, unbothered. He knew why. “Of course.”

Kai leans in. “Be honest… is it hate, or is it hate-hate?”

You shoot him a glare so sharp he visibly leans back. “Okay. Hate it is,” he nods quickly.

Even as you turn away, your eyes flick once more to the boy with the laugh that somehow still echoes in your head.

You hate him.

You do.

The day moved in a blur. Fast at first, then agonizingly slow as your turn crept closer.

Most teams had two, sometimes three people standing up there together. You had no one. Alone behind the podium, trying to hold yourself upright on nothing but adrenaline and a little bit of pride. Still, you managed. You held your own. Answered every question crisply, clearly, almost like you’d rehearsed in your sleep. Everything was going fine. One of the panelists shifted in their seat, glanced down at their notes, then asked, “What do you think is the most important thing we should do for prospectives?”

It wasn’t a technical question. It wasn’t numbers or science or theory. It wasn’t anything you could calculate or memorize or recite.

You froze. Not because you didn’t care, but because that part of the project, that question was Kai’s. You stood there, blinking once, then twice. You could calculate a compound’s atomic behavior in a heartbeat, you could solve a formula blindfolded, but this? This felt like a punch to the gut in front of everyone. You focused on facts, ratio and numbers too much. It was so simple, so human, and you're giving silence.

You could feel it. eyes narrowing. Confusion settling. Their expectations hanging in the air like lead. Aren't you supposed to be the smart one? Is this all you are? Talk? No follow-through? You’re about to clear your throat, to say something, anything, to fill the itch clawing at your throat, when movement catches your eye.

In the very back, nearly hidden by rows of students, a hand lifts into the air. Not high. Not obvious. Almost like it wasn’t meant to be seen. No one else notices, except the boy next to him, who nudges him, brows raised. Your eyes stay locked on him.

Choi Beomgyu.

He doesn't speak, doesn't call out. He just forms a shape with his hands. Subtle, a quiet symbol drawn into the space between you.

A heart.

It feels louder than anything else in the room.

You look away. Swallow the lump rising in your throat. And when you turn back to the panelist, your voice finds itself. “Heart,” you say, “The most important thing is to reach the heart of your audience. Because if you don’t connect, nothing else will matter.”

A breath slips from your lungs the moment you catch the flicker of approval on the professor’s face.

Everything ended, hours pass and around you, the noise returns. Chairs scrape. Bags zip. Voices rise again like nothing happened. Kai and Taehyun are already across the table, heads down as they quietly gather the presentation materials.

You feel Kai’s eyes flick toward you, but not at you. Past you.

You turn. Choi Beomgyu stands just a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you like he isn’t sure if you’ll stay or walk right past him.

You sigh, tugging your bag higher on your shoulder. “Alright,” you mutter, “It’s due, isn’t it? What do you want?”

Beomgyu blinks, caught off guard. His voice is quieter than you expect, almost like he wasn’t planning to speak at all. “…A thank you?”

“Thank you,” you mutter, barely meeting his eyes. Out of the corner of your vision, you catch Taehyun dragging a starry-eyed Kai away, literally pulling him by the elbow. A few students glance your way too, some whispering. You know why.

The two students, each known as the best in their own batch, now suddenly in the same frame.

“I know that’s probably not enough,” you sigh, folding your arms. “Men never really settle for just words, do they? What is it, food? A favor? Something for your class? Say it.”

He laughs softly. “I just think…” he starts, then trails off, scratching the back of his neck. “I just think you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. Maybe that’s why I did it.”

You blink. Of all the things you expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. He’s flushed now, stammering through the rest. “I, I mean — I’ve watched you since before. Not in a creepy way, I swear. But just… fuck, you could sell poison and I’d still line up for it.”

A laugh breaks from your chest before you can stop it. He grins, almost in disbelief, like he can’t believe he got you to laugh.

What you didn’t know back then, what no one could’ve told you, was that the same boy standing here, flushed and awkward and a little reckless with his heart, would be the one to melt it all away, would be your exception, and would be the one to stand at the end of an aisle, eyes shining, waiting to marry you.

You blink, stunned for a second, and he continues, his voice gentler. “Because I can’t stand the thought of you being left behind. I’d rather stay just a little longer. To hold your hand through the end. To take care of you until your last breath. Until I know you don’t have to be alone.” His thumb brushes your cheek again, slower this time. “And when you can’t see me anymore… then I’ll go.”

They say marriage dulls love eventually, but as your eyes blur with tears from the way he looks at you, so full of awe, as if you’re still something he can’t believe he gets to hold, and as your heart pulls tight at the gentleness in his voice, you know they were wrong. If anything, he loves you more. As if every day, his heart just finds a new way to fall for you.

“I love you,” you whisper, it's small but he hears it. He doesn’t speak — he can’t. His mouth moves around the words I love you too, but his voice catches before it can reach you. His eyes shine, his throat tight, and all he can do is look at you.

It’s been six years since you first met your husband, Beomgyu. He pursued you like you were gravity itself. He waited for you outside your lectures, rain or shine, just to walk you back to your dorm. He brought you coffee before exams, left sticky notes on your textbooks, made it his mission to learn the things you loved, just so he could love them too.

Within months, you said yes. Not just to being his girlfriend, but to the rhythm of a life slowly intertwining with his. Breaks became your sacred hour. Homework turned into nights side by side, papers spread out like puzzle pieces, his laughter softening the cruelty of long days. You studied. You dreamed. And you fell, so deeply, so fully, it terrified you. By the time Beomgyu graduated, it wasn’t just your hearts that had found home in each other. Your families met and clicked as if the universe had been planning it all along.

While Beomgyu poured himself into his Biology degree, interning as a lab researcher with determination, you chased a harder dream. You wanted to become a general surgeon — something that demanded long hours, relentless focus, and years more schooling. You feared the distance your ambition might create, the strain it could put on, but Beomgyu never flinched. He adjusted, he waited, he stayed.

He carved his own path slowly, carefully, becoming a research specialist step by step, all while holding space for you to grow. He never made you choose. Instead, he became the steady presence who picked you up on your worst days and celebrated even your smallest wins.

And when the time was right, when you were still tired from hospital rotations, hair a mess, hands aching from studying; he knelt on one knee, ring in hand, eyes full of the same certainty he had when he first saw you.

It’s been two years since you said your vows; two years of being married, of building a life not just in promises, but in the everyday. You’re both in your late twenties now, older, a little more tired maybe, but grounded in something stronger than youth. You’re still studying, pushing through the final stretch of your residency, while he’s found his name with respect in the field he loves.

Beomgyu wakes up early with you, even when he doesn’t have to. He packs your lunch on days you forget, leaves notes on your coffee cup when you’re too bleary-eyed to speak. Some nights, he waits up just to reheat your dinner, just to ask how your shift went, even if your words are half-slurred with exhaustion.

And still, somehow, he looks at you like it’s the first time.

Every hard day ends with him. Every version of your future still starts with him. In all the chaos, he remains your calm. In all the movement, he remains your constant. You used to wonder if love could last, if love was real. Now you know — it is. It just takes someone who chooses you every single day, even when the days are long and the words are few.

Beomgyu never stopped choosing you.

"You’re free today, right?" your husband asks as he flips a pancake, his tone light but full of meaning. “I was thinking... we could just stay in bed all day. Cuddle. Make love. Just… be.”

You choke on your orange juice, sputtering as the sweetness burns down the wrong pipe. Even after all these years, he still manages to catch you off guard. “Y-Yeah,” you cough out, cheeks warming. “I don’t have anything today. I remembered you were off.”

He flashes that boyish grin, throwing both fists in the air. “Yes!” he whispers dramatically, the spatula still in one hand. You giggle at the sight, he’s always a little ridiculous when it’s just the two of you, and your heart aches with how much you love him like this. He sets the pancakes down with exaggerated care, and you help him plate the rest, moving around each other in that familiar, wordless rhythm. Now seated across from him, he digs into his food with satisfaction, and you take your first bite too.

He looks up between chews. “Wanna watch a movie later?”

You were just about to speak when something twisted deep in your stomach, a pressure climbed your throat. You barely had time to register the panic flashing across Beomgyu’s face before instinct took over.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly, half-rising from his seat. His voice trembled with concern as he watched you press a shaky hand over your mouth.

You couldn’t answer. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as you bolted upright, your body moving before your brain could catch up. You heard him call your name behind you, but the sound was already drowned out by the thudding of your heartbeat and the desperate rush of your footsteps toward the bathroom.

Your knees hit the cold tile just in time.

Everything came up in a rush — sour, bitter. You gagged again, pain wracking your stomach as it emptied itself. The bile scorched your throat, your eyes watering from the force of it. You clutched the edge of the sink with one hand, the other trembling against your abdomen. Pancakes. It had to be the pancakes, right? But… you loved those. You always had.

Everything hurt. Your stomach cramped with each heave, your throat burned, and your head spun like the room had tilted sideways. Every wave of nausea pulled you further under, like drowning in your own body. Everything feels horrible, everything is —

“Hey… breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

Warm hands on your back. Beomgyu’s touch moved up and down your spine in soft, reassuring strokes. After a second, you felt him gently gather your hair, pulling it away from your face. His free hand found your knee, cupping it softly, a barrier between your trembling body and the cold, unyielding floor. “More?” he said, voice thick with worry.

You didn’t answer, not yet. The nausea had finally passed, but you still felt wrung out, hollowed. You reached blindly for the flush, the mechanical whirl of water echoing louder than it should have in the small room. “Are you okay? Something wrong with the food?”

“I… I don’t know,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, fragile. Your legs feel unsteady as you slowly rise to your feet, and Beomgyu is there in an instant, arms steadying you, eyes never leaving your face.

He follows you to the sink in silence. You grip the cool edges of the porcelain and glance up at your reflection, pale and drawn, but it’s not just your face you’re looking at; it’s his eyes in the mirror, still locked on you.

He looks scared.

You rinse your mouth, trying to rid yourself of the sourness. You reach automatically for the mouthwash but pause when your eyes catch your sealed box of tampons, untouched. Something tugs at your chest. Your breath stills.

When… when was the last time?

“Gyu,” you say softly. He hums in response, giving you space to find your words. You turn just enough to look at him, really look at him. His brows are knit in concern, lips parted like he’s already halfway to asking what’s wrong again. You swallow hard, voice barely a breath.

“You should buy me some pregnancy tests.”

It was the longest three minutes of your life.

You sat on the closed toilet lid, elbows on your knees, hands clutched tightly together. Your heart pounded like a warning bell, loud in your chest, loud in your ears. Across the small bathroom, Beomgyu paced like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or break down.

"Shit, my heart is about to burst," he muttered, running a hand through his hair for the fifth time. His eyes kept darting toward the sink, where two pregnancy tests sat waiting. “Should we call your parents? My mom? What do we even need to buy, diapers? Vitamins? A crib? Wait, we don’t even know yet — ”

"Beomgyu." You said his name firmly, and he froze. His eyes snapped to yours, wild with thought, but something in your tone reeled him back in. “You’re more frantic than me,” you said softly.

He let out a shaky laugh, barely a breath, then crossed the room in two steps. He knelt in front of you, his hands warm as they cradled your face. His forehead met yours with the gentleness of a promise. "Whatever it is," he said, voice steady now. “Whatever the outcome… we’re okay. You and me.”

You nodded, pressing your eyes closed for a second, to hold the weight of this moment between your bodies. The fear, the hope, the fragile anticipation curling in your chest.

Your alarm goes off, Beomgyu grips your hand.

Two pink lines.

You didn’t know what happened in the next few seconds, it all blurred. You knew it wasn’t final, that a doctor’s confirmation still waited ahead, but none of that mattered, not when Beomgyu looked at you like you’d handed him the universe.

He lifted you with a laugh that cracked, arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go. His lips found yours again and again, messy, full of awe. You had to push him back just to breathe, only for him to chase after you, kissing you like his life depended on it. You started painting a picture behind your closed eyes.

A home. A life. Beomgyu. And your... child.

He carried you to the bed in a blur, laying you down, “You're carrying my baby,” he whispered, breath ragged, brushing your hair from your face. “God, I can’t believe, I love you, I love you so much—”

Then his mouth was on you again, trailing from your jaw to your collarbone, down to the curve of your breasts. He cupped them gently, thumbs brushing your nipples until they tightened beneath his fingers. He kissed every inch, like he was memorizing you anew, lips worshipping the swell of your chest, the softness of your stomach. When he slid your panties down, he did it slowly, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers parted you, tender at first, then more firm as you gasped beneath him, the heat of your body answering his touch instantly. “You feel so warm,” he murmured, voice almost breaking. “So perfect. Mine.”

His mouth followed, tongue tasting you slowly. Your back arched. His hands pressed your thighs open wider, and you cried out his name, your hands tangling in his hair. He climbed over you, his cock pressed hard and aching against your entrance, you reached for him. He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of you, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you whispering between breaths. “I love you.”

His pace quickened as your moans filled the room, his hips snapping forward harder, deeper, one hand cupping your breast, the other finding your clit. But even then, his eyes never left yours, wide and glassy.

He came with your name on his lips, his body trembling above yours. He didn’t pull away. He just held you, panting against your skin, his hand sliding protectively over your stomach.

“I’ll give everything to you,” he whispered, “To both of you.”

It felt like the rest of your life had just opened its doors, and welcomed you home.

“Yeah, I’ll drive safely, I promise,” you say into the phone, balancing it between your shoulder and ear as you push the shopping cart forward. “The weather’s nice today, so I thought I’d swing by and visit Ryujin later too.”

“You should’ve waited for me to come home before going out,” Beomgyu grumbles on the other end, and even though it’s just a call, you can hear the pout in his voice.

You smile to yourself. “I couldn’t wait two more days, hun. Maybe it’s the hormones? I just really needed to get out of the house.”

You bow politely to an elderly couple who step aside for your cart. There’s a flutter in your chest, not just from the grocery run, but from the soft awareness that you’re not alone in your body anymore. He sighs, his voice softer now. “How’s the shopping? You still okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply, reaching for a box of cereal and dropping it into the cart. “I haven’t thrown up all morning, actually.”

“That’s good.” A pause. Then, “Work’s alright. Busy. The relocation is almost done, they’re giving me one more project before I get to be picky again.”

“Picky?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to be.” You hear a faint smile in his voice now. “My wife’s pregnant.”

“Beomgyu… you’ve been boasting about it to everyone, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have,” he says, without an ounce of shame. “I made it.”

You laugh, unable to help it. “Sir, it’s my body.”

“And I’m the co-founder. Are you trying to use science against me now?”

“Well,” you tease, biting back another grin, “if you only think that way…”

“Don’t.” He cuts you off with a playful groan, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Stop right now or I swear, I’ll drive home just to kiss that pretty mouth of yours.”

Your laugh slips out before you can stop it, light and full of something so easy, so whole. You hear his own laughter follow. For a moment, the world feels small. His voice in your ear. Your hand on your stomach. A swell of joy on your chest.

Everything had felt too perfect.

You turned down another aisle, cart wheels squeaking softly against the floor as you absently listened to Beomgyu's voice through the phone. He was moving around on the other end, probably getting ready to head back to work after spending his whole break talking to you.

Your hand reached for a bottle of ketchup when the ground shifted beneath you. It was so subtle at first you thought you imagined it, but then, another jolt. Harder. A low rumble filled the air, then the shelves trembled.

Screams erupted down the aisle,. Someone dropped a basket. Another shouted. The floor seemed to tilt and shudder, the metallic clatter of falling cans and shattering glass erupting around you like a storm. Your phone slipped from your hand.

“Shit,” you breathed, backing away instinctively, heart lurching to your throat. You let go of the cart and crouched low, one arm bracing against the shaking shelf, the other instinctively cradling your stomach.

You dropped to your knees, trying to stay steady as the floor trembled. Panic rose like bile in your throat. You scanned the store, heart hammering, searching desperately for an exit, but you were deep in the back. Trapped between rows of falling items, far from the doors, far from safety. As soon as the tremors stopped, you scrambled for your phone, fingers fumbling to grab it from where it had fallen. The screen was cracked, but still lit and his voice came through immediately.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Beomgyu’s voice was tight. “There was an earthquake. You need to get out of that store, now. Find open space. Keep me on the phone. Just hurry, but be careful.”

You exhaled shakily, heart pounding in your ears. “Okay,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I’m okay. I’m — ”

Your words froze. A scream ripped through the air, guttural. You turned instinctively toward the sound, but the aisle was empty. Your feet stilled. The grocery store, which had just been chaos, fell into a thick, sudden silence.

Too quiet.

You stepped forward slowly, eyes darting around, and saw a man at the far end of the aisle. He looked confused, his brows furrowed as if he too had heard it but didn’t understand. He looked at you, seeking answers you didn’t have.

You pressed the phone closer to your ear. “Beomgyu…” your voice was barely above a whisper, “something’s wrong.”

There was a beat of silence, then the sharp shuffle of movement on the other end. “Get out of there. Now,” he ordered, voice low but firm. “Don’t wait. Go home. I’m already on my way.”

“HELP! PLEASE, HELP!”

The scream shattered whatever silence was left. It wasn’t fear, it was terror. Pure, bone-deep terror.

Your breath caught in your throat as people started running, shouting over one another, shopping carts abandoned and crashing into shelves. Panic took over like a wave, and you ran with it, feet moving before your mind could catch up, heart hammering so violently you could barely breathe.

“What?” you gasped out loud, the word foreign and unreal in your mouth. “Was it the earthquake? What’s happening?”

You were seconds from reaching the crowd gathering near the store’s front exit when everything stopped.

Because through the tall glass panels, beyond the automatic doors, you saw it.

It wasn’t human. Its body was long, towering, its legs grotesquely jointed and thin like twisted branches. Its skin looked slick and dark, somewhere between rotted brown and black, like it had grown from the earth itself. And its head was massive, lopsided, glistening under the sun.

It was sprinting.

Right toward the entrance. Right toward you.

Your body moved on instinct, run. You turned, bolting in the opposite direction, the air thick with screams and the thundering of feet. Your hands were shaking so hard, your phone slipped from your grasp, hitting the floor without a sound. You didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

You didn’t look back.

Thuds. Cracks. Wet. Tearing.

They're dying. You were moving too fast, too desperate. The screams behind you changed, twisting from fear to agony. It was killing them.

Run.

Your arms wrapped around your stomach like a shield, legs pushing you faster than they ever had before. You turned down an aisle blindly. More screaming. Another crash.

Your ears rang from the sounds. Your hands were shaking so hard you could barely keep yourself upright. The store, once so bright and dull and normal, was now a labyrinth of blood and chaos and shadows and you were running for your life through it. It wasn’t over.

Another one ripped through the grocery store’s left wall like paper, jagged limbs piercing through the broken frame, its massive head twitching unnaturally as it unfolded itself into the store. The sudden eruption sent you stumbling; you hit the floor hard, landing flat on your back, the breath knocked from your lungs. It was already inside. Long legs scraped against tile, too many joints bending in ways that made your stomach turn. It moved with intent, frenzied.

It was running towards a woman, five feet in front of you.

“Mommy!!” A child. No older than six. His tiny voice cut through, making the creature snapped its head around, twisting its body in a full.

You gasped. In less than a second, it lunged.

The boy didn’t even have time to move. One hideous limb lashed out, a blur of motion and then there was blood. His body hit the shelf behind him, crumpling like a doll, small hands twitching once before going still. The mother screamed. A scream that sounded like it broke something in her throat. She ran but not away. Toward him. Toward where her son used to be and the monster met her halfway.

You could only watch. Helpless. Paralyzed. The creature descended on her like a machine — limbs slashing, tearing. Her scream didn’t last long. The sound turned to wet gurgling, bones cracking beneath the weight of its strikes. Her blood painted the tiles in uneven splashes.

You pressed a hand to your mouth. You feel the burn in your eyes.

It should’ve gone for the woman. She was right in front of it —motionless, exposed. The obvious target. The child screamed. He was farther away, barely in its path. He just screamed for his mother, a sharp, panicked sound.

And that was all it took.

It turned. It moved. Not toward the closest body, but toward the sound. The child made a noise, and the monster struck. Then the mother screamed, and it went for her next. You glance at it. It’s not attacking you. Its head is smooth. Perfectly round. No eyes. No mouth. No face at all. It has no eyes. It hears. If your theory’s wrong, if it can see you — you’ll be dead.

You stay still, your body trembling against the cold floor. Every instinct screaming to run, to hide, to cry but you keep your mouth shut.

You don’t make a sound.

You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your skin had turned ice-cold, and every hair on your body stood on end like a warning. It moved slowly at first, almost aimlessly, like it was feeling its way through the dark. Then, out of nowhere, a police siren shrieked past outside. The creature recoiled, let out a piercing, guttural scream, as if it had been set on fire. He went out, harsly running towards it's next target, leaving you alone.

Your legs are weak, but you forced yourself to stand. The store was dead silent now. Too silent. The smell hit you. Thick. Coppery. Blood.

Everyone's dead.

You didn’t dare speak. Not even a whisper, the sound might draw it back. Your feet moved on their own; slow, unsteady, barely touching the ground, every creak of the tile felt deafening. You were trying not to breathe too loudly.

You needed to get home. Home. Just get home.

You’d have to drive, but if you drove… they’d hear. They’d come. Just like they did when that police car screamed past, sirens blaring — the car was torn apart like it was nothing.

You swallowed hard. Your throat was dry. Your phone. Where was your phone?

Beomgyu.

His name hit you like a punch to the chest. Choi Beomgyu. He told you to go home. He said he was on his way. No. No no no no. He can’t come here. He can’t. Your breath caught. Panic bloomed sharp and fast, stealing the air from your lungs. You pressed a hand to your chest like it might hold you together.

You were supposed to scream. That’s how the body processes fear, but how do you let it out, when silence is the only thing keeping you alive?

You move through the store like a ghost, each step slow and deliberate as you make your way to the essentials section. Outside, the world is chaos. Screams slice through the air. The guttural shrieks of monsters rattle your bones. You flinch every time. Your hands tremble. But you don’t stop.

You can’t stop.

You have to do this. He’s waiting for you. You need to see your husband, just once more, even if it’s the last time.

You sling the backpack over your shoulder. You trade your shoes for boots — quieter, sturdier. Thank God you wore pants. Beomgyu’s sweatshirt still clings to your frame, carrying the faintest trace of him. You pull gloves over your hands, muffling every touch, every sound. The back door creaks when you open it. You freeze. Wait. Then move. It takes forever.

No matter how long it takes, no matter how many times your heart threatens to shatter, you're going home.

You’ve been walking for almost three hours.

You should’ve been home an hour ago, but your steps are slow, too slow. Every time a monster crosses your path, every time something horrific stares back at you from the shadows, your feet freeze. They root to the ground like they’d rather become stone than move forward.

You kept going. One more turn and you'd be home. You could already feel it. The warmth of your apartment, the way the hallway light flickers, the sound of his voice saying your name. You could almost see his face. You didn’t care what came next. Not the monsters. Not the sky falling. You just wanted to see him again.

You smelled it first. You saw it next.

It's on fire. Your building was on fire.

You almost stumble when you see them, multiple monsters gathered across the street, drawn like moths to the roaring flame consuming your home. The crackling fire must’ve called to them, like some kind of death song. You press yourself against the wall, heart pounding in your ears, eyes scanning the streets with desperate hope.

Is his car here? Is he? He drove. If he drove, he wouldn’t have made it back. Not through this hell. The realization sinks in like a knife twisting in your mind, cruel. You had hoped. Foolishly, stubbornly. Even without a phone, without power, without a single sign, your heart had held on to the idea of seeing him again.

Now you stand in front of a burning building and wonder what’s left to hold on to.

That morning flashes through your memory, so painfully clear now. The way he got up quietly, kissed your cheek, your forehead, your nose, over and over like he couldn’t bear to leave. You let sleep take you, too warm, too safe to stir. You didn’t even say goodbye.

If you had known…

If you had known, you would’ve woken up. You would’ve pulled him back into bed, wrapped yourself around him like it could stop time. You would’ve held him until the sun rose twice.

A piercing screech rips through the air, dragging you violently back to reality. Your breath hitches as your body flinches on instinct. You stagger back a step, your vision swimming, not from fear, but from the tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

You stare at the fire swallowing your building, and the truth finally settles, cold and merciless: He’s not here. He’s not coming back. The chance of finding him… it was impossible.

The fire devours everything you once called home, and in your mind’s eye, it scorches more than walls and furniture. Your college photos, where he smiled like the world was a little softer with you in it. Your wedding day, frozen in frames, dressed in love and laughter. The letters he wrote, the ones he hid in lunch boxes and slipped between pages of your books, always signed with too many hearts. All gone.

You're now a hollow shell with shaking legs and a heart left behind in a home that no longer exists. You start walking because there’s nothing else to do. You don’t know where you’re going. There’s nowhere left to go. No plan. No direction. You dreamed of years with him in that apartment — mornings, chaotic dinners, shared laughter in the kitchen. Your child one day, his eyes, your smile. You dreamed of life.

Everything that was his, everything that was yours, is now reduced to ash.

You’re curled up inside an abandoned house.

It’s not safe, but it’s hidden. You chose it because there’s less chance they’ll hear you here. You sit on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, trying to eat. Your hands move like they belong to someone else, raising food to your lips in slow, mechanical motions. Just two bites and your stomach twists violently, rejecting it. You press a hand to your mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

And then it comes again, your tears. You don’t even try to stop them now. They slide down your face, soaking into your sleeves. Your throat tightens with a sob you can’t release because crying out loud would kill you.

You cry in silence, your body shaking, your chest heaving like you’re trying to breathe through water. Your heart hurts. Physically hurts. And for what?

What’s your purpose now?

You were supposed to be a doctor. You had plans, you spent years of studying, training, pushing your limits because you wanted to help. You lived with your hands busy, always reaching for someone else. You belonged in the noise, in the rush, in the healing. Now… there’s no one left to help. No one to save. Not even yourself.

The only peace you ever truly knew was in his arms, holding his hand, feeling his heartbeat next to yours. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you wonder if it would be easier to just stop breathing. Should you give up?

Is this how it ends?

You run your hands over your head, fingers digging into your scalp like you’re trying to wake yourself from this nightmare. It made you feel your bracelet. Still there, wrapped around your wrist. His gift. His promise. A piece of him, holding on.

No. You can’t give up. What would he think if you did? Are you really going to leave him behind? Are you going to take your child with you into nothingness, before they even have a chance to live?

The thought slams into your chest like a hammer. You gasp, and your breath catches on guilt. Your hands fall to your stomach, shaking. Your eyes are dry, swollen, wide open; sleep hasn’t touched you since the last time he held you. The backpack presses into your spine like punishment. It’s heavy with food, with survival, but you refuse to take it off.

It's for you, for Beomgyu, and it’s for the tiny life growing inside you.

You’re going to find him. You have to.

Beomgyu is smart — brilliant in ways that always amazed you. Steady in a storm, the calm to your chaos. He thinks ahead, plans, protects. He wouldn't give up on you. He’s out there right now, searching, heart clenched just like yours, whispering your name.

You won’t let him search in vain. You press your hand over your stomach again, eyes burning with the fire that refused to die with your home. You’re going to find him.

In a world where sound means death, love — no matter what — will find a way to speak.

Your footsteps barely make a sound.

Stay quiet. Stay alive.

The earth bites at your bare feet, the pain is familiar now, it's almost a comfort. A week ago, you watched your home dissolve into flame and smoke, and it’s been a day since you last slept.

You remember those lectures, they taught you about ecosystems; how every life is woven into another, a perfect balance of give and take, but ever since that day, you are a creature of instinct, hiding from the eyes that stalk the dark. You are prey — breathing, moving, breaking beneath the weight of a world that no longer feels like it belongs to you.

Your stomach growls. It's been hours since your last bite, and now more than ever, you know you can't ignore it. You're not just feeding yourself anymore. You're eating for two.

A sharp sting shoots through your foot. You flinch, glancing down just long enough to spot a smear of red blooming beneath a piece of broken glass. You moved to remove it, slowly. You don't look back at it twice.

Up ahead, you see a grocery store, the sign hangs by a single hinge. You scan the street, abandoned cars, shattered windows, silence stretching thick around you. No movement. No monsters. Not yet.

You push the door open.

Inside, dust and decay hang in the air. Inside, two sets of eyes meet yours from across the aisle. Wide, startled. Human. Just like yours.

Just as afraid.

It’s hard; trying to learn names, to meet someone new, when none of you can speak. Everything will take effort, a will. A notebook and a pen.

The first one you came to know was Soobin. Tall, easily over six feet. His eyes are wide and searching, his hair tousled by the wind, and when he smiled, you noticed the dimples tucked into his cheeks, softening everything. Then there’s Yeonjun, the older one. Sharper features, eyes shaped like a fox, always watching. There’s a seriousness to him, still, he welcomed you the best he could, a nod, a shared look, a warmth that didn’t need sound. You learned they were roomates even before all of this happened, and they managed to stay together, something that made your chest ache.

Strangers were supposed to be dangerous, but something about these two…felt like you already knew them.

It’s your turn with the notebook.

You sit at the table, pen trembling slightly in your hand. Soobin and Yeonjun lean in just enough to read over your shoulder. They told you the store had already been picked clean — nothing left but dust and broken shelves.

So you write anyway. It’s all you can offer.

I'm Y/N. You pause, then press the pen harder. I'm looking for my husband, and I'm pregnant.

There it is, laid bare between the lines. You need them to understand that you're a risk. Your hand hesitates before writing the next part, the words scrape against something tender. If you think I'll be a problem, you can walk out that door, and I won't even look.

Your throat tightens, then you add, in a small, hurried scrawl — But… could you please help me get some food first?

You don’t look up. You’re too afraid of what you’ll see on their faces.

A gentle weight settles on your shoulder. You flinch before realizing it’s Soobin. His hand is steady, reassuring. When you look up, he meets your eyes and nods once, firm and certain.

Then he takes the pen. We'll help you find him, he writes.

You feel a solid in a world that’s been crumbling around you.

You turn to Yeonjun. He doesn't say anything but he jerks his chin toward the broken doorway, already slinging a pack over his shoulder. The look in his eyes is clear as daylight.

Come on, it says. We got you.

You’re not alone anymore.

You slipped easily into the space between Soobin and Yeonjun. It was reckless, you knew that. Three people moving together meant more noise, more danger, but being apart felt worse. As if, despite everything, people were meant to stay close.

Your thoughts snapped back to your husband. The ache didn’t just sit in your chest — it clawed at it, hollowing it out. You could still feel his fingers, ghostlike, curling around yours. His last touch. Your hand drifted to your stomach. A reflex. Yeonjun glanced over, catching the movement, but said nothing.

You searched. You searched everywhere. Every street, every shattered doorway, calling his name in your head even when your lips stayed shut. Was he ever here? Is he even alive? In a world this broken, how do two people ever find their way back?

A thought sparked, something like an idea, but it died just as fast. Your body had other priorities, hunger twisted through you like a threat. You needed food, you needed him, but you could only chase one at a time.

You glance over your shoulder, eyes catching the dull lettering of the grocery ahead, the next stop. Soobin raises two fingers, pointing left. A silent signal. He’ll cover that side. Yeonjun peels off toward the center aisles, moving like he’s done this a hundred times.

That leaves you with the right. Your steps are slow. Every possible creak of the old floor sounds too loud in your ears. You scan the shelves like it’s life or death, because it is. Empty. Empty. Crushed box. Broken glass. Then, cans.

Unopened. Untouched. Real food.

A breath nearly escapes your lips. Relief flutters in your chest, fragile and disbelieving. You move toward it, heart pounding. One hand reaches for the cans. The other tugs your backpack open, inch by inch, slow enough that the zipper barely whispers.

Then, a hand. Over your mouth.

It clamps down hard, cutting off your breath before the gasp can even rise. You freeze. Every muscle in your body locks.

“Don’t make a sound, unless you’re ready to die, sweetheart.”

His voice is so small, but it curls around your ear hot and foul. You flinch as his breath hits your skin, as the rough scrape of his beard grazes your neck. Your eyes sting. You could fight him, but deep down, you know what waits beyond the walls, things far worse than this man. You shift, just a fraction, and he feels it. Cold metal bites into your ribs. The blade doesn’t pierce, not yet. It just promises to.

You stop moving. You stop breathing. You surrender, not because you’re weak, but because survival, for now, means silence. If he hurt you, youu know the truth: there’s no hospital. No rescue. No safety coming. If this goes wrong, it ends here. His hand slips from your mouth only when he’s certain you won’t scream but it doesn't mean mercy. His grip just shifts, closing around your throat instead. Tighter. Controlling.

You can’t breathe. He drags you backward like you weigh nothing, your heels scraping the ground, until he throws you down hard. The floor is uneven and you catch yourself with shaking hands, terrified that even a whisper of sound might bring something worse.

Your mind is chaos. Screaming. Do you cry for help? Do you risk it? Do you die now or later?

Beomgyu.

You shut your eyes. Everything in you trembles. You feel him settle over you, heavy, disgusting, his breath rancid and far too close. It coats your skin like oil. You’d rather die than let this happen —

A sickening, wet gurgle cuts through the silence, and the weight on top of you vanishes. You gasp, chest heaving, and force your eyes open. The world swims for a second and then sharpens into something worse.

The man is on the floor now, thrashing. Yeonjun is on top of him. No hesitation. No mercy.

His right hand is clamped around the man’s throat, every tendon and vein in his arm straining with force, crushing down hard, precise, too precise to be chance. His other hand smothers the man’s mouth, muffling the sounds, denying him even the dignity of a scream. Yeonjun uses his entire body like a weapon, knees pinning limbs, muscles taut with pure intent.

You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You can’t stop watching. It's an execution, and he’s doing it for you, because of you.

Tears blur your vision as the man beneath Yeonjun convulses, still clinging to life. You don’t even know what’s happening anymore. Then you see Soobin, he’s moving toward the scene, eyes wide, taking it all in. His gaze lands on you.

He sees the disheveled mess of your hair, the way your pants are undone, your hand trembling where it’s pressed to your stomach. The tear tracks down your cheeks. The blood. And Yeonjun, Yeonjun is killing someone.

Soobin doesn’t hesitate. He rushes over, voice caught in his throat, and reaches for you slowly, carefully, like you might shatter. He pulls you into him, your sobs muffled against his shoulder, arms wrapping tight around you as if to hold the broken pieces together.

Choi Beomgyu gazed at the fading ink scattered across his atlas, a map once full of purpose, now a constellation of lost turns. His eyes wandered the streets around him, searching for a thread to lead him back to the place he used to call home.

He had barely lifted his foot when your face came back again. Your eyes, wide with something between wonder and warning. The way you tilted your head when you were about to say something you knew he’d carry for days. Not even an hour had gone by where you didn’t consume his thoughts, knocking the air from his lungs and paralyzing him for a moment. He missed you. Fuck he missed you terribly and it was enough to render him utterly immobile at points.

Slowly, he drew breath back into his lungs, as if your memory had knocked the wind from him again. Your smile lingered in his mind like a permanent mark, something carved so deeply it could never fade.

He didn’t regret much in his life. Not really. But there was one thing that still clung to him in the quiet: saying yes to this project. It had taken him so far away when everything began to fall apart, when the creatures first touched the earth and turned it into something unrecognizable.

He remembered the shape of you in his arms that morning. You were half-asleep, warm against him, head tucked beneath his chin. He had held you tightly, longer than usual, something in his gut whispering that he shouldn’t go. That he should stay.

You had been tender that week, more emotional than usual, your morning sickness growing worse by the day. You tried to wave it off, brushing his worry aside with a soft laugh, saying you could handle it. But he knew the truth without needing the words. He didn’t want to stay because you were fragile. He wanted to stay because he loved you. Because something in him already knew that those small moments beside you were more precious than anything the world could offer.

And now, as the world burned quietly behind him, all he could think about was how badly he wished he had listened to himself.

You were the one who gave his life direction. The one who turned his quiet ambitions into somewhere full of heart.

He still remembered the first time he really saw you, serious eyes behind the glasses you used to wear, walking across the college grounds like you belonged to another world. He noticed everything. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear. The soft shift in your lip gloss, from peach to plum.

You didn’t even know it, but you changed everything.

He started showing up in places he had no reason to be. Hallways, benches, classrooms that had nothing to do with his schedule. He didn’t care. If there was a chance of crossing your path, that was reason enough. He used to dream about doing big things, things that would make the world remember his name.

With you, he didn’t want to be remembered. He just wanted to matter.

Where is he now, without you by his side?

His chest tightens, another tear threatening to fall questions flash through his mind. Where are you? Are you safe? Are you eating well? How are you holding up? How could he have left you? Alone, pregnant, in the middle of all this ruin?

His body trembles, but he keeps his lips sealed. He wants to scream, to let the pain claw its way out, but he knows — if he does, if he lets himself fall apart, he may never find his way back to you.

He exhales shakily, eyes scanning his atlas again. He traces the route with his finger, committing it to memory, over and over, as if repetition alone might lead him back to you.

He opens his bag and spots the other notebook, the one he had been working on for days. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, he wrote. Plans. Escape routes out of the city. A way to get you out.

He dreamed of getting you onto a boat, finding an island. Somewhere the monsters wouldn’t follow, because he noticed they never touched the water. It became an obsession. He fell deep into it, mapping out every detail. He wrote about how to plant seeds, how to care for them, how to harvest and store food so it would last. He filled pages with water purification methods, survival skills, solar energy setups.

He wrote everything he could; every instruction, every method, every technical detail, even the tender, private things no one ever teaches you to write about. He couldn’t help it. When the nights stretched on too long and sleep wouldn't come, he found himself scribbling through the quiet, as if the act of planning could hold the world together.

He even wrote about how to deliver a child.

You’re going to be a doctor. He knows that. You’ve studied the science, memorized the steps, probably laughed at the outdated textbook he clung to like scripture. Still, he copied it all down, page after page. Not because you needed it. But because he needed it, needed to feel like he was doing something, anything, to be useful to you. To be ready for the moment he might never see.

He wanted so badly to be there. To hold your hand. To keep you steady through the pain. To see the first breath, the first cry. To help you bring life into a world that had done nothing but try to take it.

But he wasn’t sure life would give him that chance.

So he wrote as if he could carve a future into the pages. He planned for a life he might never live, for a child he might never hold, because loving you meant preparing for everything, even the parts he’d never get to share.

He did it because, without question, he would give his life for yours.

He starts walking with heavy heart.

He can't wait to see your face again.

You eat the cereal with your hands. It’s warm, soft on your palms.

"Did you check that spot too?" Soobin asks, his voice low as he takes another bite. "We should mark it before we forget."

"I did," Yeonjun answers, cradling his cup, "We could go further south if we push a little."

Soobin nods slowly, chewing the last of his food. Then he turns to you. "You want seconds?"

They always ask you that. They always wait for your answer, like they won’t take more unless you say no, as if your hunger matters more than theirs.

You shake your head. "No, I’m full. If I eat more, I’ll probably throw up again. Everything’s been... hitting harder lately."

Yeonjun watches you, something flickering in his eyes, he adjusts his backpack, but his attention doesn’t leave you. "You want me to bring you something? Anything?"

It’s been a month since you last saw them. Now, you’re almost three months along. Your belly is still small, but there’s a pressure growing beneath your skin. A heaviness that feels alive.

"I want to go," you say quietly. "I didn’t go yesterday."

Yeonjun lets out a breath and looks at Soobin. "Fine. You're sticking to Soobin."

Soobin reaches for your plate without a word and tosses it into the trash bag. The small gesture is gentle, almost second nature. You watch as the two of them move around the room, gathering what they need like it’s routine now; water, packs, weapons. You quietly sling your own bag over your shoulder, your eyes sweeping over the basement.

You’d only known them for a week when the three of you stumbled on this place. A half-flooded stairwell led you down into silence. Down here, everything is muffled. For a little while, it let you talk without fear. For a little while, it felt safe.

It was here you learned Yeonjun used to be in the military, an intelligence officer. The way he spoke about it was calm, detached, and it explained how he was able to kill the man who hurt you easily. It made sense now, how he moved, how he watched the world like he was still in a war.

Soobin was a journalist, once. You weren’t sure what kind of stories he used to tell, but something in his eyes said he’d seen more than he ever planned to write.

The three of you had your places in the old world. You belonged somewhere, back when society had a shape, but now you’re all pressed together in this dark, breathing basement. No roles, no titles. Three people trying to hold on, and somehow, even the ground feels like it could turn against you.

You tried to explore the city whenever you could. You wanted to believe you were helping, thay you were doing something for find your husband.

Yeonjun once told you, "If Beomgyu’s alive, he’ll come to you. To this city." And that was enough. Enough to keep you here. Enough to make you stay, even when everything in you wanted to run and search every corner of the world.

You still went with them most of the time — on supply runs, short recon trips, but the days were getting harder. Morning sickness hit you like a wave that never let up. Some mornings, you couldn’t even lift your head off the pillow. The room would spin, and your stomach would twist until you were dry heaving into whatever you could reach.

But when Yeonjun and Soobin left without you, and you're all alone, all you could think was; What if he’s out there right now? What if today was the day he came, and you weren’t there? What if he leaves again, thinking you’ve already gone?

It was unbearable.

You feel it rising in your throat again, the nausea curling sharp and bitter, but you force it down. You don’t have a photo of him. Nothing physical to hold onto. All you could offer Yeonjun was a description: long hair, brown eyes, a soft nose. His kind eyes.

You stand. Your body is begging you to rest, but you won’t.

You’re going to find him.

You walk slowly, every step careful. Soobin trails a step behind you, equally silent. Yeonjun moves ahead, eyes scanning the surroundings with his keen eyes. He’s always the first to enter, the first to clear the way. You’re nearing the place now, the one they thought might hold something useful.

You stop at the edge of the road, eyes sweeping the stretch ahead. There’s not a soul in sight. Just the skeletal remains of the world; empty cars rusting in place, glass glittering like ice on cracked pavement. A city caught mid-breath and never exhaled.

Yeonjun gives a signal. One hand raised, sharp and brief. Soobin nods and disappears inside with him. You stay outside.

You stand there alone, heart echoing against your ribs, eyes tracing the silence. You think of your mom. Wonder if she and her husband made it out. If they found shelter. If they’re warm. You think of Taehyun and Kai — how they promised to meet you, how you couldn’t wait to tell them the news. You wanted them to be godfathers. You pictured their stunned smiles, the way they’d tease each other about who the baby would love more.

Now you just hope they’re breathing.

Your throat tightens. Your eyes start to sting, and you blink too fast, hoping the tears will stay where they are. There’s a deep ache rising, slow and thick, like something caught in your chest that won’t move.

Are you giving up?

You turn your head.

To your right, there's a figure. It's still. Watching you.

Your breath snags in your chest. For a second, everything stops. Then your body moves before your mind can catch up, your feet carrying you forward, faster, harder. You feel a jagged stone bite into your heel, but you don’t care. You can’t stop.

You’re not even close yet, but he opens his arms.

That smile —so boyish, so heartbreakingly familiar — spreads across his face like sunlight cracking through storm clouds. His eyes full of disbelief and relief and something so painfully tender, it breaks you.

Choi Beomgyu catches you mid-sprint, arms locking around your body like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You clutch the fabric of his shirt, gripping it like a lifeline. His hands move over your back, your shoulders, your hair, as if he’s trying to memorize you all over again. His hands protectively settles on your stomach. His worry presses into your skin like a second heartbeat.

You feel him breath.

You’re home.

Two men inside the store stops to watch. In a world so cruel, so damned, there’s something hopeful in the way two lovers find each other again. In the ash of everything lost, something warm still flickers.

Beomgyu can’t stop touching you.

He hasn’t said a single word. None of you have. When Soobin and Yeonjun stepped out of the store and saw you still wrapped in his arms, it was like Beomgyu already knew everything.

He knew you’d been with them. He knew they kept you safe.

Now he walks beside you, never letting go of your hand. His fingers stay wrapped around yours, warm and steady, like he’s afraid you might disappear again if he loosens his grip. Every few steps, he squeezes your hand — three times. You remember what it means. His thumb keeps brushing over your palm. His eyes flick down often, scanning the ground ahead of you, making sure there’s nothing sharp or dangerous in your path. He’s guiding you, gently, without needing to say a thing.

As you neared the entrance to the basement, Yeonjun and Soobin wordlessly veered off toward another path. They didn’t need to say anything, it was clear they were giving you and Beomgyu a moment alone. Your heart swelled with gratitude.

You turned to look at them, eyes wide, a smile breaking across your face as if to say; I found him. It was written in every part of you, in the way your shoulders had softened, in the way your steps felt lighter, in the light blooming behind your eyes.

Soobin smiled back instantly, almost proudly, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as much.

Yeonjun's gaze held yours a second too long. Then it drifted to Beomgyu, to the way you leaned into him, glowing like the sun had finally returned to your skin. Slowly, Yeonjun offered a faint smile —small, almost careful. When you directed your blinding smile to him, he looked away as if he was burned, hands tightening just slightly around the strap of his bag, with one thought in his mind. You were no longer his to worry about.

You never really were.

“Be careful.” You freeze.

It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice again, echoing gently down the narrow stairwell. You’re halfway down, and Beomgyu is just below you, one step lower. His hand is wrapped around yours, steady, guiding, making sure you don’t rush the descent. He watches your footing, not because he doubts you, but because he can’t bear the thought of you falling — even now, even for a second.

When your feet finally reach the floor, your chest tightens and your breath breaks. Before he can say a word, you pull him into your arms, hard, your face burying into the space between his neck and shoulder. Your body clings like it remembers the shape of him better than your mind ever could.

He catches you with a quiet laugh, though you feel the way it shakes in his chest. “What is this?” he murmurs, arms wrapping tight around you. “I’m usually the clingy one.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, already crying. “I missed you so much. I can’t— I can’t believe you found me. I kept hoping but... I didn’t know if hoping was enough.”

You feel him breathe in, shakily, “I looked for you every day,” he says, his voice thick, barely keeping steady. “Every goddamn day. I didn’t care what was out there. I just… needed to find you.”

He pulls back only enough to see your face, to brush your tears away with trembling fingers. “I promised you, didn’t I?” he whispers.

His lips press to the crown of your head. His arms tighten around you like he’s trying to put you back together just by holding you. You close your eyes, and when he kisses you again — your hair, your temple, your cheek, something in you breaks open. The tears come fast and uncontrollable.

Every moment you had suffered alone fades under the warmth of him.

“I told you I’d find you,” his voice cracks. “I told you I’d get to you. I’d get you back.” His hands slide from your shoulders to cradle your face. His thumbs brush your tears.

“How’s my wife?” he continues, “Has it… has it all been too much? I’m so sorry. And the baby — ” his voice falters, eyes glistening. “How’s our baby?”

You guide one of his hands to your stomach. His eyes drop, and when his palm meets the curve of you, he stills. His breath catches like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“We’re okay,” you whisper. “I’ve managed. Somehow.” You let out a soft laugh through your tears, and he smiles, completely undone.

“I’m here now,” he says, his hand never leaving yours. His eyes find yours and hold there, “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you again. Not ever.”

You look into his eyes, and the world blurs around the edges.

In them, you see a thousand versions of the man you’ve loved. The boy with sleepy eyes and ink-stained fingers, laughing across a college hallway. The groom with trembling hands, choking back tears as he vowed to stay. And now, husband worn by distance, a father held together by hope. A man who found you through ruin because loving you never stopped being his compass.

You nod, and then your body moves on instinct, into his arms, into the only place that’s ever truly felt like home.

He catches you, like he always has.

It doesn’t undo the nights you slept with a hand on your belly and silence as your only lullaby. It doesn’t erase the fear, the ache, the long quiet suffering of missing someone like breath.

But as your tears spill freely, soaking into the space where his heartbeat thuds against yours, you know those days have ended.

You stir the pot with a soft smile, the warm scent of the soup rising around you. Beside you, Beomgyu quietly sets out the plates, his own smile lingering as he watches you in silence. Carefully, you begin to ladle the soup, dividing it evenly between four bowls.

“Perfect timing. I’m starving,” Soobin announces as he steps in from the basement entrance, Yeonjun close behind, dropping his bag with a thud.

Everyone started eating silently.

The fire had burned low, its soft embers glowing red in the center of the dark room. You sat close to Beomgyu, your knee brushing his. His hand hadn’t let go of yours since you all sat down. Beomgyu cleared his throat, making Yeonjun looked up from where he sat. Soobin turned his head slowly, his brows slightly raised.

Beomgyu didn’t look at them right away. His gaze was fixed on the floor, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. What I’d say. How I’d say it. But I don’t think there’s a right way.”

He finally looked up, and when he did, there was something heavy behind his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, voice catching a little. “Yeonjun. Soobin. You didn’t have to take care of her. You didn’t owe me anything. But you did. You kept her safe. You made sure she had something to eat. A place to sleep. You looked out for her when I couldn’t.”

Yeonjun shook his head. “Of course we did.”

Beomgyu shook his head back, more firmly. “No. You don’t understand. You saved my family.” He swallowed hard. “That’s something I’ll never forget.”

Soobin’s jaw flexed, like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Beomgyu took a breath. “But I didn’t come here just to say thank you. I found something and I think it’s our only chance.”

You looked at him, heart beginning to pound. His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “I watched the monster,” he said. “I got close enough to learn how it moves. What it wants. And I found out what it’s afraid of.”

Soobin leaned forward. “What?”

“Water,” Beomgyu said. “It won’t cross it. I tried. I led it toward the river. As soon as I stepped in, it stopped chasing me. Like it hit an invisible wall. I waited, and it never came closer.”

Yeonjun sat up straighter. “You’re sure?”

“I’d bet my life on it,” Beomgyu said. “Which is why I’m done hiding. I’m done letting it trap us in basements and shelters and holes in the ground.”

He turned to look at you, and for a second it was like you were the only two people in the room. “I want her to live. Really live. Not in fear. Not underground. I want her to breathe fresh air and feel sunlight without checking over her shoulder. I want a life with her. As my wife, with our child who can laugh freely. On our own terms.” You felt your throat tighten, his words sinking deep into your chest.

Beomgyu turned back to the others. “There’s an island. I found it a while ago in the map. It’s surrounded by water on all sides, and it’s untouched. It's safe, the monster won’t reach it. We could build something and start over.”

Soobin rubbed a hand over his face, thinking hard. “How far?”

“Two or three days’ travel, depending on how we move,” Beomgyu answered. “It’s not easy, but it’s not impossible either.”

“You really believe this’ll work?” It was Yeonjun.

“I have to,” Beomgyu said. “Because I’m not going to lock her in another basement and pretend it’s living. Not when I know there’s more out there.”

There was a silence. A deep, contemplative one. You could feel the shift in the air as the weight of his words landed. Soobin’s voice broke the quiet. “You’re right. We’ve been surviving for so long, I think we forgot what it means to hope for something better.”

Beomgyu looked between them, his chest rising with a shaky breath. “You’ll come?”

“We’re with you,” Soobin said.

“Let’s get out of here,” Yeonjun added, nodding his head.

Beomgyu turned to you again, eyes soft, voice barely above a whisper. “You ready?”

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat, but your hand in his said everything.

To live.

Your bare feet press into the cool earth as you quietly follow Beomgyu. His hands are warm, fingers gently wrapped around yours.

It’s late. When Beomgyu heard there was a river nearby, he didn’t hesitate, he brought you with him. A backpack rests against his back, packed with clothes you’re supposed to change into later. He stops at the riverbank, his hands giving yours a soft squeeze as he takes in the scene. You follow his gaze. The moonlight spills over everything, silver and soft, making the water shimmer.

All you can hear is the steady rush of the river and the beat of your own heart.

Beomgyu drops the bag with a quiet thud that still manages to startle you. You squeeze his hand to catch his attention. He turns to you, a tender, mischievous warmth flickering in his eyes.

I got you.

He helps you change, careful and quiet, his touch reverent like he’s handling something fragile. His eyes never leave you. They stay soft, full of something deeper than want. He watches you like he's trying to remember this forever, like every small shift of your body is something precious. You move, and he watches — not in hunger, but in awe. He leans in and kisses you, a small, delicate thing at first, like he couldn’t help himself. Then again. And again. Each kiss is a little longer, a little deeper, breaking the stillness of the night with something tender and aching.

Every time a piece of clothing falls away, his lips find a new place —your mouth, your jaw, the curve of your collarbone. His hands are slow but searching, both greedy and gentle, as though he’s trying to memorize you in the dark. The space around you is filled with breath, the whisper of fabric being pulled away, the quiet gasp of skin meeting night air. He takes his time — not because he has to, but because he wants to. The world has fallen away. There’s no fear.

You should feel exposed. Vulnerable. You should feel small out here, with nothing to hide behind but night and moonlight. Monsters do walk the earth. But right now, with his hands on your skin and his mouth pressed to your shoulder, none of that feels real.

All you feel is him. And all you feel is you're with him.

When you’re both down to your underwear, he laces his fingers with yours and gently pulls you toward the water. Your clothes lie scattered behind you, his backpack nearby, forgotten in the hush of it all.

You let out a quiet gasp the moment the water touches your skin. It’s colder than you expected, sharp enough to steal your breath. Beomgyu hears it and a boyish smile blooms on his face like it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

You both begin to move, letting the river cling to your bodies. You dip your hands into it, run it through your hair, over your arms. Beomgyu steps in closer and helps you, brushing wet strands from your face, smoothing water over your shoulders with slow, open palms. He never stops smiling.

He's painfully, achingly beautiful.

You can't stop looking at him. Even like this — drenched, flushed, eyes shining, you couldn't believe he's here. With you.

Then, in the hush, his voice cuts through the air. “Do you know how much I love you?”

You freeze. Your heart kicks up, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. You snap your hand over his mouth, eyes wide, panic flooding your chest. He’s not supposed to speak. You both know that. Your breath quickens. His eyes search yours, calm even as yours fill with fear. Then, with both hands, he gently pulls yours away from his mouth. And shouts.

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU.”

You gasp, the sound sharp, almost wounded. It slips out before you can catch it. The fear floods you so fast it feels like drowning — your chest tightens, your eyes flick to every corner of the dark, waiting for something awful to rise from it.

But Beomgyu is already there.

His arms find you, pulling you close, wrapping around your body like he’s trying to shield you from the night itself. His voice is low, calm, pressed right against your ear. “Shh… baby, it’s okay,” he whispers, steady and warm, even as your heart races. “They won’t hear us. Not with the river this loud. I promise.”

You try to believe him, but your body won’t let go of the panic. Your eyes keep searching, flicking past him to the trees, the edges, the places where darkness pools. He sees it — every trace of it. His hands slide up to your face, cradling you gently, and he turns your gaze back to him.

“Look at me,” he says, quiet but firm. “Baby, look at me.”

He holds your face like it’s something breakable. Like you’re something precious. His eyes are full of everything, “I’m here,” he says, and his voice wavers. “You can speak here. With me. It’s safe.”

You didn’t expect those words to undo you.

But they do.

Tears rise fast, burning at the edges of your eyes before you can blink them away. Your chest caves in, your breath catching on a sob that doesn’t quite make it out, because it’s not just the fear — but it's the feel of safety. His lips press to your temple, over and over, slow and steady, like he’s kissing every thought away. Every fear. Every shadow.

“Beomgyu.” Of all the things you could’ve said, it's the only thing that makes out of your lips and he hears it. He holds you tighter, arms locking around you like he can feel the way you’re coming apart. Like he’s the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, barely audible. “I’ve always got you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you feel like the old you again.

Not the one shaped by fear. Not the one always looking over their shoulder, waiting for the world to crack open, but the version of you that could breathe without flinching. The one that could laugh without guilt. The one that still believed in softness, in safety, in being held without needing to run.

You think about his plan. You see him on that island. Sunlight in his hair. Laughter in his mouth. His hand still in yours. You see quiet mornings. Salt in the air. Your child running through the sand.

It surprises you — how quickly it comes back. How easily Beomgyu pulls it from wherever it’s been buried. Just by being here. Just by looking at you like you’re still whole. You rest your forehead against his, still trembling, still wet with tears, but lighter, like some part of you had been locked away and he just found the key without even trying.

His thumb brushes your cheek.

You rise onto your toes and kiss him lightly, a whisper against his mouth. He answers with a groan, his hands, already firm around your waist, tighten, drawing you closer. Your bodies press together, water running down your skin.

It all blurs after that.

You don’t remember how he led you out of the river, or when your feet touched dry earth again. All you know is the feeling of his mouth never straying far from yours, his hands guiding you with quiet urgency, his breath tangled with yours. You feel the soft fabric of your clothes beneath your back, a supposed anchor on the ground, but it’s him that keeps you from floating.

His kisses come fast, deep, like he’s afraid to stop. You try to pull back to catch your breath, your lips swollen and wet, but he finds you again instantly, like your mouth is the only place he knows how to go. You breathe through your nose, one hand on his shoulder, the other tangled in his hair, holding him close even as you try to steady yourself. It’s overwhelming — how much he wants you, how much he loves you, how much he means it.

“Beomgyu…” You moaned as you clenched your fist on his dark locks. His tongue was doing to your buds as his fingers part your wet folds. Your legs quivered as his tongue lapped at your entrance.

Beomgyu grunts as he hears your soft moans, sucking on your clit to hear more. Your taste in his mouth got him drunk as he shook his head from side to side, making your moans go higher as you moved your hips to grind your wetness on his tongue. "Hmm?"

He pulled back, replacing his tongue with his thumb, rubbing your wet clit as he kissed and sucked your inner thighs. Your eyes rolled back as your chest rose up and down, glistening with sweat.

You're fucking beautiful. Beomgyu thought as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. Your hooded eyes met his. The sight of your blushing cheeks, eyes asking for more with your lips between your teeth made Beomgyu slightly rut his hips on the bed.

“Out here?” You asked. He pumped a finger inside your pussy, curling it to hit your spot as he put his mouth back to work again, flattening his tongue over your swollen pearl before flicking it with the tip. You cried out in pleasure, throwing your head back. “Shit,”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I just couldn't help myself.” He begged as he doubled the finger inside your soaking cunt, making you cry out in pleasure as your hands gripped his steady shoulders. “I'll take care of you, okay?”

“I missed you.” He kissed your clit, making you whimper at the brief contact. He kissed your skin tracing everything. He kissed around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. He moved to your other nipple, lightly biting it while staring at your glossy eyes, making your breath hitch. He hummed as he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, nibbling on it. Once satisfied, he pulls back, admiring your body as you panted. Your eyes are glistening, and so is your cunt. He groaned at the sight, pushing his hair back and palms his erected cock.

“Beomgyu, please…” You cried when Beomgyu started to rub his shaft on your slit. You're sensitive. Every time his head hits your bud, you let out a whimper, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide as you look up at him.

Beomgyu took his time, grunting before pushing the tip inside. You gasped, feeling his length invade you. Your walls fluttered around his cock, making him let out low growls. His other hand began rubbing circles on your clit to ease the burn from the stretch.

Beomgyu kissed your bracelet when he was entirely in. You look gorgeous underneath him. Legs wide open,mouth slightly parted, and body glistening under the dim lights of the moon.

Beomgyu started moving slowly when you nod your head, careful to not give any pressure to your stomach, until your whimpers turned into moans. His name echoed in whispers, as you clawed on the skin of his back, leaving red marks. He was cradling your head, and his lips pressed on your ear. He was whispering the sweetest things to you.

“You’re made for me. You were made for me that I couldn't stop thinking about you everyday we were apart.” Beomgyu growled, kissing your ear lobes.

“Yes, yes, Beomgyu, please… I've missed you so much.” You begged as his hips started to thrust harder into you.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. He could tell that you were both close. Your walls spasmed around him, and his thrust started to stutter.

“I love you. So fucking much.” He stared into your eyes, feeling your orgasm take over your body. His mouth reaches for your sweet lips, your toes curling as your legs wrap around his waist. Beomgyu spilled his load inside you.

The world feels soft.

Beomgyu laughs — just a breath of it, barely a sound. He’s looking at you, eyes warm and shining, hair a mess. There's a smile on your lips, one that you know wouldn't go away anytime soon. “I think we should probably wash again,”

You let out a shaky laugh of your own, nodding slowly. “Yeah… probably.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you again, quick and sweet this time, before pulling himself up and reaching for your hand. You take it, and he helps you stand. The grass sticks to your skin. You both look like a mess.

A beautiful, completely loved mess.

Beomgyu keeps close, brushing his hands over your back, your shoulders, helping you rinse off with the same kind of careful attention he always gives you. Even now, even after everything, he still wants to take care of you. You splash a bit of water at him, half on accident, half on purpose, and the way he laughs makes your chest ache. In the middle of a broken world, you found something that made you forget.

If you had known what the morning would bring, if you had even caught a glimpse of it, you would’ve clawed your way out and screamed for him to stop. You would’ve gripped his face in your hands and told him no.

You would’ve begged him to stay.

You're jolted awake by a rough, urgent shake.

A gasp escapes your lips as your eyes fly open, meeting Beomgyu’s — wide and panicked. He doesn’t say a word, just presses a finger to his mouth. You hear shuffling somewhere nearby, feet scuffing the floor. The sound drags you fully upright as Beomgyu hauls you to your feet.

Yeonjun’s voice cuts through the dark, you don’t catch the words, but the tension in his tone curls around your chest. You feel your heart pounding at your back, thudding like footsteps too close behind.

You’re confused. You’re supposed to be asleep. Supposed to wake up with the sun, gather your things, and head for the island like you planned. So why are you being woken up now?

“Hey,” Beomgyu whispers, leaning in close. “We need to move. Now. Stay right next to me. Don’t let go.” You nod, too scared to speak.

You slip out of the room, makeshift curtains brushing against your arms like ghosts. Your breath catches as your eyes land on a man standing at the entrance to the basement, someone you've never seen before.

An intruder.

His eyes are wide. There's dirt on his clothes, blood maybe, and in his shaking hand, he holds a gun. In one swift movement, Beomgyu steps in front of you, shielding you completely from view. His body becomes a wall.

"Leave now," the man growls. His voice is rough, edged with fear. "Or I’ll fucking shoot."

Soobin’s voice rises from somewhere to your right, “And bring every monster straight to us?” He takes a careful step forward. “We’ll leave. You can have this place, just put the gun down.”

“Where are you going?” the man demands, pointing the gun. “Tell me.” His voice is unsteady, laced with paranoia. His eyes flick from face to face, wild and unfocused. “Do I have to kill you all?” he mutters, almost to himself. “You’ll know I’m here. You’ll all know. Food, food’s making everyone lose their minds. I have to kill you.”

His finger twitches. The click of the gun being cocked cuts through the room like a blade.

“No!” Soobin shouts. In a flash, Yeonjun lunges forward, slamming into the man. They hit the ground hard, bodies twisting, the gun scraping against the floor.

“Fuck — stop it!” someone yells. It might be Beomgyu. It might be you. You don’t know. You’re shaking. Your legs won’t hold steady, all you know is Beomgyu grabbed your hand, pulling you back, pulling you away.

The gun goes off. For a moment, everything stops. The sound still ringing in your ears, but the basement has fallen into a dead, ringing silence.

The door is wide open. You don’t have to be told — they’re coming. They heard it.

You stumble to the side, eyes scanning the room. The stranger lies crumpled on the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. Yeonjun’s hands are still pressed to the man’s neck, trembling. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Soobin—”

You turn and see Soobin clutching his thigh, blood seeping through his fingers. His face is pale, jaw clenched tight as he leans into the wall for support.

“They heard that,” you say. “The monsters. We need to move. Now.”

Beomgyu pulls you forward, stumbling through the basement entrance as the first screech slices through the night. It's not far. It's too close. Your chest feels like it might cave in. Behind you, Soobin’s limping, dragging his leg. Blood streaks down his thigh, every step a raw, gritted miracle. Yeonjun is practically holding him up, jaw clenched.

You turn to Beomgyu. “Help them.” He pauses, eyes locking with yours, hesitation written all over his face. Fear.

"Go," you whisper again, voice cracking. “Please.”

Soobin sees Beomgyu step in to help, “Fuck No,” he growls. “Don’t even fucking think about it. Take her and go.”

“You’re bleeding out,” Beomgyu fires back. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

“You will,” Soobin spits, swaying. “Y/N is the one who matters. You know that. We’re dead weight. If you stay, she dies too. They will die too.”

You want to scream at him. To punch him. To beg him to shut up and run, instead, your voice comes out hollow. “Don’t do this.”

“We’ll find you,” Yeonjun looks at you. “Just—keep going. If we’re not at the docks in thirty minutes…” He doesn’t finish.

The next screech tears through the trees.

Soobin pushes Beomgyu with what strength he has left. “GO! We'll die here.”

You shake your head, barely able to breathe as your body trembles beneath the weight of what’s happening. Beomgyu’s hand wraps around yours, tugging —pulling you away but your feet refuse to move.

Your eyes stay locked on them.

On the two people who’ve saved you more times than you can count. Who shielded you when the world was falling apart. Soobin is barely standing now, blood soaking through his pants, the stain growing darker with every step. You know what that means. Without help, without first aid, without a blood transfusion — he won’t make it.

You know it like a law of nature.

Yeonjun catches your stare. He holds your gaze, and in his eyes, you see no plan but one truth. He’s not letting Soobin die alone.

The tears come faster now, hot and aching, slipping down your face like they’re trying to carve the grief into your skin. You want to hold it in — to bite your tongue, to stay composed, to be the version of yourself they would’ve needed but something in you breaks.

You remember Soobin’s soft, tired smile as he passed you his last piece of bread. The way Yeonjun would nudge you during tense nights just to remind you he was still there. You remember the warmth of their presence when everything else was cold and cruel. You remember laughing with them once.

Would you have been friends if the world hadn’t ended? If you met in some ordinary place with clean air and normal lives? Would Soobin still have been loud and protective, would Yeonjun still have had that steadiness that made you feel safe? Would they still have chosen you?

Would you have been friends?

Your chest crumples, folding inward under the weight of guilt and sorrow you weren’t ready to carry. You hate yourself for it — for moving, for breathing, for leaving when all you want is to run back and hold onto them until the monsters take you too. How do you live with this? How do you keep going when you know the last thing they saw was you, walking away?

Beomgyu’s hand is still in yours. Tight. It was as if he could read your mind. He pulls you forward. You take one last look at the place that held the only people who made you feel safe.

They don't look at you.

The boat rocks beneath you, a fragile cradle adrift in an endless stretch of black water. It creaks softly, as though mourning its own presence in this place. All around, the lake swallows light and sound alike, vast and terrible. The moon hangs overhead; distant, cold, and half-hidden behind slow-moving clouds, offering only the faintest glow, just enough to paint a silver line across the rippling surface.

Beomgyu crouches near the motor, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. His fingers tremble as they fumble with the ignition. You see the way his shoulders curl inward, how his body fights the cold and the fear. Each breath he draws fogs the air like a whisper of everything unsaid between you.

A violent jerk. The motor snarls to life. A metallic scream that shatters the silence, ripping through the night like a wound torn open too fast.

From across the water, something shrieks. It’s high-pitched, keening, filled with something ancient and wrong. The sound claws at your spine, drags your heart into your throat. Beomgyu swears, as he slams the switch off. The motor stutters, dies. Silence crashes back down, heavier than before, suffocating.

He turns to you. His face is pale, eyes wide, wild, but not breaking. There’s something in his expression: an apology, a promise, a plea.

He’s scared.

Your throat closes. You shake your head, violently, as if you can shake away the sound, the cold, the truth. Tears burn hot as they spill down your cheeks, turning everything to watercolor — his face, the sky, the glint of water around you. “No,” you whisper, then louder. “No. No. No.”

He cups your face in both hands. His touch is gentle but urgent, like he’s trying to memorize you through his fingertips. His thumbs brush away the tears even as more fall. He leans in until his forehead rests against yours, his breath shallow, his voice barely a whisper.

“Listen to me,” he says, as if you’re the only thing left in the world worth speaking to. “The lighthouse. If I set off the alarm, they’ll come to it. All of them. It’s the only way.” His voice cracks, but he doesn’t pull back. “I promise I’ll come back to you. As soon as I can. Okay?”

You can’t breathe.

You’re drowning on dry land, lungs stuttering in your chest. Your hand flies to your mouth, stifling a sob that wants to tear its way free. Your shoulders shake, and you’re shaking your head, hard, as if denial could somehow become magic, could rewrite this moment, this choice. Could unmake the dark.

He grabs your shoulders now, steadying you, grounding you. You feel the strength in his grip, but it’s the fear underneath it that nearly undoes you.

“I’ll come back,” he says again, softer now. Like a lullaby meant to soothe a child before the storm hits. “I swear it. I’ll just set the alarm. That’s all. I’ll be fast. It’s only a monster or two, right?” He tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s loud enough — they’ll follow it. They always do.”

You’re gasping, shoulders heaving, eyes wide with terror. You reach for him, mouthing please, please, like a prayer torn from your soul, like the word alone could hold him here with you.

“Turn on the motor,” he says, voice barely above the sound of the water lapping against the boat. “Wait until I set it off. Then you go.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the word scraping out of you like glass. “No.” It’s barely a sound, a whimper with nothing behind it but pain. He leans in again, presses a trembling hand to your chest, right over your heart. You can feel the heat of him, the pulse in his palm, how human he is and how fragile.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he whispers, like it’s a truth that can live beyond this night. “I’ll always be with you.”

Then his voice breaks. Just for a moment. A single crack that shatters everything. “Do it for me. Do it for our child.” he says, eyes glistening now. “Please. Can you promise me that?”

You want to scream. You want to grab him, hold him, drag him back into the boat and never let go. You want to tear the sky open, to rage at whatever gods let this happen, but all you can do is shake.

Tears stream down your face, silent and relentless. Panic floods your lungs, thick and sharp, suffocating you from the inside.

It’s small. Weak. A terrified, shaking nod that you gave him.

It’s enough for him.

Beomgyu leans in, pressing a trembling kiss to your forehead. His hands come to rest on your stomach, fingers splayed, clinging to the shape of a future he’s terrified of losing. His breath stutters as he closes his eyes, trying to hold himself together, trying to find the courage to do what he must.

He thinks of you, every night you held him when the world felt too heavy, every morning he woke to your warmth, your voice, your smile. He thinks of the moment he first saw you, how everything shifted. And now, he thinks of the tiny heartbeat beneath his palms. His baby. The life you made together. His throat burns. He doesn’t want to go.

He doesn’t want to leave.

He doesn’t want to leave you.

When he looks at you again, his eyes are glassy, his jaw clenched like he's fighting something inside himself. For a second, he looks like he might undo it all. Like he might fall to his knees, beg forgiveness for even thinking of leaving. You see it in the way his mouth opens, closes. The way his fingers twitch against your skin.

He exhales, as if he was surrendering.

He runs.

His feet hit the dock, loud and jarring against the soaked wood. You watch his silhouette stretch, then blur, then vanish into the fog, swallowed whole by the night. Your body wanted to run after him.

The motor is silent, the water uncaring. Your sobs fill the space he left behind. You cover your mouth with both hands, curling in on yourself, choking on everything you can’t say.

Grief doesn’t care about survival.

Out in the distance, the lighthouse looms — a black tower against a blacker sky. A smudge of shadow, barely visible through the fog.

The siren starts.

It erupts without warning, a scream of metal and wind, a shriek that splits the night down its spine. It wails — long, unrelenting, merciless. A sound made to summon death.

The monsters answer.

You hear them first — screeches rising from the treeline and the water’s edge, inhuman and furious. Then you see them. Dozens. Maybe more. Crawling from the dark, leaping like shadows pulled by strings, limbs too long. They move toward the sound, toward the light.

Toward him.

Drawn like moths to flame.

You’re frozen. Paralyzed in the center of the rocking boat, breath locked in your lungs. The siren still echoes in your ears, though it's fading now — its afterimage seared into your mind like lightning behind your eyelids.

It stops.

The alarm cuts out mid-wail, a guillotine of silence. The absence of sound is deafening, unnatural. And you know.

You know what it means.

Your body doesn’t move, can’t move. Only your eyes, wide and glassy, locked on the lighthouse in the distance. Come on. Come out now. You can't even speak his name.

Dark shapes twist and writhe around it — shadows crawling over stone, blotting out the structure in violent waves. The creatures consumed. You watch helplessly as they pour over every surface, spilling like oil, thick and writhing, until the tower looks like it's bleeding darkness. Your heart stops.

Do it for me. Do it for our child.

Please. Can you promise me that?

Can you promise me that?

You kick the motor. Hard.

It roars to life with a scream like tearing metal. The boat lurches forward violently, cutting through the water. The fog whips past you, moonlight slicing in thin ribbons across the surface. Your sobs vanish in the sound. Swallowed by the engine, the waves, the night.

Why did you let him go? You knew this wouldn’t save him. You knew. So why? You should’ve held on tighter. You should’ve clung to him like your life depended on it because it did. You should’ve buried your face in his chest. Why did you let him go?

Tears stream down your face, hot and constant, your hands white-knuckled on the controls. You’re not steering toward hope, you’re fleeing from loss. From the truth that’s clawing through your chest like something trying to escape, because you weren’t just leaving the lighthouse. You were leaving your heart behind.

You were leaving him.

“Where were you?” you asked, reaching over to grab the strawberry from the basket on the kitchen table. Beomgyu’s chuckle filled the room. “I went drinking with Taehyun and Kai. Just a light drink,” he said casually, his hand brushing your shoulder as he passed behind you to grab a plate.

“Why? Did you miss your husband?” he teased, carefully plating the food before setting it down in front of you.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You wish.”

He chuckled, handing you a spoon and fork before moving around the kitchen. A tall glass appeared on the table next to your plate and he poured you water.

“Did she miss me too?” Beomgyu’s voice was soft, almost tentative, drawing your gaze upward. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you were caught in the tenderness there. It made your heart ache in that way only he could.

“She?” You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you swallowed. “What makes you so sure it's a girl?” Your hand instinctively brushed over your stomach as a quiet smile softened your face. The thought of your little one—boy or girl—filled you with a warmth you couldn’t quite put into words.

“I just feel it,” A small smile flickered across his lips, “What if we get twins?”

You looked down, your thoughts wandering to tiny clothes, little shoes scattered across the floor, and pastel-painted walls filled with light and laughter. “That would be… amazing,” you murmured.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Beomgyu pulling out the chair beside you. He sat down at first, but then, almost as if drawn closer by some unseen force, he shifted. You felt his gaze before you saw him—soft, unwavering, and filled with a kind of awe that made your chest tighten.

“That sounds nice, two little you running around.” he breathed, his voice almost a whisper. His hand reached out slowly, brushing against your stomach. You set down your utensils, giving him a soft nod as you shifted slightly, allowing him more access.

Beomgyu lowered himself onto his knees in front of you, his large hands resting gently on either side of your growing belly. He glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before he let out a long, steady breath. Then, with a tenderness that made your throat tighten, he leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently against your stomach.

“Daddy loves you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. He sounded so vulnerable, so small. His lips pressed softly against your stomach. And then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face against you.

Your hand moved instinctively, threading through his soft hair with slow, soothing strokes. He pulled you closer, as though being near you could quiet the storm in his heart. Your fingers trailed down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and down his back.

In your dream, you were cradling a baby to your chest, its tiny body safe in your arms. Beomgyu leaned down, smiling widely as you do.

You sat there, staring at nothing. Your face hollow, your eyes dry. You don’t know how long the boat’s been still, you only know it stopped. You must’ve reached the island, but you don’t care.

He's not here.

You don’t remember standing.

One minute you’re sitting there, still and silent, and the next your feet are moving — stiff, like they don’t belong to you. The dock creaks under you as you step off the boat, but even that sound feels distant, like it’s happening to someone else. Trees sway in the wind.

He’s not here.

The ground feels too solid, like it’s mocking you. You stare at your hands, like maybe they’ll stop shaking. You keep walking, because what else is there to do?

One foot in front of the other. The boat pulls away behind you.

He’s not here.

You spot a cabin ahead. A small, weathered thing nestled between the trees—and suddenly, you remember his hunches. He knew this place. He was right. He was always right.

You push the door open. It creaks under your hand. Inside, it’s cramped, barely furnished, but it’s enough. You exhale. For a moment, the silence almost feels like peace.

He’s not here.

“What am I supposed to do now?” The words escape you in a whisper before panic takes hold. Your breath catches, short and ragged, and soon you're gasping. Your chest convulses with sobs you can't control. A scream tears from your throat. You hurl your backpack to the ground. It thuds against the floor. Rage spills out in curses, flung at the walls, at the stillness, at the unbearable absence. You grip your hair, trembling, and begin to rock, trying to hold yourself together as everything else breaks apart.

“You told me…” The words tore from your throat, ragged and broken. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you screamed into the emptiness, hollowed out by the ache twisting through your chest. “You told me you’d come back.”

You cried, long after your voice gave out and your body folded in on itself. Arms wrapped tight around your ribs, as if holding yourself could keep you from falling apart entirely. Your face was hot and swollen, eyes raw from the endless wave of tears.

Again and again, you called his name.

The only sounds are your own ragged sobs and the shallow breaths you no longer want to take. Each inhale feels like a betrayal, each exhale a reminder that you’re the only one alive.

You curled into a fetal position, lost in the tide of your thoughts, barely noticing as the light fades. At some point, the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Now, darkness presses against the windows, and still, you haven’t stirred. The world outside continues on, but in here, time doesn’t move. You don’t move.

Your stomach growls, a hollow, aching sound that reminds you how long it’s been.

You shift to your right, slow and heavy, and your eyes land on your backpack — the one you threw in a fit of something you couldn’t name. It sits there, slouched and half-open, like it gave up, too.Things spill out from the top. Torn corners, bandages, small bottles rattling inside a plastic pouch.

Your chest tightens.

Beomgyu packed it. Every piece. He had gone over it with you more than once, made sure you understood; this is how you clean a wound, this is what you take when your fever spikes, this is what you plant when there’s nothing left. You swallow hard.

Something else is there. Tucked just beneath the flap, barely visible. Something you don’t remember. Something he never mentioned, and before you can even think about it, your body moves on its own. You’re already pushing yourself up, legs unsteady, heart in your throat. You open it, your hands trembling around the edges of a notebook you don’t remember packing.

The pages fall open easily, worn from use. Every single one is filled.

His handwriting. Small, uneven. Rushed, but careful in the way only Beomgyu could be when he was trying to pretend he wasn’t scared. Instructions. Notes. How to plant seeds. When to water them. How to tell when a crop’s gone bad. How to clean water when there’s nothing clean left. How to fish with a line or with nothing at all. How to start a fire even in the rain.

And then, childbirth.

You stare. The words blur. His cramped, chaotic scrawls turn into something wet and aching in your eyes. You let out a breath, shaky and cracked. “Idiot,” you whisper, choking on the sound. “As if you were waiting to die for me.”

The pages tremble as you turn them, one by one, until you reach the end.

The last page. The words there are scrambled, rushed, overlapping like he couldn’t write them fast enough. Your eyes scan them and then your breath catches.

hi, baby.

this might be stupid. really stupid but i couldn’t sleep and i kept thinking... what if? so i wrote this. not because i want you to read it. god, i hope you never do. but just in case. just in case

i’ve seen this kind of thing in movies. the husband leaves a letter, the wife reads it when he’s gone, and everyone cries. that’s not real, right? that’s just a story. …right? i hated it when the wife is alone and she cries alone.

it’s breaking my heart to even think about you reading this. to imagine you alone, holding this, looking for me and not finding me. but tonight, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking until i wrote it.

maybe you’ll need it. maybe something will happen. maybe i’m already gone.

and if i am, i’m so fucking sorry.

you have to know... it would have taken everything in me to walk away from you. if i left, it wasn’t because i wanted to. it was because i had no choice and even then, i wouldn’t have done it without thinking of you every single step. it's not because of you, it's because i wanted to do it for you. it's all me. it's all me okay?

you’ll cry. i know you will. and it kills me, it kills me to think of you hurting. i know how deeply you love. it’s one of the first things i ever adored about you. but please, don’t let it break you. don’t let it swallow you whole, because if i could see you now, if i could hold you one last time, i’d beg you to keep going.

i love you. i love you so much it hurts. i don’t know how to put it into words that feel big enough.

i hope you never need this letter. i hope this just ends up being some stupid, crumpled piece of paper you find years from now and laugh at. i hope i’m just being overdramatic, writing in the dark, because i miss you too much.

if not, if this is the last thing i ever give you.....

then know this: i have no regrets. you gave me a reason to live, and if i can’t be there anymore, you living will be the only reason i can rest.

i love you, wife. i will always, always love you.

and wherever i am, wherever you are — i’ll always be with you.

i swear it.

ps: don't cry too much, okay?

Your hands tremble as you finish reading the letter your husband left behind. Tears spill down your cheeks, stinging your swollen eyes. You clutch the letter to your chest like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, his words still echoing in your mind, sinking deeper with every breath you take. You can barely breathe. You whisper his name in broken sobs, your voice shaking.

“Beomgyu…” His name falls from your lips like a prayer. The words he wrote — those last, aching pieces of his heart — are now etched into yours, carved so deep they’ll never leave.

Choi Beomgyu had loved you until his very last breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words cracking in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ‘Gyu…” You say it again and again, as if some god might hear. As if apologies might bend time and undo death.

As if loving him hard enough, hurting deeply enough, could bring him back to you.

You kneel in the dirt with hands blistered from days of digging. The morning sun is sharp, too bright, like it doesn’t know how much you’ve lost. But you let it burn your skin. It’s easier than thinking.

You unfold the notebook beside you, Beomgyu’s handwriting smudged from when your tears fell on it the first time. He had drawn a simple diagram, barely legible, labeled: Keep corn away from potatoes. A small, crooked heart was doodled at the corner. You stare at it a second too long.

Your hands move, almost automatically, scooping soil, pressing the seeds in just like he wrote. Cover. Water. Pray they grow. You do it again, and again. Row by row. Your knees ache. Your back screams. But you keep going, because he made sure you could.

Later, you find the animals.

Two pigs and a limping cow, left behind like forgotten ghosts. You lure them in with scraps, whisper soft apologies when they flinch. You build a pen from broken wood and wire, fingers bleeding, sweat mixing with dirt on your face. You name the cow Cloud. Beomgyu would’ve laughed at that.

The notebook stays tucked in your waistband now, always with you. You read the same page each morning like a prayer. You will make it. You will live.

So you do.

It’s always the same dream.

Beomgyu is humming. The soft kind he used to do when he didn’t know you were listening. His arms are around you. You feel him breathe against your neck, whispering words that don’t quite form.

Then you blink, and he’s not there.

You wake up choking on a sob. The world is pitch black around you, the fire long since burned out. Your chest rises and falls too fast. You curl into yourself, wrapping your arms around your belly, shaking.

“Beomgyu,” you whisper, barely a voice at all. “Please, just one more night.”

But only the wind answers. A bird calls from somewhere in the trees. You press your palm to where he was supposed sleep beside you, and the cold there is unbearable.

You cry until you forget why you started.

The pain starts at dawn.

You’re bent over the table sorting dried herbs when it hits — a sharp, deep wrenching that doubles you over. You gasp, grabbing the edge of the table, your breath coming fast.

You stagger to the bed. The mattress is lumpy, stuffed with straw and old cloth. You lie down, sweat slicking your forehead, trying to remember what Beomgyu wrote.

Breathe. Stay low to the ground. Keep clean towels nearby. Boil water.

You crawl to the pot. Heat the stove. Prepare, just like the notebook said. The hours stretch long and cruel. You scream once, twice. Bite down on cloth. You curse him for leaving you. You beg him to come back. The contractions come like waves, each one pulling you under.

Then, finally, a cry. So small. So soft.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until you hold them in your arms. The baby is warm. Real. Alive. You’re sobbing, loud and wild and cracked open. It's a girl, just like he predicted. Just like what he wanted.

You press your cheek to theirs, whispering over and over: We made it. We made it.

Outside, the sun begins to rise again.

The baby’s cries used to feel like thunder in your skull, loud and jarring, each sound a reminder that Beomgyu wasn’t here to hear them too.

Now, weeks later, you move before she even wakes fully. You don’t think. You just rise, gently lift her into your arms, press your nose into the wisps of hair that smell like earth and warmth and something clean. You hum to her, a tune you don’t remember learning.

You think Beomgyu might’ve hummed it first.

You still cry some nights, quietly. You talk to her, tell her about the day’s weather, the crops coming in slower than you hoped, the time the pig got loose and ran through the garden. Your voice cracks sometimes, but you speak anyway. You plant with her strapped to your chest. You sing while washing her clothes. You braid dried grass into little toys and pretend you're doing it just to pass time — though truthfully, you like watching her fingers wrap around them.

You’re not okay, but you’re not drowning anymore.

She’s almost a year now.

Not walking yet, but strong enough to push herself up and reach for things she shouldn’t. Her eyes are too familiar —s harp and round, framed by lashes that look exactly like Beomgyu’s. Her mouth even curves the same way when she cries.

You avoid looking at her for too long.

There’s a guilt that rises in your chest every time you hold her. Like you’re stealing a future Beomgyu never got to finish. Sometimes you hold her at a distance, like something fragile you don’t know how to care for. She doesn’t notice. Not yet. But you feel it. You feel it deeply.

That night, the dream returns. He’s there — Beomgyu. Sitting beside the old garden, barefoot, smiling like it never hurt. You fall into his arms and start sobbing without saying anything. He doesn’t say much either. Just rubs your back like he used to.

When you pull away, he points at something behind you.

You turn and there she is, your daughter. Looking right at you. Beomgyu kneels beside her and whispers something. You don’t hear the words, but when you look again, her name forms in your mouth.

Beomgyu loved sunlight.

You wake up gasping, cheeks soaked.

You stumble into the next room, where she’s sleeping curled in a blanket. You fall to your knees beside her, trembling. “Your name is… your name is Hayeon,” you whisper, like it’s the first truth you’ve spoken in months. “That’s what your father called you.”

And for the first time since she was born, you really see her. Your hands don’t shake this time when you touched her. You sob into her tiny shoulder, pressing your lips to her skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

The next morning, the sky is heavy with clouds, but no rain comes.

You sit on the step outside the cabin, Hayeon nestled in your lap. She babbles nonsense, pressing her palm to your chin and tugging at your collar like she owns you.

You let her.

“I didn’t know how to be your mom,” you say aloud, voice barely audible over the wind. “I didn’t know how to breathe without him. I didn’t know how to… look at you.” She doesn’t understand. Of course she doesn’t. But you say it anyway, because maybe you need to hear it.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, firmer this time. “For not being there. For looking away. You didn’t deserve that.”

You press your cheek to her temple. She laughs at nothing, and for a moment, your chest feels light. “You look just like him,” you whisper. “But I think your soul is yours.”

You started waking up with the will to do so.

“Hayeon, don’t go off too far,” you call, voice light but firm.

She doesn’t answer—at least not in words. Just a bright giggle, shrill and wild, carried on the wind. Her little boots slap against the dirt path as she chases a yellow butterfly between rows of sprouting greens. You see her leap over a patch of tomatoes, arms flailing, hair flying behind her like smoke in sunlight.

You watch her from the bench outside the cabin, your back resting against the worn wood. There’s a basin of laundry beside you, half-finished. The sun’s warm against your face. You let it linger.

You smile, quiet and soft, like it belongs to a version of you that’s finally starting to return.

He would’ve loved it here.

You think that more often these days. Not with the same ache. Not like a wound reopening. But like a truth. A gentle one. Beomgyu would’ve loved the garden coming to life, the way the wind combs through the trees, how the ocean hums just beyond the hills. He would’ve sat here beside you, probably building some dumb little scarecrow with Hayeon and naming it after something ridiculous.

He would’ve made her laugh until she hiccupped.

You imagine him crouched next to her, showing her how to water the seedlings without drowning them. Teaching her to whistle. Drawing shapes in the dirt just to see her copy them. You watch her fall onto her knees, gasping with laughter as the butterfly flutters out of reach. She claps her hands, delighted anyway. You feel your heart stretch with something like peace.

She’s safe. She’s growing. She’s happy.

You remember the first time she asked about him.

The stars are out tonight.

The sky’s painted in deep indigo, scattered with tiny, blinking lights. You’re sitting on the porch steps, your arms wrapped around Hayeon, who’s nestled against your side, thumb resting near her mouth the way she does when she’s tired but too curious to sleep. The wind is gentle, brushing through the trees, stirring the hem of your dress.

She’s quiet for a while. Just breathing, head resting on your shoulder, small chest rising and falling. You think she’s about to fall asleep.

Then softly, barely more than a murmur she says, “Mama… what was my dad like?”

The words land like a pebble in still water. Everything shifts. You don’t move at first. Your breath stills. It’s the question you’ve been waiting for. Slowly, you turn your head to look at her. Her eyes are open, wide and soft, glinting with the starlight.

You take a shaky breath.

“Your dad…” you begin, voice almost breaking. “He was kind. The kind of kind that made you feel safe just by being next to him.”

Hayeon listens silently, thumb dropping from her lips.

“He was funny, too. He used to make me laugh even when I didn’t want to. He’d do the dumbest impressions, or start dancing in the middle of nowhere, just to see me smile.” You close your eyes for a moment. You can see him again — arms flailing in the garden, lips pursed in mock seriousness, Hayeon’s laugh echoing over a memory that never got to exist.

“He was brave,” you whisper. “He stayed brave, even when the world was falling apart.”

A silence settles.

“Did he love me?” she asks.

You look at her fully now, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

“More than anything,” you say. “Even before you were born, he loved you. He wrote about you in his notebook. He dreamed about you. He… he wanted so badly to meet you.”

You feel tears rise, but you don’t let them fall. “He didn’t get to stay,” you say gently, “but he left everything he could so we could live. He gave me the strength to raise you. To keep going.”

Hayeon leans in closer, silent. Then, in the smallest voice, she whispers. “I miss him.”

You feel the bracelet around your wrist, worn smooth from time and touch. You don’t have a picture of him. No frame to hold against your chest, no smile captured in ink, but you have this.

And somehow, it’s enough.

You look at your daughter; her face lit by the amber dusk, eyes squinting as she plays in the tall grass, wind tugging at her hair. An image of him. The same jaw. The same shape of her hands. The same spark in her laugh when she runs.

She used to haunt you.

Now, she anchors you — pulls you back to earth when you wake up gasping, when you reach across the bed and feel only emptiness. She pulls you through the dark.

Someday, you’ll pass the bracelet on to her. So she’ll have a piece of him too. So she’ll know that he was real. That he loved so hard, it made life possible even after he was gone.

You're scared of forgetting him.

The sky looks softer now. The air is light. You close your eyes and breathe in deep.

Your voice shakes as you speak, “If you’re out there… are you out there?” You pause, tears catching on your lashes. “Just like you said you would be?”

Your fingers press gently to the bracelet, the metal warm against your skin. “I want you to know, we’re safe. Because of you.” You bite your lip. “Because you made it possible. It was all because of you.”

A long silence. A bird calls in the distance. Your daughter laughs again, far away. You smile, even as your voice breaks.

“I’ll see you again,” you whisper. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

The wind moves through the trees — soft, almost like a hand brushing your shoulder.

Almost like he heard you.

You'll be okay.

epilogue

The morning mist clings to the surface of the sea, curling around the shoreline like a secret not yet spoken. You wake to the sound of waves lapping against the dock but there’s something else, too. A low hum.

A boat.

Still half-asleep, you rise and step outside, the wood cool beneath your feet. The sky is pale, painted in hushed pastels. The sea stretches endlessly, but you spot it. Your breath catches.

There’s a figure on board.

He raises a hand, waving toward you with calm familiarity, as if he’s done it a thousand times before. There’s warmth in it.

Your lips curve into a wide smile. Your eyes burn.

The sea glitters between you, endless and wide.

“You took your time, idiot.”

The thrum of instinct is heavy, like an anchor pulling Namjoon up from sleep. His consciousness bubbles up from somewhere in between a very very happy dream involving the pack and a can of whipped cream and a feeling like he vaguely should eat something.

The first thing he registers is that he can taste cream on the back of his throat. Probably Jin's slick. And the second thing is that there is someone- an omega moving around the nest.

A bad thing, a thing that his instincts, primed and ready to protect, are all loud over.

Jinnie is pillowed on his chest, hole slick and open around Namjoon's knot, resting just inside the comforting familiar warmth. Knot warming to soothe his pack omega who had been quite distressed when he woke last and was unfilled. But Namjoon has fixed that. Good, Namjoon is doing a good job, of keeping his mate and packmates happy.

But that is Neither insistent nor very important at the moment as Namjoon subtly shifts the omega closer to him. Going into guarding mode, on alert the second he wakes. Eyes flicking from the window to the door, a growl already building to ward off potential predators.

But there are none here in the quiet room, nothing besides the cool blue light of the moon slipping through the window. Jin nuzzles into his neck, whining low at the sudden burst of angry alpha on the air.

Namjoon’s arms tighten at the sound of movement. Thumb rubbing at the dimple of Jin’s spine. But when he looks- eyes flinty in the darkness- it’s just you.

He watches as you move, instantly fully awake, waiting and seeing if you'll trudge too close to the edge of the nest and if you'll need him to manhandle you (albeit gently) back into your place among the other soft and sleeping pups here. Safe, where you belong, where you should be sprawled and ready to take any of the sensual delights that Namjoon's alphas have in store for you.

Namjoon is patient, like a cat watching a mouse, waiting to see if you like Jinnie earlier, need to be caught.

Namjoon hadn’t let the pack omega fuss over the food for too long without herding him back inside the nest. The distance between Jin and its safe walls is the mental equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. Namjoon had all but nipped Jin at the scruff- something that the pack omega only sometimes allows. But if Namjoon feels the need to get all his omega’s safe and in one spot then Jin feels it tenfold.

It's a good thing that they both get each other like this. Namjoon will never take it for granted, and will never not marvel over his soulmate.

Namjoon scans the nest, counting bodies and measuring breaths. Every pup is where they should be, snug and sated. Well, almost every pup. But Namjoon is inclined to watch and wait and see if you come to him.

Your cheeks are round looking, eyes barely open, blinking blearily, wearing only a large dark t-shirt- because you complained that the nudity was bothering you earlier. It was an easily fulfilled request although the alpha’s might have bickered a little bit over whose shirt you wore. Jimin had won out and you smell like him, like vanilla and alpha musk.

Although that might be due to the state of the shirt. The black shirt you wear is crisscrossed a little grossly with near-translucent evidence of Jimin's cum and your and Jk’s rubbing. But messiness and a lack of hygiene kind of goes hand in hand with heat and maybe he'll remember to think it's gross tomorrow.

But now Namjoon breathes in deep a barely there warning growl on the exhale, luxuriating in the scent of all of you combined- in more ways than just the shirt indicates. Even from here, he can smell how bred you are. The underlying sated current to your scent tells him he's done his job and done it well.

For a moment Namjoon lets himself imagine that he's actually pupped you (all three of you at once, but who’s really measuring Namjoon’s fantasy here) and that soon you'll start to swell and sweeten. You'll be as adorably dependent on them as you are in omega space all the time. The fantasy is so heavenly that Namjoon’s eyelids begin to grow heavy.

Jin is going to absolutely go to town with you and Jungkook later. God, Namjoon would kill for a shower. Maybe in the morning when he's not so tired.

Namjoon watches, mouth dry and knot sore. Namjoon is just detangling his thoughts enough to try and ask you if you need another breeding or perhaps growl at you in warning, when you get to where Yoongi’s slumped. Knees to the side, body half propped up in a mess of pillows.

His pj’s are pulled low, the same flannel ones that Yoongi always likes but that Jungkook complains feels too scratchy. But you don’t seem to mind, immediately snuggling down into your mate. Your legs and Yoongi’s legs immediately tangling.

Namjoon has never asked what it feels like- your mating mark, beyond the barest scientific-driven questions. But sometimes he wonders- is Yoongi your north star? Is he the taste on the back of your throat? The face you see behind your eyelids as you dream.

Namjoon’s hands tighten around Jin’s body instinctively. He's been looking at the pack omega's throat a lot more this heat, appreciating the musculature, the vein that Namjoon can see pulsating. They've been together now for what- 6 years? Almost 7? How much longer should they wait?

Yoongi wakes when you fall into his arms. A little thump, A little oof. Namjoon hears it from across the nest. In the quiet soft hum of dreaming bodies, Jungkook’s soft snoring and puppy twitches make a blanket rustle.

Yoongi doesn’t look upset at being woken up so abruptly, blinking as you duck low and nuzzle into his jaw, whining softly. Needy. Lying your body weight over him and instantly limp.

Namjoon's instincts resettle themselves.

“Hey little honey,” he says softly followed immidatly by something barely intelligible. Brushing your tangled hair back from your face, ducking low to bump his nose against yours before he kisses you, soft and slow deep.

Namjoon hums, pleased.

You only squirm in reply, shuffling closer to Yoongi, like just getting your body next to his isn’t enough. Isn’t close enough for your mate. Namjoon feels his heart pang.

"Did you need it? Do you want it?” He trails off, and Yoongi’s flush is a little noticeable even if the half-darkness. You just shake your head. Namjoon can tell by the way your cheeks, look- flushed but not sweaty- that this isn’t another spike of heat.

This is just you; this is just you needing to be close to Yoongi. Namjoon’s mouth goes a little dry and he doesn’t speak, doesn’t say a word for fear of interrupting you.

Words have been hard for you in heat, more often than not communicating with one-word answers or a shake of your head, but you scrape together your words for Yoongi now. “Just cuddle? Just wanted to cuddle with you.”

Yoongi hums deep and gravely. And opens his arms, pealing back his covers because with you there- he won’t need a blanket, burning hot as you are. You settle in around him. Hitching a leg over his hip that Yoongi adjusts pulling you closer.

You press your face to Yoongi’s throat and Namjoon sees him swallow. Sees your mate wrap his arms around you, hand skimming up and down your back, endless trails until you fall asleep. He thinks Yoongi might whisper something to you in the darkness.

After counting the bodies once again. Namjoon tucks Jin's head back under his chin and shuts his eyes. Listening for seven heartbeats beating in rhythm before his instincts let him rest.

The pack all need it after the heat, Namjoon thinks it must be close to ending now, but it’s hard to tell for sure.  

~-~

There are other soft moments too, as the spikes between your heat truly start to petter off later that evening. It's not over yet, but it's getting there. When you're lucid enough to speak, you and Jungkook complain that your bodies feel awful.

The stickiness between your legs, the dewy space under your breasts (that Hobi is kind of obsessed with nuzzling into but whatever, boobs are great, you're obsessed with tae's and he's obsessed with yours, you can both be casual about it), and the other countless little messes that you and the other omegas have made on them and the nest.

The last layer gets peeled back after the alphas detangle you from the nest one by one whisking you away upstairs to deal with some of that mess. Revealing a clean layer of nest below. The nest is not nearly as plush as it was at the start of the heat. Too many soiled blankets have been removed and too many rutted against pillows have been judged too dirty to sleep against.

Your heat fever quiets just before you get into the bath and Jimin turns you knotted and sleepy. Reclining against Tae's chest while Yoongi gets wet up to his upper arm. Teasing Jimin for turning lazy after a knot. But it’s all false and fondly put upon. Yoongi doesn’t mind washing your hair and Jimin’s. Both of you are sudsy, enjoying Jin’s nice-smelling shampoo that leaves both of you speckled with pink bubbles. Sighing and purring at every lingering rub.

You nuzzle into the crook of Jimin's elbow. Seeking out something intangible. Jimin smells so good. Musky alpha, happy alpha, your alpha. He laughs, a high-pitched sweet sound. It sounds so good against the tall ceilings. echoic, nearly melodic.

Yoongi is very very careful to rub behind your ears. Firm fingers massaging out the knots in your neck until you’re turning limp against Jimin’s front. In this position, Tae can poke and prod and count the freckles on your back.

“You know, if you connect all of these, they sort of look like a bunny,”

Yoongi peaks over your shoulder, “or a frowny face.” You whine, and your mate changes his tune, “Definitely a bunny.” He pecks your forehead and your eyelashes flutter.

"My perfect bunny, so good after your first heat with us. You just have to be like that- you just have to let us take care of you. Can you do that for me huh? Can you be good for us?" Yoongi says it as if he can hardly believe it. 'First heat' is said with such a reverence that it makes you just a little more lucid.

Tae goes quiet, in the way that she does when you know she’s thinking through something- some aspect of her story or a poem, a particular way to word things. And things are calm enough that Jimin can answer her sleepy request for a bit of paper and a pen.

"Minnie. If you’ve got a moment."

Jimin gets up and out of the tub. Disappearing from your front after he drapes you over the side of the deep tub. The porcelain is deliciously cool against your front compared to the hot water. Should you respond to Yoongi? Do you need to?

He prods at your mouth, and you open obediently, eyes closed. Happy to taste- water? Electrolyte? He guides you to sip and you do. Barely conscious as he rubs the water from your lips with a thumb, chiding you gently for being messy.

If Jin were awake, he’d be sudsing up your hair and using some of Tae's expensive leave-in conditioner, he’d section and detangle each strand with a gentle tug. He would use the sugar scrub and then the body wash and then lather you down with body oil leaving your skin shiny and hydrated.

If Jin were awake and it was time for a good grooming session the pack omega would catalog each of the bruises on your body and dispense a pea-sized amount of the soothing cream that he always uses. The bite marks on your neck might need something a little more heavy duty. Jimin has been a little more nibbly than usual.

Jimin pauses before getting back into the tub, staring down at you and Tae for a moment, taking a second to appreciate the vision you paint. Both of his girls in the bath together. Everything slow and comforting and normal.

It's so normal here. Between you four. Tae, Jimin, Yoongi, You.

There are no lurking thoughts or anxiety over hidden things. No secrets- delightful or scary, lingering on the edge of Jimin’s mind. When he looks down at his hands they are not blood-stained or holding a gun.

He just has the pen and paper for Tae, a sheet of paper ripped out of the notebook she keeps next to the nest upstairs. The journal exists only for scrawling and mumbling through Tae's jumbled thoughts, not sacred like the ones downstairs that only see a finished product. Jimin didn’t think Tae would want to risk dropping her whole notebook into the bathtub.

Yoongi takes a big dollop of suds and pops it onto the end of your nose, you go cross-eyed trying to look at it, pouting. Jimin can't help his smile.

Tae's chestnut hair is half a wreck but she’s still the most beautiful thing Jimin’s ever seen. (This is not to be confused with jimin putting you in some sort of hierarchy- you firmly hold the spot as the cutest thing that Jimin’s ever seen. He uses a different word to describe each of the pack this way. Jimin has no second favorites or best favorites).

Jimin’s cheeks look a little…moisturized probably from all the time that he’s spent buried between your thighs during this heat. His skin glows. Radiant. Although heats usually leave the alphas looking a little bit ragged and worn out that hasn’t been the case with this heat.

All of them prowl about like predators turned fat and lazy from domestication. Sleepy but not exhausted. Worn but not at the end of their ropes. Instincts a heavyweight that sings like a low drone. White noise. Like the mental equivalent of a weighted blanket.

Even for Jimin who usually gets out of heats so on edge from all the hormones, usually so worn down by the end that his skin turns hypersensitive and his words get chopped and simple. Overstimulated, that's the word for it.

But not now, there’s not an ounce of tension in Jimin’s body as he watches you and Tae in the bath. He watches Tae wipe a bit of soap from your cheek and Yoongi shields your eyes from the water as he rinses out your hair. Your purring ripples out into the open air, deep and luscious like velvet. When Jimin looks down at his arms- there are goosebumps there.

Yoongi looks up at Jimin, still bare, still dripping water onto the floor, and smiles. Jimin can’t fight his flush.

It's probably your slick and milk that has Jimin feeling so tamed. Probably.

Jimin always has time for you and Tae. That’s sort of one of his rules; that he will prioritize you no matter what he’s doing. That even when things are bad or scary or you’re in heat he will make time to indulge you both. Indulging you both is what Jimin lives for.

(How lovely it might be to be loved that way, a simple concession but not one that is given easily. I’ve been writing this story for so long that I’ve forgotten how people fall in love. Could it be like this? I want it to be like this).

Jimin returns to the tub and bundles you back against his chest, his feet nudging against Tae's knees as he gets comfy in the hot water. Tae stretches and turns her body to reach for a towel, wiping her hands to dry them so she can grab the paper. Yoongi continues to wash you smiling down at your fingers limply curled into a fist, taking a brush to them and the dirt under your nails. Jimin’s arms loosely wrap around your back to keep you in place.

You roll onto your tummy or try to. You're awfully wiggly and sleepy like this. it's almost like you're trying to nest in the water.

"No no no pup, you can't present here." You pout at that. The ball of Jimin's knee rests against your stomach. On your belly- you have to get onto your belly.

Water sloshes against your face, Yoongi's hand goes harder, more dominant, threading through your hair and holding your head up. "Pup, you cannot breathe underwater."

You grumble like you wish they'd let you try, but stay put when Yoongi picks you up and rests you across Jimin's lap. Half draped over Tae, half over Jimin. Utterly boneless.

It isn’t the first time Tae has used your bare back as a rest for her notebook. The feeling of the paper against your bare skin is comforting and familiar. Her non-dominant hand tickles over your shoulder as you doze, not fully asleep lazing in the water.

Yoongi leans his cheek against the ball of Tae's shoulder, nuzzling briefly. He peeks over her shoulder as she writes and scrawls and she tilts the paper so that he can see better.

Occasionally hands grip under your arms, readjusting so that you don’t actually drown as you sort of fall asleep. You’re so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion that cannot be roused.

And it's so warm, the places where they touch you blend and move, sudsy and slippery.

Your face gets gently washed, gentle fingers in smooth circles and when Yoongi tilts your chin, you notice that his fingers have already gone pruny from how they’ve sudsed you up between your legs to your knees, every inch of you clean. Even the hem of his pushed-up sleeves are damp.

When she’s done with her little poem, Tae recites it for you three. The steam turns the air hazy. It sort of feels like a love letter that turns into a poem. You’re distantly aware of it as always, that this poem is about you.

But then again most of the time when Tae writes it’s about you. (Jimin too, but mostly- you).

You think when she finally lets you read her book you’re going to see little bits of your love story in between the pages. You’ll notice flashes of you and things that are references to the way that you love her. Sweet reminders that you are loved and treasured just as dearly as one of Tae's characters. That you live in her head just like they do.

8 months ago she would have never shared a poem with any of them so soon after it popped into her head. She’d at least have edited it a little and let the words linger for a day or two. Tae's words used to be kept under lock and key. But you have made Tae into someone brave now. She is not so scared of showing the delicate parts of her. You curl your hand around her thigh in response. Cheek resting on her knee as you listen to her voice. 

“I long to be careless with my heart, to not know what it feels like when it burns. To give it thoughtlessly again, so that I might prolong those firsts with you."

There is a lump in her throat, you can hear it as she says the words. it makes them come out hushed like she is close to crying. The ending of these firsts has never bothered you. First kiss, first date, first heat. All crossed off a list. Maybe when you're more lucid you'll tell her you can play pretend and go on as many first dates as you need to to get it right. Until she stops feeling this way.

"As the firsts become fewer and fewer, I find myself pausing, making it last, savoring it.” You rub your cheek into Tae's knee, and Yoongi’s hand runs through your hair, then Tae's.

“A bite, a blush, a secret shared.” Jimin’s hand lingers around the curve of your shoulder, holding you out of the water.

“The love on the blankets, your kiss ruddy on my hands. The feeling of your knees between my knees, Your heart and other banquets. we feast upon the plenty. Pomegranates. Figs. Milk. Honey.”

Tae's hand thumbs over your lip, and when you look up at her you find her watching you. Reading off the words without looking at the paper, like she’s already committed it to memory.

“A first meal or last like any other. Regardless, I eat.”

~-~

With a little bit of prodding and a bit of encouragement, Hoseok gets quite confident towards the end of your heat.

It's either from your moans or the increasing vulnerability and laconicness of your body. Nothing makes an alpha doting and possessive like a vulnerable little omega. One fucked quiet and soft. Completely pliant and boneless in the nest, unable even to reach for them as your body gets softer and softer with heat.

The fever rages through your body, turning you docile and out of it. Even when your packmates try to prop you up for a bite to eat, a bit of water, or a wipe to your face- you cannot seem to hold yourself up. Body limp, bones like Jello. Eyelashes fluttering and whining. Fucked so good that you can hardly open your eyes.

You whine through the overstimulation of another orgasm. But your hands feel so heavy you can't even push their hands or faces away when it gets to be too much. You are truly fucked up. Truly gone from all their attention.

Like with most omega's, your heat gets very very bad before it breaks. An increasing spike that foretells the ending. Nothing is enough, not even overstimulation makes your heat fever quiet.

Both Yoongi and Namjoon bury their faces between your thighs. Cheek to cheek, finger fucking more slick out of you that they lap up eagerly. And you cum until your toes can't even curl. Until your clit twitches, sucked pink and puffy, and you can't even squirt anymore.

Sweat beads at your temple and your body begins to tremble. And Hoseok can tell from the pinch in Namjoon’s face and the slightly stressed sour note in his scent, that things are not good. That the pack alpha is worried- more worried than usual.

But Namjoon has a lot to balance, between Jin sleeping through the night on the other side of the nest and measuring his other half’s breaths. deep and gentle, counting the minutes until he wakes. And Jungkook who seems to have stolen your energy and all but needs to be dragged back from the edge of the nest at every available opportunity.

He squirms, making a game out of it. A game that Tae and Jimin do not enjoy in the slightest. “Kookie don’t-“ “I swear to god if you bite me again I’ll-“ “behave omega”

But their threats land on deaf ears. Jungkook just giggles and rolls away. Leaving their muscles straining, arms bulging as they hold him down by the wrists as the omega rolls, mouth open, teeth bared. But Jungkook always did like to be held down when fucked, restrained, and made to take it until that feisty edge in him is dulled into something docile.

But you? You continue to cry.  

You just can't recognize what it is you need, frustrated, endlessly frustrated. Maybe you got a taste of it when they realized you were leaking milk; all of them close, all of them around you. You want that back now. Your packmates under your teeth. You need all of them, right now.

Or at least more than one. Yoongi and Namjoon between your legs was half of it but they didn't touch the ache in you. The burning need to be full. To feel full.

One knot just won’t due.

Luckily, Namjoon has prepared you well for it.

Your tits are bitten and puffy looking. They'd spent several hours draining you dry. You barely have a few drops when Hobi leans down to check (to make sure really- he’s not behaving like a milk-drunk pup- he swears). You only sigh gently at the closeness, his hair brushing your skin, nuzzling into his hairline as his mouth goes where you’re tender, a few mouthfuls, the sound of gulping and Hobi.

Hobi. You cling to him and whine when he moves away. Distantly through the dripping and the trembling you’re aware that he’s trying to say something to you. He sighs when you stay silent, hand listlessly tangling in the nest. Needy for something you can’t say, words that just won’t come to your lips.

You want that closeness back, You want them near again- you just can't figure out how to say it.

The first thing that indicates you're nearing the end of your heat is the tears; constantly your eyes are glassy and your scent is sour no matter how many times you cum. You're sniffly pressed to Tae's shoulders while Jungkook latches. Little tears on your cheeks while Yoongi knots you.

Every single moment you're awake, you're weepy. No matter how many times the pack tries and soothe you; you are wet-eyed and sniffly. Broken somehow.

“You don’t want us to stop fucking you right?” Namjoon asks after you cry and whimper through another knotting. Relieved when you shake your head almost angrily, eyebrows pinching together like you're angry he even suggested it. Tears threaten to spill as you lock your ankles around Namjoon’s back, pushing all of you closer to him, Your stomach brushes his. The dewiness is faintly gross but faintly hot too.

"Alright pup, don't worry, no one is gonna take me from you." Namjoon means it. Even if you probably won't remember it later. His hand settles on the back of your neck and guides your face to his scent gland. He's not surprised that you bite down, the sigh slips from his lips and his thumbs rub and roll your scruff to soothe you. “Ah pup, alpha isn’t going anywhere.”

They try not to let it affect them, how you cry.

Crying can be hot sometimes, making a sub cry because they’re feeling too good well. Jimin might give you exactly that demonstration when he mounts Jungkook, finally turning the other omega docile under the weight of his knot. The dominance in the air like a fire threatening to spark.

But you remain bundled from Jinnie’s chest to Namjoon’s, to Yoongi’s, “I’ll take her.” he says. An edge to his voice that Namjoon might not have taken as a threat to his dominance before Yoongi had a knot.

Namjoon clenches his teeth. Everyone is a bit on edge with you crying.

“Can you tell us why you’re crying little pup? Does something hurt? Are you achy here?” Jin very very gently cups your chest. You're sat half sideways in Yoongi’s lap, peaking out at the pack omega from Yoongi’s neck, shaking your head slightly. Jin’s hands move south. thumb rubbing up and down the chub of your thigh.

During any other post-heat Jin would be sleeping soundly through most of the following day, but not now, not with you like this.

Jin's hair is so tangled it nearly stands up straight, his cheeks are so puffy and his lips are so swollen from kissing and biting that they look a bit like a beak. But besides the fact that his body just won't stop slicking up- Jin's fine. His skin is no longer flushed, he can blink back the last little bit of haze and consider himself ludic. His heat is over. fucking finally.

So when he wakes to find you crying, he doesn't hesitate to help, to slip his hands between your thighs. “How about here? Does this hurt? Is that why you're crying? Did we break your little hole?”

You tremble a little bit as he strokes, finger pads rubbing in what he hopes is soothing circles. But when he stills you shake your head and Jin sighs, removing his hand from you with a barely there cobweb of slick that Namjoon almost immediately eyes.

You tuck your face back into Yoongi’s throat, sniffling renewed as he moves away from you to say something quietly to Namjoon, your mate's throat vibrates against your cheek as he speaks but you can't make sense of the words.

"Joon, don't be gross."

"Sorry." Namjoon doesn't sound sorry at all.

Some of the alphas like it a little bit too much. The crying. Jimin laps at your cheeks and teases you for it, calling you a soggy little puppy. Everything, tears, milk, slick. All wet and messy for them. Stretched to your breaking point. All burned up.

But Yoongi is more gentle, more routine, slower and sweeter. It's late at night when they finally figure out what you need. The lamp in the corner is on and your body is shrouded in shadow. Sweaty and achy.

You’re no longer able to move so much, so exhausted that you need your packmates due to every little thing for you. You need Jimin to guide bites to your lips and need Namjoon to brush your teeth when it comes time for bed. Mouth open and eyes closed, so trusting as Namjoon tilts your head and praises you. 

You're wearing pj's, little pajama shorts pushed to the side, a button-down shirt in front that has most of the buttons undone. It makes you feel so much better, being taken care of like this. But still. You cry.

And you need Yoongi like you need blankets, warmth, he'd offered to fuck you to sleep and you'd nodded your scent. And now Yoongi is trying really- he's doing his best.

But still, you can't seem to stop crying. He presses his cheek along yours crouched low so that your bodies touch everywhere. Your heartbeat next to his heartbeat. Your cheek against his cheek as his hips move in small little circles. His knot is just barely starting to grow sensitive and taught. That new feeling that Yoongi is starting to recognize as a warning.

You’re warm all the way to your temple. Yoongi has realized that it’s more the emotion that’s making you cry and less his dick, but still-

He juts his hip forward, working his knot into you. And you sniffle against his throat.

Yoongi finds it hard to remain undistracted with you crying. Maybe that’s just because your crying is the exact opposite of a turn-on for him. Yoongi’s lips glide across your forehead, feeling something like an apology. He stops thrusting and instead rests inside of you, warm and wet and tight.

You tremble. Hands brought up to your chest like you need to hide your heart from him. Yoongi tries not to be hurt by that. Yoongi rests his forehead against yours and nearby Namjoon perks up a little, watching and waiting.

Yoongi wishes Namjoon would just rest.

“Little honey, will you tell me what’s wrong? What’s going on in that fuzzy head of yours huh? You can tell me.”

You tip your chin down, voice oh so quiet, oh so fragile when you finally speak. “Won’t be angry?”

“Not gonna be angry. Promise.”

You glance sidelong, not at Namjoon, but to where Hoseok is eating a late dinner, trying not to look like he’s watching (He was definitely watching.) But Jin has an arm wrapped loosely around his waist, a little possessive, a little protective. But Yoongi knows that like you Hobi likes a physical reminder to stay put and rest, a reminder that he’s exactly where he’s wanted at the pack omega’s side.

“Wan' Hobi alpha.”

Yoongi kisses your brow, never one to be hurt over you choosing someone else. Your tears are more important than his ego and what his mate wants in heat is infinitely more prescient than his newfound knot and the needs that come with it. But you whimper, clinging to him as he starts to pull out. Tears once again build at the edge of your eyes and threaten to spill.

“No! Don’t go!”

“Honey, I don’t understand, you can’t have both of us at once…” Yoongi trails off as you sniffle.

"Want both!" You cry, petulant. Yoongi looks up making eye contact with Hobi (flushing desperately) and then Jin (looking curious and sort of impressed at your level of bratting. Any other day talking like that would get you drawn over either Jin or Namjoon's lap for a spanking).

There is a single moment where everyone waits. Jin’s eyebrows go from raised into his hairline to down, staring at you like you’re going to send Jin into heat again. Can one omega even trigger another’s heat? If they could, you would certainly trigger Jin’s.

Jin has that dark look in his eye that Yoongi has learned to be a little bit afraid of. The same kind of look he gets when Jungkook asks to be have his hole slapped. When Jimin asks to be pushed around. When Namjoon asks for his collar. A dangerous look.

The pack omega is in post heat, he's not supposed to be doing any of the helping and yet- Jin shuffles over to where you and Yoongi recline in the nest.

You can't possibly be asking for that. For two knots at once. You’ve never broached that kind of play; anal, with Yoongi. and he thinks this is hardly the time to do it when you’re already not communicating well- when you’re in Omegaspace and even the slightest hurts and aches can feel mountains high. You are so sensitive when you are like this, in heat and in Omegaspace.

And yet you reach down, palming blindly where you and yoongi meet. "Want Hobi here, want both please? Good pup?"

You can't possibly understand what you're asking for. It's too dangerous. Stretching you out like that. You couldn’t possibly take two knots in one hole, right?

Only, could you?

You’d taken Namjoon barely an hour ago, and the pack alpha had slid in like it was nothing, fucking a fresh wave of slick and a few dribbles of squirt out of you. Knot tugging at your entrance until Yoongi could see where you went pink. You’re… stretched a little, dilated, fucked open enough to take Namjoon’s cock, usually a gargantuan task but-

You’d half slept through the last time he’d knotted you. namjoon is at least twice as thick as yoongi, and hobi is only a little bit girthier. yoongi's knot would be small if he was an alpha. hobi's always been average.

But togeather... could they fit?

It’s Jin who checks, shuffling up to get behind you. Sneaking his hand first under the hem of your shirt to stroke at your hip lovingly, and then down the edge. Lower. Yoongi doesn’t slip out, and you continue to nuzzle into the column of his throat, sniffling.

“Wan Hobi, want- hng.”

Jin’s fingers prod, and it’s almost exactly how Namjoon guided Hobi earlier only it’s Jin doing it this time, all snug up behind Yoongi. He smells like heat and like alpha cum, like he’s been bred himself. It’s doing things to Yoongi’s self-control, that new tight edge to fucking. Being surrounded by two omega’s in heat, sandwiched between them.

“Calm down babypup, you’ll have your Hobi, just give us a moment.”

Jin is tired but lucid. Pretty soon he’ll cajole one of the alphas into letting him sneak upstairs for another bath. Jin can only handle the tacky feeling of slickness between his legs for so long. But the prospect of re-grooming himself alone after a heat doesn’t appeal to him nearly as much as making sure you and Jungkook are tended to.

It can’t be much longer now, there can’t be too much more to your heats, maybe another 6 or so hours. You're both so tired, and the alphas are too. Jimin is sleeping barely a few feet away, heaping over a clean pink and purple checkered blanket. His generously sculpted ass shows two neat little rings, teeth marks.

He rubs slowly at where your entrance parts are around Yoongi’s cock and then more insistently until you let him in. He has to use a bit of force but it’s easy. His fingers slide in next to Yoongi’s cock.

You hiccup and cry, this time because it's good, it's exactly what you've needed and Jin doesn't stop.

Namjoon has done a good job of fucking you open and sloppy. You quiver but stretch easily. Jin’s second finger goes in with little more than a hiccup, his third too, almost holding around Yoongi’s cock, making the stretch tighter. Your trembling increases when Jin turns his wrist over to press up against your spongy g-spot. And Seokjin watches your clit twitch in response and you cry out.

One day, one day soon he’s going to test how much that little nub can take, it going to make you cum until you can’t even squirt anymore. You can hardly handle this with more than a dribble now. Just a drop or two that hits Jin's wrist in a slight brush of warmth.

You pull your knees up to your chest obediently, and Yoongi holds you under your knees. Jin grabs one of your ankles to keep you still, to keep you from squirming for more fingers.

There you go, stretched again, more. You want more. Two packmates close and your instincts tell you that's good. Your instincts start to recede just slightly. Not enough but getting there.

Jin’s cock twitches, still soft.

Hobi lounges not far away, his chest dotted with bite marks and pretty marks, bruised looking in the shadow, sharp eyes watching him. Hobi's eyes close slightly. But stay open. The eye contact he makes with Jin is tentative at first, but Hobi doesn’t blink or look away first, he doesn’t back down.  

Perfect.

Jin’s teeth ache, Hoseok shies away from Jin’s becoming hand but not for long. Namjoon has been watching the whole time while reclining, looking big and protective. Watching Jinnie do his work as pack omega with a domineering glint in his eyes that Jin almost wants to purr at.

He watches Jin with heavy-lidded eyes an apex predator full and happy letting his prey walk close without hunting. Jutting his chin as if to say “Go on, give me a show.” 

Jin fits three fingers into your hole next to Yoongi’s cock, each trust earning him a whimper before he pops them out and lands a spank over your clit, both you and Yoongi jump. Jin’s hand comes away wet.

Jin has Hobi by the back of his neck, quicker than he can think to reign in his instincts. There is no squirming or pleas for justification. Hoseok just tips his throat and lets Jin sniff at it, snuffling up and down his throat.

“She wants you Hobi puppy, don’t you want to feel Yoongi’s knot my sweet pup?” Hobi blushes but relents, letting Jin guide him closer.

Earlier, pillowed in the nest after knotting, you’d watched your mate and Hobi. Watched as Hobi got down to look, whispering quiet and fond words with his hands wrapped around yoongi's knot. You'd watched Hobi's long hand's birdlike drift down Yoongi's chest to go between his legs.

Yoongi had let the other alpha explore him until he'd gone taught and sagged. "Ah really- fuck"

"Like this, it feels good when it's like this. wrap your hand around your knot like this and tug-"

His touch is both experimental and familiar. You'd watched them press their knots together, glossy with omega slick, rutting and rubbing and laughing.

And now you’ll get to have both, both at the same time. You chirp, needy, bratty. You don't want to be denied it for another moment.

You squirm, Hands opening and closing in the nest. Looking up at them, Hobi's eyes are dark with such an unabashed show of wanting that behind you, Yoongi sort of laughs, a pitch too high. A little unhinged. A little pussy drunk.

Hoseok is beginning to get back his confidence, the frantic fear of the heat wearing away. It always goes this way; Hoseok is always just thinking he’s finally adjusted to all the scents when the heat ends.

Jin’s job is done now, and he shuffles across the nest until he’s near Namjoon, flopping onto his side so that he gets to be the little spoon. The pack alpha instantly ropes an arm around his waist and pulls him in, close. Nosing along the side of Jin's face.

Yoongi guides you to lie on your side so that he can spoon you and Hoseok can be at your front through this. It reminds you a bit of how you and Hoseok first fucked, blankets all around, warm through it, your leg hitches up around Hobi's waist. Urging him closer.

You're still wearing your shorts and your pajama top, and your top at least- gets easily unbuttoned. Yoongi gets frustrated with the bottoms and with a brief tear- Hobi grips one side and Yoongi the other. Your bottoms truly fall away in tatters.

You make eye contact with Hobi and for a second, he swears you get more lucid, reaching out your hand. His breathing calms. Had it been ragged? Hobi hadn’t noticed.

Yoongi slows his pace from behind you. Hobi’s voice sounds rough even to his own ears. “You really need it huh?”  

You whimper and nod, looking up at him still weepy. Yoongi coos and wipes your tears away. You hardly seem to notice. "Please only if-" you moan, and Yoongi shoots Hoseok a winning grin, still working behind you. Starting up his pace again. He doesn’t pull out all the way but pushes in a bit deeper. grinding against the spongey sofness, the place that namjoon reaches and fucks, turned sensitive from so many knottings.

"Only if you-" Yoongi doesn't let you continue, hitching up your hip showing Hobi where both of you meet. Showing Hobi how he’s fucking you.

Hoseok shuffles close as if it's even a question of whether he wants this still. You should be able to tell by his scent alone. His eyes stay locked to the space that Yoongi has made in you. You and Yoongi, his best friend and his sort of soulmate.

Hoseok’s knees brush Yoongi’s and your feet press to his stomach until he takes you by the ankles and puts your legs on either side of him. Fumbling to get his cock out, to kiss the inside of your knee as he looks down, muscles straining biting his lip. It's frantic but it's loving all of it.

Hoseok watches you as he guides his cock close.

Yoongi feels velvety and soaked against Hoseok’s head. Wet and slick and so fucking hot to press up into that seam where you close around him. The head of Hobi’s cock nudges against Yoongi’s knot before he starts to press inside.

Hoseok is dimly aware of Yoongi inhaling jagged, pressing you just a little closer against him. Your head falls back against Yoongi’s shoulder, mouth open, hand suddenly fisting in Hobi's red t-shirt, not pushing him away, pulling him closer.

“Oh, do you like it?” He teases. The way that only Hobi can. Teasing you for how much you want it, how much you need both him and your mate in one hole. he's going to tease you so much for this later- you already know it.

It takes some pressing, some force behind it, and you stop squirming, going rigid. Mouth going wide in an overwhelmed 'oh' without a sound. and suddenly you're not having any thoughts about it at all. You couldn't, there is nothing in you but the feeling of the stretch.

Your scent goes so sweet on the air that across the nest, Namjoon's growl almost goes violent. He and Jin are rocking and rubbing but neither of them pay much attention to each other, too busy watching you.

hobi feels a hot flush of pride down his spine as namjoon gives him an encouraging smile.

Yoongi curses, hands hard around your waist keeping you in place. You're half lying on top of Yoongi half spooning. Hoseok’s hands fist the sheet by Yoongi’s head, and Hoseok puts just a bit more force into it.

You tilt your chin and bite the scent gland at his wrist.

Hobi feels the zing of pain the same moment that he feels a shot of ecstasy as you start to part enough to let the head of his cock in, the space instantly flooded with slick and cum.

He pops inside, warm and thick, sliding past the sensitive skin of Yoongi’s proto knot, sliding up and in alongside Yoongi’s cock. A broken sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan gets forced from your throat and your body goes truly limp, teeth popping as you let go of Hobi's skin. Eyes so wide and open as you stare blankly ahead of you. Breathing heavy.

Hobi knows he'll bruise and that he'll get turned on every time he looks down at it for the next week. knows that the others will tease him for it by pressing against it too.

This is so different from taking Namjoon's cock. You're stretched but almost more because they're both pulsing, both moving independently from you and each other. Stretched so wide, so full. You feel stretched to the breaking point. Fucked dumb already.

And Hobi hasn’t even moved yet.

Yoongi and Hobi are forced close next to each other by how hard you clench down. You hug both of them dribbling squirt out a little pathetically, it gathers around the base of their cocks. They pause a little, breathing heavy. Feeling it, making eye contact over your shoulder.

They’ve done this before- not exactly this but a rendezvous in the record shop years ago back when Hoseok first became a part of the pack. Hobi remembers Yoongi’s big hands, both of their cocks next to each other, the slide of precum slick tangled with one fist to fuck.

Hoseok’s the one who moves first, more used to the feeling of almost knotting than Yoongi. He takes a minute to settle down. His expression is a little stricken, a little panicked, but Hobi doesn’t mind. If Yoongi needs to pop a knot he can and Hobi will just keep fucking you. With his chest pressed to yours, he can feel your heartbeat rabbit fast.

“Fuck- fuck- please- fuck” Yoongi is nearly unintelligible, but Hobi just laughs and keeps going.

With Yoongi against your back, you are dizzy with sensation. Too much is happening. The feeling of your pussy stretched out, the feeling of them sliding across each other and the sound they make is so much. Both of them moving in tandem. Both of them fucking you at once. It burns but it feels so good that you never want it to stop.

This is different, now you clench down around both of them and hiccup, adjusting. Your head lolls to the side, eyes blinking once, twice, then again as you stop crying. Jin coos and moves closer. Namjoon sighs and lets him so that the pack omega can run his hands over your hot cheeks. His skin is cool. So cool against the fire raging inside of you.

“Oh, little pup can’t handle two cocks in her little hole? Too bad honey, you asked for it. Now take it.” Jin is mean when he’s lucid. pulling your head to the side to prod at Yoongi's mating mark.

You clench at that, Yoongi twitches too. Hobi gasps.

Fuck, every time Yoongi moves, Hoseok feels it, every time he twitches, he feels it too. You are so warm and wet inside. Slick flooding the space between them and turning the rub even more heavenly. It won’t be long for any of you.

Hoseok looks down at Yoongi, hair shading his eyes as he works diligently to fuck you. Yoongi grins up at him, looking victorious and his while you stay like that, pliant and spacey, blinking and whimpering, eyes unable to focus on anything. Hobi takes your hand and holds it, pressing you into the bed.

Jin shuffles forward until he's close enough to touch, to feel. Namjoon settles back behind him. His hand reaches over to feel your stomach. The place where both of them are. You don't have a belly bulge- they're not long enough for that. But it still makes you blink and shiver.

There's the tacky rub of one cock against another, the terrible all-consuming tightness of your pussy stretched to the breaking point. Your eyes pupils dilated, resting against Yoongi’s chest, fucked so good that you are boneless. Yeah lolling utterly limp as Jin moves your head from one shoulder to the other. Laughing as he goes. "So good you can't even hold your head up?”

“Good pup? Does that feel good?”

You can't respond, fucked dumb. You can’t clench, you can hardly even cum. Or maybe it’s that you can’t stop cumming. One spike of pleasure blends into the next. your body is so sensitive, everywhere they touch your feels like too much, feels too sensitive.

Yoongi's voice goes rough, "look at me Hobi, look at me, I wanna see it while you fuck her, I wanna see it when you-"

A bead of sweat drips from Hobi's nose onto your shoulder, Yoongi laughs and laps at it. Pausing to nibble at your mating mark. You mewl, and one of Yoongi's hands finds Hobi's. It goes like that both of them fucking you, Hobi holds one of your wrists to keep you steady in a sea of pleasure, Yoongi holding the other.

Hobi's not quite sure who cum's first. Whether it's the feeling of Yoongi's new knot expanding against his that has him coming undone or the way that you tighten around his that has them both spilling inside of you. You squirt again, this time more than you did earlier.

A hot gush against Hobi's stomach and drips down the line of his cock onto Yoongi’s happy trail. But the flood of sticky cum around both of their cocks is so good, so wet that neither of them stops fucking you for long.

You can take it. Their knots rub against each other as they pause, kiss each other, and then you, and then keep fucking you.

Besides you three in the nest, Jin and Namjoon giggle and cuddle close. Namjoon leans close and nibbles at Jin's jaw. Their whispers are not so secret. The pack omega giggles in response. Despite his earlier complaints of soreness, Namjoon is hard and achy against Jin's lower back. The pack alpha shouldn't need to mount Jin again in his heat, but they might just for fun.

Just for fun Jin teases, "Do you think she'll be able to take you and Tae next?"

Namjoon growls and grins, allowing Jin his fantasy. They tilt their heads, peering down at you to see how taught you are around both of them. The bulge faints. You look- you look-

Wrecked. Claimed.

Namjoon can hardly say that he doesn’t think about it. How good it must feel to have one knot pressed against the other. Yoongi and Hobi clearly look like they’re enjoying the feeling. and you're still dripping into the nest too so-

The sound of your purring lulls the whole pack to sleep. Across the nest, Tae, Jungkook, and Jimin all sleep through it. Namjoon knows they’re going to be upset that they missed it, that they’ll probably demand to see a reenactment.

"Would it really hurt to try?" 

~-~

When you wake up on the 4th morning after your heat begins, you are no longer sweating although you do feel disgustingly sticky.

There is laughter going on in the hallway, sweet, the sound of Jimin and Jungkook’s giggles as they roughhouse on the stairs and light streams through the cracked window. Letting in the sweet smell of spring.

Someone is trying to take the blanket that’s on top of you gently, but after a questioning hum on your pack alpha’s part, a hushed whisper comes.

“This one’s covered in slick Joonie. Come on.”

Namjoon is big behind you, pressed along your spine, when you open your mouth, you have that vaguely tacky feeling between your lips that says you've been asleep for many many hours. When he pushes his face into your throat, there’s stubble there.

Huh- icky.

You feel hazy and fucked good, content, no fire permeates your chest, only a little bit of wanting, the usual amount. Your fingers tangle loosely with the fabric in front of you, attached to a chest, and a familiar husky laugh.

When you open your eyes you blink. Yoongi’s looking at you with that same soft fond look in his eyes. Peacefully blinking at you slowly the same way Noodle does.

But you slam them shut. Blushing furiously.

Oh my god, you really let him and Hobi, they both really-

You can’t look at him, can’t open your eyes as you fight down the flush. But neither of them seems to mind your sudden shyness. You feel a hand combing through your hair as you piece through it. Both of them laugh at you.

"Don't get shy on us now."

You feel more lucid than you have in days, is your heat done? Yes, it must be, because Namjoon’s scent does not smell as alluring as it used to. You feel the soreness between your legs. The ache in your whole body. Bone tired. Really- you feel like you could sleep for the next week.

“Ready to join the land of the living pup?” He teases, pressing kisses to your eyelids when you don’t respond and instead shake your heat. the warmth gets guided off of you regardless of your whines. but it’s just Jinnie. Just Jinnie smiling down at you.

“Hobi’s making breakfast.”

You grumble and try to burrow back into the nest unsuccessfully. Jin huffs and gets out of the nest, satisfied that you’re awake and that your heat is finally finally over. They expected yours to last a little longer but still.

Jin holds a soiled blanket out at arm's length. Maybe it's glad that your heat didn't last longer. He's not sure the nest could have handled it and they're already going to have to replace a good number of blankets. Jin's heat has already been over for almost a whole day and he's no longer feeling the exhaustion. No- Jin is wide awake and cannot wait to clean and nest and clean you again until you're sparkly. He's already eyeing your greasy hair with a glint in his eyes. Yoongi holds you firm to his chest like that will keep Jin from removing you.

But Jin sighs, settling his instincts down. It's easy today without the heat clouding his judgment.

“Coffee?”

“Yes please,” Namjoon stresses.

The nest is a little bit less orderly than it was when you first made it, the walls look like they’re about ready to collapse, and it’s not nearly as soft- after having the blankets being torn away from it. You try to squirm away when Yoongi and Namjoon guide you gently into a sitting position but instantly Namjoon’s hands dig into your sides.

You try and roll away.

“No no no, up. You need food.” You roll over onto your tummy, giggling and trying to squirm away.

“No! wanna nest!” Namjoon grabs your ankles and pulls you back and you giggle as he tickles up your thigh. When you open your eyes, Namjoon is looking down at you so tenderly it takes your breath away.

“Missed that.” He whispers. “that sound.”

Your body feels tired but you feel happy. You can tell the shirt you wear has pulled up around your ribcage and Namjoon’s thumb rubs up against your side.

You’re sore and worn, you’ve slept for what must have been more than 10 hours and you have this terrible feeling in your chest achy and needy. Anxiety. Anxiety at leaving the nest.

Your heat is over but your instincts still need settling. Your hand fists around Namjoon’s thigh as you turn over onto your stomach, draped across his lap. Huh, his thighs are so muscly, you understand why Jungkook’s sort of obsessed with them.

Namjoon pets gently over your spine. Letting you knead and manipulate the muscle and fat there. When you peak up at him, he’s raising his eyebrow at you.

“What do you need?”

6 or even 2 months ago you might have struggled to say it. To confess your needs to Namjoon. But now you only ruminate on exactly what it is you need. What will make you feel better?

Yoongi is close folding up some of the bedding on the edge of the nest, sorting through what’s soiled and what isn’t. What needs immediate washing and what can wait until tomorrow.

As long as whatever he brings back still smells like them you think it will still be safe, still be fine. You blink and a second later you realize that of course Yoongi has to take it away. You can’t exactly leave it here all fucked through.

You’ve left more than a few blankets squirt-stained. And you know that if he doesn’t handle them now when Jungkook is out of the nest the other omega might grow a little too attached to them because of how much they smell like you. His…less hygienic nesting habits aside.

You nuzzle into Namjoon's thighs as you watch him. Namjoon waits patiently for you to think through your thoughts.

Namjoon is not hairy, not really, but his hair is just a bit courser on his legs. You feel it, teasing your fingers through it draped over his thighs, hands holding around the meat of them. It’s an oddly childish gesture, an omega stimming. When you turn, you can see his smile out of the corner of your eye.

From the doorway Tae hums, toothbrush in her mouth, pink and sparkly. She’s just passing through to check on you. You flush and look away from her too. Remembering all the times she teased you, her reaction to your chest.

Speaking of that, what the fuck?

Your chest feels heavy just thinking about it. Your nipples feel sensitive just from rubbing against your shirt. You're not exactly surprised because you had heard that could happen but-

You cover your face. Namjoon lets you, recognizing that you're still processing everything that's happened.

Did someone…feed from you while you slept? You think they must have because your chest doesn't feel swollen and achy yet.

She grins when you peek at her like she knows what you’re thinking about.

“You should let us shave your legs Joonie.”

Your pack alpha huffs, and still smiling, says, “You can shave any bit of me you want if it makes you happy baby girl.”

She comes closer and Namjoon sets a hand on her thigh treading dangerously close to the hem of her pink silk robe (the one with the little gold butterflies) feeling her own freshly shaved legs. Her hair does look a little wet. Tae must have just taken a shower.

“You’re always so soft” Tae makes a noise in her throat and you tip your chin, looking up at her. Blinking slow.

Namjoon continues to pet down your spine with one hand on you and the other on her thighs.

Tae leaves to spit and there’s a lump in your throat that maybe has nothing to do with the heat- pre or post and everything to do with this being the first time you’re coming out of it with them. The last few days were- this was- so much. But they handled it so well and really you don’t know why you’re suddenly feeling so overwhelmed now when everything is over.

“I need,” you lick your lips. Thinking through your words before you say them. Namjoon waits, a patient pack alpha. He is endlessly patient especially when his pups are trying to be brave.

“A settling.”

When you tentatively glance back at Namjoon he’s smiling like it's nothing serious. Even though you can feel the hot flush of embarrassment on your cheeks. To ask for more sexual attention after all of that feels like maybe you could be asking for too much but-

It's not really sexual, is it? Intimate sure. But a spanking doesn't need to be sexual to give you what you need.

Namjoon tugs at your shorts- a pair of Hobi's? Jin’s? Boxers that they’d dressed you in. You blush when you think of that- of them guiding pants up your legs when you were prone. Although you’re sure they must have dressed you and undressed you multiple times through your heat.

Namjoon strokes up and down the skin of your behind, your thighs can't separate with your shorts still half on and you rest your face on a pillow, Yoongi tilts your chin up to his, checking, but you just smile at him.

“Gentle,” he asks.

Namjoon raises his eyebrow like he’d never be anything but (maybe he’s rough with you if you asked for it, but gentleness will always be his default). He looks down and laughs when his fingers press into you again. There is a deeper ache under his finger. A bruise?

“A bitemark.” He says when you ask, “probably one of the other pups.”

“Probably Jungkook” Yoongi says. He laughs and you do too.

On the stairs in the hall jungkook calls out. “Hey! I heard that! That one's from Yoongi!” and youdevolve into giggles again. When you peek up at him again Yoongi’s red all the way to his ears.

“Really hyung?” Namjoon teases, but Yoongi throws a pillow at him, it sort of lands on you- but you don’t mind at all as the feathers flutter down around you. Gentle.

The first spank Namjoon lands is that. Gentle.

His big hands hit with more of a thud feeling than a sharp sting. The sound is louder than the actual sensation. It forces a quiet hiccup from your throat. And your hand grips his thigh under your chest, eyes wide. Legs splaying as far as they can,

“There you go pup, let alpha give you what you need.”

Namjoon doesn’t make you count through it, petting over your skin for several seconds after every gentle spank. You’re sighing and going boneless by the last one, and Namjoon pulls up your waistband and lands one final one over the fabric. “There, better?” you nod and let him slip from underneath you and begin to untangle you from the nest.

But still, you’re no less boneless. No less able to stay awake, the spanking might have settled your nesting instincts, but you’re still too tired and too well fucked to move around on your own.  

But that too can be fixed- You demand to be carried to the kitchen and Namjoon happily obliges. There Tae has already picked out your favorite coffee cup, the pink one with the pearlescent flowers even though you’re a little too wobbly to hold onto it properly. It sloshes with decaf coffee as she hands it to you or tries to before she obediently feeds you a sip. The last thing that the pack needs is you getting dehydrated.

She looks gorgeous in another one of her flimsy night dresses, everyone is lounging in their pajamas, you might not even change into normal clothing today because you might not need to.  

Hoseok is there, with his sunny smile and hair- less greasy, drying curly. Wearing your frilly pink apron flipping pancakes and starting on the scrambled eggs, cracking the eggs in one hand, bacon frying, hair half awry.

You don’t say that it’s already noon, that it’s already time for lunch. It’s heat rules. The time doesn’t matter.

He spots you and tosses a grin over his shoulder. You tuck your face into Namjoon’s throat and whine. Namjoon (rather obediently for the pack alpha). Walks you over to him so that you can kiss his cheek. 

“Morning,” Hobi says all husky and rough but smiling. You can feel it pressed to your cheek. Namjoon hums in front of you, the purr-like growl vibrating.

“Wanna shower now or later pup?” You don’t like the idea of being separated from them, and you can tell from the vaguely clean feeling between your legs that you’ve at least been whipped down recently. Your tummy still feels…strange but good. You shake your head petulantly. Arms wrapped loosely around Namjoon’s neck. 

Hoseok turns back to the burner and you realize that he's not wearing anything under your apron besides a tiny tiny pair of boxers.

His body is… a little distracting. You don’t know who it was- you, Jin, or Jungkook who mauled him but Hoseok is bitten up. long scratches line his back all the way down to the little dimples at the base of his spine.

Every available inch of his body from his hips to his throat covered with rings of purple bruises, claiming marks, there’s even one on his knee, one closer to his feet. You sit across Namjoon’s thigh. Watching Hobi over the edge of your cup. Looking away whenever he turns around.

Upstairs, the sound of the shower gurgles and Jin’s shouting makes for some pleasant white noise. Jungkook’s hassling giggle as both of them get in. And your mates brief “yah don’t splash me-”

Who knows what they’re doing, wrestling or fucking or just being them. The omegas left to groom themselves before breakfast. You’ll join them after you’ve gotten a bit of food in your tummy. Tae disappears upstairs when Jin shouts at her for her blow drier.  

Hoseok's whole body is covered with bitemarks and you can sense from the vague soreness in your skin that you- like Hobi- bear the visible burden of their loving. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. You know you smell like them and you like that. 

after your breakfast, they're probably going to make you shower.

You’re so sleepy that you can’t even think about standing for a shower let alone walking. You still can’t really feel your legs beyond a vague hum that says your body has enough energy to move.  You just shift your legs up back and forth, swinging them sideways in Namjoon’s lap, fidgeting.

“You sure you don’t want to drink your coffee? Your water?” Namjoon prods.

“Wanna watch Hobi cook,” you say in answer. 

Yoongi hums, coming down the stairs wearing a dark splatter across his grey shirt as both of them laugh at you. Your blushing face gets tucked along Namjoon’s throat to hide again. Seriously- you're having a hard time looking any of them in the eyes.

Noodle makes an appearance, yowling loudly at you like he’s missed you and is letting you know. He circles your feet and presses up into the arch of your foot. You giggle, ticklish and Namjoon leans, extending a hand to scratch between Noodle's ears in hello. His hiss is only half hearted. Namjoon’s big hands on your waist remain firm so that you don’t slide right out of his lap.

“Didn’t starve with us neglecting you eh Nu?” He says, your feet continue to move fidgety. The backside of your omega zoomies who knows. All of the omegas are bound to get zoomies after so many days cooped up inside.

Who knows, maybe the whole pack will take a walk later, maybe to the beach. All of you will pile into two cars and drive out to the edge of the world and linger there. And you’ll sit in the sand and Hobi will search for more sea treasures. And Jimin will pick dandelions from the seashore, the only flowers really growing this early in spring. And you’ll tie one string around Tae's ring finger and one around yours.

You’ll walk with a happy few feet between all of you, the wide-open space calling to your instincts and settling them under the oncoming weight of spring. The sunshine streaming through the open window leads you to think that it’s warm outside, you’d like to be out there too.

Namjoon and Jin will spend half of the time bickering and kissing but after, there could be pizza or sandwiches or takeout, and maybe once you get home, you’ll eat it all on the floor of the living room after you admit that really- the nest room needs to be entirely disassembled. You’ll go to sleep smelling like sea salt and love. Bodies aching in that good way that lets you know you’ve been loved that day. And you’ll wake to another morning just like this one, where the light is in your eyes but at least it’s yellow and golden.

A fleck of sunlight lingers on Namjoon’s shoulder, and you nuzzle into it.

Behind you, Hobi starts humming a song, it’s not your favorite- but it’s Yoongi’s. His voice is so pretty, deep rough in the morning.

You’ll offer it up as an idea later when your mouth decides it wants to cooperate, pressed against the skin of Namjoon’s neck and shoulder, that space where his collar bones sit.  

Hobi flips the bacon and asks if Yoongi will turn on some music, your mate obliges. From upstairs Tae calls, “Tell the pup she needs to do a facemask with me and Minnie later! And a hair mask! And a-” A loud thud sounds, some grumbling then. “Ew slick does not count as a facemask Jungkook- ew-”

Namjoon’s arms are the safest place in the universe. You can’t help but think that you’d be happy in them forever as you cuddle up on his chest.

“Pup, no sleeping, you have to eat something-” his chides break off as you hum.

“Just a minute Joonie.”

You rest there, listening to the sound of Hobi's humming and Noodle meowing for bits of scrambled eggs as Tae and Jungkook bicker upstairs. Jimin says something to Jin on the stairs and you can hear the sound of them kissing. You can hear it all the way from here.

Yoongi comes close to you and says something soft to Namjoon that you can’t hear as Hobi begins to sing and the oil starts to pop.

You listen to them all and close your eyes against Namjoon’s throat.

~-~

Notes:

I needed to take a bit of a break from writing because i felt like my words were getting a little too repeditive- this probably has alot to do with writing 4 back to back smutt chapters but! in that way i think this chapter feels alot more organic and sweet. and feels a little new to me in terms of wording and writing in a good way, i hope you won't begrudge me when i need to take periodic breaks if i'm capable of giving you something you'll enjoy.

i'm going to ignore the fact that during the bath scene that water is probably SO FILTHY i did not say it in the chapter but they lowkey probably had to drain the water a few times and finger fuck the cum out of the m/c before she got clean. wow it's hot when i say it like that why didn't i write that???

it's a small change but- tae tilting the paper so that yoongi can see better?? when before she would have never let him see??? thats growth baybeee

listen i know the words "little hole" can be a squick for some people but tbh, when it's jinnie saying it and like- another omega my brain kind of malfunctions like a boy alpha saying that? ew ew ew, an omega or a female alpha saying it thought????? 🫦 gonna admit that i love it a bit too much.

ugh i love omega on omega stuff, litterally...if i talked in any more detail over how much i love it i'd have to put it over on my smutt blog.

in my mind when hobi says 'his best friend and his sort of soulmate' he's talking about both of them in each roll like- they're both is best friend and his soulmate. they're the golden trio

honestly i love fucking with clothes on like to me it feels much more intimate than having sex completely nude because it's like "i want you enough even with your clothes on

the end of this chapter was very inspired by that one tweet that goes "oomf fucked me so good i can't even look at him.

the reference to hobi's feet is specifically for one person out there.

"Am I dreaming it's like my dream for everyone to have a knot."

"Even the pup?"

"Especially the pup. Have you seen Tae's dick? Girl knots are like- so ugh."

Until it gets too much, until Yoongi’s hips splay, and his head tips back, breath ragged. “Guys I’m-”

"Alright." Namjoon snaps, loudly. "Everyone back off. Give him some room."

You do not back up, you curl up around your mate's body protectively, still barely conscious of the fact that you're dripping into the nest below you. But you don't really think that Namjoon was talking about you and he doesn't make you move once you snatch your hand back. Resting it loosely on Yoongi's hip, clutching at his shirt like you think someone is going to take him away.

Namjoon eyes your hand and then your face. You tip your chin down demurely like there can't possibly be any way you'd missbehave. Namjoon huffs, shaking his head before he ducks down.

The pack alpha examines Yoongi’s knot under an appraising eye. His big hands turning it this way and that, Yoongi’s eyes roll back no one gives him shit for rocking up into Namjoon’s touch, needy.

Does knotting always feel this way? There’s pressure in his lower stomach, a tightening that makes no sense. That sort of feels like his self-control is spiraling away or dangling on the edge of a very precarious edge. Like all of him is about to break or perhaps be made whole.

Yoongi doesn't like thinking of sex as something necessary for love. But knotting certainly feels like a cross between the two.

No wonder why alphas are such knotheads. If fucking always felt like this, like the sex equivalent of a full body hug that lasts for hours, instead of a singular moment of euphoria and closeness. Yoongi would never want to fuck any other way. No wonder why they're so possessive too.

This feeling- Yoongi’s not addicted, not yet.  

You hook your chin over his shoulder to watch, sniffling. And Yoongi is a little too aware of you. The way your body lies against his arm, the dewy brush of his wrist on your stomach as you set your body against his. He must be going insane; he must have bit you again and given you a fresh mating mark. Because it feels like he can feel the mating mark wrapping around his cock.

You're a little more lucid because the pack’s sour scents cut through the breeding haze.

“Is Yoongi like- presenting?” Your voice sounds so small, so fragile. Yoongi bares his teeth at it. He tips his head into yours, nosing at the side of your face. Trying to reassure you. Trying not to bite. Hissing when Namjoon once again pulls at the skin of his knot.

“I don’t think so,” Namjoon says carefully, slowly. Reaching for Jin's glasses on the edge of the nest (because they're roughly the same prescription) so that he can take a look at the underside of Yoongi’s cock and the scent glands just below it.

They’re not puffy and not swollen like an alpha's. Alpha's knot to scent mark, not just breed. It's surprisingly a relief knowing that not all of Yoongi's biology has changed.

"He’s like still a beta? Right?”

“As far as I can tell yes.” Namjoon hesitates, poking at Yoongi’s knot harder. Eyes flicking up to measure his response. Yoongi does not snap at him, doesn’t do anything but lean against the column of Namjoon’s arm like he’s having a hard time holding his body up. When Namjoon puts his hand on the base of Yoongi’s throat, he doesn’t do anything but close his eyes.

"No- if you were an alpha you'd be biting my head off right now. You're definitely not presenting" Namjoon decides, begging that it's true. His own instincts are just a hum beneath his skin.

Namjoon might be a man of science, but he does trust his instincts more than he’d ever willingly admit. Namjoon's inner alpha is not chomping at the bit for a show of dominance and is not threatened by the sudden muskiness of another foreign knot. A shock in itself. Any scent of an unfamiliar knot combined with the smell of their omega in heat would make any of the alphas, even hoseok the tamest one, go feral. Packs work that way.

Beyond an extra layer of horniness, Yoongi’s thick chocolate scent has not changed. Not even a little bit once Namjoon sniffs and rolls the taste of it around on his tongue.

Namjoon presses the side of his face to Yoongi’s neck and closes his eyes. You can feel Yoongi’s heart flutter with how you’re holding onto his arm. After a moment namjoon pulls away. “You’ll be fine.”

You sag, a bit in relief. Yoongi? An alpha? If Namjoon says he’s not you believe him. Your brain is too hazy to think straight. But you decide you’re glad he’s not. Yoongi’s perfect- you’d hate it if something changed without his say-so. You babble, say it. And your mate covers his face.

“If I had to bet, I’d say it’s the mating mark. I’d like to take tests but-” Jin’s head jerks up, scent souring. Sensing a trip to the hospital before it’s even been said. Jungkook’s eyes on Yoongi don’t blink, grinning down at that knot with his hair in his face, already excited and dopey. As if talking about the hospital is enough to summon another seizure.

“After maybe. If it’s still a problem.” Namjoon caveats, pausing to rub down Yoongi’s arm, soothing him. Yoongi is still trembling. Still shaking so hard that he can't really move with any coordination.

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” Seokjin asks, carefully. Pillow over his bare lap. Namjoon has the good sense to at least put on some shorts. Jimin looks at Tae quickly and Tae does not return his gaze. Some secret soulmate conversation going on between them that you can’t read.

When you look up at Hobi- he’s watching your face. He doesn’t look away but after a moment he shrugs as if to say ‘Our beta has a knot- so what?’

“I’ve never heard of a beta popping a knot. I’m not sure. I think this might just be us.”

You groan, hiding your face under Yoongi’s chin. His breath heaves, and he turns back to you, nuzzling back.

“Is it my slick? Or the mating mark? Did I do this to him?” your eyes are wet, tears already threatening. You are already generally sensitive, and even more so in heat. Yoongi eases away your worries with a quick kiss to the side of your face. Cutting off your guilt before it has a chance to build.

“None of that now. If I had to change for anyone I’m glad it’s you.”

The pack is quiet around you, all in varying states of nudity. Quiet at the truth of what he says, how suddenly deep this has gotten. But he's right, you'd change for any of them. You wouldn't mind either. Yoongi rubs your cheek and you pull yourself half into his lap for a cuddle. Needy, too worn down to let it go. Yoongi’s hands go around your waist keeping you close. You melt into his arms, still sniffling.

"Your dick was perfect before though-"

"Sweetheart " he groans. You pull back from him, glancing down at his lap.

"What? I'm just saying-"

“Don’t look at it!”

Hoseok chokes back a laugh and tries to keep it in, but before you can help it everyone's laughing and covering their faces with their hands to keep from smiling. 

“You didn’t cum at all. Did you?" Namjoon asks, eyes dark. Yoongi starts to lift the hem of the shirt you wear, showing.

“No, I didn’t.” Yoongi can feel a bit of skin at the base of his cock, still loose, still half popped. If you weren’t more preoccupied with holding your mate and controlling your weepyness. You’d be more curious about the knot pressed between your legs.

Maybe this is just resource-guarding. Classic omega in heat, of course, the most valuable resource is your mate. 

“You know” Namjoon hesitates, looking from Yoongi to Jin. “Popping a knot without ejaculating sperm is kind of medically dangerous-”

“Namjoon-” Jin scolds.

“Sorry- without Cuming is actually kind of dangerous. Especially because it’s like, not typical for you to have a knot.” Namjoon licks his lips, "We should probably make sure that it's like- working."

You don’t know if it’s hornyness or just Namjoon being concerned for Yoongi’s health (probably a little bit of both) but you perk up. Blinking at the pack alpha who looks a little strained. A little like he’s trying not to look too much.

Across the nest, Jungkook shuffles forward, blatantly eyeing Yoongi’s knot like he’s just found his new favorite toy. But no sooner is he putting his hand on the beta’s tight before Jin is pulling him back the collar. "No no no pup, that's not yours yet."

He lets out a little bereft whimper but you hardly notice. Eyes bright and directed up at Namjoon. Like it honestly hadn’t occurred to you that now that your mate has a knot that means he can use it. Yoongi can knot you now. Pack Alpha is so smart! You don't know how it didn't occur to you yet but-

Oh, you really want that. You really want Yoongi to knot you.

The self-consciousness Yoongi felt earlier is entirely forgotten. You’re a little dumb in heat. A little floaty. Yoongi doesn’t mind. This is why you have packmates, to make these complicated decisions for you.

Yoongi’s hands are still firm around your waist. If Yoongi does have a knot now, for the time being, then you should get first dibs.

You whine, he was perfect without it really but you really really really like knots, your squishy omega brain is convinced that you need it. That it’s yours and your packmates are suddenly keeping it from you. You bare your teeth. No bite, all bark. You'd actually growl at them if Yoongi’s hands didn't clamp down around your waist. Hard. Harder than he usually touches you. It jogs you out of your reverie.

Marks. Kis fingers hold you hard enough that you could have bruises. Good. You want marks on you and on him. Your mating mark isn't enough. Not now, not with Yoongi having a knot.

“Should I, should you-” The pack settles in, ringing both you and Yoongi, as you stare each other down, both of your scents spiking wildly as you take each other in. Seeing each other in a new light.  

Yoongi laughs, deep and rough. And you get shivers down your spine. Your voice is high-pitched and squeaky from the strain. "Don't tease me."

He nudges the underside of your jaw with his nose. "Come on, it's sorta easy" his teeth brush your mating mark and you gasp, the threat of a bite but not a bite at all. "and you like it."

The pack looms closer so close they can reach out and touch, can reach out and feel. "Should we watch? I think we should watch" “Yes. Definitely yes.” “Yes, I think we should, yes please.” "they're so pretty when they fuck."

But Jungkook huffs, a little bratty, a little bit upset that there's a knot he's not allowed to ride. "Can't I get one lick?"

"No Koo" Jungkook jerks against his hold.

"If I lick it, is it mine? While she rides it does it count if I lick it?” Jungkook gets dragged over Jin’s lap for that one, completely happy with it as the other omega lands several swats over his behind. Giggling as he goes.

The slapping sounds are distant. Jungkook's skin glows from the force of the hits but his cheeks are round from his smile sweet. A Spanking? You'd like one of those. Maybe you can provoke it from one of your packmates sometime later. You might need a settling after this.

Your brain is a mess of wants and instincts. But a spanking can wait. Yoongi's knot presses just under your pussy and you grind onto it experimentally. Tingles of pleasure filling your whole body. Good. It's so good. You snarl.

“No. No Jk- pup”

You are not paying attention as Jungkook tries to claw his way over to you; laughing, making a game of it. You and Yoongi are not speaking but you are communicating. Every grit of his teeth says mine, and every twitch of his hands on your hips says keep going. You look down at your mate and lick your teeth, polishing your canines as you eye him. The line of his throat. The pinkness of his nose. His chest- everything.

As Yoongi huffs, half fond. Cheeks slowly warm the more your eyes roam, the more you look and hunger. 

It’s not that you’ve never been a sexual creature and it’s not that Yoongi has never seen you want him. But too often have you been like Noodle. Too frequently has he been the steward of your lust, carefully encouraging it and letting you be fickle and safe. Every time you've had sex you've been timid. he’s always letting you know through every breath that you’re not too much and that you can have it in any way that you want.

But now- now you’re eyeing Yoongi like you want to eat him.

Your brain is too syrupy and slow to do more than grind against his knot (like I said, all bark, no bite) your pussy dribbles onto it. The glide of your slick hole so much against such sensitive skin, pressed between your body and his. An omega possessed. An omega on a mission. 

He’s been on the business end of many knots but this- this is different. Your eyes are open hardly blinking, Jungkook’s hands trail up Yoongi’s thigh to his hip.

"You're hiding it-" he whines, bratty. But gets snapped back into the alpha's waiting jaws. More spanks. until someone, Jimin maybe is tugging at Jungkook's cock between his legs while he gets plugged up by Namjoon's knot. Namjoon's the only one out of all of them that can truly distract Jungkook. Can possibly stop him from trying to covet Yoongi.

Yoongi's knot doesn’t belong to him. As his mate you have rights.

You push him back to lie in the nest and Yoongi lets you. It’s instinct to straddle him, to get him under you where he can’t move. Even though you don’t usually fuck like this with you on top. You don’t know why this in-heat version of yourself seems preoccupied with riding or not riding, maybe it’s a control thing or vulnerability.

Your body is unused to the heat, unsure of quite what the edge of want and don’t want to meet. Unsure if you want all the control or the complete lack of it. You are weak to your instincts. Weak, even though you know if you just lied back Yoongi would take care of you.

Your instincts give you neither choice nor reason nor want for anything, anything but this. Hoseok's hands slide up Yoongi's knees, touch your lower back, everything. Everyone everywhere touching both of you. Egging you on with their bare teeth and wildly sweet scents.

The head of Yoongi's cock slides up and through your slick, catching on your hole for a moment before it pops away,

You don’t know who guides Yoongi’s knot to your fluttering hole, only that it’s there. It’s easy to sink back, eyes furrowed as you concentrate on the feeling of getting Yoongi’s knot inside of you, cheeks warm at the eyes of the pack on you.

Beside you Tae paws at Jimin’s knot he makes a nose in his throat, but Tae’s all smiles. “Minnie likes it.” She croons in a singsong tone. Hooking an arm around his waist and sliding her hands under the elastic hem of his boxers to toy with him.

There is breath on the back of your shoulder, condensation turning your skin dewy. A hungry alpha ready to swallow you whole. Looming. You don’t look to see who it is, who's looking over your shoulder watching Yoongi’s face as you ride him.

You have a sinking suspicion it might be Hobi.

You fall into a slow rhythm appreciating the way that it feels, nudging at your entrance. Filling you routine. You’re getting better at this setting the pace on your own. Moving at a steady rhythm. A rhythm that makes you sigh and squeak. Your body feels so far away. The ache in your knees, the soreness in your hole, and the tiredness in you are all impermanent compared to the pleasure.

You focus on the feeling of your hands on his chest and the pleasure that comes with fucking yourself down on his knot. It’s a good knot. Not too big, not too small, just right. Everything about Yoongi is just right for you. You mewl as you speed up your pace. Instincts burning for more more more.

Sweat bleeds down your back and Yoongi’s jaw rolls, unblinking below you. Someone wipes away a bit of drool on your jaw and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. Tipping your head back.

“Does it feel good pup, the way his knot feels in your little hole?"

"Not so little anymore," Tae snickers, "she's practically bouncing on it."

Yoongi’s knuckles are white with how hard he holds your hips, doing his best not to guide your rhythm or disrupt it. Someone's hand is in your hair, tugging and tangling with it, pulling you up and down.

Namjoon leans down to whisper in Yoongi’s ear. “Good huh? Pussy fucking you up hyung? Gonna be a little bitch and make a mess in our pup? Gonna put your little knot where you want and breed her?” 

Yoongi lets out an achy moan. And hope that you didn’t hear that. Or feel how it makes him twitch and pulse. Knot seconds from popping. Already mostly popped from before. He’s not going to last. Yoongi knows it will be quick.

"Bet you can feel how I fucked her open for you huh?"

Yoongi does not pause to push Namjoon’s face away as the alpha bites his shoulder- his ear- his everywhere. Namjoon's not nearly as unaffected as he pretends to be but Yoongi is too focused on you.

Yoongi has always been the perfect fit, not quite as long as Hobi or as thick as Jimin or the type of knot that makes you feel it for days after like Tae and Namjoon. It’s a good thing you’re a size queen because now you can fuck yourself down on Yoongi’s knot, regardless of the size it threatens to swell too.

Yoongi’s knot is about as thick around as Namjoon’s cock is normally so you still struggle to go all the way down, but stretching yourself around the wideness is good, feels nice. Sates the fire inside of you. His knot presses all nice and hot snug against that spot inside of you. You babble it, saying how good good good your mate is, how you can feel his cock stretching you out and breeding you. Almost mindless from pleasure.

Almost but not yet.

Yoongi slides his palm from your stomach up to your sternum, under the black shirt you wear, stroking over your skin lazily before his fingers tangle in the material, pulling it. using it to guiding and goad you into fuck him faster. Saying nothing. Eyes on you. Dark and heavy-lidded.

To shut you up (not because he wants you to shut up but because he wants to hold off from cumming for as long as he can). Yoongi gets his feet under him and drives his hips up. Fucking up into you. Faster and faster until you can tell you're almost taking all of it. All of it. As much as you can.

“That’s it, there you go baby. Fuck her like an alpha. She wants to take it, you just have to help make her.”

“Come on hyung, fuck her like you mean it.”

Beside you, Tae's hand works underneath the waistband of Jimin's boxers, a thumb hooked there lazily. Stilling for a second. Her knuckles wrapped around his knot probably. Hobi is tucked along Jin's side, hips stuttering working. Watching you and Yoongi. Namjoon grins, showing his teeth.  

You have almost all of his knot in you now, everything but the widest bit, just a little more, just a little and you’ll have it. You bounce up and down on it experimentally. You grin, very very convinced that you don’t have to wait for Yoongi’s knot to go down to continue.

Your mate's hands circle your wrists, holding them hard, pulling you down hard every time you pick yourself up, trying to keep you stationary. But Yoongi’s needs are very very far away in his mind.

It’s almost better this way, looking down at him, working your body down his knot. Testing the give and breathing through it the way that Namjoon has taught you to breathe through taking his knot. The pack all around, watching you and encouraging you. They're so close, it sort of feels like they're all fucking you this way.

Tae’s fingers dimple in your thighs and Jk rests his head along Yoongi’s tummy so he can watch his knot sink inside of you as a treat when he takes his spanking like a good pup. A strong hand in his hair to keep him from moving forward a few inches to lick. Pout on his face. When your pace stutters, body overtired from heat, Hobi's hand goes under your thigh to help pick you up, taking the weight of your body for you.

You finally get Yoongi’s knot inside of you, but it doesn’t stop there, you put your hands on his chest and pick yourself off of it again. It tugs but slips past the rim of muscle after a second, slick sliding down the big swollen curve of it. It takes some finesse, but your body gives way and his knot is once again hovering just on the precipice.

Then you sit yourself back down.

Jimin’s breathless curse against your throat feels almost guttural. You hardly hear it too focused on fucking Yoongi’s knot like a cock.

 “Fuck, omega's knot fucking is-” 

“It’s hot,” Jin says, leaning down to brush Yoongi’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. “How does it feel honey? Feeling your mate around your knot? All good? All nice and snug?”

“She’s-” Yoongi pants through it breath ragged, close to cumming, knot pulsating. “Warm” his voice is strained and he scrambles to reach for you. Yoongi’s lap, his whole stomach really, is covered in your slick. The slide is almost too slippery. If you weren’t concentrating so hard on keeping rhythm you’d tell him you love him.

“Overwhelming, feels like- feels like- fuck-”

But you know he already knows, can feel it in the way he touches you. The way he looks at you. Everything.

You squirt, wet noisy, little dribbles of cum flicking up across his chest, clamping down around his knot so hard that Yoongi has no choice. Your pace stutters and you sigh. You hardly notice the pleasure rocking through you, hardly notice as you start to tremble. Little ‘hng’ noises pushed from your throat with every sweet jut of Yoongi’s hips. Still fucking his knot all the way in and all the way out.

Yoongi fucks the same way he talks, sweet but firm. He cums that way too. Warm and slow. You feel every syllable and every drop.

But Yoongi has no words for the ecstasy of knotting you. Groaning deep, more guttural, more animal than you’ve ever heard him sound. Cumming, knot popping fully. Finally. Your legs shake and your head drops as it throbs and swells.

You finally stop riding him but he keeps pulling you down at the same second he sits up quick, until he's sitting with you in his lap. Wrapping his arms around you. Whipping your hair from your face, cupping your cheeks, forehead to forehead.

A bit of your squirt drips down the seam of his hip, the place where his thigh and stomach wrinkle. Staining the nest a darker shade of pink.

But there are hands to settle your giggles, his knot pulsates, and you feel wet and warm inside. You ease up and he holds you for a moment. Skin to skin. Breath to breath. Both of you panting through your comedown.

The others fall upon you.

Jin's hand cups your stomach, and Jungkook's teeth drive into Yoongi's shoulder with a quiet yelp and a 'yah jungkookie'. you love how grumbly yoongi gets when he's feeling sensitive but safe.

Namjoon tilts your chin up and kisses you, messy and filthy. When you part you feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. You can't yet register that you're panting, breathing heavily. Still sort of cumming. One orgasm blends into another. Having them around while Yoongi’s inside of you is so much. Good, but a lot as Tae strokes down your spine.

“Did good alpha?” You ask Namjoon.

“Did so well, so so so well taking Yoongi’s first knot.” Now he'll understand how possessive we can get of you. Now he'll get it.

Yoongi ignores him, but around you, the air is thick with the scent of the pack's pleasure. Hoseok ruffles Yoongi's hair than yours, you nuzzle into his wrist. Tae's hands are hungry, and exploratory.

(They watched you through all of this but never once did you wonder if you were pretty, never once did you worry about how it looked, if it was enough. There is a simple love that's here. A simple love between all of you. Through your heat- you've never once been self-conscious. With Yoongi’s knot snug in your pussy, and everyone praising you, you can't find it in yourself to be nervous or worried or feel anything but bliss).

There are familiar hands everywhere- reaching down, feeling where you and Yoongi are connected. The wet slick glide of an omega properly seated on a knot. Tae’s lips pressed against your tit while her delicate fingers paw at your pussy, not a kiss, not a suck, but a pout.

You let her until Yoongi hums, overwhelmed, and then lean down to bite her. Popping back, licking your teeth, echoing a soft "sorry" when you've realized what you've done.

Yoongi shivers as Jin runs a hand up and down his stomach, knuckles brushing yours. Namjoon crowds in behind you. Pushing you both down into the nest. His pack alpha herding tendencies are at play but he’s a warm and reassuring presence behind you. They all settle in to cuddle you and keep both of you safe until Yoongi’s knot goes down long enough to make sure that you’ve been adequately bred. 

Everyone's sort of lying on top of each other. Namjoon behind you, Jin behind Yoongi, Hobi trying and sort of succeeding in squirming his way in between Jin and Yoongi. the pack are noisy. but you sort of love the noise.

"You're pinching my skin hyung." "Wait wait wait, this will be more comfortable." "Namjoon she needs room to like-breathe." "Ow my knee like- cannot stay in this position." "Jungkook!"

The older omega lets Hobi muscle his way in. Pressing a kiss and a nibble to the back of his neck in admonishment. Jungkook sprawls across all of your stomachs and Tae rings the top and Jimin the bottom, guarding you and Yoongi against the door. Classic alpha.

Tae runs her hands over your hair, scratching at your scalp with her long fingernail. You push into her touch like a cat. She does it to you, then Yoongi. Yoongi’s hands skim up and down your hips and he’s breathing heavy.

“Love you,” he says.

he closes his eyes first but you just watch him. A chorus of voices join but you lean down, pecking him over his eyelids. Covering his body with yours. He doesn’t need to worry about anything.

Yoongi wraps his arms around you. Mumbling something into your ear quiet enough that the rest of the pack doesn’t hear. But let it remain a mystery. Let it remain for just you and him.

You rest and cuddle. And Yoongi keeps twitching inside of you. Every time you think that he’s done and that his cock can’t possibly give you anymore he starts to twitch again. Cuming just a little bit more.

It almost feels like Namjoon, who cum's a proportional amount to the size of his cock. Yoongi never normally cums this much, but you can't say you're complaining. One hand resting protectively over your tummy.

You hear Jin's familiar 'tsk' and fingers are at your hole. They guide a bit of spend back up into it. But your eyes are already closed.

You were already tired before and your heat still rages. It's not fire anymore. Something in you satiated. It's not a raging inferno but the kind of warmth that glows from coals, that sizzles on the edge of your skin, like deep-seated honeying of suns and far away stars teeming with wishes and life-giving warmth.

Yoongi decides that he wouldn’t mind doing this, just when you go into heat. He’ll get tests done later; Namjoon will drag him to the hospital after this week to take his blood and measure his hormones.

Dr.Pearl and another beta specialist will come to the conclusion that it’s both your mating mark and your slick that caused a momentarily biological shift that’s temporary at best and a one-off probably (it won’t be a one-off, Yoongi will grow a knot through every one of your heats after this). They’ll prescribe Yoongi less of your slick and a bit of distance from your scent during your pre-heat (both professional opinions that Yoongi will opt to ignore because seriously what the fuck?)

For now, you settle down atop him, keeping his knot safe inside, and go to sleep. Not before feeling each one of your packmates press a kiss to the place between your shoulder blades. Surprisingly sensitive, surprisingly ticklish. You feel it all. The brush of Hobi’s nose, the skim of Tae’s long hair. The plush feeling of Jimin's lips more like petals than skin. The brush of Jin and Namjoon’s stubble. The nibble of Jungkook's teeth.

Yoongi’s lips remain planted to your forehead, he sleeps that way through the rest of the afternoon. The little huffs of his breath tickle your baby hairs, and you can’t say that you mind.

Being the lowest member in the pack’s hierarchy means different things for each pack. Especially with two older omega’s in heat, and you below them in the hierarchy.

As the days drag on, you feel like a bit of a chew toy (not that you’re complaining).

As the lowest packmate in the hierarchy, you bear the brunt of it when their instincts shift from hungry to nesty. The breeding’s mostly done (mostly, but not quite) now is time for nesting, for preparing. It takes time for seed to take. That time that you spend cuddled close. Safe between Jin and Jungkook. Walled in on either side, safely tucked between their chests. Both of their heartbeats beat through either ear.

At least until you wake up.

You omega’s are a conspiratory little bunch. The nest is deep and colorful with many spots to hide. You do not try to hide from Jinnie or Jungkook, there is no need to. the alpha’s are who you hide from, peaking over the edge of an inner nest, the walls built up a bit like an igloo. The three of you playing a pretend game of hide and seek.

Hiding from them and the pleasure that they give you. Because they want to get in the way of all your fun.

It’s not getting in the way of the fun so much as it’s partaking in it, sticking their knots where you need them- but where is the fun in simply fucking? Foreplay is where all the fun happens anyway. Bouncing on a knot can get so boring.

Unless it’s Yoongi’s knot of course. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of that. His refractory period is a lot longer than the other alphas, even Namjoon who tends to knot for a good 30 minutes. You’ve had him 4? Maybe 5 times since the first? And now he slumbers, hips ringed with hickeys, cock lying limp and pretty pink against his stomach, utterly spent.

You’d ridden Yoongi until he was trembling, until his breath came out as gasps and not growls. Until his knot couldn’t even pop anymore and Namjoon had quite literally scruffed you to get you off of him. Too sensitive for anymore. Twitching duly when you’d popped off for the final time, a glob of cum leaking down your hole to your other one.

And yet, you could tell by the smell of him that Yoongi was drowning in ecstasy, nothing about his scent in pain or discomfort. You did a good job. Your pack had told you, you did.

But still, your mate needs his rest, in the meantime, the omegas can play.

The morning is thick and heavy, sunlight slow moving like honey when the alpha’s start to wake to the sound of soft breathy moans. the alpha's don’t immediately register that none of them are awake and that it’s purely omegan whines and whimpers that coat the air in the sound and smell of sweet pleasure.

Honey, cake, and cream.

Jungkook giggles softly, looking down and you can’t help but smile too- dopey. Fucked out. Fucked dumb. They’re not exactly surprised that you’ve gone non-verbal. Babbling only for Tae and Yoongi when they seriously prod you for a question.

This is just another spike of your heat only… you didn’t bother to wake your alpha’s up for it. You don’t really need your alpha’s knot when Koo is so soft and when Jinnie is- honestly very big for an omega, perfect enough for a bit of comfort in your hole.

But putting the pack omega’s cock all up inside you would not be good. You want to be good for Jungkook, your nestmate who has bitten you so thoroughly your skin aches from his teeth. From your chest to your shoulders and neck. To your hips and backside. Everywhere he’s bitten you up. So that anyone who sees you will know.

The three of you giggle and rub. What started as cuddling and a bit of grinding has become something different.

You and Jungkook hover above Jin lying down, Jungkook teased him a little bit ago for his grandpa's behavior, for not wanting to move and being too cozy. His omega cock stands hard and proud. Not terribly big, but not as small as Jungkook either. You and Jungkook seem not to notice the difference.

You and Jungkook sit perched above Seokjin, the pack omega’s hands roaming without care. His face is pink and his eyes are half closed, sleepy, and happy to let you and Jungkook take what you need.

At least Jin’s heat is near ending. Your and Jungkook’s roar in the meantime. You grind into each other, tummy to tummy, Jin below the two of you left to lazily rock up into the drippy sweet cleft between your pussy and Jungkook’s cock. It’s all very slick as you move against each other. Rubbing and grinding and giggling.

Hoseok blinks awake in the nest, picking himself up with a jerk.

A combination of your slick soaks Jin’s lap, and turns the grind sudsy, almost soapy as he slides up through your pussy kissing Jungkook’s cock. Omega’s do love to scent and rub and grind; you’re doing some mixture of the two. Not scissoring, but it would be scissoring if Jungkook had a pussy instead of the little nub he calls his cock. Jungkook reaches down, tapping his cock against your clit. You purr and squeak at it.

You’re… a bit of a mess, after having been fucked by every available alpha and Yoongi so hard like that earlier- your hole is a bit of a wreck, you're leaking slick and globs of alpha cum that Jin and Jungkook are only too possessive over. Pink when Jungkook reaches down to part your pussy with his hands and sees your wrecked entrance. He's too happy to smear it all over.

You can hardly blame Koo for his fascination, dragging his own little cock and forth between the mess. Putting his cock in (not that you can even close around it, small as Jungkook is) just to feel the heat of your body and what the alpha’s did to you.

It’s a good thing that most of Jungkook’s knot collection is locked safely away in the closet. Otherwise he might be tempted to see if you can take the largest one. The one that’s larger even than Namjoon that Jungkook's only managed to take on occasion when the pack feels like devoting multiple days into opening him up. The one that often leads to multiple days of aftercare because it actually is a little medically questionable for Jungkook to take.

Jungkook might have a bit of a thing for it; a size kink. thats never more apparent than when you're close. when he puts his hands around your waist and his hands almost meet. Watching you take things that look too big, that fuck you dumb like this is jungkook's favorite.

Now that the alphas aren’t making him feel so…so omegan, so fucked out. He’s sorry he missed most of it. He wants to see it again, wants to watch you get fucked open on namjoon's cock.

Jimin lifts his head from the nest, doing a double take and cursing when he realizes that it's not a wet dream just- just real. Namjoon rubs a hand across his jaw, sitting up on his knees in the half-darkness. Clearly he's been awake for a while. His hand goes ridged on Namjoon’s wrist but the pack alpha doesn't look down at him- he doesn't tear his eyes away from you three.

Namjoon’s cock presses up between his boxers, put on for modesty- and because normally omega’s in heat can’t be trusted not to get a little handsy. Hard, insistent. Now, Namjoon wishes that you'd get a little handsy. That would be better than just watching.

“You didn’t?…” he asks, trailing off. Namjoon swallows hard shaking his head. Namjoon already has his hand hooked into Hobi's collar, keeping him in place. Keeping him from interfering. Hobi lets out a lupine whimper. More a puppy than a man.

“Jin asked me not to intervene.”

The pack alpha’s restraint is legendary, especially when Jin giggles at the way you’re bouncing or trying to bounce on Jungkook’s cock. The pack omega tuts, and slips in besides Jungkook, half pushing him out of the way. Jimin starts, but there’s no reason to.

After fucking Namjoon there is more than enough room in your pussy.

The sight of you and Jungkook rubbing your used holes together is something that should honestly be recorded for the communal pack spank bank. The three of you pink-cheeked and healthy, and-

Knocked up. The three of you look like you’ve just been knocked up even though they know you haven't. Your skin glows healthy, your bodies supple and fed. Relaxed and loopy, showing the signs of the care the pack have lavished you with.

Jinnie's glowing too- skin smooth and blemishless, lips puffy and glossy from being kissed so much (as they should be). Although his glow is softer and less harsh. Jin’s heat is already ending, just another ten or so hours now. The fever quiets to a soft hush, a gentle need instead of a rabid one.

Was it the pack omega that dragged you and Jungkook to get off on top of him? It won’t be long now. Namjoon can tell you’re both close to cumming from the way you're shaking and the way Jungkook's breathing.

The slick glossy look of your thighs, your hiccups, the sight of Jin’s cock pressing between your slick folds, peaking out, rubbing against your clit, and the head of Jungkook’s little cock. The pack omega’s hands are hungry twitching as jin cranes back and inarticulately tucks his hands into both your holes. stroking both of them. Jin’s cheeks look round, pouting as he concentrates.

“Want pups, my pups, gimme,” you and Jungkook giggle, pressing sloppy kisses to each other’s mouths, Jinnie’s too- although the pack omega does little but pout and rock into the warmth. Into the wet.

The alpha’s watch and it’s torturous to keep themselves back. But they're good alpha's. When your and Jungkook's rocking reaches a fever's pitch and then quiets. Trembling and overwhelmed. Clinging to each other, threatening to topple.

When you’re finished there is more than one available knot, hard and aching, ready to sit on.

~-~

That’s not the last time that Jungkook seeks you out during his heat. far from it.

You’re not surprised that both his and yours have lasted longer than Jin’s (probably by a day or so). Your and his hormones spike and feed off each other, your heat spikes syncing until your packmates have to handle both of you at once. Your hand remains knotted with his, whining every time one of your alphas tries to cajole you gently away from him. Unwilling to be parted from him during knotting for comfort.

The lulls between Jin’s heat spikes get longer and longer while yours and Jungkook’s remain the same. Jungkook’s even speed up a little if anything.  

Jungkook loves going into heat with you- he really does, it feels like he’s always reaching, always craning his neck to watch you. The tender nape of his neck is bruised from the number of times that the alphas have had to scruff him docile. All of him feels Bitten and nibbled at every available opportunity.

Really, Jungkook's sort of in heaven.

The alphas never throw him around the same way they do when he's in heat. They don’t treat him like he’s delicate, like he’s precious, especially with you around to dote on and fuss with. You take the brunt of Jin’s protective instinct too.

Jungkook can be as bratty as he wants, bite whichever alpha he wants, and chirp as long as he needs to. Outside of heat they rarely ever hold him down and make him take it. They always hold back. Only in heat at his most vulnerable do the alphas really stop treating him like he's fragile.

He likes pushing their buttons and making them bite. Now, Jungkook does it because he can't stand it.

Cute aggression? It must be cute aggression.

He wants to squeeze and nibble and wreck you, Watching as jimin tucks his face into your neck as his knot twitches, your entrances stretched tight around it and your legs wide open so that Yoongi can gift tortuously small touches to your clit, all but torturing it as you seem to squirt and squirt and squirt.

So much until you’re dripping around the hollow of his wrist. Your petal pink lips parted, ready for a nibble. He'd barely satiated his desire to mark you up earlier. The haze of hormones is thicker than smoke in the air, turning his brain mushy as he listens to Yoongi beg.

“One more, just one more for me. You made me cum until I couldn’t anymore so now it’s your turn.”

You sob, but thats not a no. Your knees get brought up. Cute, plush, like a fucking stuffed animal. Jungkook once again, gets the inexplicable urge to squeeze you.

The alpha's have you both pressed chest to chest. Underneath you, Jimin continues to drive his cock in smooth efficient bunches, a knot already popped inside. You'd asked him to be mean with it and sob you do. Begging and pleading for more more more at the same time you say you can't take another orgasam.

Jungkook remains above you on his hands and knees. Namjoon lies along Jungkook's spine. Punching a groan from Jungkook’s chest with every impossibly long and thick drag of his cock. Making the omega feel all of it.

A fresh wave of your slick squirts against jungkook's chest and Jungkook's arms buckle. He sort of falls half on top of you. Yoongi hums and puts Jungkook back on his hands and knees so that he can keep touching your pussy. Jungkook rests his body against Yoongi's arm to keep himself up. Mouth open.

Jungkook thinks he might imagine it. He must, because he can feel Namjoon’s cock pressing against his tummy, feel it as the bulge kisses your skin the give of your belly button.

Your giggle feels like a punch to his gut. As your hand slides up his slick stomach to palm at the belly bulge, touch him the same way he touched Namjoon's cock through you. He loves it. He presses his forehead against yours, your eyes just as dilated and as gone as his. Rubbing his face against yours in a half kiss- half scent mark.

There's a lot of squirting, mostly from you. Jungkook likes watching you squirt. It's so pretty.

Jimin yanks his knot out of your hole, a move that he wouldn’t be able to pull if you hadn’t been knotted by Namjoon recently. Perhaps inspired by watching you knotfuck Yoongi. Pulling at you so hard that it honestly to god looks like it hurts, it looks mean. It makes you squirt violently again against Jungkook's straining abdominal muscles.

Jungkook bites your cheek. Hmm, squishy.

He bites the other side, and it blooms under his teeth.

You tremble and almost seem to pass out of a second. And then- really do pass out once Namjoon pulls back, reaches around Jungkook, and says something to Yoongi, who pulls his fingers away from your clit, you jerk trying to chase the pleasure. Only to run headlong into Namjoon’s hand, landing hard over your clit.

You gush through Namjoon’s fingers, soaking the place where he and Jungkook join. At the same moment Namjoon shoves his slick-coated knot into Jungkook’s hole.  

Your head lols back against Jimin's shoulder and you let out a single broken whimper. they're pushing you to your breaking point. (But you have a gut feeling that once you break and they put back together, you'll finally feel whole).

Across the nest, Jin perks up a little horrified. He's being fussed over by Tae and Hobi, happily doted upon while Hobi's knot rests safe inside. knot warming. Comforting Jin through the end of his heat. Hobi turns and Tae starts to get up to intervene but then- 

Jungkook giggles at your sobs, lapping at your tears. Clenching wildly and grinding back against Namjoon’s knot, the pack alpha moves him so that Jungkook can press his lips to your slack mouth.

You blink, dazed, look up at him.

“Meanie Joonie” Jungkook giggles, the omegaspace haze so thick he can hardly string a coherent sentence together. “Meanie Minnie! Meanie Yoonie! Again! Wanna see!” Jungkook moves, trying to get his hand in between your legs to spank your clit again, but his swats don’t do anything, too gentle.

Jungkook is literally getting the daylights fucked out of him right now, he hardly has the energy to lift his own head, let alone spank your pussy the way he wants.

oh, after this heat, after this, he's going to have so much fun figuring out how much you can take.

Yoongi's teeth look incredibly sharp, a little feral at being asked. But Jimin nods and fuckes his knot out of you and Yoongi spanks your clit again. You've never squirted so many times in a row but you leak like a faucet now.

The next flood of your slick lands on Jungkook’s cock. Jutting against your stomach with the force of Namjoon’s thrusts. He giggles again. Shifting closer away from Namjoon- hissing at the tension around his knot. So that Jungkook can press your slick stained and swollen tummies together better.

When he cums too seconds later, from another brutal press of Namjoon’s knot to his prostate and a mean pinch to the head of his cock- he giggles and uses his hand to spread his spend over your stomach.

You’re already lost to exhaustion. But Jungkook pecks your nose, tucks his face under your throat, and goes right to sleep. 

When Jungkook wakes, he's still like that. He's not being filled, and things are calmer.

The freshly fallen night is a hush on the edge of the nest, There is a different need coursing through him. A different sort of wanting. A physical hunger. His body is exhausted, sore, and bitten.

Your chest smells like Tae's lipstick, like her kisses. Jungkook’s pretty pretty pretty alpha, the prettiest alpha that is on the other side of the nest, talking with Jin and sharing soft kisses. She must have come over earlier to check on you, must have kissed you here.

Jungkook is dimly aware of her soft words, “Do you want a knot Jinnie? Some food? Some water? A cloth? How are you feeling? Does anywhere ache my love?”

Jin's answering hum is exhausted but happy. After a second he quietly admits, “My thighs hurt.”

Yoongi is summoned, Hobi too. To squeeze and help relax the pack omega. The sound of his squeaky laugh and shy moan a welcome return.  

Jungkook dozes while you and Jinnie rest, his body over your body, lined up chest to chest, nuzzling first at your throat and then lower when Jungkook's instincts tug at him. The pack is not as worried about him being snappy. They've long since decided that whatever happened at the beginning of the heat was just that- an anomaly at the beginning. Both of your instincts settling.

But now, Jungkook crouches over you like an alpha might. Protective.

Possessive.

There is something syrupy sweet in the air, just below your skin. Jungkook couldn’t smell it until he started nosing at your throat, but now he can. Something laces through your veins, something that smells divine, something that he can almost taste, like sugar only sweeter.

He begins to move lower.

Your breasts smell like Tae, like alpha, they’ve been given so much attention, teeth marks and bruises line your areolas, Tae has sucked your nipples pink and sensitive and stiff puffy already. Imprints of Jungkook’s pretty alpha and her pretty teeth stay there like a shadow, a bruise. There is a word you call her, 'mommy.' He likes it when you call her that. It has Jungkook’s pretty alpha smelling muskier and impossibly prettier.

Jungkook’s mouth is perilously empty, it's starting to bother him. Jungkook lips his lips. Dry.

Her voice comes distant now, your hands push at Jungkook’s shoulders when he noses, but only briefly before Jungkook’s pretty alpha tuts, holding you still and keeping you from squirming as he noses, pushing through your sweet skin, searching for something. Girl omega’s are so soft. So soft everywhere.

Jungkook loves it. Is this Omegaspace? Or pupspace? Or some combination of the two.

Something starts squirming underneath him, a chest rising and falling, a heartbeat beating rabbit prey fast. But the squirming stops as quickly as it begins. Jungkook's pretty alpha looms closer, coming to see what you're fussing for and cooing at your quiet squeaks and chirps.

Tae's wrist is close, close to Jungkook's teeth as she grabs your wrist and holds you steady. Restraining you gently. “Let Jungkook have at you pup, he’s been a very good omega, don’t you want to help soothe him?”

Of course, Tae does not notice that Jungkook's going after something new, and does not notice that this isn't normal soothing. Sucking at your chest is her favorite thing. She doesn't think anything strange of Jungkook's hungry licking and desperate sucking.

There is some sweet whining on the edge of Jungkook’s senses. Independent of the sweetness beneath his nose, the warmth reaches his lips and he opens his mouth to suck. His breath going ragged.

Closer, closer still, warm and soft against his face, like a nest made flesh, like Jungkook’s nest in one person.

Jungkook sucks at your chest, lips pressing once they find the source of it- of that smell. Your nipple on the roof of his mouth is exactly what he'd been missing. Comforting. You are so soft, so soothing. He likes it. There is no fire from heat with you here at his front and yet, Jungkook still burns. The sweet smell under your skin is closer this way. Jungkook needs it, needs you like water. Clinging.

His taste buds spark with something, just a little at first then more the more that he sucks. Jungkook makes a soft sound and Tae just shushes him. Alpha, he wants to speak, alpha found it! His squishy Omegaspace brain wants to tell Tae. The urge to show and tell is quickly overridden by the need for more.

It's so sweet. So fatty that Jungkook's head spins. Mouth filling with liquid that tastes like you, but a bit like Jinnie too.

You taste Milky.  

Jungkook's eyebrows come together and Tae teases, her fingers running against his cheek slowly filling. throat bobbing Her voice sounds like it does when she's grinning. Tae can be forgiven for not immediately realizing what’s happening because Jungkook is swallowing it down before any of it has a chance to make it to open air, gasping and sucking wildly. Hungry.

"Oh, tasting something good bunny?" Jungkook's sure she must be smiling even though his eyes are still closed. Still half asleep but waking up.

A little more, something hot and sweet fills his mouth, and Jungkook sucks it all down, more with every tight press of his lips. Your squirming stops and you sigh, going rim rod straight for a second and then relaxing.

You're staring up at Tae all dazed and cute, letting out sweet babbles of "mommy mommy-alpha mommy please." Your toes curling in the nest. But who knows what you're asking for.

tae reaches down and puts her fingers in your mouth, giving you something to suck at, quieting your desperate whimpers.

Jungkook doesn't like it, doesn't like her touching you. this milk is his- it belongs to him. The milk sweet and fatty fills his mouth, slowly at first, then more. You stop squirming below him, sighing in relief body going slack. Jungkook's arms go firm around your waist, holding you still, holding you close.

It's good, yummy even. Jungkook sucks more and more and more without really understanding. His heat-fried brain not sorting through the facts of the situation.

"Does Jungkook feel good little pup? Is he making you feel all tingly?" Tae teases, softly now, like she's conscious of the idea of waking everyone else up. She leans down crouching over to nip at your throat. Settling you. But there's nothing to settle, your head lol's to the side, staring blankly ahead. Whimpering. drooling around tae's fingers, she takes them out and slips them down your throat. stroking gently.

"Hopefully he doesn't bite you too sensitive because it's my turn once he's done, gonna squirm and cry for me gonna-" Tae breaks off, inhaling jagged.

Jungkook's tongue rolls against your nipple, keeping a small dribble from slipping down your body. Lips parted in ecstasy, a single drop drips from his tongue onto your skin, just a little.

But it's enough.

There is something pearly, dribbled down around your sternum. Almost translucent, but still white and cloudy.

Tae blinks like she can't really believe it.

Then she growls, loud, shocked. violent enough to wake the others. Whereas before she'd been stroking through Jungkook's hair, now her hand goes vicelike and tries to pull him off. Jungkook whines and squirms, unwilling to be parted from you until Tae growls again in warning.

Namjoon picks up his head from the nest at the sound. Jin blinks awake against his throat and Yoongi shifts and shuffles awake. Rubbing his eyes with a closed fist when he sits up.

When Tae finally succeeds in pulling him off of you, he looks almost hurt, pouting up at her. Tae's gaze eviscerates him. Their eyes narrow at the spill of it, the glimmer of milk on his lips. A bit of milk dribbles down Jungkook's cheek. Traveling down his collar bones to his pectorals and abs, gathering in his belly button, in the little furrow of skin between his lap and tummy.

Tae's finger gathers it on her fingertip and guides it back up to Jungkook's mouth, a breathless growl. Incredulous, near worshiping.

"Messy puppy."

How many more biological surprises could the pack possibly have in store for them? They're a little too tired to be particularly alarmed, and yet, they drag their bodies over. To make sure, to see.

To taste.

Hoseok hangs his head, his whine supine. "Jesus fucking Christ, you-" Namjoon looks away then looks back again. Like he can't quite bring himself to watch and can't quite tear his gaze away.

“I’ve only just gotten used to the idea of Yoongi knotting and now-"

Jin wordlessly rubs a hand over his face, Jimin doesn't say anything, trying to muscle Yoongi out of the way, looking down at you with something indescribable, at Jimin's movement, Namjoon's hands go to your elbow, your wrist, and Jin snaps.

"No, everyone behave. She is not a chew toy."

Everyone goes quiet, admonished. Tae continues to hold you, still looking down, and Jin realizes that if he's not careful, everyone is going to snap. Tae is going to snap. He can see it in the tremble of her body, the curl of her teeth over her lip, her control is seconds from snapping. Her scent spikes climbing higher and higher, almost smelling like she's in rut.

but you're his pup. jin bends under the force of his instincts, checking on your first. Jin leans over you, brushing the hair out of your eyes, and revealing your glassy fuzzy gaze.

"Daddy?" you ask, confused. Jin hasn't heard that name in a little while, not that he's complaining.

"Sweet little puppy, my sweet little pup, are you alright, is it too much?"

Your hand's press and release in the nest. "No just- just hurts- aches, Koo.” Your eyelashes flutter, “Koo makes it better.”

Jungkook is a possessive little thing, hisses and splutters and clings to your front. even as yoongi and namjoon try to get him off of you You squirm looking up at Tae and Yoongi and Jin, the haze cuts for a moment and they recognize your franticness as more than just overstimulation.

"Do you want us to get Jungkook off of you?" Yoongi asks, voice husky. Namjoon holds Jungkook prepared to wrench him off of you if you say so. Jungkook isn't in his right mind, but Yoongi can't help but watch as he sucks like a man starved, throat bobbing with every swallow. His cheeks warm and round-looking. Oh, oh this is-

Yoongi is getting hard. The skin around his new knot tugging. He really really thought that after this morning when you rode him like your life depended on it- that would have been that.

You nod then shake your head. "Want Mommy to choose- want Tae-tae."

Namjoon uses the hand in Jungkook’s hair to pick him up off of you for a second. Jin has to pinch the back of his neck to get his teeth to release. Your nipple is pink and bitten when his mouth finally leaves you.

They watch for a second, but it barely takes a moment before the milk is back, dribbling out, trailing down the curve of your breast. Jungkook is still half asleep. Shifting downward happily when he realizes the pack don’t mind it if he licks up whats spilled. Bending down to lap up what’s trailed down to your tummy and navel.

Tae's nostrils flare and her eyes are all pupil, dark and brown, and glassy. Yoongi jogs her out of her reverie.

"Tae." he asks, an edge of dominance to his voice that wouldn't have sounded the same yesterday, not before Yoongi had a knot. Yoongi shakes his head, wordlessly. And he sees Tae return to herself, just a little.

You squirm under Jungkook. Upset, lower lip wobbling. "No, I want, want Koo- it- it aches-" Tears bead at the edge of your eyes and Yoongi is not thinking, not truly, when he reaches down to feel.

You whine as Yoongi toys with your chest, fingers rubbing gently over your wet peaks, rolling them until more milk beads. Mesmerized. Slowly at first and then more aggressively, tugging at them until your back arches.

"Tae," Namjoon's voice is stressed, Jimin shuffles up beside her, offering a comforting touch on her shoulder. "Tae" Namjoon repeats, a bit more command in his voice, her gaze jerks up in his direction.

"Yes"

"Can you handle this without going into rut?"

"Yes alpha." Namjoon watches her for a second longer. Judging the haze in her eyes, and then tips his head down. Permission. But Namjoon is nearby, Namjoon is watchful and wont let any of them go too far.

It’s gentle- how the alphas manhandle you, placing you square in Namjoon's lap, reclining there for your mommy to have her turn. He can hold your wrists this way, you want to squirm, need to squirm. The ache is overwhelming. You just want to full feeling to end. Jungkook was so close to making it go away.

“Be still little treasure, sweet sweet pup, let Taetae have what’s hers.”

Jungkook tries to go back. But Tae doesn't let him, muscling him out of the way until she growls and nips. Speaking with snarls and whines and not with words. But Jungkook is but a pup beneath Tae's play wrestling. She's always been stronger than him and after a brief scuffle of push and pull, he whines. Resting his head on your shoulder.

Tae can hardly think through it. Her pup, her sweet little pup, chest swelling from her attention. Was it her sucking that did this? Was it her sucking that tugged your biological impulse until it shifted into real change?

You are so perfect she could cry, she could knot the air with how horny it makes her.

Tae looks at your face, your tears spill down your cheeks and your voice cracks, "Mommy?” you think if Tae checks, if she makes sure that you’re okay, everything will be fine.

Tae lowers herself gently over you, hair tickling your skin, and connects her mouth to your chest.

Tae is immediately gone, milk filling her mouth that tastes like ambrosia, like the heavens made liquid, like home. she grinds her popped knot against the nest as she sucks and sucks and sucks. immune to your squealing. Hand reaching down to paw uncaring of your overstimulation. You're as wet between your legs as you are on your chest. Her brain is a mess of more and more and more.

For a second, Tae's alpha convinces her that she's actually done it, she's actually pupped you. Why else would you be sweetening so much? Why else would you be like this, sweet and swollen on her tongue.

You're getting slick all over the nest again, Tae can feel slick gathering around her wrist, fingers losing their concentration, so focused on getting more milk in her mouth, sucking that she forgets to finger you properly. Your chest is so sensitive you feel like you could scream. Every suck makes you sob in overstimulation.

Above you, Yoongi curses.

Each packmate must have their turn with you, once they all rouse and confusion quickly melts away into downright giddiness. It's dizzying, your eyes are closed half the time, and the other half you're not sure you can make sense of what's infront of you either.

Brain settling into that place where everything feels good, where nothing matters but the pleasure and the soft praises falling from their mouths. Namjoon muscles Tae out of the way for a taste after she's turned slack-jawed and milk-drunk. And his spiky head pressed against your skin makes you feel- makes you-

Obey obey obey. You lose track of what’s happening, but your pack does give you what you want, what your body needs. You don’t have to squirm too much before someone, one of your alpha’s or is it Yoongi? Shuffling between your legs to bury his head in your chest.

Having them feed from you is a flurry of sensations. They bury their faces in your chest, hair tickles skin, stubble pressing. Someone giggles, Tae maybe. She presses a kiss to your button mouth. Eyes furrowed as you cry and cry and cry.

You don’t understand why you’re crying, why you’re overwhelmed. But you don’t need to think too hard about it or anything. Any needs that you do have are taken care of.

The pack always know what you need, that you need to feel steady, held and kept. the second you start to push. They restrain you.

Why would you even need a breeding bench when you have your packmates to keep you still? There are hands holding you down everywhere, your wrists, your ankles. Your knees. You push against their touch just to feel them put you in your place.

And as much as you struggle to admit it, you do feel better, and less tense. Less full. Less like a rubber band poised to snap when they pull back.

You cum like that, fingers in your pussy, mouth around your nipple. You don't know how much you have or how much milk they're taking from you but it's enough to leave the alpha's milk drunk and dopey. Even Jinnie is a little dazed from it when he has his turn.

It shouldn't surprise you that Yoongi is the gentlest, pushing Namjoon away after you've come, kissing him, cursing low at the taste in his mouth.

"Really hyung, your mate, fuck-"

"Fuck." Yoongi agrees. Nosing at your chest before he latches, lips sucking your nipple into his tongue, waiting for that first spark. And oh- oh- drinking from you feels like cuddling. You could call him a sap and you'd be right but there's something so instinctual about it. He knots and you give milk. Round and round your instincts go on the merry-go-round until both of you get off.

Who knows maybe your body stopped and waited to make the shift until Yoongi's did.

You only really squirm when Jin guides Hoseok down. He's blushy and tries to pull back, But the pack omega doesn’t take his shyness for an answer without a no. All pups need to eat, all pups need to get their fill. Your milk smells so sweet, so filling. Lifeblood and love and satisfaction made sustenance. Your body wouldn’t be milking up so nicely if it wasn’t for your alpha’s. They should taste the result of their efforts.

Hoseok only lets himself take one mouthful, shivers rising up and down his body before he moves aside and lets Jimin have a taste.

Jimin- who almost immediately tries to bite and snarl. Nipping at your skin when tae jerks him away from you by his hair maw open. He's barely had a sit but that's enough for Jimin to turn feral. Immediately straining, immediately pulled in your direction. A dark purple bruise is already forming around your nipple. Too rough, Jin fusses, pulling a blanket over to you, building a nest around your body.

"No Jiminie- bad!"

Namjoon takes Jimin from Tae. The alpha snarls and splutters but whines when Namjoon snaps at his throat.

You are not lucid, not really. Eyes closed and reaching for your packmates. Someone touches you, hands frantically checking your body- but you want to tell them that Jiminie really- he just got a little teethie. It's okay. You're fine!

Tae bends to kiss it better. They guard you while the sound of snarls sound from the other side of the nest. Namjoon dealing with Jimin. They guard you. Their sweet milky pup, who could possibly be more precious?

After Yoongi has another turn, you decide dimly that it's a good thing, your body moving the edge of its tolerance and doing this. Lactating. Swelling with milk. Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've gone into heat.

After a few minutes, the bellies of your pack are warm nourished, and full. It’s okay, you can sit here like this, open and still for each of them to take a taste. Sucking your nipples pink and puffy.

“Is it permanent?” Jungkook slurs when he’s woken up a bit, yawning until his jaw pops, milk-drunk and sleepy. Nuzzling into your shoulder while Jimin gives you so much attention that you’re squirming (this time wearing Namjoon’s collar since someone needed to hold onto him and keep him from biting).

His ass glows where he sprawls and every time he so much as threatens to growl Namjoon leans over and pinches his sore behind. A warning that everything, all that sweet sweet milk in his tummy. Belongs to Alpha. Jimin can only have it if he's good.

“Is it gonna be like this all the time?"

There is a computer-cracking light on the edge of the nest, a square of light that Namjoon clicks through. Licking his lips again, although your milk no longer coats them. He brought it out earlier when Jin had questions about Yoongi, but now he’s glad to have close access to it.

“It’s fairly common with female omega’s, something about the extra glands and phantom pregnancies.” Namjoon’s voice has gone from hoarse to strong. Your milk on his throat.

Namjoon looks at you, then blushes and looks away.

You don’t know if you’ve ever made Namjoon blush like that. You still lay prone, blinking up at Tae. Wordless. Your brain is small under the feeling of so much attention. A tension in you is released easily. 

Jin gets up from the nest, so quick that he goes dizzy, he’s wearing boxers now, boxers, and a big shirt. Jin too had tasted you. A few swallows. Good, it tasted so good. But your head lolls in the nest to the side, letting out little shallow breaths as Jimin sucks at your chest, your other breast still swollen looking.

Oh, Jin's little pup. You're being so good.

Jin’s instincts bear down on him. An impressive weight that makes him buckle. “I need to go cook something. If everyone's going to eat but her- that’s- I-” Jin huffs and makes to leave the nest in a huff. determined and not the least bit wobbly.

Hoseok trails after. Lips glossy from milk, too flushed to think straight, tripping on the edge of the nest and hitting the door on the way out. Embarrassed a little- but then again everyone is paying attention to you so it goes without teasing.

Huh, the pack omega is leaving the nest. Does that mean the heat is over?

No not quite, you and Jungkook still burn with fever. It's just Jin's heat that's ended. Who knows, maybe one sip of your milk had his body reacting, reassuring him that the work is done, at least one omega got pupped during this heat (you certainly did not get pupped, the contraceptive did its duty, but your confused body has Jin's confused as well).

Although you squirmed initially, the fact of the matter is that once everyone's had a sip, your nipple sucked hard and glossy- it’s a little hard not to need it. The release of pressure, the tension. Your body makes more the more they suck.

You try to enjoy breakfast once Jin's made it, feeling warm and sleepy, bites fed to your mouth. Chewing and swallowing obediently. But it’s hard, you’re so tired. Unable to hold yourself up no matter how much they try and get you to. Limp propped against Yoongi's chest, Namjoon's, your body so heavy and so tired and now sore the second someone stops sucking.

No sooner has Yoongi slipped one of Hoseok’s shirts over your head than has wetness started to gather at the front and an uncomfortable pressure began to build. They give up and take it off because Tae is eyeing you hungrily and really. Your whines of displeasure and teary eyes are too much for them to handle. Simultaneously denied and overstimulated.

Tae sets you back against Jimin’s chest, the alpha holding around your middle. She may have had one sip earlier but now that they’ve established that yes feeding from you is something you need she’s going to hog you.

She ducks low, kissing your nose, your lips, your chin before she buries her head where you’re softest.

“Mommy mommy please.” You whine as she teases, using just her lips to mouth there, waiting until milk beads, sensitive, slip down your skin to lap it all up.

“Oh little pup, don’t want to let any go to waste? We can’t have that. You’re so sweet like this. How good you are- how lucky we are. Alpha’s fucked you so good you can’t help but milk up huh? Wanted a pup so bad that your body caught on before a pup did huh? How cute. Aren’t we so lucky Minnie?”

“So lucky,” Jimin groans, holding around your middle, hands pressed to your stomach. Slipping lower as Tae sucks.

There is some hushed whispering, a rustle of bed sheets, you blink up at the ceiling, and then a vibration sounds, and you let out a broken, “oh.” as it starts.

You turn, look, and Yoongi grins, tears bead at the corner of your eyes, but it’s hard not to rock up into it. You remember- the alphas putting a collection of vibrators and knots and dildos on the edge of the nest, in case they needed them. But it's a good reward now, an easy orgasm that hits you warm.

Your body is hungry for pleasure, endlessly hungry for it in heat. Tae laps up the center of your chest while she switches from tit to tit, both milk and sweat. Feral as she does it, a look down at her says her eyes are dark, teeth sharp.

But she’s so careful, so gentle as she sucks. Yoongi turns the vibration up higher, and you jerk, or try to. Sandwich in on all sides. Surrounded by them, carried to the precipice of pleasure by the vibrator pressed to your clit, keeping you pinned there beneath the waves of pleasure. So much. Too much. Your body is so sensitive from the last three days of this. You can’t possibly handle it.

“Can’t cum again, can’t Mommy, too- too little. Too much.” You babble, but Tae tuts. Pulling off of you, a bead of milk on her pink lips.

“Good pups cum as many times as their Mommy wants them to, come on pup, make a mess all over Mommy’s dress for me."

You obey her with a broken whimper.

~-~

notes:

namjoon is so fucking horny when he's talking about yoongi's knot and i lowkey love it, how kinda like- obviously guided by hornyness he is.

also it is 1000% the mating mark that's making yoongi have a knot like- his biology is all fucked up because beta's aren't supposed to mate, the hormones in his body that keep him neutral are being kinda 'adjusted' by the m/c's slick and mark and hormones.

me 🤝 the m/c, wanting to bite yoongi's nose.

i really wanted the scene with yoongi and the m/c to kinda be like- a final opus and like super intense, how did i do?

i struggled with writing some of the dialogue in this initially- which is so /not/ how writing usually goes for me, usually the dialogue is very easy to me but i worry that i'm getting a bit repetitive with my kinks.

honestly why do i feel the need to make the smut poetic like??? is this only for me or is this a thing???? "Yoongi fucks the same way he talks, sweet but firm. he cums that way too. Warm and slow. You feel every syllable and every drop." like thats so pretty.

the m/c bites tae because she's making yoongi overwhelmed and that's the m/cs job 😠.

okay but the reason why i describe yoongi as breathing heavy is because i personally may have...stumbled uppon a audio of his breathes and him breathing heavy and fuck if that isn't hot.

part of yoongi's smutt scene was inspired by badoobee's 'real man' so yeah, i don't really really really like the message of her song, but it is sexy so 🤷‍♀️

yoongi with the life fucked out of him: 😵‍💫 mc: i did a good job 🥰 honestly though in my mind he has trouble being in the same room as her after she litterally rides him until he can't cum anymore.

honestly jk and her holding hands while they're both getting fucked is such a cute image like fuck i love them so much. i love this version of jungkook so much- i'll always be happy with his charecter in bily.

dang, i really did make jungkook's parts super super horny.

i feel like everyone who reads this should know it's completely possible to make yourself lactate just from nipple stimulation like- even if you're male. lowkey when am i going to write a normal non-abo total power exchange fic with cisswap taegi turning the m/c into their little milksub, and they decide (because the m/c's mommies know best) that they'll put her through a sucking schedule to see if they can make her chest turn milky as an experiment! only to offer her milk up to all their friends ie the rest of bts, bonus points if she starts leaking when they're at a normal friend gathering and it turns into everyone trying it.

Similarly to how yoongi always pops a knot after this, i think the m/c also lactates through every heat after this. and then one day in the distant future after one heat it just...doesn't stop. And the pack realize it's a sign that she actually /does/ want to be knocked up or at least her inner omega has decided she's ready to actually be bred.

is this self indulgent? yes. do i care? no.

Jungkook, adorned in the latest Calvin Klein designs you two had meticulously crafted together, claimed a personal touch of his persona— at least, that’s how he described it. He looked effortlessly handsome, the camera adoring him, but what grated on your nerves was that his attention was solely focused on teasing you.

“We also have shirts, why is he not wearing one?!” You continued, expressing your disagreement to what was before you. What angered you even more was that you could not stop staring at his abs.

“We shot with shirts earlier. They said the underwear and jeans will appear more artistic if his V line and abs—”

“Alright! Alright!” You stopped her in mid-sentence. You didn’t want to look that way nor you didn’t want to admit that showcasing his V-line would enhance the aesthetics of the jeans. Therefore, you took a deep breath and walked towards the refreshments, you were in need of a second cup of coffee.

You heard the photographer call for a break, but you were focused on calming yourself with a steaming cup of coffee. Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny that he looked breath-taking in the outfits you had designed, and it infuriated you.

Suddenly, two arms were laid flat on the table’s surface, caging you in between. You could imagine his devilish grin. He did this way too often, whether it was his fingers lightly tracing your arm or tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, looking intently into your eyes until you were fighting yourself to not get lost in his Bambi eyes.

“We’re almost done for today,” he whispered seductively into your right ear, his lips almost touching it. Your breath stammered.

“And yet you did not learn a single thing about professionalism or work ethic.” You bit sarcastically, turning slowly to face him.

Jungkook’s grin only widened at your remark, and you couldn’t decide whether you were infuriated or slightly flustered by his audacity. He leaned in even closer, his breath grazing your ear as he spoke in a low, husky tone.

“Tutor me then, in bedroom — preferably” he suggested, his lips still dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

“I don’t think so. You’re beyond help,” you shot back, trying to assert control over the situation. His proximity was distracting, and you couldn’t afford to let him undermine the fact that you were in charge.

Jungkook continued to hover over you, the photographer calling for everyone to regroup for the next set of shots. You seized the opportunity to escape his magnetic pull, smoothly slipping out from between the table and his arms, deciding to escape to your humble office, seeking solace in the calmness it provided.

It wasn’t long before the shoot officially ended, and you knew damn well, that the man wouldn’t leave you alone. The door creaked open, and you turned to find Jungkook leaning against the frame, that infernal smirk still etched onto his face.

“We did a good job, why don’t we celebrate it over at my place, baby?” he complimented, but there was an undertone of something else in his voice. You overlooked his physique and leaned back in your chair, narrowing your eyes, making a clicking sound with your tongue.

“Jungkook, again, this was a professional collaboration. Nothing more,” you asserted, emphasising each word. If you did not say this sentence at least a hundred times you don’t know. He never takes it seriously; it appears as he is still trying to hammer his way into your guarded heart.

He pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered closer. “We’ll see about that,” he said, leaving you with a cryptic grin as he exited your office. The only thing you could do is sigh.

Before you went to continue working, you heard how Jungkook’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“I bet I can change your mind, sweetheart!”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath.

“Not a chance.”

The denim collection with Jungkook was taking shape, and the buzz surrounding the collaboration grew with each passing day. A success, your boss was much more than pleased.

This success, however, meant even more for you. You were on cloud nine, basking in the glory of your hard work and the prospect of a ground-breaking partnership. Totally, forgetting to play unreachable when it came to the clinging boy who starred in this iconic collaboration. And that must have given him a false hope, perhaps a narrative in which you were his girl.

You were sitting in your office when you hung up the telephone after speaking with the vice president of Guess that contacted you earlier last week, offering you a part in a project for their brand, in Los Angeles. A dream come true for you. Leaving this place, after years of building your career from scratch, felt overwhelming. You loved working under Klein, yet it was time for you to take it higher. Your boss did not offer you a new position, and therefore, you did not hesitate to take the job opportunity and elevate yourself in fashion ranks.

It was an offer too tempting to resist, and you found yourself diving headfirst into the project, not even looking at the door when someone stepped in without knocking.

“You may leave the reception reports on the table, Lucy,” you said once feeling a presence in your office, not raising your eyesight from your computer, writing the prompts for the project Guess wants you to lead. Your twelve days’ notice already printed out, ready to be signed by your boss. You planned to stop by his office after you would finish writing the draft and sending it to the Guess team together with the copy of your portfolio that you needed to make before you leave.

When there were no reports left on your table after a good long minute, you looked up.

“You can’t just leave.” he said, standing tall in the frame of the door, stepping inside once you finally gave him your attention. You could sense a hint of desperation and anger in his voice.

You raised your brows at him. How does he know? The mere thought of you leaving for LA, leaving him behind, was enough to make him confess the depth of his feelings.

You leaned to the leather armchair and listened to him closely.

“What are you talking about Jungkook?” His eyes betrayed a mix of anxiety and vulnerability as he blurted out his fears.

“What about us? What about everything we’ve built together?” He stepped closer to your desk, looking directly to your eyes. You were taken aback by the raw emotion in his words. The air in the room thickened.

The once-confident man now stood vulnerable before you, stripped of the bravado that had defined him. And you were utterly confused and surprised how delusional this man is.

“What are you even saying, Jungkook?” you questioned, your tone a mix of confusion and frustration.

“You can’t leave me!” He raised his voice an octave higher.

“Calm your tits. I’m a grown-up woman. I can do what I want.” You sassed back at him, tired of this made up situation-ship in his head. He scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“We’ve built something special, and I can’t watch it crumble because of some job offer!” He continued his rampage. You took a moment to breathe his words in, closing your eyes and counting to ten to calm yourself.

“Jungkook, I appreciate your honesty, but I can’t give you what you’re asking for.” This caught him by surprise. Instead of screaming at him, you chose to play the I’ll stay calm and professional card.

His eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of confusion and hurt clouding his features. “What do you mean?”

Choosing your words carefully, you said: “I genuinely value this project we worked on together, but it’s time for us to part our ways.” To fool him was your goal.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling upon him. “Who are you lying to, Y/N?” His words shocked you.

“I’m not lying Jungkook, I’m telling you the truth to your face, as you were too stubborn to hear it before.” You stood up from your chair, moving to lean on the front of your desk, to show him he cannot get to you.

The room fell into a heavy silence as Jungkook looked deep into your eyes, searching for the truth in your words.

“So, it’s all about the career for you? You’re willing to sacrifice everything else, including us?” Your jaw clenched, but you maintained your composed façade and with flaring nostrils and clenched teeth, you spoke.

“There is no us, Jungkook. Get it into your head already!” So much for being calm. The room crackled with tension as the argument reached an impasse. Jungkook shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

“I can’t believe you’re throwing away what we have because of some job.” Your eyes widened even more and the fact he would not listen boiled your blood.

“Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m not your girlfriend! I was never your girlfriend, and I will never be your girlfriend!”

But Jungkook wasn’t ready to accept defeat. His frustration reached a boiling point too, and without warning, he grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into an intense, angry kiss. It was a clash of emotions, a tumultuous blend of passion and anger that fuelled the fiery exchange.

Your initial instinct was to resist, to push him away, but the intensity of the kiss ignited a different kind of fire within you. His lips moved fiercely against yours, gripping your ass in his hands, making you moan to his lips. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the dishevelled locks as the kiss deepened, your frustration causing to tug them. He growled from pleasure at the sensation.

It was a collision of lips and tongues, a heated exchange that spoke volumes without a single word. Once his hands disappeared under your skirt and the heat intensified, a sudden surge of clarity washed over you, breaking the intoxicating spell.

With a forceful push, you broke away from the kiss, creating a space between you and Jungkook. You locked eyes with him, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of the situation.

“I need you to leave,” you stated, your voice cutting through the lingering tension, you leaned against the desk, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment.

Jungkook, still caught in the haze of desire, tried to close the distance again, but you held up a hand, halting his advance.

“Leave!” You growled, turning your back to him. You didn’t want him to see your face anymore, because soon enough, tears would break from your eyes. You’re overwhelmed.

A loud bang of the door signalled that he finally understood and left. Breaking down with tears streaming down your cheeks you gasped for air. Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to regain composure.

You’ve counted to ten again, wiping your tears. You felt taken advantage of. He went too far this time. But this was only the beginning of his tremulous and wicked plan he had for you.

You packed your purse, ready to leave your office, you just needed to grab your work portfolio that you needed to send over to Guess. But the space it always inhabited, on the conference table, was empty. And you had one lucky guess who the thief was. “Fucking bastard.”

In the days that followed, the chaos in your personal and professional life escalated. The stolen portfolio, a representation of your work, became a haunting absence. As if the life source of your hard work was cut down.

Determined to salvage what remained of your career, you began the arduous task of recreating it. But time was not on your side, and as you delved into the meticulous process, news of your termination from Calvin Klein reached you like a punch to the gut.

The phone call was impersonal, a cold voice delivering the news of your dismissal as if reading from a script. Some Jack from the HR department spoke to you, someone you have never ever seen in the building whatsoever. Your boss did not even pick up the call when you wanted to ask what made them push the decision to let you go. You certainly did not deserve this after years of working for the brand. The reasons were vague and you knew this had to source from someone powerful. In simple terms, someone snitched that you’re planning to leave.

As the reality of unemployment settled in, you clung to the remnants of optimism that lingered, but even that proved elusive.

You were hundred percent sure that he is trying to sabotage your whole life when the call from Guess, a reason you did not fight for your position at Klein’s delivered another blow.

Their decision not to collaborate with you crushed the remnants of optimism that clung to your spirit. The dream that had seemed within reach now slipped through your fingers, leaving you in a free fall of uncertainty.

They hadn’t even granted you the courtesy of waiting for your portfolio, even though it wouldn’t be what they expected. Whatever oral agreement had been in place disintegrated. So here you are — jobless.

All this left you reeling with disbelief. The career you had meticulously built, the dreams that had taken years to nurture, all unravelling at the seams. The pain was visceral, a mix of frustration, anger, and a profound sense of betrayal.

You were certain that Jeon Jungkook himself was pulling the strings behind the scenes. And you hated him for it, needed to confront him and say that shit with your chest right to his face— he can go fuck himself. Set the record straight once you’re there.

Whatever he was thinking by ruining your career will force you to do, he better fix it before you’ll sing to the media about his bunny smile and kind heart being all fake. The line had been crossed, and he would face the consequences of pushing you to the brink. Or so you thought it would go how your brain delusional thought it through.

Hence, with a heavy heart and a determination to confront the chaos head-on, you stood before the front door of his infamous penthouse. Emotions swirling within you like a tempest.

With a deep breath, you knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. The door swung open, revealing Jungkook’s bunny smile reaching his eyes.

“Well, well well, are we ready to talk like adults, pretty?” He mocked this whole situation because he knew this would end up in his favour, nonetheless.

He moved back to let you in, and you stepped into his apartment, a mixture of anger and desperation in your gaze.

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise, I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink? —” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you could not help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

“I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently, he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—” you pushed him away from you once you heard his words. Grabbing your jacket and storming your way out to the door, angry with yourself that you let it go this far.

“You walk out that door, and you’re done in this city, fuck even the whole continent if I want,” Jungkook declared, his tone heavy with a sense of entitlement. The words hung in the air, a threat laced with possessiveness that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re bluffing.” His eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths.

“You’re underestimating the consequences, Y/N. I’ll snap my fingers, and you won’t get a job. Anywhere.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips. You did not believe him one bit, determined to try harder at the job hunting.

“You’ve already done enough. You can’t do worse.” You scoffed, the absurdity of his demands pushing you further away. He stepped closer, the air thick with tension.

“You’re not leaving, Y/N. Either you’ll be my good girl and apologise, or all it will take is one phone call.” As you reached for the doorknob, he grabbed your arm with a force that bordered on aggression.

“I am my own woman, Jungkook.” Your eyes flashed with determination as you wrenched your arm free, emphasising every word of the sentence you just uttered.

With that, you swung the door open and stormed out, leaving Jungkook’s apartment and the tumultuous mess behind. The city lights greeted you outside, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere within.

Your telephone remained eerily silent, devoid of the calls and opportunities that once filled it with promise. Jungkook’s vindictiveness had effectively severed the threads connecting you to your professional life, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainties.

A tear escaped your eye as you clutched the piece of paper you fetched out of your mailbox — an eviction notice. You had fallen behind on rent, pleading with your landlord for more time, promising to pay in full for two months once you secured a job. But that ended up not happening, and that’s how you find yourself sitting in a messy apartment full of half packed boxes, no job, little money left, and a bottle of cheap wine.

Moving in with friends or seeking refuge with your parents was not an option. They never supported your dreams enough to provide for you in such dire circumstances, especially at your age. Unmarried, jobless, and on the brink of homelessness, you felt trapped.

Despite your efforts to secure another job, including poorly recreating parts of your portfolio, rejections piled up, and the search for a new apartment proved equally futile. Not like you could afford it anyway.

The city that once held promise now felt like a maze of closed doors and dead ends. The mere thought of dialling his number sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of pride and necessity wrestling within you.

You drank the last of your wine, hiccupped, and cried. With only twenty-four hours to vacate your flat for the new tenant to come in. The friends you once thought you could rely on were facing their own struggles, unable to provide the sanctuary you so desperately needed. You had nowhere to go apart to his clutches if you of course did not want to freeze to death in the bustling city. It confused you how it came to having no other option.

Taking a deep breath, you dialled his number, each ring echoing the surrender of your independence. The telephone rang in your trembling hand. As the call connected, a heavy silence hung in the air and you desperately tried to calm your breathing.

“Jeon speaking,” his voice crackled through the phone. You were shaking in cold sweat, your eyes blood red from crying and alcohol clouded your mind enough to call him.

“Hello?” you heard his voice speak again, and another sob left your lips. The lump in your throat made it difficult to speak, but you pushed through the discomfort.

“I-I’m sorry.” The man on the other line smirked, seemingly thrilled to hear your voice. The next sentence you uttered, however, was even sweeter music to his ears.

“I need you.”

You heard his car park in front of your building the next morning. The boxes were long gone on their way to the heart of Manhattan where Jungkook’s penthouse awaited. It was only you and your suitcase with only necessities packed inside. The reality of the situation hit you as you looked around at the empty apartment. The purple walls, once full of pictures from trips with your friends, were now bare. The fridge stripped of silly magnets you liked to collect, stood empty. Nothing left.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the handle of your suitcase with a sense of resignation. You glanced out of the window on your way out, finding Jungkook casually leaning against his shiny black Jaguar, smiling directly at you. Closing your eyes, you mentally said goodbye to your small apartment.

Your hair, lazily put into a hair clip when you woke up, had a few stray strands escaping, framing your face that still showed signs of swelling from crying all night.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the door closing behind you, the weight of the suitcase in your hand served as a physical reminder of the choice you had made. Is this really your only option?

The sound of Jungkook’s footsteps echoed in the corridor, approaching closer with each passing second. He ran up the stairs just as you were locking the door. His gummy smile met your gaze, a clear expression of his happiness. The heartthrob had finally gotten you where he wanted you all along.

He was dressed in a denim jacket and jeans from the collection you worked on. As if he was intent on reminding you of something. His long curly locks were gone, replaced by a short mullet.

You, on the other hand, did not feel to dress classy and elegant as you usually did. You swapped heels for a pair of white sneakers, a tight designer skirt for simple blue boyfriend jeans and your upper body was covered by a white shirt layered with a pink shirt you loosely tight on your waist, leaving the buttons half open.

“Baby?” he called out. You must’ve zoned out, as now he was holding your suitcase in his hand, ready to leave.

“M’sorry, I was in my head,” you apologised. You didn’t want to upset him by negatively reacting to the pet name even though you irked to tell him you’re not his baby.

He smiled softly, putting the suitcase down, walking over to you. He caressed your cheek, leaning in for a kiss. Turning your face, he landed his lips on your other cheek. The man chuckled and put the freed strands of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t worry. I got you now.”

The drive to Jungkook’s penthouse was filled with an uncomfortable silence as the city lights passed by in a dizzying display.

“Welcome home!” The words hung in the air, the irony not lost on you. This was far from a home; it was a gilded cage you succumbed to. You did not answer him. You couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

He was saying something about a closet, but your mind totally spaced out looking at the boxes that you packed hours prior, casually sitting in his living room.

“Baby?” You looked at him, eyes wide when you realised you were not listening to him again.

“Do you want to start unpacking or should we head out for brunch first?” He approached you. Jungkook did not stop smiling since he pulled his car in front of your building.

Unpacking felt like an acceptance of this new reality, while brunch felt like an attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy.

“I... I think we should talk,” you finally managed to say, your voice carrying the uncertainty that lingered within. Jungkook’s smile wavered for a moment, but he quickly masked it.

You couldn’t ignore the fact that your life had taken a sharp turn, and the unfamiliar surroundings only intensified the sense of displacement. Jungkook threw himself at his sofa just where you were sitting months prior. He motioned with his hand, silently ordering you to sit.

“I promise not to bother you long. I just need you to get me off the blacklist so I can get a job. I can’t be tied to you indefinitely.” You spoke softly, careful to not anger him just yet. You knew he wouldn’t appreciate the direction this conversation was heading, but you needed to set the record straight. This was temporary, at least in your mind.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, a subtle tension in his features. He sighed. Leaning forward, Jungkook grabbed the remote control of the HiFi that was standing proud, setting it on, and whence the soft tones of Isaak’s “Wicked Game” resonated the penthouse, you could not help but raise an eyebrow.

He petted his knee, a silent invitation. You were not stupid to not understand what he wants, yet you opted to sit next to him instead of where he wanted you.

“Maybe we got lost in translation, love.” He spoke leaning closer to you. The music seemed to underscore the unspoken tension in the room.

“You won’t leave me, baby. I’ll keep you so satisfied and happy; you won’t even want to go.” He whispered to your ear. The atmosphere became charged with a palpable desire. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of temptation and resistance.

“You can’t keep me here against my will, Jungkook,” you asserted, maintaining a thin thread of defiance. Yet, the allure of his touch lingered in the air, clouding your better judgement.

“Try me, love. I’ve got ways to make you stay,” he countered, his tone dripping with confidence.

It took all you have in you to stand up and storm to the large windows that provided a magnificent view of Manhattan. This time, however, he was right behind you.

You heard him growl. He was angry, and he proved so once you found yourself pinned to the large window, your back facing him. He attacked your neck right away, bruising every single inch. His hand roamed over your breast, squeezing them to the point you had to moan. The situation escalated rather quickly, your resistance made him press you to his back even harder.

“I’m so tired of your running,” he groaned into your neck. You put your hands on the glass trying to push yourself away and give yourself space to free from his grasp, but he has put a majority of his weight on you. You can feel his growing pulsating bulge on your heart-shaped bottom.

“Maybe I should show you, who you belong to, princess.” He cupped your sex through your pants, and you whimpered from the sensation. You knew this was utterly wrong; you should not react to his touch this way, but you couldn’t help to notice the wetness pooling in between your legs once he continues to attack your neck with his soft plump lips.

“Jungkook-” You tried to resist, but his hand was already done with unbuttoning your jeans, sliding right down to your core. Your panties were sticky, your head was spinning, and the part of a window was getting foggy right next to your mouth from your hot breath.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He pulled his hand out of your pants for a second to wet his fingers and put them right back on the little bud that was waiting to be touched. He pressed his fingertips on your clit, circling it painfully slow. The heartthrob rutted his hips into your ass, looking for a friction, making you move your hips towards his hand. He chuckled to your ear.

“If you want that job, baby, why don’t you deserve it first?” you could sense a little hint of mockery in his voice. The pulsating beats of the music seemed to echo the rhythm of his movements. Now slow and calculated.

As the song reached its crescendo, his finger entered your vibrating heat. “Hm?” He pried, his finger moving in and out in punishingly slow, drawing silent moans from you when he brushed up the right spot.

“W-what do you want?” You stammered out of yourself.

“You. All of you of course.” Jungkook replied in a heartbeat. Your heart raced and your head was clouded by the pleasure he was providing. Moving his finger slightly faster, you found yourself bowing forward, your body wanted him to reach deeper.

“Please—” you whimpered when he slowed down the tempo again.

“Give me an answer baby, will you be my good girl?” Now it was your mind that raced, grappling with the implications of his question while squeezing your walls around his finger.

“Maybe you need a little more convincing, hm?” He softly bit your earlobe whilst inserting his second finger into your heat, making you moan louder than before. You pressed your forehead onto the glass and looked down at his hand in between your legs. The sight made your pussy clench even harder. A small tear escaped your eye, you are overwhelmed, and the pleasure is clouding your sound judgement.

“What will it be, baby?” His fingers finally raised the tempo, and your eyesight was getting blurry, biting your lip from the sensation.

“Fuck—” you nibbed at your bottom lip a bit harder, trying to fight with yourself. But you couldn’t. He was playing a game, and he was winning this round.

“Yes!” you screamed louder than you intended when he hit the sweet spot, making you see stars. You did not necessarily want to agree. It was more of a reaction to how good his fingers feel inside of you. But Jungkook’s interpretation did not align with yours.

What you did not expect is the sudden feel of emptiness once his fingers abdicated its place. You protested with an unpleasant whine of frustration.

He spun you to face him, being quick enough to grab you below your ass, illocutionary forcing you to jump up. Jungkook leaned in to kiss you while he navigated the apartment blindly, right to the master bedroom.

Now you were feeling thrown. Literally. Your body bounced a little while Jungkook stood at the foot of his king sized bed adorned in black sheets. You could smell his expensive cologne on them. He was very eager to continue what you started.

His shirt was long gone and so were his pants when he was pulling down yours, alongside with your through-and-through wet panties. He very quickly inhabited his head in between your legs. Licking all the dirty juice your pussy was producing.

You could not help but to bury your fingers into his hair, slightly tugging on it once he decided to abuse your clit, sucking on it, his piercing cold against your skin. You were starting to feel the knot inside your lower belly, moaning and panting out loud.

“I’m gonna!—” you breathed out heavily. Squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the heat rushing your body.

“Not yet,” said the heartthrob, parting away from you. You shot your eyes open to look at him towering over you, his briefs thrown away somewhere in the room, and his pride leaning proudly against his abdomen, angry and red. The perfect opposite of soft. You gulped down. He was definitely not lying when he suggested he is thick.

The heartthrob helped you get rid of the rest of your clothes, bending down to lay a single kiss right above your clit, maintaining eye contact with you all the time. Sticking his tongue out yet again, making a straight wet line up your belly, ending at the valley between your breasts.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned, squeezing your tits while pumping his dick, he could not take it anymore.

He spread your legs further, making space for him to fit right in. Your walls are trembling from excitement, especially when he presses the length of his cock to your lips, coating himself in your juices.

“Condo—” you went to say when his lips silenced you in a hard passionate kiss. He moaned to your mouth, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance, stretching you open. You pressed your hands to his chest, parting away from him. He looked at you with confusion and you repeated yourself.

“Condom, Guk,” you said, using the nickname in an attempt to soften his hard features. Something told you that you might have just pissed him off. The heartthrob sighed and involuntarily got up, walking all the way to the bathroom, giving you a million-dollar view of his ass. Your gaze then shifted to his muscular shoulders, involuntarily admiring his impressive physique. You couldn’t deny he was hot as hell.

Your nipples were perky from the thrill that your body was going through. It was quite some time since the last you got laid. Maybe that’s why it took him minimum effort to turn you into a whiny, needy little bitch.

You heard the light switch going off in the bathroom, and the man himself appearing in the doorframe with the little shiny square in his hands. Tearing it open, he returned to sit on his knees on the bed while sliding the condom on.

He grabbed your legs under your knees with one swift movement, sliding you closer to him. One hand aiming his cock to your entrance the other finding its place on your throat, holding it with the right pressure to elevate your pleasure. Pushing all the way through, you whimpered loudly at the intrusion. He was big, and you felt like you’re going to explode. The heat rushed through you like a momentary fever.

The heartthrob could not wait for you to adjust to his size, and he started to snap his hips into you in a punishing tempo, making your body bounce up at every thrust and clench your eyes shut tightly. Loud moans coming out of you.

“You take me so well, baby.” He whispered into your ear seductively, panting and groaning from the pleasure. He was on cloud nine, finally having the woman he longed for quite some time.

“Got me waiting for this pussy almost the whole damn year.” You met his hungry gaze, your moaning synchronised with his. He crushed his lips to yours one more time before thrusting his cock in and out of your heat faster and deeper.

You bit down on his lip, him groaning at the sensation, slapping your ass in the heat of the moment.

“This pussy was fucking designed for me.” He claimed you.

He was hitting all the right places, making you squeeze your eyes shut again. He upheld his promise to fuck you good. You can regret this after, now it’s not the time.

“M’wanna pound this pretty ass too.” He pulled out of you, turning you to lay on your belly, slapping the already reddened skin before setting you on all fours, ass up. He did not hesitate to rut inside of you again, feeling him all the way in your stomach, you screamed his name.

“Jungkook!” his thrusts set a brutal pace that you were not sure if you’ll survive. Their moans continued to echo in the room.

“You belong to me.” He growled, pounding your pussy, the sound of skin slapping was audible ten times louder than usual. The knot in your lower belly appeared again, got you moaning uncontrollably.

Jungkook sensed that your climax was near and went to rub your clit with the desire to make you cum all over him while getting himself off with you.

“Guk—” you choked on your words, your legs and hands were trembling, tears springing out of your eyes. You desperately needed to cum.

“I know, baby.” He kissed the arch of your back, making his hand and hips move even faster, hitting your cervix. If this is heaven, you don’t want to leave.

“I-I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” You shouted, feeling the knot untying itself rather quickly. Jungkook growled right to your ear. He was close too, dangerously close.

“Baby!” He whimpered, feeling the tension rising.

Your juice splashed the sheets as you squirted all over his cock, crying, the orgasm hitting you way too hard. Jungkook’s hips did not stop while he chased his own release, complimenting you, your body, and how you are such a good girl while doing so. With a loud moan and one last deep thrust, he came in you, holding you still while he emptied himself. The warmth of his release felt too authentic, but you were too fucked out to notice.

As you were also too fucked out to notice the empty abandoned condom laying on the ground.

“I love you so much baby—”

It was getting dark outside when you woke up, your head pounding as you looked over your naked body and evident ache in between your legs. The sheer curtains that are covering the floor to ceiling windows, once airy and light, now filter the early evening light into a soft, diffused glow, creating a cosy atmosphere. You cuddled the soft sheets that were wrapped around your lower body, thinking that you could sleep some more.

But when you heard the muted notes of En Vogue’s Whatta Man blasting somewhere in the penthouse, any hopes of serenity were shattered. A curse slipped through your lips as the reality of your surroundings hit you.

“Fuck,” you muttered through your teeth, the small fists pounding against the bed. To muffle the scream of mixed emotions, you seized a leopard-patterned pillow, pressing it against your face.

You had willingly let this happen, all for the pursuit of a damn book and damn fucking job and your damn fucking career. But why was it so precious, you might ask? Your portfolio wasn’t just a collection of pages bound together; it was a culmination of dreams, aspirations, and relentless hard work. Each design you made over the years, a carefully curated piece of your artistic vision, held a piece of your soul.

The portfolio was your identity as a designer, a visual storyteller who poured emotions, creativity, and skill into each piece of clothing. It was something you presented yourself with, and you believed it held the power to open doors. It got you your first adult job after you spent two years in the big apple on your own, dreaming big while washing dishes behind the counter.

And it got you the second job of your early fashion career, a higher position than sales assistant, the head designer at the men’s wear division at Calvin Klein. You were aiming to become the head of the department when a better offer came your way, from Guess.

The project they offered you to be a part of was a kind of interview to get through and sit as the executive director of the women’s department. You were thrilled to accept as you always wanted to design for your gender.

And he fucked it up. So, you have to excuse yourself by letting your guard down, giving him a chance to sway you. You are doing this for you and your career.

You sat on the bed, eyeing the modern bedroom that screamed his name as did the smell of the room. Just like you remembered before you blacked out from all the pleasure he forced upon you.

Sighing, you moved your sore naked body to the edge of the bed. A black leather armchair caught your eye, a clean set of underwear laid out on it, burning under your gaze. You gulped down. This was your mess after all. You let him come too close—extremely close, judging by the recurring ache between your legs.

“Fuck it, it’s fine.” You’d manage somehow, or at least, that’s how you decided to play along with his nonsensical fantasy and possessive behaviour.

You tiptoed down the penthouse, searching for the devil. You knew you were going the right way when the music grew louder. Peeking from the narrow hallway into the living room, he was nowhere in sight. Only the RCA telly with MTV on indicated that he must’ve been there.

The sizzling sound of something cooking and a pleasant aroma hit your ears and nose. He was in the kitchen, cooking. Jeon Jungkook was in the kitchen, cooking. A certain degree of domesticity welcomed you as you stepped into the all-blue kitchen. His kitchen was way nicer than yours, you noted. Large cabinets, the island full of food ingredients he was preparing. Your gaze lingered as your eyes traced his masculine, naked back, tattoos shouting at you. Your knees felt weak at the sight, your body reacting to him as if he were the alpha wolf.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip. He was swaying his hips to the rhythm of the song. Even from this point of view, you could tell he is in a very good mood. It seemed like he was glowing.

You leaned against the arch, contemplating whether to make your presence known or observe from the shadows. Before you could decide, he turned around, planning to cut the vegetables, his eyes locking onto yours immediately. Bunny smile plastered on his face, reaching his ears — a juxtaposition to how anxious you looked in his big shirt.

Quickly circling the kitchen island, he reached you in a matter of seconds. The heartthrob was beaming with happiness seeing you in his kitchen, in his shirt, barefoot, face raw, and all his. At least, that was his perspective after he finally got you where he wanted you.

“Baby!” He squeaked happily, pulling you by your wrists. The movement causes your petite frame to collide with his naked torso. Jungkook did not let you speak even if you wanted to, instead he pulled you even closer, pressing his lips to yours. You yelped, surprised by the unexpected collision. The vulnerability you felt in his presence only heightened as he claimed you, his happiness seemingly derived from having you exactly where he wanted—vulnerable and dependent on him.

The kiss lingered for a moment, and as Jungkook pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours again, gleaming with an unspoken mischief you could not decipher. He seemed to revel in the flustered state he had induced, and a cocky grin played on his lips.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, his warm breath grazing your ear as he finally released your wrists, pecking your lips softly again. The shirt you wore clung to your form.

“It’s almost five pm.” You muttered back after you gave the digital clock on the stove a glance. He laughed it off, not replying.

“How do you like your steak?” he asked, his tone casual as if the passionate kiss hadn’t just occurred.

“M-medium rare,” you stammered, still processing the sudden turn of events. He chuckled, the sound resonating in the cosy kitchen as he came back to the stove to resume cooking, what you assumed is your dinner. Your stomach growled loudly when the delicious smell hit your nostrils, loudly. Jungkook even looked your way, encouraging you to take whatever you wanted from the fridge that was next to him, until dinner was ready.

You looked at the silver double-door fridge, and suddenly, your hunger vanished. Those were your magnets that were on your fridge just hours prior. He went through your boxes and unpacked them. The world was spinning, and your stomach was dangerously twisting.

He noticed the change in your expression, the playfulness in his eyes fading as he followed your gaze to the fridge.

“Something wrong, baby?” he inquired. You swallowed hard, attempting to mask the unease that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“No, nothing,” you replied, forcing a tight smile. His attention returned to the stove, the sizzling sounds and savoury aroma filling the kitchen. The clock on the stove continued its indifferent march towards evening. But your mind stopped.

“I-I think—” you stammered, it was hard for you to speak when there was an evident lump in your throat that wanted to emerge to the surface.

“Baby?” he raised a brow at you, letting everything he was doing to approach you again. You gulped down, trying to breathe it out.

“I think... I need—,” you tried, the words escaping in a breathy whisper. Jungkook’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern as he stepped closer. That got you even more anxious and a quick escape was a way you opted.

Your legs carried you back to the room where you knew a bathroom would be near. You heard him calling your name, but he did not run to get you. He must have thought that you’re trying to run again, but when he saw you going the way the master bedroom is, he did not push it.

You slumped right to your knees, emptying your already empty stomach into the toilet. Tears stringed from your eyes. Before you could calm or clean yourself the door creaked open, and Jungkook’s concerned voice seeped into the bathroom.

“Oh my god! Are you okay baby?” He hovered in the doorway, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. You didn’t have the strength to respond, only offering a weak nod as you continued to empty the contents of your stomach.

His footsteps approached, and you could feel him kneeling beside you, one hand tentatively rubbing your back.

“Easy, baby. Easy,” he murmured softly.

After a moment, the nausea subsided, and you leaned back against the cool porcelain, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Jungkook remained by your side, a true concern readable in his eyes.

As you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but notice the familiar objects around the bathroom. Toothbrush, hairbrush, all your makeup and even your pyjamas, had found a place alongside Jungkook’s in the bathroom. He was blurring the lines between your lives.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you winced at the sight of prominent hickeys and bite marks adorning your neck. You caught Jungkook’s worrying gaze but did not pay attention to it longer than you needed to.

“When was the last time you ate properly, baby?” he asked, caressing the small of your back, kissing the top of your head. You touched the tender skin on your neck, a mix of shame and regret settling in the pit of your stomach.

You knew very well that this wasn’t a doing of the lack of nutrition within your body but it did stop you to think for a second. When was the last time you had a proper meal and not a cheap ramen noodles from a convenience store near your building? You did not recall, so you rather opted to shrug your shoulders and reach for your toothbrush that could have melted under your gaze at this point.

“Why don’t you freshen up, and I’m going to finish dinner.” He sighed and kissed your temple. You’ve let him. He has done worse. As he left the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed—physically, emotionally, and now even in your most private spaces. Your eyes lingered back on the assortment of makeup and personal items neatly arranged beside his.

Brushing your teeth never felt so foreign and unnatural. Your eyes darted around his room after you finished, and that’s when you noticed what you did not when you woke up —a closet, half-filled with your clothes. Neatly folded, hanged right beside his. Even your jewellery was sorted by the type of metal. Your shoes, your skirts, dresses, everything. He had seamlessly integrated your wardrobe into his, as if signalling an intention far beyond a temporary stay.

Then all your pictures scattered on the walls as you walked down the corridor back to the heartthrob who swayed you here. Feeling the unease building in your stomach again.

Jungkook stood by the table, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you approach. His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and possession. This all seemed like a stage for a performance you hadn’t signed up for.

The steak, perfectly cooked to your liking, accompanied by a side of vegetables. The spread looked delectable, and your stomach rumbled again, reminding you that you hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The scent of the meal teased your senses.

As you picked at your food, a question lingered in the back of your mind—how had it come to this? Have you really had no choice but him? Was this worth the trouble? Perhaps.

Your parents would think of you as a failure if you returned home. and your pride did not allow you to pick up your old job and be a girl for everything. You worked in the fashion industry and you were willing to do anything to maintain it.

“Are you listening to me, baby?” Jungkook broke the stream of your consciousness, his voice soft yet insistent. You hummed in response but your ears could not pick precise words that left his mouth.

“There’s Grammys next week, do you have any design for the red carpet so we could match—”

“What about the job?” You interrupted him, setting your fork down, staring at him viciously.

“So the Grammys—” he tried to continue without replying to you but you were having none of it.

“So the job, Jungkook.” You said through clenched teeth one more time. You weren’t about to let him sidestep the conversation about your career.

He sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching with a momentary annoyance. The room crackled with tension, the unspoken power dynamics unravelling before you.

“You’ve been a very good girl so far—” he lifted the handkerchief he had on his lap and placed it on top of the table next to his glass of red wine.

“Why do you have to misbehave now.” His attempt to redirect the conversation towards your behaviour only fuelled your frustration.

“I’m not misbehaving, Jungkook,” you shot back, your voice sharp and unyielding. “I need to know about the job. I need to know that you’re actually doing something concrete to help me, not just playing puppeteer with my life.”

“There’s an opening at Givenchy, and Prada or Dior but—” your eyes were full of false hope.

“—until I can be sure you won’t leave me the second you get the new job. You won’t go to any interview.” He leaned back, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as if enjoying the power play.

Your mind raced, torn between ambition and self-respect. You had worked tirelessly to establish yourself, and the taste of success was within reach. Yet, the cost demanded by Jungkook was steep—an indefinite surrender of your autonomy.

“That’s not what we agreed upon—” You whined out, anxiety clutching your insights in tight grip.

“Oh but we did baby.” He answered swiftly, smiling sweetly.

“I—” you wanted to protest, but he was quick to dismiss any argument you wanted to come up with.

“I said I want you, and you agreed, baby. You can’t take it back.”

“What does that even mean?!” You whined out.

“That I won’t let you slip through my fingers again. You belong here with me, and you better learn your place or prepare for a farewell with the magnificent fashion world of yours.” The ultimatum echoed in your mind as his gaze was trying to make you submit. Jungkook’s possessiveness loomed over you, a suffocating force that sought to confine your wings.

“You can’t force me,” words slipped past your lips, a proclamation of your refusal to succumb to his dominance.

“You underestimate the lengths I’ll go to keep you, Y/N,” he retorted, his voice low and laced with a dangerous edge.

“You’re sick.” You spat out at him, standing up to leave when he grabbed you and held you tight. You were looking up at his face, seemingly angry with your words. His eyes darkened, a fleeting moment of anger crossing his features.

“Aren’t you a bit ungrateful, my love?” he seethed, his voice a low growl. The possessive tone sent shivers down your spine, but you refused to cower under his gaze.

“I’m providing you with shelter, food, money and most of all my love.”

“It’s sick, Jungkook. This isn’t love,” you shot back, your voice unwavering. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his grip unyielding. He scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“You’re testing my patience, Y/N. You’re mine,” he retorted quickly, not letting you go. You wanted to protest, to tell him to fuck off, and even worse things, but he was not finished.

“Think with your pretty little head, won’t you?—” you glared at him, defiance burning in your eyes.

“—you can live like a princess, you can have your dream position and on top of that a loving significant other — me.” The seconds felt like an eternity, the weight of his possessiveness pressing down on you.

“What is success for when you cannot share the joy with someone you love.” He whispered, a sinister undertone in his words. You had a feeling he’s not only talking about you. You had to think, and you had to think quickly.

“You’re asking me to give up my autonomy, Jungkook.” You shot back, your voice unwavering. He scoffed, the air heavy with tension.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, Y/N. You need me—” He chuckled, a condescending tone lacing his voice.

“—what were you gonna do if you didn’t come to me? Hm? Your mami and papi who are disappointed in you or your fake friends who did not bat an eye to try and help you out?—” You turned your face away from him, not wanting to let his words affect you.

“—I helped you. I am here for you!” He shook you, still holding a tight grip on you.

“All I’m asking in return is you to give yourself to me.” With a defiant push, you broke free from his grasp, leaving him seething in frustration. Covering your face with your palms, you sobbed.

“Love and loyalty is not that big of a price when you think about it.”

“You promise?” you choked out through your tears. You were tired, exhausted to the bone, and this was taking a bigger toll on you than you would expect. You wanted to trick him and instead he tricked you. But you needed to play by his rules to win in the game he started. His eyes softened momentarily, a twisted form of concern flickering in his gaze.

“I promise, baby,” he murmured, his tone almost soothing. The fire has ceased for now. Or so you thought. Despite the fragile promise, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were dancing on the edge of a precipice, held by the strings he so skilfully pulled. But the stakes were high, and you couldn’t afford to falter. You had no shelter, almost no money and no one to turn to. For now. You promised yourself, this is temporary. You will find a way out of this arrangement.

You finished your dinner. He insisted. You stripped naked while he was drawing the bath. He again insisted. The penthouse, filled with music and the fragrance of expensive candles. You allowed yourself to be led, like a puppet, your exhaustion overshadowing your instincts. As you sat there in the hot water, vulnerable, he wiped away your tears.

The water lapping against your skin is like an ominous reminder of the depths you found yourself in. Jungkook’s hands traced patterns on your back.

Jungkook, seemingly attuned to your exhaustion, wiped away your tears, the gesture carrying a strange mixture of care and control.

“It’s all gonna feel better once you accept it.” Said he, right to your ear, sending shivers down your naked body. You pressed your legs to your chest to hide yourself, a futile attempt at preserving some semblance of privacy, even though he had seen it all.

“I cannot grasp why you would do this to me, Jungkook,” you sobbed, letting him hold you against his chest.

“I did it for us, baby.” His hands firmly gripped yours now, making them stop hugging your knees. The heartthrob wanted you to relax in his presence. A laughable request considering the circumstances that led you here.

“Stop being delusional. There is no us.” You finally let him move your hands only for you to grab the frame of the bathtub and attempt to pull yourself up and away from him. He did not fancy this attempt of yours, and he let you know that by grabbing a large portion of your hair, dragging you back.

Your body slammed to his naked torso with a loud slap caused by the wet skin on skin contact. It took your breath away for a good minute.

“You didn’t seem to argue about it earlier today when my cock was hitting all-the-right-places, making you squirt, hmm?” Said the raven haired man, still holding your hair in his fist. He did not intend to hurt you, no, it was not as painful as the whole humiliating scenery and the fact you could not break free of him. He’s putting an example of what will happen once you stop behaving again. Putting you in your place — that’s what he called it.

“Matter of fact, Imma show you again that there’s us baby, until you realise it yourself.”

Trying to wiggle out of his grasp, you whimpered every time you pulled your hair back to make you stay still. And as if he changed his mind, your body was pulled out of the warm water, letting your hair go, making you fall down to the bright rug on the floor of the bathroom. Soaking it wet you looked up to him towering over your shivering physique.

“It was about time for you to show me how you are grateful to be my good girl—” he stepped closer. You did not want to look at him, knowing well what he is talking about.

“Open up baby—” you shook your head, pulling away from him and his hard member that he was holding just inches away from your face. You felt it meet your cheek and immediately retrieved yourself again which made him even more frustrated. His cock was painfully hard, and you were not cooperating.

The tattooed hand in your hair pulled you right back, his eyes bore to yours with a hard stare, and you swear they got even darker. His other hand was clutching your jaw, harder and harder until you involuntarily opened your mouth wide enough.

Taking the chance right away, he slipped his thick and hard manhood into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. He hissed at how your teeth slightly scraped his dick. You choked on it, but he was unfazed by it, continuing to thrust into your throat, making tears fall down your cheeks.

“I knew you could be my good girl.” He groaned, praising you with each of his hard thrusts into your mouth. Your breathing was shallow, and you tried to get as much air as you could. He was moaning loudly, the wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out of your mouth, covered by your saliva made him even more aroused and hungry for you.

“You just need a bit of a re-education.” He was getting lost in the pleasure your mouth was providing him, and you were deprived of the air you needed. Your hand hit his pelvis when you thought you’re going to pass out soon.

“Just a moment more, baby. I know you can take it.” He said through gritted teeth. Jungkook was panting loudly, mixing it with loud moans of your name.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re my heaven.” Your nails were scratching his abdomen, trying to break free, but his hold was too strong. You were drooling all over his cock, and your hand started to spin from the lack of oxygen and how quickly your head was bobbing.

He was getting dangerously close and his sloppy movements reflected that. He managed to pull one last thrust before he was cumming down your throat. He was letting his dick soften, pressed on your tongue while the hot semen was springing out of his tip.

“Swallow.”

The night wore on, shadows dancing on the walls as you lay there, pressed to his chest, his hand limply laying on your hip, contemplating the surreal turn you took.

If anything arose in you during the intercourse you wish you would wipe out of your mind, it was a determination to break free from the suffocating grasp of the penthouse.

Jungkook laid beside you, his breathing steady, a façade of tranquillity painted on his features. As he drifted into a seemingly serene slumber, you waited for the right moment to seize the opportunity.

When you were certain he was deeply asleep, you carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, a shiver running down your spine as you tiptoed through the room.

The moon cast a pale glow through the sheer curtains, guiding your movements as you tiptoed across the room. Your hand grasped the cold doorknob, the soft creaking of the door threatened to betray your escape. Your body frozen in time, your pupils shaking, fearing what happens if he wakes up. You wait a minute to make sure he is not coming to drag you back before you open the door in one swift movement.

You rethought the tasks you listed in your plan. Find the portfolio and get the fuck out as quick as possible. Everything else is replaceable for you. The mindset that the portfolio is the only key to all your problems, remained.

The adrenaline surged through your veins, the pulse of your heart echoing in the quiet hallway you walked through to get to the front of the penthouse.

He never took you upstairs, therefore you assumed that’s where he must’ve hidden it.

You approached the staircase, the carpet soft beneath your feet. The air seemed to grow heavier with every ascending step. The possibility of him waking up was not zero.

As you reached the upper level, you noticed the subtle shift in the ambiance. The hallway, adorned with pieces of art that whispered tales of luxury, and all his awards he won during his career, displayed to show his success. You passed several open doors, a home recording studio in one of them, be ridden of what you were looking for.

The hallway led you towards a set of double doors. That must be it. The doors creaked open, your gaze scanning for any sign of your portfolio. Your eyes flickering between the meticulously arranged accolades and the sprawling desk. He must be using this room as his office.

The seconds stretched into minutes, the urgency escalating with each passing heartbeat. You began with the drawers of the glass table, trying to be as quiet as possible. You cannot afford to cause commotion.

Anxiety wrapped around you, a vice tightening with every passing moment. You went through the library too, looked under every surface, you could not find it.

With a deep breath, you steadied yourself. There must be another place he could have hidden it. Your eyes fell upon the stack of papers, leaning your head to the side you examined the tabloid underneath with your face on it.

You fished it out in mere seconds, eyeing it unbelievably. If you were on the cover of a tabloid you would for sure know that. But you were not aware that your face appeared in Star magazine, right beside Jungkook. “Jungkook’s Mysterious Muse Revealed!” the headline screamed at you.

It was not only you after all. Society has convinced Jungkook that you two are sort of an item. A clandestine affair, a narrative spun by the society, linking your name with Jungkook’s in a tale of intrigue.

It was dated right when you started working on Klein’s campaign, back in April. It is almost the end of November now, and this is the first time you’re seeing this. You couldn’t fathom how deeply the web had been woven around you. The urgency of the situation intensified, and you combed through every conceivable hiding spot.

A sudden noise from downstairs snapped your attention. Fear gripped you, and your heart raced. Did he wake up? The urgency of the situation intensified, and you felt the weight of the clock ticking against you.

You sobbed and when you went to rub your eyes, they fell upon the other room diagonally from the one you were searching now. The doors were slightly ajar and you could see soft shades of colours within. In a last-ditch effort you marched towards it.

But ever stepping inside you regretted. The whole scenery that was revealed once you opened the door swiftly caught your breath in your throat.

The soft shades of colours painted a haunting picture—a baby room, unfinished and untouched by time. The sight startled you, sending a shiver down your spine. This can’t be.

“No..” You whispered to yourself, panicking. Your hands found their place in your hair. He is one delusional man. There is no other explanation, he is sick in the head if he thinks he is going to baby trap you.

A sense of dread overwhelmed you, and in your shock, you stumbled over something on the floor, hitting your head in the process. You groaned from the pain, forgetting that this commotion must have been loud enough for Jungkook to wake up.

As you rolled to the side, your eyes widened in disbelief. The portfolio was taped to the bottom of a cabinet. Without a second thought, you ripped it free, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

The rain outside intensified, a symphony of droplets against the windows. With the portfolio clutched in your hands, you ran down the stairs, right to the front door you prayed would not be locked. Would he be that careless? Yes. The degree of his mental instability was enough for him to believe that you are his and you would not think of running. He cut off every single option you had.

First, by making sure that your former employer would get to know you’re planning to leave the brand, enough for them to let you go. Second, he successfully obtained your portfolio that you were stupid enough to not make a copy of, which resulted in not meeting the deadline with Guess and losing that job opportunity too.

Third, he did not expect you to not stay the first you went to his penthouse but he was determined to go to extremes. So, every single fashion brand that had department stores in New York and in the rest of the world, backlisted you. No job application you sent, assistant buyer, a visibly lower position to what you had at Klein, would be turned down.

Fourth, make sure your landlord has already a tenant replacing you, ready to pay double for your apartment if they can move in as soon as possible.

That you’re alienated from your parents played his cards right and he never wished anything bad upon someone else, but how he thanked God that your friends have either too small apartments for another person to live in or they were struggling even more than you were. But lucky for you. He was right there, waiting for your call.

The handle felt too cold in your hand once you pushed the front door open merging the distance to the elevators, you were madly pushing the down button.

The seconds felt like an eternity as you waited for the elevator. Your breaths came in short, erratic bursts, mirroring the frenetic pace of your heart. Quickly stepping inside the metal box you heard it.

“Y/N?!” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. His eyes momentarily locked with yours. You were clutching your portfolio to your chest, the other hand pressing the close button, praying it will close faster.

He must have heard you running down the stairs, or perhaps when you tripped and fell. You even forgot that you’ve hurt yourself. The adrenaline was overshadowing the pain.

“Come back right now!” He was mad, that much you could tell.

With the last determined push, you closed the door on him, severing the visual link between you. Letting out a relieving breath, you knew that this is far from being over. The elevator descended, carrying you away from the penthouse.

He cannot make it all the way down in time before you’ll disappear from the area. You prayed, he would not.

The lobby welcomed you as the doors opened, the room blurred as you stormed towards the exit, your heart pounding in rhythm with the rain. You burst into the rain-soaked night. Clutching the book tightly, a surge of triumph coursed through your veins.

The cold drops pelted against your skin. The relentless downpour soaking your clothes and hair. Running towards the street, you waved at the cars, hoping a taxi would stop.

It took a minute for some yellow car to appear at the curb, not wasting time, you ran towards it.

A smile appeared on your face after a long time. You did not know where you’re going, nor what you’re going to do next but Jungkook was never supposed to be your option and now you got the chance to choose differently or not? This is your second chance, and you’re willing to take it.

Your hand touched the handle of the yellow vehicle, opening the door and planning to leap inside as quickly as possible.

A strong tattooed hand closed abruptly. You gulped down an enormous lump in your throat, almost not breathing. How could this happen? It was mere minutes. Did he run the stairs? Did you take too long to catch a cab? Should you just run as far as possible?

Every single thing you could have done differently would not change the outcome it seems. And every single thing worked out in his favour, again.

His palm pressed on the taxi door firm, you could not open it anymore nor he would let you hop in the front seat. Your heart pounded in your chest, the tension and fear to face him was killing you. The portfolio now felt like a burden, if you make peace with losing it and your career, would you avoid this?

You could feel his eyes burning holes to the back of your head.

“I will not go back.” You said, voice resolute, but inside you were shaking. You could feel his hot breath on your cold skin, similarly you could feel his body pressing to your back. Once he reached your ear, you felt his lips mere inches from it, whispering.

“You will.”

I N T E R L O G U E 

Jungkook settled into the plush leather chair after he finished carefully unpacking all your belongings, believing he is helping you to settle down. His fingers deftly dialled his mother’s number. As the phone rang, he gazed out over the city lights sprawling beneath him, a realm he had conquered with ruthless determination.

His new song, obviously written about you, was an enormous hit, granting him another Grammy nomination. But what was his success for when he did not have his love to share it with?

He smiled to himself, he got you. After long months of chasing you, then giving you the space you needed to realise he is your best shot in this world, you’re finally where you belong. Next to him.

The familiar voice of his mother greeted him, warm and comforting.

“Eomma—” Jungkook said, his tone affectionate.

“Jungkook, dear! How is my baby?” His mother’s voice held a blend of joy and concern.

“I’m doing well, Eomma. I have some news to share,” he said, his eyes glancing toward the bedroom where Y/N lay, unaware of the conversation taking place.

“Oh? Do tell,” his mother replied, anticipation evident in her voice. Jungkook leaned back, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

“Y/N moved in.” His mother’s delight was palpable through the phone. Jungkook let her know the very moment he stepped into your office that he is very much interested in you. That he met the special one he wants to grow old with.

As he spoke, he subtly weaved a narrative of love and destiny, carefully crafting the tale of their supposed connection. His mother listened attentively, hanging onto every word.

“Are you going to propose over Christmas like you wanted, Kookie?” His mother gasped with excitement. Jungkook glanced at the bedroom once more, satisfaction settling within him. The diamond ring well hidden deep inside of the closet. But that’s given and final in his mind, there’s something more he selfishly wants. Not only will it make sure you won’t be able to leave him any more, it will give you reason to grow to love him back. After all, he would be the only person who you can grow old with.

“We’re trying for a baby, Eomma.”

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sequel coming soon - preview of side b

©pennyellee. please do not repost

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Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

His mothers words still echo in his mind as he tries to find a new composition on his piano that doesn’t sound like everything he’s already put out. Of course he hasn’t visited- with his brother’s twins constantly around, he’s always reminded of how far ahead everyone around him is, while he’s yet to find his first real love. He’s thirty, for god’s sake- and yet all he has is his house, a stable career as a musician, and a lot on his mind.

All his friends are married. Some have kids, others are busy preparing for the day they’ll have them. He feels out of place.

Yoongi has made peace with the fact that he’ll be the uncle to all of them, the one guy who never really seems to be happy about anything, never has a family of his own. It’s alright.

He sighs, loudly, gripping his hair for a second in frustration. This is stupid- why is he having an artist’s block right now of all times? People are waiting for something new, especially after he’s already taken a break to help his creativity. And yet, it did nothing- except for giving him a little bit more room to breathe and most of all move out of his apartment and into his new house near the woods. It’s nice here- about half an hour away from the bustling neon city he’s used to after years of living there, and also a bit more distance from his family and friends. A newfound excuse for when they ask him once more where he’s been.

The doorbell rings, attracting his attention. He’s not awaiting any guests or packages- who could it be?

Via the camera installed he can see that there’s a person he doesn’t know at the door- you're rather short, but visibly curious, looking around for any signs of life inside his home, and for a short moment, he sees them;

Delicate little slightly translucent wings. Pointy ears, tilted a bit downwards.

A fairy.

As he opens the door, you seem startled for a second or two, taking a step back, before you speak. “Oh, hello!” You greet him. “I was just about to ask- do you have uh.. Jungkook’s number?” You wonder, and he becomes hostile, crossing his arms. “A coworker of mine, Jimin, said you have it. I’m sorry I’m just, you know, showing up here like that-”

The door closes. But despite what he was expecting, you just ring the doorbell again- and again, until he opens.

“Okay, as I was trying to explain before you so rudely interrupted me-” You tease a little, arms now crossed as well as your wings flap around a bit. “-tell him at least that I need his help fixing my washing machine. He broke it and left the crime scene for me to find, and that’s, pardon my language-” You lean in a bit as if you’re about to tell Yoongi something secret, “-pretty crappy behavior.”

Yoongi stares you down for a moment, before he speaks.

“That’s it?” He asks, and you nod. “Why don’t you ask Jimin for Jungkook’s number?” He wonders, not entirely convinced. Jungkook is pretty much a magnet for people no matter what gender, and the worst part about it is that many if not most always try and get to him through Yoongi.

No one’s ever interested in him. Only his friends, or the things he can provide.

“Cause Jimin doesn’t have it either!” You whine, stomping your leg on the ground in agony. “Listen, I don’t know how to fix it and my bathroom smells like a laundromat already, my coffee machine is also broken and my script has been rejected for the third time, I really need some good news. Please?” You ask, and Yoongi contemplates.

“What if I fix it?” He asks, and your eyes begin to sparkle, wings lifting to flutter in excitement. It’s like in this very moment, he can hear the keys of his piano chime, creating a new piece in his mind.

“You can?!” You ask, stepping closer.

“Probably. Where do you even live?” He asks, before you point towards the woods.

“I live in the woods, pretty much. It’s not that far.” You say, and Yoongi sighs, looking back inside his house. It’s not like he’s going to get anything done either way, so who cares? It might take his mind off of things for a moment or two-

So a few hours later, he’s in your house, enjoying some hot coffee from your machine, which he’d fixed as well while he was at it. Well, fixed is a strong word- he pretty much just explained how it properly worked to you. It was working just fine- you just lost the manual and couldn’t figure it out on your own.

“I always thought dragons were scarier.” You say suddenly, opening a pack of cookies to put in the middle of your wooden coffee table. “You’re really nice. Tall, and a bit gloomy looking, but very nice.” You say, sitting down on the couch next to him, legs pulled up towards you.

He’s noticed something glittering all over the small house- like sparkling glitter, but much finer, and barely noticeable. Looking closer to his pants, he notices it there as well- and even after a brush with his hand, it sticks to his fingers now.

“Oh- I’m sorry! It keeps getting everywhere, especially now.. Wait- I have like, a plastic thing-” You hurry, getting up to search for something in a drawer close by your TV. “Ah, there!” You say, giving him the lint-roller. “It’s one designed for fairy dust. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought about that..” You say, but for some odd reason, he declines.

“It’s fine.” He denies. “Doesn’t bother me.” he tells you, and again, you look at him like he’s just told you the earth is flat after all.

but it truly doesn’t bother him. It would, technically, if he was anywhere else. But right now, in this moment, he couldn’t be any more indifferent towards the ‘mess’ you leave sticking to his clothes and skin.

As soon as he’s back home, the sight of your sparkling smile is still in his mind, as his feet almost automatically move towards his piano, where he sits down, and presses a record button to play something new. The melody has been stuck on repeat in his head the entire way back home through the thick snow, like his imagination was finally finding color again.

But it’s different from what he usually creates.

This piece is playful almost, intriguing. It’s a little hesitant, like someone holding back a thought itself just to not indulge too much in a fantasy they’re already creating in their mind. Fluttering notes interrupt these parts however, sneaking in with excitement and curiosity, trying their best to convince the player to let themselves go.

And Yoongi does, as he finishes the piece, and leans back in his chair, recording finished before his phone chimes with a message.

“You left your scarf at my place!” Is what you tell him.

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” He texts you back.

“I could make us dinner?” You question.

He contemplates, finger hovering over the virtual keyboard of his phone, before he begins to write his answer. Fluttering touches of his fingers moving with a hint of excitement, fine fairy dust on the skin of his hands shimmering in the setting sun dipping everything in a golden glow.

It would be easier if they could sleep. But the alpha’s can’t, kept awake by your hormones on the air, the sensitive heat hush that covers them thick and sweet. They almost circle you like prey.

Namjoon is not entirely heartless. He lets Jimin lick and lap at what you can’t keep in between your second and third knotting (if only because Namjoon can't knot you and devour you at the same time). Namjoon cums a lot when he knots, a hot flood that leaves you feeling warm and claimed. Cozy even. Sticky and wet and hot soaking your insides until you’re full.

Namjoon’s knot is so big and you are so tiny. None of them are surprised when your stomach starts to look a little bloated. A little pregnant already.

The whole pack can't help but salivate after it, your tummy bulge. hands roaming, appreciative and gentle.

What can't fit slides out after Namjoon knots. Big globs of it, spilling and squishing regardless of your panic. Your instincts tell you that you can't let any of it go to waste. But it's inevitable. You can hardly clench down anymore. It turns your your lap sticky and messy when he fucks you. Trails of cum sticking to your ass when Namjoon presses flush. So much cum, so much spend that it leaves you ruined.

Tae is unapologetically into it, petting over your stomach and cooing at your mess any chance that Namjoon lets her. Any time he lets her get near. A little territorial. Growling at her when she gets a little bit too much.

“Look pup, alpha’s already gotten you pregnant, so fucked up you’re already swollen. How about here?" She paws at your sensitive chest, and you are too weak to push at her. perilous against the lightning bolts of pleasure that zing through your being as she plays with you. Hobi still holds your hand and feels your heartbeat, bunny fast against his fingertips.

He’s doing good, waiting for Namjoon to give him the go-ahead. (Waiting for his master to give him his turn. Staying like a good puppy.)

“Should we try and see if you’re already making milk?”

You whine as Tae bites and sucks at your chest and Namjoon keeps fucking you. Until your nipples are pink and bitten and swollen from the attention. Nipples harder, whole chest looking bigger than usual.

It must just be the heat, surely.

Tae likes to suck. It soothes both of you while the pack alpha knots you, his knotting long and drawn out. Your hormones are thick and heady on the air. Hobi's pretty sure they're all close to knotting, will knot the air if Namjoon doesn't let them have a turn soon.

But Namjoon is greedy with you in heat. Let's the others stew and wait their turn. Neither Jimin nor Tae touch so Hobi doesn't touch either even though he's straining at the fabric of his boxers.

No sooner has his knot gone down than is he fucking you again. Cock never flagging, even if Namjoon is ever so slightly starting to look tired. You stay like that, a willing doll.

You like being the pack's little omega doll, their nest warmer, their breeding bitch (not that Namjoon would ever call you that, and any alpha that did would get the punishment of the lifetime) But you take all of it, all of his cum. Let him put you through your paces no matter how full you get.

Your entrance is pink and wrecked when he does bother to take it out and show the rest of the pack how he’s bred you. Putting his fingers in and showing them how pink you are on the inside. The way his cum gushes out, especially when someone bothers to pay attention to your clit or ghost their fingers lower over your other hole.

You let them touch you, let them explore. Cuddled up on Hobi's chest. His arms around your back, protecting you a little, soothing your little whines as you teethe on his scent gland as gently as you can. You seem to like doing that. Fixating on Hobi's scent when the others are being particularly mean. Like you need something to settle you. His cock pressed between your stomach and his, close just like you need.

Without Yoongi awake, Hoseok is the next best thing. You wish you could speak; wish you could tell him that. Hoseok is not small but compared to Namjoon… it couldn't hurt anymore right?

You wish you could talk, wish could tell Namjoon that you could probably fit both at once! You're a good pup! And you like Hobi…and Taetae and Minnie and Joonie. It's hard so hard to choose.

It's a good thing you're not in control right now or else you might try and do something stupid like take all of them at once. You have three holes and 4 alphas; the math doesn't really work. You have approximately 3 fully functional brain cells right now. (For all you know, two plus two might as well equal Noodle.)

Your belly bulge is especially noticeable when they shift you onto your hands and knees, Sloshy. Dripping out loud and messy whenever Namjoon pulls out. You can’t keep it all in no matter how hard you try and clench but...namjoon's broken you a little. You tremble, clenching wildly, your body overstimulated and twitchy from so many orgasms.

"Ah poor little pup, did alpha give you too much? Are you too full pup?" But you always shake your head, whining for more.

Thank god for contraceptives. You’d actually get pregnant, no way around it. If Namjoon ever fucked you without one during a heat. Whenever you do decide to have pups it will probably only take one try, Namjoon will probably pup you just because of his length alone, will beat out all the others.

The heat fever gives you amazing daydreams; especially when it spikes particularly high and your brain goes hazy. You imagine it; you on a breeding bench, heat warm and needy just like now. Tied up with pretty little ribbons to keep you still and settled. Yoongi, and Jinnie and Jungkook talking you through it. Each of the alpha is lining up behind you to breed you.

Maybe they'd play rock paper scissors to see who got to go first. To see who got the best odds. They might not even knot you to make it fair. You imagine wearing a plug after to keep all of it safe and snug inside. You imagine the others treating you gingerly and Jinnie petting over your stomach telling you you did a good job, yoongi ducking low to sniff at your stomach and check if you're pupped already. jungkook whining that he wants to be next.

You imagine them cradling you for the next few hours, so gentle and delicate with you, just like they are now (none of what Namjoon does to you is mean or hurts, it feels so good you feel like you're going a bit insane is all, a bit fucked dumb) just to make sure it takes.

Getting pupped outside of a heat is pretty unlikely. You might make them roleplay that with you in the future. Just because you like the idea of it so much. Your brain goes dizzy, and suddenly in your fantasy, it's Jinnie tied up and not you. He'd look so pretty pupped. you'd make him the best best nest.

Namjoon keeps fucking you, nosing at your throat where your purr comes from, loud and rippling. The picture of a satisfied omega, stuck on a half popped knot, heavy with cum and purring.

"Having sweet dreams pup?" He teases. His shoulders feel puffed up, his ego substantially stroked.

Namjoon is a little torturous with the way he keeps the alphas a bay, the way he bends and puts you through your paces. Your heat does not strain Namjoon in the slightest.

He tugs out of you, sitting on his heels. His cock is pink-tipped and wet, hard and big. You are close to sleep, Namjoon can smell it on the edge of your scent. He's just about to turn, just about to ask hoseok if he wants to fuck you to bed when you whine and dig your heals into his hips, urging him back in.

But thats all your capable off. You're so tired. Exhaustion makes you feel like you're going to pass out. But you still want a knot, still need it.

He pulls you up, your body is so limp, so limp, but you do drag yourself onto your knees, hands demurely supporting you between your legs, a universal 'good pup' posture that Hobi finds himself mirroring, watching and waiting. You put your hand to your stomach and hiss at the full feeling. Between your legs, you drip.

A look to the side says and Tae and Jimin are similarly posed. The three of them waiting and at attention. Waiting for the pack alpha to give the others permission. Waiting to see which one he'll select to fuck you next.

But not yet, the pack alpha isn't done with you yet.

He stops for a moment, feeling your forehead, cupping your cheek gently. humming low. You still burn with fever, too high, too much, body not quite there yet. This patch of your heat will probably be the worst, probably be the hottest you'll get. Namjoon can't imagine you getting much warmer to the touch.

If you do. He doesn't want to think of taking you out of this room let alone out of the den. But he will if he has to. They have fever stabilizers and banana bags for hydration at the hospital. You probably need both.

You squirm, and Namjoon's instincts flare.

"Maybe I really have spoiled you too much pup, If you don't want to sleep yet and say you've got enough energy for another knot-" Namjoon taps his thigh. “Why don’t you take your seat little omega, show alpha how much you want it."

You start to whine, to protest as he pulls you up. You are terribly sleepy, and really! too small to take him on your own! But Namjoon's glower is threatening enough that you don't really try to fight it. Your pout cute and your whines go unheard.

You teeter over to him, and he turns you, making you face the rest of the alpha's. He sits back and you hold yourself up on shaky knees, his thighs parted so that you can get close enough that your back is pressed to his chest. Hot and big and powerful behind you.

He's hardly even helping you guide yourself. You hesitate, reaching back blindly for his length. Your hand can't even wrap around it all the way. You teeter, trying to figure out how you want to sit. Holding yourself up just barely, how should you-

Namjoon nudges his cock forward, just barely pressing against your hole, parting you ever so slightly. You gasp, chest heaving. It's just as big and thick as ever. The three other alphas watch you with beady eyes, Jimin jerks in your direction but holds himself back just barely.

Namjoon wiggles his hips, his hand splaying on your hip, gripping the soft swell of your body there. Making you feel his girth, his thickness. His breath is hot on the back of your neck. “Sit on my knot like a good girl now, you liked it so much when Alpha was doing all the work. Come here. Show me how much you like it."

You shuffle, gingerly sitting back and He presses forward. you don't fuck like this like ever. Never are you really in control. Never are you on top, not even with yoongi. you don't know how to set the pace.

When you sit back namjoon's cock doesn't go in like you intend, it slips out and up. Sliding up past your open entrance and up through your messy pussy to nudge your clit and rub. Coating his cock in a mix of slick and cum while he tuts.

You hiccup and settle your hands on his shoulders, trying again and using them to guide you. You find the right position and actually do sit down. Lowering your body onto his cock until your ass hits his thighs.

You shake through the last inch, knees to your chest, and you can't even breathe. Namjoon's so big, it takes your breath away.

Being sat on Namjoon’s cock like this makes your whole body tremble. Full body shudders. He’s so deep like this, so deep that after a few shaky tries, a few moments of trying to grind. You fall, setting your full weight on it, pushing him ever deeper.

You pause, hesitating, crying, breathing.

Namjoon lands a swat over your behind and you jump, whole body shaking. "Move omega,"

"I can't, I can't alpha!" you sob, hands on the nest infront of you, unsure if you're about to start sobbing or squirting or both.

"Poor little dumb puppy, can't even fuck right, I'll show you." Namjoon holds you under your thighs and lifts you up a little, the whole room spins.

"you go up" the nest disappears from underneath you. "and then you go down."

A broken moan shatters from your throat as he lowers you onto his cock. Pleasure hits you like a punch to your gut. A physical blow or an anchor that pulls you under. Makes you sob. It's so much.

But it can't be too much, Namjoon would never give you more than you could handle. Your hole is sensitive but you're not in pain, just desperate to soothe the ache inside of you, an ache that only Namjoon can fix. If alpha's not stopping, then you're alright. You're fine. you repeat that to yourself like a mantra and you find it's mostly true.

Namjoon picks you up and puts you down on his cock a few more times. Then he looks to the others. he summons jimin with a jerk of his chin and the other alpha all but rushes over.

"Jiminie will help you, since you're too far gone to fuck Alpha like you want to. It's my fault, I should have made you learn before I fucked you dumb."

Tae and Hobi almost look scolded at not being chosen. Tae lets out a whine, but a soft growl from Namjoon has her falling quiet. They fight for the opportunity to do this; to help the pack alpha fuck the omega they all want. All of this- every second reinforces the fact that they all know, they all feel in their chests and instincts.

Namjoon's on top. Namjoon's the alpha, the one they all have to listen to. They won't get anything, not a drop of your slick or an inch of relief inside of you- not if he doesn't say so. Not if he doesn't allow it.

You knew Jimin was strong, he carried Jungkook earlier so you shouldn't be so surprised. But you hiccup and try and protest as he picks you up so easily under your thighs, forcing you up and down on Namjoon’s knot like you weigh nothing.

Jerking you close to his chest to get a better grip, altering the angle. You claw and paw at Jimin's shoulders, the back of his neck, his collar jingling against your cheek. Clanging against yours.

Namjoon pauses for a second, there is a latch on the front of jimin's collar and a loop on the front of yours. Namjoon's deft fingers lock you together, keeping you anchored to Jimin.

You are face to face with him as he does it, you feel jimin's deep growl against your front, watching his pupiles dilate. His hands fist in your thighs, holding you hard, holding you steady. You have a feeling you'll have bruises in the shape of his hands on you after this. 

He picks you up, bringing you off of Namjoon's cock, just far enough that his heat hovers just inside.

And then places you back down. Sheathing him inside you in one smooth movement. Letting your body's weight push you down on him. You hiccup and Namjoon feels it from the inside.

It goes like that for what could be minutes or hours, days or seconds. He picks you up and puts you down, fucking you up and down like you're little more than a fleshlight for your alpha.

Maybe it would feel that way if it wasn't for how he kisses at your brow and laps away your tears, mumbling out "Good omega love you so much, love this, so pretty and good for us, so perfect. Our perfect knot slut." Your belly bulge pressed to his stomach, his cock nudging Namjoon’s where it’s inside of you. Not pressing in, but Jimin feels it, the bulge in your stomach pressing against his cock. It's so filthy. The way your eyes roll back.

You don't notice, but Jimin cums against it, from the friction or from everything else. Marking your tummy. Too eager too turned on to stop himself.

"Good pup" you're not quite sure who namjoon's talking too- but it makes you feel warm regardless.

Namjoon guides you to wrap your arms around Jimin's neck, and you rest your head on Jimin’s shoulder. You close your eyes and let the world disappear around you. Narrowing down to the sensations in your body.

The feeling of strong arms holding you. Namjoon's teeth scruffing you dumb. Pleasure bursting like fireworks behind your eyelids. toes curling and head lolling. The hot pain pleasure of his cock splitting you open. The husky words Jimin whispers against your ear.

“That’s it pup just take it, that’s it, I've got you- we’ve got you.”

~-~

When you come too next, you are being absolutely smothered. First by the bodies around you and then by the affection.

Yoongi is running a brush through your hair, detangling it so gently that you hardly feel the tugging, the body in Infront of you is warm and feverish, and the body behind you is strong and muscled.

You pick your head up from Jin’s chest and behind you Jungkook groans. Arms around your waist going tighter. Reluctant to be parted from you.

You want to tell him that there's no one taking you from him, that you are so tired that picking up your head takes a tremendous herculean effort. But you're too tired to speak let alone soothe him. You can taste the fever on the back of your throat and you know you're not out of the woods yet.

Jin was? Feeding you? Licking your face? Grooming you? It's hard to tell just what kind of care he was giving you only that your chest feels open, less tight, less frantic. You feel sore but sated, damp faintly all over. Although you can tell by the way your thighs feel when they move against each other that it's soap, or something sudsy and not slick and cum anymore.

“Ready to join the land of the living pup?” Yoongi teases, fingers running over the nobs of your spine possessively, it’s a bit abnormal for Yoongi. It must be your heat slick making him act like that.

There is also a faint fullness, a plug snug in your hole, keeping what's left in your tummy from spilling out. It's a big plug, you can feel it as you squirm. When your heat fever spikes, you clench down on it and the thickness settles you. It makes you feel stretched out and relaxed, and simulates a knot that never goes down. thats so thoughtful, your pack are so thoughtful cleaning you up but keeping you full.

You lick your lips and rub your nose against Jin's neck. Pressing closer. There is a hand on your chin, making you look up, prying you away from the safe hollow of his throat. Yoongi's eyes are melted chocolate. You rest your cheek against Jin's bare chest and look up at him.

"You kept whining for it."

"I did?" Yoongi kisses your brow.

"Yup. Practically milked Joonie dry, looked like a shriveled old rasin. He needs a good hour but then his dick will stop being broken. You need to eat next, before you take any more." Yoongi's no-nonsense tone is one you're intimately familiar with.

"Okay." You say, feeling small. Voice quiet. Yoongi tugs the brush through your ends.

Speaking of Namjoon Where are the alphas?  You don't feel them next to you, it's not them cuddling you- just your omegas and Yoongi.

Distantly you realize you can hear the alpha's- they're still in the nest, they're just not paying attention to you. You rub your face, your lips against Jin's shoulders. A whine building.

“Tae, no fair! You’re pushing out your hips!”

“I don’t think It works that way Minnie. I've been longer than you for like 10 years-”

You peak over jin's shoulder, tentative, and yoongi sighs. Hormones no longer cloud the air. You must all be between spikes at the same time. You duck back down behind the covers quick. You don't like that your alpha's are arguing, not quite sure what it means.

Both Jin and Yoongi look from them to you.

“Oh my little puppy.”

You sniffle, overwhelmed as Jin bundles you close to his chest. Behind you, Yoongi hums, as close to a purr as his beta body is capable of mating. Jungkook continues to nuzzle into your back completely asleep.

Omega cuddles are exactly what you need. They're so warm. So soft around you. You missed your omegas. You might have been barely a few feet apart from each other. And you’re pretty sure you demanded to hold hands with Yoongi the last time Namjoon knotted you. But you missed them.

You’re not quite sure why you’re crying only that it’s mostly a happy cry as you nuzzle and push your face into his throat. Hiccupping until you calm down. Heats are- intense, but Jin doesn't seem like he's having as much difficulty as you are. 

He's older. He's more experienced. Jin just shushes you. But you can tell he knows it's a good sort of crying, the kind that gets any lingering yuckyness out.

Jin shushes you tucking you under his chin and urging you to press your nose to his scent gland. You rub your lips and nose there over and over again. side to side. Up and down thoroughly covering his skin with your scent. Once your hiccuping, has subsided, and your face has been whipped free from tears. You turn and look.

Your alphas are- maybe they’re wrestling? Their hair certainly looks all messed up, if Tae's hair looks so much like a bird's nest you don’t want to imagine what yours looks like- or looked like- until Jin commanded Yoongi to give you a good ol' omega brushing.

“Was I good? Am I being good?” You ask, Jin pecks your nose, you can tell the heat still isn’t over, a haze on the edge of your vision. Making your words slow and small.

“The best” Jin nuzzles. “Your cute little cunt squirted every single time Joonie knotted you- made the others feel a bit competitive- Jiminie tried to fuck you to get you to do it and only got it half the time. They’re comparing knots now.” Jin says it with a vague tone of annoyance. Crinkling his nose at it.

Yoongi huffs behind you, putting the brush down. “They do this every heat. I don’t know why they expect it to change.”

Your alphas kneel in a circle, each of them standing hard and proud, the knots at the base of their cock’s explored with a giggle. Big hands wandering, knuckles rubbing, grabbing. Hobi sags against Namjoon’s shoulder as the alpha explores him, checking his knot with hungry hands. Did Hobi fuck you? You can't remember. You shift, feeling slick gathering between your thighs as you look.

You think you'd remember it.

You bury your face in Jin's chest again to try and calm your racing heart. But he just hums. "Oh? Getting worked up puppy?" You pick your head up and nod, propping your chin on Jin's shoulder, and go back to watching.

Behind you Jungkook shifts in his sleep his soft omegan cock squishes against your backside, strangely soft. It's comforting to cuddle with them nude like this. To do it without any worry or nagging sense of inadequacy or insecurity. They like where you're soft, it makes you a good cuddler, a good nestmate.

Yoongi does not watch the alphas, Yoongi continues to pet over the top of your head, watching just you.

“Hyung- hyung don’t-"

Namjoon laughs, and Hobi's cock slaps against his stomach. The head of Tae's cock presses against Jimin's in a weird almost kiss, her dress brought up draping Roman-like over her length.

“Let me touch it-“

“If I let you will you promise not to pinch?”

“But you just feel so squishy.”

The head of Hobi's cock bumps against Namjoon’s all pink and velvety. Namjoon’s cock looks impossibly large in Tae's hands. What you can see through their bodies makes your stomach swoop and your scent spike.

Jin noses into your neck, scenting you back until you're trembling and above you, Yoongi watches on hungrily, Jin's teeth nip at the shell of your ear, and your whole-body jumps.

“Should we compare tummies and make them pay attention to us?” Jin offers.

Your answering chirp in approval has 4 heads jerking in your direction.

~-~

Hoseok gets his chance with you when he least expects it.

All of this is routine, the fucking, the food, the love. But challenging Namjoon is not something Hoseok usually does. Not unless he wants to be drawn over the pack alpha's lap for a forceful settling.

Hoseok's settling looks a little different today.

Jimin and Tae finally have something else to fixate on when Jungkook wakes and demands a knot for his hole and another one for his mouth (as cutely as you can picture it). Yoongi of course has a different need of yours that he aims to fix, feeding you sleepy bites while you’re knotted to Namjoon, happy and full in every way with a warm alpha back inside of you. Sitting on Namjoon’s knot easily now that you’re used to it. the plug had done its job of keeping you open and full.

He keeps you stuck there until it goes down, scented dumb and satisfied for now. It’s the perfect time to convince you to eat. You can't fuss too much down in omegaspace, eager as always, to be good for your pack alpha.

"Good pups eat their food, or else alpha can't pup them right, have to stay healthy for alpha." You nod, mouth going slack, opening obediently. It's stunning that thats all it takes.

Namjoon asks and you open, Namjoon asks you to sip and you do, Namjoon tells you to breathe, and you gasp.

Hoseok sits beside you, holding the tray of food for Yoongi, he keeps it straight, keeps it from tipping. An unusual amount of effort goes into doing that small task. Hoseok treats it like he's holding a nuclear bomb. Eyes going from every bite of food as it travels from the tray to your mouth.

Hoseok doesn't mind, it's a good task, good to have something to focus on.

The subspace haze makes Hobi just as good of a pup as you are. Namjoon even lets Hobi feed you too! Your tongue slides against his fingers, licking up sweet strawberry juice. Lapping at them lewdly.

"Good puppies. kiss hobi in thank you pup."

Your kiss is soft and sweet, a little open mouthed, a little pupish. Hobi resists the animal part of him that wants to lick into your mouth for strawberry sweetness and puppy kisses. He laps once, twice, and there is a hand in his hair pulling him back with a tisking noise. Yoongi, looking down at him with a dark indecipherable look in his eyes.

Then he looks at Namjoon, a passing glance and subtext that Hoseok misses, too busy biting back a whine and Yoongi's grip goes slack in his hair. The moment passes without comment or verbal command.

Yoongi's delicate hands scratch behind Hobi's ears and he makes a soft happy sound in the back of his throat. Soft little chuffs.

You stare at them, each of them, wide bunny eyes blinking slowly. eyes glassy. Not saying anything. Shaking your head when they ask questions or nodding cutely. A bit non-verbal.

It's a bit harder to hide when you're verbal. When you decide you do want to babble.

Hoseok is glad for the tray, his cock hasn’t gone soft, not at all, after basically being edged all morning. it's harder to ignore when you go mouthy.

It’s cute, even you chew and accept sweet bites from your fingers, your eyes remain fixed on Namjoon. Babbling around the sweet nibbles. “Love Alpha so much, knot so big and puffy! Love his knot wanna kiss it, wanna eat it-”

Yoongi shoves a piece of bread at your lips to make you stop babbling out your filth. You chew, eyes fixed on him with wide eyes. “Joonie needs to last for the rest of your heat- you can't eat him yet. preferably never but-”

"But- but-" tears dance treacherously on your waterline, threatening to spill.

Namjoon pipes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting a protective and possessive hand on your stomach. Nibbling at your throat, your neck. "I'll eat you first." You giggle and push at him, but it's halfhearted.

Hoseok's eyes remain fixated on you. Hands tight on the tray. Canine hooked over his lower lip. Hobi holds the tray so steady that it doesn't even bob and dip with his breathing.

Once Namjoon’s knot has gone down again, he hisses. The skin around the base of it is going sensitive but you're still needy. You wiggle your hips and whine but Namjoon sets you back into the nest on your side. So careful with you that it makes Hoseok ache.

Your sensitive tummy is protected between your body and the nest. Namjoon lies you out so gently, careful with you. You have bruises everywhere; on your chest, your neck, your thighs. Hand shapes and hickeys. Even a heart shaped one because tae decided you deserved one.

Maybe they haven't been as gentle with you as they think.

If you're strained at all you don't show it, sighing into the nest, gripping handfuls of it in your fists, clinging to it. Kneading the fluff of it a little before your body goes boneless.

Yoongi ducks in close and kisses Namjoon, you, then Hobi, before he takes the tray he shuffles to the other side of the nest the tray of food in hand, intent on also convincing Jin and Jungkook to at least take a nibble.

You whine. High and petulant. Nuzzling into the nest, trying to sate this feeling in your chest.

A warm palm flutters down your spine, comforting. “Ah, my cute needy little pup, what are we to do with you huh? Still insatiable after all of that? You still need more?”

Yes, yes you do. The fire is still burning through you, you’re still in heat. Namjoon is a good alpha (Even if honestly- he’s getting a little tired)

Hobi takes his usual position, holding your hands while Namjoon has you. Sliding between your legs. You're belly down, not even holding yourself up. But you deserve to have it like this, no work, just Namjoon's weight behind you and his knot in your hole.

Hoseok feels a nagging worry in the back of his mind. it's barely been what- two seconds? Since he pulled out. You can't be having another heatspike so soon.

You're about 18 hours in already. Probably nearing the middle of your heat and the worst of it. But then again- maybe you have your worst spikes near the end like Jungkookie. Maybe you're just warming up- making up for lost time.

Hobi holds your hands through it, through this breeding session too. just like he did with Yoongi and Namjoon's first few bouts.

Hobi keeps you from scrabbling, trying to claw yourself away from too much pleasure. It still gets to you- the panic. It's always immediate. Whenever you feel Namjoon prod. Some hidden animal part of you that wants to resist, that like him, needs to be settled.

Hobi holds your hands, looking down, transfixed by the way your body moves. Hoseok is very very good at holding things, isn't he? He's being a good puppy. The best puppy.

You squirm, and Namjoon's instincts flare.

Namjoon leans down, pressing a kiss to your nape, meanly pressing in further, harder. You are so hot inside, the heat fever tearing through you now that you have a little food in your stomach and more energy to burn. Warm and wet and tight. Your eyes roll back and Hobi can do nothing but watch.

But Namjoon's pace stutters.

It's understandable. This is the 5th knot he’s given you in as many hours. It's sometime after mid-day and it's been probably around 30 hours since he's slept. Namjoon's only human. He can't last forever. Hoseok's honestly a little surprised that Namjoon hasn't tapped out yet, that his knot isn't ready to fall off.

But Hoseok watches his pace falter and his lip lifts. It's an instinct to growl. Namjoon spies it, hackles raising.

Alpha instincts are a peculiar thing.

“You think you could do better?” Namjoon taunts, a little playfully. Arms bulging as he holds himself up, trusting harder into you. Almost in retaliation. Hobi blushes, looks away, successfully chastised.

Hoseok shouldn't be intimidated, Namjoon might be the pack alpha, but Hobi has still seen him put his shoes on the wrong feet before and leave the house- too many times to count.

The growl comes out of his mouth before he thinks better about it. Loud. Across the nest. Jin lifts his head, woken up by it, hair all fluffy. Yoongi combs over it to settle him.

Namjoon stops moving.

Hobi clamps a hand over his mouth in surprise and the snarl becomes a whine. “Yes! No! Maybe- I think I-.” Hobi hovers unsure, bashful at being caught snarling at the pack alpha.

Namjoon is not one to let this kind of thing slide especially not during a heat.

Namjoon slides out of you, long and hard and hot, you whimper. You don't like feeling empty. You try to push back on him but are stopped by a hand pressed blank your pussy, Namjoon's fingers brushing your hole, fucked open and messy. Gaping just a little, dripping a bit of cum onto the nest until you tighten up.

You whine. Loud and grating. Hoseok's instincts make him want to gnash his teeth. It sets him on edge. Across the nest, Yoongi turns, distracted from his task of trying to convince Jungkook to suck on a straw instead of trying to suck on his dick, Alarmed at the sound of your whine. The desperation in it.

“Alright alright, calm down,” Namjoon says, kind of laughing through it, kind of high. Namjoon is the picture of restraint, he's not a knothead, not like Hobi. He doesn't snarl and push and fight at another alpha challenging him. No- Namjoon looks at Hobi, a mean glint in his eye.

Namjoon can get a little scary when he's got something to prove, even scarier when he's got a job to do.

Your collar is there by the edge of the nest, taken out when Jimin put on his, black with a golden puppy tag, the twin to Hobi's red one. Your pink one is showing its wear; worn at the hole in the buckle, the one that fits you nice and loose. Perfect as a handhold.

Namjoon points and Hobi gets it before he's even registered that he's following a nonverbal order. Flushing as he takes off the bell and then tries to hand it over.

But Namjoon just eyes your throat expectantly.

Making one sub-collar another is- well-

Hobi's hands stutter, shaky with anticipation as he tries to fit it around your throat. It takes him several tries to get it latched properly. Namjoon’s cock twitches as Hobi looks up for his approval. You push into his hands, purring loudly. No longer displeased at not being filled if you can teeth at the scent gland on his wrist.

Namjoon pulls back and away from you. Heavy cock throbbing, pulsing dully- but in all reality- edging himself will only help everyone in the long run. You’re already so wet on the inside, full of Yoongi and Jimin's and Tae’s cum not just Namjoon's.

But not Hobi's, not yet. Namjoon should fix that.

Namjoon reaches for Hobi's collar and puts it on him, testing the give, pulling him this way and that until he’s satisfied with it. Hoseok whines at being pushed around, tugged almost until he falls over, but he lets Namjoon do it. Obedient.

Namjoon pulls him over to where he sits, behind you, almost between your legs.

There is a bit of whiteness, leftover cum, covers Namjoon’s cock, milky at the tip. You drip slick a little, your pussy lips red and a bit inflamed from the ceaseless friction of his balls flopping forward and hitting where you’re sensitive. Namjoon palms blatantly between your legs checking with a dimply smile to make sure Hobi's watching. you mewl. But Namjoon just grins at Hobi. His fingers still hooked in his collar.

You mewl loudly and Namjoon puts his fingers back where you want them. "Oh don't be a brat, alpha's right here pup."

Hoseok's cock twitches at being manhandled, especially when Namjoon slides that hand down Hobi's midline, feeling him up and Hoseok lets him. Hoseok would let Namjoon do anything. He doesn't even flinch or growl when Namjoon pushes his thigh apart and pushes down his boxers. Palming his knot, examining him. Wrapping his big hands around it and testing where his knot will form. Rubbing at the sensitive skin with talented fingers.

It gives Hobi no small amount of pride that his hand does not cover all of Hobi's cock. He's still sizable. still long even if he's not nearly as thick as the others. Hoseok's scent fluffs out a little stronger at that.

Namjoon has one hand in you, hooked into your hole to soothe you, and the other wrapped around Hobi's cock as he says it.

“Show me then, show the pack alpha that you know to breed.”

Hoseok tries to pull back pull away, saying “But one of the others might want- I don’t need-” as if Hobi hasn’t been hard and trembling since the early hours of the morning, as if he hasn’t been edged by the ceaseless lewdness of you.

Namjoon does not take Hoseok’s excuses, tugging him by his collar “Oh, do you not remember puppy? Don’t worry, alpha can show you how to knot.”

Hoseok knows better than to protest, lets Namjoon lead him to you, lets him tug until Hobi is in between your legs. Namjoon close behind him. Guided by the pack alpha. Namjoon takes his hands in his and places them on your hips, the round fat of your behind. Hands smoothing up and down your sides.

Tentative and shy. Namjoon doesn’t allow him to pull his punches, holding his hips first, then your cheeks apart. You nuzzle forward into the sheets, completely lost to the world. But you start to push back into their hands. Peering up at Hobi shyly.

“Oh? You want to watch me show puppy how to knot you?” You turn your cheek, resting it against the nest so that you can peer back at both of them.

Hobi’s so pretty. Pretty alpha, want to see your pretty alpha with his pretty little knot, wanna kiss it cuz it's pretty and he's pretty and you love Hobi-

Beside you, Jin looks over and grins. There you go, talking out loud when you think you're not again. Hoseok's face is as red as the aburn in his hair.

Namjoon’s dark chuckle makes Hoseok’s cock twitch. Jumping. dripping just a little. “Puppy only knows how to breed like doggies do l sweet thing, don’t you want to show him how well you can present? Go on, show alpha.”

Hobi wants to say that he knows that he knows how to fuck, he does, he's fucked you before and you've liked it, he swears he knows how. But maybe breeding and fucking are two different things? Surely Alpha knows. Namjoon's hands are hot and greedy, touching Hobi's hips, his chest, and the narrow plane of his hips. Hoseok has always been a slender alpha and behind him Namjoon feels impossibly big and strong.

Steadying.

The thrall of sweet submission bleeds down Hobi’s back at odds with the humiliation. The tingle of not being the one in charge right now, the one not being in control is so alluring that it’s hard to resist temptation.

Hoseok has not slept either, Hoseok has stayed up with Namjoon and you through it. Just incase. Just incase anyone needed him.

Hobi doesn’t want to resist. At the pack alpha's laughter, he shuffles forward, blushing hard, cheeks red. "I can do it, I know-" how to knot. Gets caught in his throat.

Namjoon pecks the nape of his neck. "I'm sure you do pup, but alpha can show you anyway."

Descending down into subspace with you while you’re in heat might be exactly what he needs to overcome all of this- the lingering tension and fear. The impossible ache of things that Hobi cannot fix alone. But there are others here to reassure him. Across the nest, Jin lies on his side. Watchful and careful.

You arch, twisting half onto your back and thinks he might come undone just at the sight of the mess on your stomach. You blink lazily up at him, utterly boneless- utterly at the mercy of the pack alpha’s touch.

Hobi watches as Namjoon holds your ruined hole open with two of his thumbs. Namjoon’s voice is on the shell of his ear, hot breath tickling his skin. “See how she’s open already, don’t you want to feel how warm and hot she is inside?”

Namjoon shuffles forward until his cock is poking at Hobi's behind, flush between his back and Namjoon’s front. A reminder against his spine. Namjoon’s hands go south, and all Hobi has to do is let Namjoon push, let the pack alpha guide his cock inside you below them, a more than willing omega.

“Oh!”

You let out a little shocked sound, cute, halfway between a word and a chirp as Hobi pushes in, through Namjoon’s spend, through the heat of your body, fucked open not quite loose but-

You are not as tight as you could be especially immediately after taking Namjoon’s cock and knot- at least double in with to Hobi’s (Hobi doesn’t feel that insecure about it. Namjoon could make a porn star feel inadequate) and he’d never guess that you found him unsatisfying from the way you gasp, scent going syrupy pleasure sweet. It's so good it makes Hobi's hands shake.

But there is a deeper warmth and wetness. Hoseok is the last alpha to breed you, going after even Yoongi, and the others. The others have filled you up so well. Hoseok can feel it. You're soaked from the inside out. The mess that spills is only half of it.

Hobi doesn’t think about his submission in concrete terms. At least not the way that you and Jungkook do.

But he’s the last to knot you, you’re sloppy and wet and warm around him. He has their cum frothy and foamy on his dick right now, making the slide of his cock so slippery he pops out on occasion- only to be guided back in by Namjoon’s hands. It makes humiliation light- hot and delicious- a phantom heat- down his spine.

Namjoon holds Hobi's hips and guides him into a sloppy grind, mouth running wild, face drawn in a half snarl. “Gonna give her all of it aren’t you alpha? Gonna knot her little hole and breed her with all of us, alpha knows you can, can you be good and pop a knot for me? Can you be a good puppy for the pack alpha?”

Namjoon digs his teeth into the nape of Hobi's neck, and the hot clench of your cunt, looking up at them, almost makes Hobi lose his shit.

But then you reach for his hand, tangling your hand with Hobi's. Blinking away tears in your eyes, cheek lying agianst the nest, staring up at Hobi with that same look of pure adoration. The same way you looked at Namjoon.

"love you."

You close your eyes, blinking slow, sighing. Hoseok's pace stutters. Namjoon throbs against his backside. Across the nest, Yoongi says something to Jin, and Jin smiles. Tae giggles. Jungkook cum's loudly. hoseok doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until he opens them. blinking slow like you.

“Oh pup, does Hobi-alpha feel good?”

“So good alpha, can feel him in my tummy, can feel him next to you. Love Hobi alpha- love him lots and lots, like being close to him. like this cuz-cuz-” you struggle, words are so hard in omegaspace.

"Because you're as close to him as you can get?"

"Yeah. Smell like him too." You purr, eyelashes fluttering. Hoseok's breath hitches.

Namjoon lets go of Hobi's hips and Hoseok is so far down that he stops moving. Namjoon lands a slap on Hoseok's behind a punishment for stopping.

“I’m not really convinced Hobi wants to fuck you pup-” Namjoon says with false sincerity, the same tone he uses when he's teasing Yoongi.

“No, I do! I promise I do!” Hoseok hardly recognizes the panic in his own voice. The desperation that only comes with an approaching orgasm. He grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him, showing Namjoon.

“Huh really? Aren’t you gonna show it? Can you fuck her harder for me pup?” Hobi does, the pace so quick that it makes sweat bleed down his back. and the slap of skin on skin becomes a beat, becomes a melody.

Now this is fucking. Not the slow but thorough taking apart that Yoongi and Tae lavished you with. This is not how Namjoon fucks; gentle because he needs to be or else risk hurting you. No- this is slaps of Hobi's lap against your hips, turning your skin red like you’ve been spanked, his cock sliding in and out, curving up to kiss that spot inside of you. Quick and rabbit fast.

Hoseok is sure he’s doing a good job until Namjoon stops him with a hand on his collar. The twinkle in his eyes makes Hoseok feel so small he averts his gaze.

“Hang on, I want to see something.” Hoseok does pause, simply a puppet for Namjoon to push around when he wants to. hoseok is obedient, a good puppy.

Namjoon pulls Hobi away from you by his collar and Hobi pops out of you with a broken whine. Cock heavy and twitching, knot half popped at the base. But he’s a good puppy, a good puppy he swears, if the pack alpha needs to check the omega below him is alright then Hoseok will trust him.

Hoseok is kneeling there, heavy cock wet between his legs as Namjoon shuffles forward, taking Hobi's spot. One alpha taking an omega from another in the middle of the heat, in the middle of breeding- would be a challenge to any alpha’s ego.

But Hoseok just feels like he's going to cum. he's going to cum and namjoon is going to let him if he's only good. Hobi's cock just twitches. Wet with cum that isn’t his. White and translucent against where his skin goes darker and pink. Dripping a bit from the tip.

Namjoon pulls you onto him in one smooth movement. Putting his cock all the way in, you gasp, eyes going wide, lips sack. And a noise rises from Hobi's throat, not a growl but a whimper. Namjoon holds your wrists, forcing you back on his cock once, twice, grinning at Hobi all the while. Taunting him in a way that makes Hobi melt.

“Alpha alpha alpha please-” falls from your lips. A plea unanswered.

Namjoon pulls back just as quickly. Sliding out, and leaving you empty. Hobi watches as you struggle to clench. To breathe after that. Namjoon lands an open palmed slap over your hole, loud and wet. And you collapse back onto your hands and knees. So, limp you can’t hold yourself up. Sobbing dry.

“That’s what I thought pup.”

A small film of slick and cum comes away on his hand. Namjoon wipes it over Hobi's hip, hot as a brand before he guides him back between your legs. Hooking his chin over Hobi's shoulder to watch. Hobi doesn’t even fight- just lets Namjoon put it in and then guides his hips into a sloppy grind. Faster and faster.

He’d never admit it, and it’s embarrassing. But for a second after taking Namjoon’s cock- all Hobi can feel is wet.

He lets out a broken sound when you finally close around him- somehow tighter after being stretched around Namjoon’s gargantuan member. Your orgasm is fast approaching. Barreling towards you. Will the rest of your heat go this way? Traded from alpha to alpha, from knot to knot?

“Pups nice and open for you this way, you won’t have a problem knotting, even if you pop one outside, I can just push it in.”

Namjoon’s not wrong, Hoseok’s knot is adequate- he knows this. But- but-

Namjoon’s cock, it’s almost the same diameter as his knot normally. You’re so open, so gappy, that Hoseok could probably knot you and keep fucking you. Jimin will definitely do that just to make you squirt and get more of your slick.  It’s fun. The other omega’s don’t squirt, at least not the way you do.

Your tongue lolls out a little. Lost to the heat fever, cute enough that Namjoon presses a thumb to your lips and wipes the saliva down your midline. Pausing to tease at your sensitive nipples, Namjoon doesn't really ever give them too much attention- Hobi has noticed.

Maybe because there's just so much more to pay attention to.

Like the fullness of your stomach, the cute pout to your cheeks while you gasp, the hazy way you look at them both above you, fucking you up, breaking you a little. That has the power to make them come undone with a single look. You lie your cheek on your hands and stare up at them. Gasping every time Hobi pushes flush.

"Want puppy to make me messy, want knot, please? Please alpha? can i have it? i've been so so good."

"of course you can pup. hobi..." namjoon trails off, and hoseok's orgasam is right there, right on the edge, waiting for namjoon's say so.

He doesn't give it. doesn't give Hoseok permission. hoseok's body can't with out it, tense down to his core, like a live wire prepared to snap with electricity.

Your clit twitches and your pussy clenches wet as Namjoon rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefinger. Hobi whines, high and lupine, alarmed. If you keep doing that, then his knot is going to pop, and he wants- he should at least make you cum once. The others will never let him live it down if he doesn’t.

“How much do you want it pup? Can you show him?”

You whine, confused with the question, confused further when Namjoon’s hand snakes between the two of you, holding Hobi's cock as it goes in and out, prodding gently at the sensitive skin around the base. Exploring and checking, Hoseok honestly almost pops a knot right there, out of your hole, and lets all his cum go to waste. “Yes- yes I’ll-”

Namjoon's breath is hot on Hobi's ear, his lips brushing the Shell of it. "puppy, knot."

Namjoon strokes down Hobi’s peritoneum as he knots and Hobi honestly to god thinks he might see white for a moment, something pure instinct gripping him as he ruts forward, breeding without care for your comfort.

He pops his knot. Fucks it in once, then out, then back in. Relishing in the wetness as you squirt, turning the inside of your thighs glossy and speckled with droplets. Hobi doesn’t mind, he knows that one of the others- probably Jimin because he’s a little obsessed with your slick honestly- will clean both of you up later.

Namjoon takes Hobi’s hands and presses both of them to your stomach, small, a little soft normally but now…looks a bit bloated. “Do you feel that alpha?” Namjoon says, husky in his ear, and yes. Hobi can, he can feel the warmth there. Especially once you start to purr, eyelashes fluttering, obviously fucked to sleep. Something tugs in his gut and Hobi whines. High-pitched and lupine.

"Good puppy, so good for alpha. Good boy."

Hobi feels a bit like he might laugh, a bit like he might cry. (The cutest puppies are always a little extra fragile after knotting and Hobi is no different), Namjoon presses him closer pulling at the collar. Presses him down until you’re all cuddling. You on the bottom, Hobi in the middle, and Namjoon on top.

It's easy to help you move your leg and turn the full way so that you can burrow into Hoseok's front. Hiding from the world in the safety of your alpha. Your packmate.

Hoseok doesn’t even register that there’s wetness on his back, that Namjoon maybe rutted against the cleft of his ass, and came a little too. That the pack alpha got worked up enough by his pups being good and all the heat hormones on the air. That revelation can wait for a bit later when Hobi's not feeling quite so fragile.

In the meantime, Namjoon has pups to take care of.

“How did Hobi do omega? Do you feel nice and bred and full?”

You babble, eyes already half closed. Nodding cutely. “Best alpha, love Hobi alpha so so much, nice knot- best knot.”

Namjoon’s husky laugh conceals the sound of Hobi’s sniffles, and he’s intensely glad that he smells as happy as he feels- that you don’t open your eyes and see. He’s still breathing too heavily. Brain awash with happy hormones.

Hobi just successfully helped you through a wave of your heat, he didn’t fuck up, he didn’t do anything wrong-

Namjoon made sure of it, Namjoon made sure that Hobi had everything he needed, and you did too. He really is a good pack alpha. There is a lump in Hobi's throat that just won’t go away, even through his orgasm. even as he releases a bit more inside of you. Hobi's knotting is always a bit drawn out. You clench, milking him of as much spend as he has.

“Better than mine?” Namjoon teases.

You shake your head petulantly, you’re scent marking him everywhere, running your wrists clumsily over his sides, his shoulders, up his back. “Don’t wanna choose, want all.”

Jin huffs from across the nest. "We all know Tae has the best knot."

Jimin pops up from between Jungkook's thighs. Slick on his pudgy cheeks. "Hey! What about me!"

Namjoon strokes down Hobi's cheek, wiping away his tears. “We’ll give you all of them pup. Don’t you worry your pretty little fuzzy head at all.” Hobi has a feeling that the last sentence is more for him than for you. But you settle and huff. Really. You are close to sleep. Hobi is the one that finally made your fever quiet. Finally made it go down.

You smack your lips, “feel fuzzy, feel soft and good and full.” Hoseok is trying to reply, trying too. But behind him, Namjoon’s voice goes soft.

“And you want Hobi in your nest, right?”

Horror and terror fall on Hobi like a wave, almost making him drop, a swooping in his stomach so complete at the idea that you might- that you could-

Hoseok tries to pull back, pull away-

But your body goes firm, wrapping around him so quickly and pulling him to you with such a force. Offended by the very notion of what Namjoon insinuates. All but hissing at the pack alpha. One second Hoseok isn’t being hugged, and the next, your whole body- pussy and all, is clamping tight around him, holding around his neck.

“No! My alpha! Can't take him! Has to stay in the nest forever and ever and-"

“Shush I’m just teasing, no one’s going to take your Hobi from you.” Namjoon grins, but a look over his shoulder tells Hoseok that Namjoon wasn’t teasing, not at all.

Namjoon knows exactly how to settle the pack, exactly what they need and when. Hobi's body is completely relaxed now, completely at ease. No vague fear or anxiety in him. he'll have those words replaying in his head later, he knows he will.

My Alpha.

you'd snapped at the pack alpha for him, and you're still clutching him close, like hoseok is as vital to you as air. You want him. You want him in your nest. You want his scent. You want all of him, not just the parts that are convenient to use.

You settle, rubbing your head against Hobi's throat, like you want as much of his scent on you as possible. Still a little put out by it. A little angry at Namjoon. But your anger is just like Noodle's; more fluff than threat.

You do it again and again, scent marking Hobi until your breathing evens off. And you fall asleep like that, sandwiched under Hobi and Namjoon’s bodies. Hoseok between the two of you.

Hobi is a little too far gone looking down at you, a tear or two slipping out of his wet eyes. Namjoon guides him, hand in his hair. Pressing his nose into your scent gland and pinching at his scruff until Hobi's legs turn to jelly.

Hoseok sets his ear against your heart to hear it’s melody. the thump thump thump, and closes his eyes.

~-~

When you wake, the world is hazy.

Sensations bleed into each other neither real nor fake, the gauzy feeling of fresh flower petals, the sweetness of ice cream on your tongue, the dewy softness of a peach- your lover's skin plush beneath your teeth.

Each moment becomes another, each orgasm blending with the next until you’re not sure what day it is, whose fucking you, or who around you is asleep or awake. There's this pressure between your legs, a pressure that brings with it tingling pleasure and wetness.

There is hair on the inside of your thighs—no, not hair but someone's head. You blink awake among the sounds of sighs, slaps, and moans, making a soft noise in the back of your throat.

"Sorry pup, you started grinding against my thigh in your sleep."

You smack your lips together. Your body feels so good, so yummy. Yoongi pulls himself up from between your thighs, hands touching over your legs your stomach your everywhere. His chest is ruddy and sweaty, in just his boxers.

Everything brings a bone-deep pleasure, everything makes you feel soft and sleepy. The hungry roam of Yoongi's hands, possessive. The way he nuzzles into your throat, a little harder a little more aggressive than he usually would. Panting open-mouthed to breathe in your scent.

You're in heat. You can be forgiven for not noticing.

His eyes are dark pools when you look up at him. Pupils dilated. "I did?" Yoongi ducks low to kiss you, mouth salty and sweet, you sigh, still sleepy. Settling back into the nest. Yoongi's rubs over your side, needy, possessive. It's like his hands have a mind of their own.

"Mhmm, turned my pjs into a fucking state."

"Oh" you sigh, sort of out of it, already parting your legs, routine, all instinct. "Sorry."

Something gnaws at the back of your head, there is a glint in Yoongi's eyes that usually isn't there when he touches you. His heartbeat is rabbit-fast.

Huh.

Your lips smack together and you grind back against the hardness between his legs, the front of his boxers are soaked, and the fabric feels nice against your entrance. One of the others can probably deal with whatever that is. You have more important things to do. You are too small to handle whatever it is.

Yoongi gets his cock out, and tells you that you can close your eyes again if you want to. You can't really tell if he's fucking you awake or fucking you back to sleep but you do like it. Beneath you, Hobi slumbers. A warm body. You're still guarding him.

There are moments of lucidity, moments of clarity brought on by pain or pleasure. But the moments between the lucidity bleed into each other.

Beside you, Jin rides Tae’s cock with ruthless efficiency. Never one to be forced to present. His thighs move as he rides, straining. Jin is so big and strong looking and Tae lies below him still in her pretty pretty dress, torn at the waist from where Jungkook got a little too rough hours ago. You'll be upset about that later because you like that dress on her.

Tae has no right to look so good in her dresses with her cock out. Especially when she looks up at Jin, hand behind her head, settling back to let the pack omega take what he needs. Her fingers twine through the end of a leash almost lazily wrapping it over her knuckles and letting it go loose again. Jimin's collar at the other end of it, the other alpha diligently fucking Jungkook in a presenting position. The slap of skin on skin is an echoic melody.

You are close besides, close enough that if you really reached, you might be able to hold Tae's hand, or maybe Jinnie’s. You'd really really really like to hold Jin's hand.

But holding Hobi's is more important at the moment. Hobi slumbers beneath you. Yoongi must have been cuddling both of you. Must have been guarding both of you through sleep to make sure nothing disturbed you. Maybe you started grinding into Hobi first and Yoongi detangled you. You're glad he stopped you, Hobi's too sensitive, too puppy to do that kind of thing to without asking. Even inside of a heat.

Yoongi is a good mate, above you, he breathes heavily, chest straining.

His hair is sweaty and shaggy in his face, swaying as he works his cock into you so good you can hardly speak. Can hardly form a coherent thought.

But he pauses when he sees your tears at your waterline. He doesn't need to ask you what's wrong, you just tell him.

“I wish I was an octopus.”

“To hold everyone's hands?”

“Yes.” you sniffle, and Yoongi’s eyes furrow.

“Are you honestly crying because you can’t hold all of our hands right now? While I'm inside you?”

“No” you lie, pouting at being found out. Yoongi just takes both of your hands in his, locking your fingers together, and keeps fucking you. Harder this time, like he has something to prove. Something to distract you from.

Gone is the slow and gentle. Yoongi fucks forward into you like he needs you. Quick and efficient.

On the other side, Jimin is taking Jungkook apart under Namjoon’s watchful eye, fucking him hard and fast even though his knot is already half popped. The pack alpha has his thighs splayed, and Jungkook is kissing up and down his cock. He tries to take it in but even if he were to unhinge his jaw, it still would be too tight of a fit.

He sates his need to suck by licking up and down. Lapping at Namjoon's knot, the furrow of his head, it's veiny girth. All of it explored and kissed. Jungkook's eyebrows drawn together, looking angry. Ignoring Namjoon's chides of "gentle omega, gentle."  (He'll probably get a hole spanking if he's not careful, but maybe that's what Jungkook really wants.)

Hobi sleeps below you, his breath even and measured. Your face still resting on his chest. He's resting soundly even though the whole room is full of the sound of moans and pleasure, skin slapping against skin. You try and untangle one of your hands from yoongi's to stifle your own sound but.

But Yoongi doesn't let you. you squeak, loud, and Yoongi grins, fucking faster, competitive with it. Across the nest Jimin fucks Jungkook faster. Tae looks over at the two of you and grins. An alpha expression, bearing his teeth at the show of Yoongi's dominance.

Hoseok's upper lift lips in a soundless snarl. still completely asleep. He's the closest one to you and Yoongi. The first one who notices. close enough to scent it on the air.

The pheromones from the others are a haze on the hair, hot on the back of Yoongi’s tongue joining the taste of your slick. He’d cleaned you up after Hobi knotted you, the two of you cuddled and close and giggly, both pupish underneath the gently watchful eye of Namjoon, dolling out praise and sips of water and corners of chocolate in equal measure. you'd fallen asleep mostly, mostly accept for the way you'd ground back against him after Hobi had slipped out, soft. and you- still insatiable.

Now, it’s Yoongi’s turn again, and thank god for that. There has been this almost ticking in the back of his mind, not a fever spiking, not quite like that, more drops into a bucket of water that now threaten to overflow. Yoongi's body trembles. And he can't stop himself from sneaking a hand down between your legs.

He's already pretty worked up from eating you out while you slept, and you're close too. Even if he cums he can just play with your clit like this until he's ready and hard again. It's a good thing that Yoongi doesn't have a knot, that he doesn't have to wait really to fuck you as the others do. He can just keep going, can just ignore the discomfort of overstimulation to avoid a deeper discomfort.

Yoongi hates disappointing his mate.

So he works his cock back and forth, nudging little sleepy moans from your throat. Your body is boneless below him just how he likes it.

Your slick is so good, it calls to him like alcohol must call to a drunk, like cigarettes to a smoker. Neither drug nor addiction can describe it perfectly. Yoongi presses his thumb against your clit, and you gush around his cock. clawing at his hand blindly. Sensitive, so sensitive after being fucked for so long. But better for him, more. Yoongi wants more. Wants as much as you can give him.

more more more, more and more more. That's what Yoongi needs.

He guides it up to his tongue sweeter than honey, than ambrosia. It makes his mind quiet, and his instincts tug deeper and deeper until he's practically buried by them.

Yoongi’s mating mark is so sensitive he can hardly touch it without his cock jumping. Whatever it is, whatever this is he thinks it comes from there.

He holds your hands so that you’re not tempted to abuse your clit any longer. He’s so good in the way that he works his cock back and forth, just perfect, just right in the way that he knows the movements of your body, the feeling of you, hiding your face in the pillows because you're shy.

Yoongi is watching you. Yoongi is hardly even blinking.

“Oh, is my little sweetheart shy again?”

Yoongi is going to cum after this next thrust, he can feel this orgasm building, hot and bleeding down his back. Yoongi tries to thrust forward, and you let out a small squeal- a sound of pain.

Every alpha in the room jerks hard.

Even Jin and Jungkook. Everyone, eyes directed to you and Yoongi. Hobi's body all but flinches, lifting his head up. Starting even though he's only half awake.

No sooner has Yoongi registered that and started (in both equal panic and dismay) Does the pain and discomfort erupt from between his legs. Something very very hot and sensitive there, something stretching him so so tight.

“Ow ow ow ow ow what the fuck- what the actual fuck”

It feels like denial, like his approaching orgasm has disappeared replaced with a feeling like he's burning. A pressure and an ache so firm that it feels like he’s bursting from the inside out. Pleasure unfulfilled, orgasm right there but impossibly out of reach.

Yoongi's hands cover his cock, wet with your spend, but even that almost feels like too much.

It's a bit comical. How quick the pack panics.

Namjoon is up on his feet faster than anyone can blink, cock flailing a little. Even Jimin pulls out of Jungkook, as gently as he can but still apologizes, "Sorry, Koo sorry sorry-"

You're still not too sure exactly what happened only that you can feel a bit of an ache in you, not like you're torn but- Sort of how it felt when Jimin dragged his knot in and out of your cunt earlier, back when it was half popped.

Your scents shift from sweet and happy to scared and in pain. The scent of panic is all but a collar around your packmate's necks. Pulling them closer. Making them forget about the pleasure hanging hot and heavy in the air. All needs are superseded by two packmates in pain.

The worst is Yoongi, gone is the chocolate sweetness. His happy pleasure-ridden scent. Now sour with fear and pain.

Namjoon stands, jerks, and slips in the nest after stepping on a slippery waterproof blanket, he falls flat on his ass. He's up before anyone can say anything before anyone can get to Yoongi.

The pack descended, sudden shouting, raised voices, half-nude bodies up and moving when they should be resting. Tae has you, drags you close, searching between your legs for blood, thankfully finding none, when her fingers come away.

Unfortunately- pinches and accidents happen but she’s eternally glad that you haven’t- her breath comes out short- that you're not torn.

If it didn't happen with Namjoon, then why did it happen with Yoongi?

You look over at where Yoongi’s crouched, cursing dully. “Mate? Broke mate?” You mumble, upset. You cling to Tae's front, crying, big tears dripping down your cheeks. Trembling.

“It’s okay pup shh shhh.”

Yoongi swats at Namjoon still holding his cock, big hands covering all of it gingerly. Hissing through his teeth. “fucking hell Joon- just give me a goddamn second.” But Namjoon’s hand is on Yoongi’s wrist between his thigh, pulls his hand away gently.

“Let me see let me see- Yoon, I am a doctor; I promise you it’s nothing I haven't seen before- Just-"

Yoongi whimpers and pulls his hand away from the bulge at the base of his cock.

Namjoon pauses, blinking. Face to face with it. And he realizes, no, he actually has never seen this before. Namjoon’s eyebrows all but disappear into the atmosphere.

"What the fuck?"

Only some truly devastating circumstances can bring an in heat omega into lucidity. You come back to yourself. "What's wrong? what's wrong with my mate?"

The rest of the pack stare dumbly. Ringing your mate just staring. Unsure what to do.

Because Yoongi, Beta Min Yoongi- your mate- full-blooded beta-

Has just popped a knot.

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Notes:

namjoon at the very begining of bily does say that he wants to spoil the m/c, it's in his internal monolouge but now she is substantially spoiled. and he is a happy little alpha about it.

taetae is sucking so much, poor little pup is gonna lactate the second her heat is through 🥺 what a mean mommy for turning her pup milky, what do we think? do we want the change to be permanent?

namjoon: baby i am /tired, mc: you motherfucker, making me do all the work- (she's such a bratt i love her)

very vauge implied human furnature hobi? why am i kinda a little weirdly into hobi being a very very obedient sub. he's such a good boy hold the tray so well! i love the idea of him getting praised for very simple things and getting hard over it. maybe i am...not as submissive as i thought.

when hobi is fucking the m/c i struggled alot with seeing if like- i wanted it to be soft or horny. but i truly think namjoon just realized that hobi needed to be in puppy space for it and also that the m/c needed to hear that hobi wanted her after him kinda...avoiding her for the first part of her heat. namjoon is aware that the m/c does not know that hobi's place in the heats and that he's slightly less active than the rest of them because of his trauma.

yoongi *suffering the effects of slick intoxication* m/c: i am just a baby,

The pack has been fucking most of the night away, it’s hard to tell exactly what time it is. It’s either very late or incredibly early and Hoseok still hasn’t been asked, still hasn't shuffled over to where you lay in the nest. There has been no pretty begging or expectant encouraging glances.

He’s not- he’s not bratty the way that the others are. He won’t insert himself where he’s not asked for. You are so overwhelmed- it’s hard for you to ask. The heat makes your brain feel like a bowl of scrambled eggs.

Hoseok doesn’t mind being helpful. Usually, that's how Hobi prefers to serve the pack during heats. He's always ready to rub away overstimulated tears or hold a fussy omega around the waist through their knotting. Or snake a hand down between Jin or Jungkook’s thighs for a settling hold around their cock.

It’s a lot for omega’s, Hoseok knows that. He’s ready when the other alpha’s run empty and tired, for when the omega’s are fucked pliant and ready for a cuddle.

Jin in particular is very very fond of cuddling after he’s been knotted and Hobi- as the alpha with the gentlest scent is usually in high demand and short supply. Especially this heat with yoongi mostly indisposed when Jin wants his snuggling and Jungkook Mia.

The other omega is not in the right place to help in any way, hopping from dick to dick non-proverbially. He takes Namjoon and then Tae and then goes back to Namjoon again. Hobi after- in the intermediate. When he needs to be fucked gently. His hole is a bit too tender to take cocks of unimaginable size.

You slumber after your first knot. fucked right off into sleep after tae has you. Sleeping soundly through the first night.

Hoseok knows he’s needed. Knows it in his blood even if his insecure mind is a little harder to cajole into understanding. Hoseok likes fucking gentle, in and out of rut, in and out of heat. Like Yoongi, slow grinds and thrusts that don’t end, a simmer where the others are a rolling boil. Gentling the comedown.

It's just not in his nature, especially not in heat.

There is a small corner of him, a small part that may never heal, that always gets a little nervous during heats. A little scared. The pack is so mindful of it that if Hobi thinks about it too much he gets a lump in his throat.

Yoongi sticks to your side like glue when he’s not too tired to hold his head up. But he does look across the nest, searching for Hobi's eyes, checking in with him. Waiting for his slow blink back, like one cat to another.

But this heat is not the same. Not at all. Because you are here, in the nest, feet away, inches away even. You set his instincts on edge, the protectiveness in him a hum like a bumblebee that's found its honey.

Hobi would feel unwanted in any other scenario. He had felt unwanted at the beginning when he was still settling into his place in the hierarchy and equated being at the bottom with being the least necessary.

He’d tried to be brave about it, had let the shame and humiliation of feeling lesser burn through him until finally- after weeks and months of feeling that way he’d confided in them.

Alone in the nest with just the omegas, just Jin and Jungkook, in an apartment building months and miles away from where you are now. Luxuriating in the aftermath of Jin’s most recent cycle. The afterheat a honey hum on the back of their throats. The omega looked glowing and satisfied but tired in the nest, freshly laundered around them.

And Hoseok had tried to get up, tried to get out of the nest to go get Jin some water to replace the various liquids he’d lost only to have Jungkook’s hands grip him tight around the waist and pull him back in.

“Do you need an alpha? I can go get them?” But Jungkook and Jin had shaken their heads, everyone else had been allowed to leave the heat nest finally.

But Hoseok wasn't.

Jin and Jungkook had shared a complicated glance. "Guard the nest for us?" Jungkook had offered and left Hoseok feeling very aware of the fact that that wasn't the reason why they asked him to stay.

Usually, alpha's clamor and fight and bicker to see who can breed an in-heat omega first. But Hoseok had stayed back, had stayed at the edge of the nest through Jin's heat again. Even when he'd asked.

Jin's omega tries not to take that as rejection but it's hard.

It's a bit jarring for Hobi too. Before- in his other pack (Moonbyul's pack) he'd been kicked out of the nest whenever he wasn't wanted. And now he's kept in the nest, not allowed to leave, treasured in it.

Hoseok doesn't know how to handle it. He squirmed. Uncomfortable with feeling wanted.

“Do you need something to eat too? Another towel? Another knot? I’ll get Namjoon I’ll-” Jin’s whines had been petulant and grating. Jungkook’s fluffy head, curly from the shower.

“No Hyung, just want you.”

“But why?”

Hoseok had finally put his worries to rest. Long talks in the nest at first felt scary to him. But once the novelty of being in an omega's nest faded everything lost its edge, and after a good long while so did the fear to grow dull in his chest. A knife no longer used, a sword left to rust and dull.

It helped that Jin had done it all while scenting him, rubbing their wrists together until his skin went raw, rubbed his chin over the top of Hobi's head so aggressively that his skin went chapped. Both of them explained.

“Fucking the others makes the heat feel hotter.”

“Especially Namjoon- makes me feel fucking rabid or something. Hurts after a while. Even if I want it. It's uncomfortable after the fact.”

Jin had nodded agreeing, “It feels very overstimulating, too intense. Too much, but you never feel too intense. It’s like- you know the feeling when you’re sick but someone hands you soup, and you go ‘Oh this is what I’ve needed?' And it makes you feel sleepy and warm instead of feverish and tired? That’s the difference.”

Jungkook had leaned over Hobi, head resting on his chest bitten up, cuddling into Hobi's body like Hobi was a place of refuge and not an empty vessel for their whims. Lump in his throat as he watches the two omegas tease each other.

“Only you would find a way to equate sex to soup.” Jin had pushed at his face, playful. He and Jungkook always get so playful. It's endearing.

“Hobi knows that I meant!”

They'd giggled and fought over top of him, and Hoseok had sat back and thought for a good long while.

"Is that how it is all the time? Is that how you love me all the time?" The lump in his throat made the words quiet. Jungkook's muscles bulge as he leans and watches, smiling, a little sleepy, eyes closing as he does it. "Do I make you feel warm?"

"Like sunshine."

"Like soup."

Hobi has grown up a lot since then, they’ve shared a dozen heat and ruts together, enough to get a routine going, enough to have a rhythm. 7 heartbeats and one goal.

But now there are 8 heartbeats and 8 packmates in the nest. Now, things are different.

Maybe it’s not the way every alpha would want to be wanted, but when Hobi thinks about it now- he still gets choked up. He’s usually the one they reach for after being knotted when they’re close to sleep when they need that final push to make the heat fever quiet. Hoseok is the whipped cream on top of the ice cream cake, the cherry on top. The best bite that you save for last.

Hobi knows this, that the pack often gives him a wide berth during heats because they want to save him for when they need him. Letting him adjust and come to them on his own terms, through his own choice. Only Jungkook ever gets truly demanding and forgets to ask for that yes. And by that point- Hobi is usually rattled enough by their hormones to toss away his fear and cave to his own instincts.

But that is not how your heat goes.

Unlike other heats. Hobi is distracted from the get-go, inattentive in his usual role of bringing up the rear. Hoseok has never had to force down his instincts like this before. Has never had them come out like this. His wolf pacing back and forth the confines of his head, all but clawing at his chest to get out.

It’s clear that the rest of the pack is feeling it too. The alpha's snarls and snaps. Yoongi's head is practically buried in the back of your neck. Tae had told Jimin off for teething at your neck for too long, turning the skin too red, too tender so soon. Namjoon has had to stop Jungkook and Jin from clawing their way over to you.

Jungkook's earlier snapping is all but forgotten now, settled with the pack alpha's cock inside of him, distracted.

The scent of your slick on the air is messing with everyone’s head.

No sooner has he been dragged away to help hold Jungkook through his knotting- one of many brutal bouts the pack alpha will put his omega’s through over the next 3ish days. No sooner is he a few feet away from you than the pull starts. Hoseok feels that ceaseless tug, telling him to look, like a magnet.

Jungkook tends to pass out a little when Namjoon fucks him. Needs someone to hold him, keep him steady, and wake him back up. No sooner has he combed Jungkook’s hair away from his sweaty face, than is his gaze immediately drawn to where you are covered by two of your alphas.

Who even needs blankets when you have Tae and Jimin draped over you like that? Your face is all that Hoseok can see, your cheek smushed against one of your stuffed animals. The one that is shaped sort of like an ugly frog. One of the ones you made Hobi scent during your nest making.

He thinks one of their knots is inside you at the moment. tae's dress is hiked up and Jimin is more laying ontop of both of you than spooning you. it's cute. like a big puppy thats convinced himself he's a lap dog. They Keep you warm and snug and safe through the night. Hoseok measures your breaths himself because Yoongi is wrapped up in Jin at the moment.

Yoongi takes a second while his mate is asleep to be with his first love. Sharing kisses and quiet words and sloppy mutual movements. Yoongi’s lips against Jin’s sweaty cheeks.

“Fuck, Namjoon always comes so much, I forgot how it feels to fuck you after he’s-” Namjoon grins and doesn't say anything, staring at jin and yoongi across the nest. looking a bit too satisfied for his own good. He fucks into Jungkook harder and the omega squeals. Hobi covers his mouth with a hand to quiet him and keep him from waking you three.

Contrary to popular belief, it’s actually the alphas that struggle to sleep through your heat, a good thick knot has Jin, you, and Jungkook going right off. It's getting Jungkook and Jin to sleep for good that's harder. They doze and wake every hour or so whenever the need to knot overcomes them.

But Jimin and Tae are fitful, Hoseok doesn't even feel the least bit tired and Namjoon shows no sign of exhaustion.

With instincts on edge and so many vulnerable packmates sleeping, the instinct to guard and help and keep safe sings with the sight of the rising moon, silvery and full through the window.

Darkness means danger. Nightime even more so. The alphas must stay awake, must guard the nest, and keep their packmates vulnerable bodies safe from anyone who might come near.

Namjoon's eyes flash in the darkness, hand on Jungkook's hip keeping the omega in place as he fucks him.

Hoseok loves the visible difference between the two of them. Jungkook's small cock is barely a handful or a cute little mouthful next to Namjoon's monster, fitting into Jungkook's hole easier now that his muscles are relaxed, but big enough that it's still startling. the size difference between them palpable. Jungkook might be muscley, but Namjoon is strong and stout where it matters.

Hoseok looks back at you, swallowing hard.  He saw you take Namjoon's cock back during his rut, but he was trying not to watch last time, trying not to get turned on by it. Now- now it's different.

His hand slides off Jungkook’s mouth, down to his chin, and the omega lets out another dry sob.

But you do stir, Tae lifts her pretty ruffled head from the nest and narrows her eyes through the darkness. Hoseok sees her move and hears your sleepy trill of displeasure as where you’re connected pulls.

Someone left the hallway light on, and it spills across the nest in a single shard light of yellow. Soon someone will get up to shut it off after the sun rises. A distant hour away. It cuts across your body, illuminating you in bright chiaroscuro.

He’s so focused on you and Jimin, the alpha waking too and leaning low, double checking if you want to go back to sleep or if you need more, that he misses the moment when Namjoon pushes his knot all the way in and thus the full body shiver that Jungkook lets out.

The same full-body shiver that he usually likes to be scented through. Jungkook says it takes the edge off.

Namjoon nuzzles forward, filling the spot where hobi's fussing should be. Closing Jungkook’s slack mouth with a nudge of his nose against the omega's jaw. The omega lets out a little ‘hng’ noise.  And Hobi looks back.

He ducks low a beat too late, nuzzling into the side of his face, “did so well. Took alpha’s knot so well.” The praise is routine, falls from his lips almost perfunctory, but Jungkook still hiccups through it, jerking with every pulse of Namjoon’s knot and mewling softly through the praise. Abdominal muscles tremble from the feeling of being filled. his orgasm So good that Jungkook's tongue lolls out. Eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Good omega, does alpha knocking you up feel good in your sensitive little hole? Want more?”

Jungkook shakes his head, but Namjoon still grinds in deeper, pressing so deep inside him that Jungkook’s abdominal muscles strain and stretch. It’s not quite as much of a visible belly bulge that you have but it’s enough to make Hoseok feel his own grip on his lucidity strain.

But it’s only temporary. Hoseok looks back over at you.

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows at his packmate, hand on Hobi's squeezing in understanding. He rubs his chin over the top of Hoseok’s head, scent marking him, trying to soothe the edge of his scent a little surprised, a little bit nervous.

But understanding what is the question. The reason escapes Hobi- why he can’t seem to concentrate on anything when you’re awake and can’t seem to tear his eyes away when you sleep. Guarding your sleeping, like there is anything that could ever happen to you here in this room.

Hoseok wouldn't let it, Hoseok won't let anything happen to you. He doesn't need to sleep right? He doesn't need it. It can wait until after.

Hobi lets go of Jungkook’s mouth, lets him moan and squeals as Namjoon’s hand meanly snakes down between his thighs. Grabbing the little head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger and rubbing.

Jungkook can’t even squirm, can’t even do anything but half flinch, legs coming up to his chest, open and exposed. Little gushes of clear omegan spend dribbling across Namjoon’s fingers hot and sweet. Turning Jungkook's abs dewy.

"There you go sweething, make a mess for alpha, that's it Koo. Give it to me."

Hoseok watches Jimin move, his body lithe and toned, honeyed skin stretching in the light of pre-dawn, the shaft of light cutting across his shoulders.

Jimin settles between your legs as Tae holds them open, revealing where you're stretched open around her cock. Jimin's own cock heavy but only half hard between his legs, the lump in his black boxer shorts telling.

You are hazy and not all there. Sleepy after being knotted so thoroughly that you turned the blankets under you a darker shade of gray. The same blankets that Hobi tugged from underneath your form softly and placed in the hall where a big pile of them had already built up. Laundry to be done after this is all over. Slick soaked and cum stained.

Hoseok can still smell you a little, on his hands. Jungkook can too- nuzzling into them, a little feral. But Omega's often seek out each other's slick in heat, for comfort.

A look between your lets says you’re similarly filthy. While before they’d wanted to let you sleep, now Jimin’s eyes are bright in the half-darkness, focused between your legs.

The inside of your thighs has gone milky, a bit of cum dripping out of your stretched hole, and even Tae's sizable knot fails to keep it all in. Painting your clit all creamy and pink. Absolutely ruined, absolutely bred by heat standards. They'll be able to smell it on you for days after.

Maybe if Hoseok shuffles over, you'll let him sniff at your belly, check, and see if it took. If you're bred already. If you're not, then they should-

Hoseok blinks away the haze. Trying too- but it's so hard.

Your stomach has not started to swell- and probably won’t until Namjoon’s had you. But you’ve been smacking dab between Jimin and Tae for the last few hours, alternating from soulmate to soulmate. Tae had fucked you, then Jimin, then Tae again. They've given you enough that the loss of a little cum in your cunt will not hurt your omegan instincts or make the heat fever spike higher.

Tae's still knotted to you, and it shows no sign of going down, still tugging at your entrance, turning it taught. Hobi watches as Tae says something to Jimin and Jimin blushes. but Tae puts her hands on your thighs, hooking under your knees and spreading you.

You're settled on top of her chest, head lying between her breasts. Swelling and bitten looking.

That's from you. You'd bitten her up like that. Hobi had watched you do it. You’d gotten a little mouthy, a little squeaky. And Tae had sated your oral fixation in the only way she knew how:

You might be a bit obsessed with her chest, with marking the differences from the beginning of her transition till now. They're a little bigger, a little more fluffy against your face when you nuzzle. Kissing and sucking and rubbing your cheeks there because you love them. Hiding your face from the world between them when things get too overwhelming.

You like it, how warm they feel around you, on either side of your cheeks, how you can feel the thud of her heartbeat against your face. She's so soft. She's so pretty. You tell her that whenever you can untangle your thoughts enough to speak.

(Hoseok had knotted Jungkook the second he realized that you where worshiping them. or maybe it was just how mouthy Tae got that riled him up and made him knot early.)

It had been a pretty picture; your head balanced in the crook of Tae's arm, legs splayed and Jimin between them fucking you brutally back and forth on his cock, your head and body stationary while Tae touched your cheek, finger, and thumb pushing at them, stroking over your jaw. Her soft croon delicate and filthy.

“There you go baby, just wanted to suck huh? Just needed something in that little cute mouth of yours while Jiminie fucks you up huh? Are you feeling good baby? My cute little pup is so needy for a taste. Little hungry thing, what are we to do with you- What are you gonna do when Minnie puts a pup in your cunnie and you start to get milky huh? Are you gonna let Mommy have a taste of you then? How about here?”

Tae's wandering hands and the swell of her against the roof of your mouth had soothed you through your knotting. As had her fingers rubbing between your legs at that sensitive button that she loves to tug at, in time with her soulmate tugging his knot into your hole and back out again, half popped.

Jimin is always always mean with it, letting you feel the spot where he stretches you, pulling it back and forth over your sweet spot.

And then when you’d bitten Tae at the feeling. She had proceeded to open your legs, dispensing slap after slap, wet and echoic over where you were most sensitive.

“Bad puppy, no biting.”

Hoseok's ears had perked up at that. His attention straying. Puppy? Is she talking to him?

She’d spanked your pussy until you were swollen and red there until your clit was gushing around her fingers. Until you were sobbing against her chest telling her that you were sorry. Clinging around her waist, open face gazing up at her in horrified adoration. Begging for forgiveness. Kicking a little every time she brought her hand down.

“Sorry for doing what?”

“Sorry for biting mommy.” You’d sobbed. Trying to close your legs but unable to with how Jimin kept them open. Hole filled and clit on display. A toy under Tae's fingers. Your brain is a mess of mommy minnie, minnie mommy mommy.

"No no no honey, you'll hold yourself open like a good pup and let Minnie see, you know alpha likes to watch you. What? You don't want him to see how you like getting your cunny spanked? That even though you cry and squirm you really like it? He can feel you clench baby girl, I'm pretty sure he knows you like it when mommy's mean."

Tae guideed your hands and makes you show Jimin above you with your fingers. Made you hold open your pussy so he can look at your clit and hole. Showing him.

"Tell him, tell him how much you like it, tell him how much you like it when I hit this little spot." Tae punctuated it with another slap and your whole body shudderd

Jimin had grins and keeps working his knot inside your hole, puffy now, close to popping too big that he won't be able to take it out anymore. Jimin is good at knowing where that line is. He won't risk popping a knot outside of you. It's a painful possibility, one that would physically hurt Jimin, and mentally hurt you.

Sometimes, if they've really been bad, jin and namjoon make the alpha's pop a knot outside of an omega, just to make them panic, just to make them promise to be good later.

You tried very very hard to be good. but...tae and jimin had fucked you a little dumb. a little shy. so shy you could hardly look at them. "I like it when mommy's mean when she spanks my… my- "

"Your what pup?" tae's palm hits your clit hard enough to sting.

"My cunnie." you gasp.

It's humiliating, that she makes you say that, but it makes you drip and gush. She makes you beg for it, makes you beg for more until you're squirting just a little from every new spank. A few drops hit her fingers and Jimin’s cock, dripping and clenching hopelessly around him.

The pads of her fingers pause to rub your clit just a little, rubbing up and down in small movements and you're right there, right on the edge of Cumming. Only then does she pull back and tap it again.

She goes like that, again and again until you fall limp, not even twitching at every new hit, cheeks wet, eyes empty except for a few crocodile tears. Hands opening and closing rapidly- like you need to hold onto something but can't choose what. Your alpha's hands are too occupied taking you apart.

This is why Hoseok had gotten you that stuffed animal in the first place, to give you something to hug to your chest. Feeling a little broody maybe.

He kind of wishes he'd chosen a bunny or a bear or just a regular cushion. The weird frog stuffed animal…it sort of feels like it's watching all of them and judging.

And it had soothed you, soothed you to hold onto something plush and soft and gentle while the endless ups and downs of a heatwave tore through you. All of you that is anxious and scared turned small and blank by Tae's touch. Fucked dumb by both of them, until Tae has to hold your head up. Fucked so good you can't even reply when Tae tells you to kiss Minnie, to lick into his mouth, lapping a little, cute puppyish licks that she coos at.

"Now kiss Hobi, tell puppy thank you."

Your eyes had not focused on Hoseok, licking into his mouth, bent, sloppy. A kiss that tugged heat at his gut. "Tank' you puppy."

Tae doesn't stop once you're small and quiet- quite the opposite in fact. She tries to find new ways to make you react, pinching your clit back and forth, cooing at how puffy it feels between her fingers. Guiding Minnie to suck at your chest once he's knotted. The attention is too much, too much everywhere as Tae continues to tug between your legs, playing with you. too much until you really do pass out.

Tae is feeling a little guilty about that now. Pushing you so far, pushing you maybe to your breaking point. You're not sure what would have happened if she'd kept going, you show no hint of safe wording, not even a little. Although you'd squirmed and cried, you'd never told her to stop.

She had rewarded you with a gentle fuck, let you sleep without pulling out, knot hardly flagging. Now, Jimin murmurs something, something that sounds like 'hole check' and 'Jinnie will be angry if we don't-’ Tae holds you open while you hold the stuffed animal to your chest. For comfort. Because you need something to hold onto.

Your pussy looks…already a little swollen. Clit a puffy nudge. Glossy. But at least your hole stretched around Tae's knot doesn't look too red yet.

There are hickey marks up your thighs. Left there when Jimin just hadn’t been able to resist getting a little nibbly. Jimin often engages in sensory-seeking behaviors during ruts and heats. Nibbling, dragging his kiss across the same spot several times, repetitively rubbing like he's warming up his hands against the pack's prone bodies.

Jimin looks strong and lean. Shuffling forward between your legs, every one of his muscles poised and ready, looking thick and compact and very alpha.

If Hobi had ears, they’d be cocked in your direction.

Jimin won’t be ready for another round soon, but that doesn’t mean that your pleasure is over. Hoseok watches as he ducks in and says something to your ear, watching as Jimin plants kiss after kiss on your prone body. Crouches over you, slowly kissing down your midline.

Jimin gently parts your legs, and Tae holds you under your tights. “Don’t you want to show Jiminie where you’re messy pup? Tell me, baby, does she look all pretty stuck on my knot? Mommy’s sorry for earlier. Minnie will kiss it better.”

"Kiss it better? My puphole?" Your voice sounds wobbly, unsure. Tae grins down at Jimin as if to say, see- I told you I could get her to use the word.

"Yes baby, Minnie’s kisses are very very nice, I think they'll make you feel very very good. Can he pup?"

Jimin pets over your stomach, and you stare down at him, wide-eyed, as he touches your sensitive tummy. Alarmed, instincts are a bit too sensitive to be touched there. Across the nest asleep. Jin's upper lip lifts in a soundless hiss.

You settle back against Tae's test deliberating. "If mommy wants Minnie to kiss pup there then I guess…" You trail off, peeking at Jimin. Blushing and looking away. Shy. Omegaspace has never looked more filthy- and Hobi cannot tear his eyes away.

"What a good little pup, leaving it up to me, what are we to do with you huh? what did we do to deserve such an obedient little pup." You giggle, pushing Tae's face away with a slack hand as she kisses your cheek, your forehead, your nose.

Jimin presses a hand to your stomach, smiling down at the two of you, “So pretty puppy, mommy’s nocking you up huh, all deep in your tummy here right?”

You mewl and whine, squirming in your embarrassment as Jimin brushes his knuckles from between your legs to your belly button and back again. Searching for the spot where you both meet, where you're stretched and stuck on her knot still. Tae groans. Knot pulsing as you clench and Jimin's fingers circle where you're stretched. Coming away glossy.

“Cute little omega, bred so well that you can’t even think straight.”

The world spins, going hazy at the edges. Jimin guides your legs over his shoulders gently. Testing your body for the strain. Moving you slowly. Your fingers tangle in Jimin’s hair after Tae guides them there. Giving you something to hold onto.

Jimin likes it when his hair gets pulled.

Jimin shuffles between your legs, you don't immediately realize what he's doing, your mind fluttering away from the moment. Settling into that soft safe hazy place where your brain is a mess of mommy knot Minnie mommy knot Minnie want kisses.

But then he puts his lips around your clit. So sensitive, made puffy from your spanking and sucks, cheeks going hollow.

You yelp and try and close your legs, it's too much, every nerve ending on fire, so much it burns. Jimin doesn't listen to your squirming or squeaking holding your legs a bit harder as he sucks. lips moving, mouthing at it.

You let out small squeaks and gasps as Jimin works. Cleaning you efficiently. not letting a drop go to waste.

Jimin clearly doesn’t think it’s gross to clean his packmate's cum from your cunt. Loud slurps and small hums. Your chest heaves, breasts bobbing. Someone (probably Jimin) has left pretty bruises down them, your skin glossy and glowing from the attention.

This is what the heat fever demands. What you need.

“Minnie- Minnie-” Your open begging does little to stop Jimin only spurs him on, hooking his fingers into your cunt, trying to part you a little further around Tae's knot and lapping noisy and feral at what slips out.

She breathes through her teeth as Jimin’s tongue switches from you to her. Back and forth like he can't figure out who he wants to lick more. Until you’re breathing so heavily that Hobi thinks you might pass out.

Your head lols against Tae's shoulder, and the other alpha leans in and sucks at your throat. You look like you're being devoured by them. Tae's hands skim up and down your stomach, then to your chest, pinching. Teasing.

Hoseok feels a stirring in his gut, knot pulsing too hard for someone who’s already knotted twice in the last 24 hours. He gave Jin and Jungkook one each, but he’s never been unoccupied during one of your heat spikes. Hoseok’s cock twitches as he watches. He’s never liked watching quite so much. Maybe it’s just because it’s you.

Hobi might find it a bit too pornographic, the way that Jimin's lips go glossy from cum when he sits up a little. Readjusting now that he's hard between his legs. Licking them and smacking them before he dives back in.

Nectar, that’s the only word for your slick that comes to mind when Jimin presses his petal-like lips between your legs, kissing you until you jerk, until his brain has gone truly quiet. Your pussy tastes like the sensory equivalent of a warm bath. Another one of Jimin’s safe foods.

There’s something taboo about it too; taking the other alpha’s cum and cleaning it from you. Taking it from your hole into his mouth and swallows.  Warm and intoxicating and salt-sweet. You taste like them, like pleasure and pack. Jimin likes the way it makes him feel, warm and full and good. Usually, only omega’s get alpha cum so deep in their tummy- but Jimin is special. Jimin is a good alpha, so he gets it too, Jimin is-

Jimin cleans up everything, going slow and meticulous. Lapping up the slick and cum on the inside of your thighs, the cleft between your pussy and your leg, the warmth of your heat slit turning it all syrupy.

Any other time it would be a little gross. But Hoseok’s knot continues to pulsate half-popped between his thighs, near enough to Jungkook’s head that the omega’ can smell it, turning to nose between his legs, sniffing hard. Curious and still sort of crying.

Namjoon grabs Hobi's chin and makes him look at him. The pack alpha raises a knowing eyebrow, then taps his chin with two fingers as if to say, ‘Go on, what are you waiting for?’

But Hoseok doesn’t. Can't. Shaking his head and tucking his chin down, still too nervous for now.

(But not for long)

Hobi's fingers hover on Jungkook’s face, and the omega sucks his thumb inside, needing something to suck. Needing his packmate's skin on this tongue. Jungkook's tongue rolls against it, and Hobi wonders if that's how Jimin's tongue feels, warm and wet and hungry.

Your packmates have done well- you’re so full you don’t even fuss at the little bit slipping out. Jimin’s tongue is long and lolls out like a puppy, lapping both at Tae's cock, a familiar velvet, and your cunt, wet and sweet.

Jimin gets more and more aggressive about it as your slick works him up. Body reacting to it double time. Hips jutting forward grinding into the nest. So worked up from it that Tae pets through his hair and tells him to calm down.  

When she lifts his head, his pupils are blown wide, Tae growls, teeth looking sharp, “Good puppy? Got your treat?” she teases. You hold your hands to your chest, breathing heavily, looking dazed. Before her hands push him back down.

It doesn't take much with Tae's knot snug against your G-spot, just Jimin pressing, forcing a finger in, spreading you a little wider while he laps at your slick center, open-mouthed and flat passes of his tongue has you coming undone.

Tae hisses, knot half deflated and pushed out when you clench at the brush of Jimin’s teeth over your clit, sensitive, so sensitive that even a little kiss feels like fire. You cum and squirt, your packmates holding you through it.

He’s offered a whole new decadence for truly cleaning you up as a bit of cum (Tae's or Yoongi’s or his own- does it really matter?) Dribbles out in a small trail of white. The plop of it faint.

Jimin scrambles to lick it up, kisses and licks into your puffy hole, gasping a little, quickly devouring what’s slipped out and then searching for more inside. Bypassing Tae's cock and knot entirely (which is a first, there's little that Jimin likes more than taking his soulmate into his mouth, taking all of Tae down his throat). But he's quickly lost to the taste of your slick and a bit intoxicated by it.

His tongue strains and stretches, Licking so deep that you scrabble, trying to push. But Tae holds you steady, her cock limp and pretty pink against her thigh. Until you go slack again, completely at their mercy.

It takes Jimin a few minutes to finish, by the time he's done you're hiccupping against Tae's throat. But finally, after some squirming, Jimin lets you close your trembling thighs.

When Tae pulls Jimin up by the hair, he's equally as gone, sharp teeth on display, growling and half purring, his tongue is lolling out, cum pooling there. He shows her, mouth open wide.

She strokes over it once, twice, examining it before she tells him to swallow.

He does and opens his mouth to show Tae again. his pink tongue clear of milky spend and glossy syrup thick slick.

"Good puppy." She praises. Eyes glancing up to meet Hobi's, grinning at him. has she known he was watching the whole time?

Hoseok bites back a whine and looks away.

~-~

Hobi is having a hard time looking away from you, especially once Jungkook falls asleep and Namjoon rouses.

The pack alpha hasn’t slept a wink, but you’d never know it from the way that his bright eyes focus on you, his single-minded attention on the omega across the nest. Not sleeping, not really, not yet.

Jimin and Tae are on either side of you, not sandwiched you in like before. Both of them worn and tuckered out. Every few moments your body gives a cute puppy twitch, hands reaching out and sinking to the nest. Sleepily grasping for something you know you want but you can't quite wake up enough to ask for. Your heat fever leaves you sleepy and inarticulate.

A petulant whine builds in your throat, just barely, blinking awake, and Namjoon is already moving, pulling his cock from Jungkook’s hole with surprising gentility.

The charcuterie board that Yoongi got, full of plums and figs and cut persimmons and squares of chocolate gets jostled. In a few hours, someone will wake up with melted chocolate on them. It's going to happen; you can't avoid it.

Jungkook slumbers on, smacking his lips. Truly asleep. Fucked to bed just like he likes. Not even the lack of a knot could wake him. Yoongi and Jin are similarly sleeping a few pillows away. Jin's curled up with his head resting against Yoongi's chest, the beta's breath deep and even. Like he's trying to drink down as much of your pheromones in the air as he can.

Who knows, maybe he likes it, maybe Yoongi's body needs your slick on the air, needs it like water.

A deep growl, a pleased sound builds in Namjoon’s throat, primal. Your alpha letting you know he’s there. You blink up at him as he shuffles over. After a second, Hobi's creaky body moves. Shuffling over to help. To hold, to take his usual place at Namjoon’s side.

A whine builds in Hobi's throat too, but he bites it back and doesn’t let it slip out.

Namjoon does not show any evidence of the strain, cock hanging heavy, looking impossibly big and hard as he kneels in the nest completely nude, bending over where you whine, shoulders rippling. Flipping you over onto your tummy with a short chirp. A sound that is music to Hobi’s ears, leaves them ringing a little as he watches.

The part of you that is still there, that is still somewhat cognizant. Is a little intimidated at the sight of Namjoon’s cock, hanging heavy between his thighs. So big that it makes you ache already. You squirm away kicking at his thigh. An imitation of alpha rough housing, of your earlier fight to run away.

But Namjoon is just as instinct-driven as you are, chuckling deep and pulling you back by your ankles. Away and out from between Jimin and Tae, both of them stir and start to wake.

His growled out order of “present” is not something that you struggle to obey, head going hazy. Instincts going obedient.

But he doesn’t let you move on your own, puppeting your body until your hands and knees are under you. You’re sleepy, almost unable to stay up. Namjoon looks down at you fond, but unyielding. His hands move with a hidden sureness. A hidden firmness.

You will take the pack alpha's cock in heat, no matter its size, no matter your comparative smallness. No matter how daunting the task might be.

Namjoon will make it fit if he has to.

He parts between your legs, looking down and humming, fingers checking, making sure you’re open enough, plunging two fingers into you, then three, and stroking. Your spine arches, you moan, and Namjoon hums, pleased.

Jimin made you clean but your pussy lips are still puffy from all the hormones and attention. Jimin grins from where he and Tae stretch out, saying something softly to each other and sharing a gentle kiss. They like to watch, stretched out, half propped up on pillows.

Hoseok sits on his hands and knees, watching, waiting. Feeling a little lightheaded.

His eyes flicker to the scars on your lower back just once, instincts tugging, whine building. But there are other things to focus on. Other more important things than feeling angry or sad over things he can't fix.

Namjoon’s thumb taps against your clit. You gasp and drip, Namjoon adds another finger, grinning down at you as you take it. There's no real need to prep you quite as much as he normally does, your heat hormones have made most of your muscles into jelly and Tae has opened you up well for him. He's still a little cautious, still very aware that you are small and he is big. His fingers, his whole palm really, come away glossy.

Namjoon puts those fingers to his tongue and growls deep and low, pupils bright one second, then dark and blown just like Jimin’s.

What do you taste like? Hoseok has never tasted it and is usually a little averse to the general way his past abuse went. But now? Hoseok has never been so curious, saliva pooling in his mouth at the slight glossiness that turns Namjoon's fingers sticky. A small spiderweb-like trail between his fingers when he parts them.

Hoseok’s inner alpha can’t shut up about their omega slicking up so well, presenting so pretty, so eager and pliant through their breeding, not even a little bit of biting. Namjoon’s knot will have no trouble fitting, he can breed and keep you for good.

Hoseok likes the idea of that, the idea of Namjoon keeping you. If anyone could knock you up it would be the pack alpha, his big knot that already looks a bit inflamed between his legs, Jin thoroughly abused that earlier but you-

You look so small when Namjoon shuffles between your legs, cockhead bumping, sliding across your thighs, up the cleft of your ass and lying hard and thick against your spine. Sensitive and wet.  

Namjoon juts it back and forth, Teaseing you.

“ready to take your breeding like a good pup?” You whine and start to teeter. Before you fall, Hobi shuffles over, taking up a position on his knees. Similar to the way that Tae had you earlier. Half in his lap as Namjoon laughs.

“Okay then, I see how it is. Can’t even stay on your knees for your alpha huh? So spoiled you want us to do all the work. Alpha will be nice, Alpha won't make you present. Alpha can breed you any way you want.”

You fall into the nest, legs shaking too much to hold yourself up. Namjoon tuts, before gently turning you over onto your back. Your chest sloshes with the movement. A bit almost? Fuller looking than before? Have you always been so plush there?

You look a little swollen, maybe it's just because of Tae's sucking and Minnie's biting. Hobi pauses, something fuzzy in the back of his head tingling.   

“Alright, I’ll let you lie there like the good little pup you are, no need to hold yourself up for alpha, my spoiled pretty little one.”

Namjoon raises your hand to his mouth and kisses it before he places it on your stomach. Wordless. Letting you feel where he'll claim you.

Namjoon hasn’t had a chance to have you yet either, you’ve been bouncing from Tae's knot to Jimin’s, to Yoongi’s, and back again. The two alpha soulmates are reasonably possessive of you, and you in Omegaspace is something that Yoongi and Tae have the most experience with.

Namjoon’s hands smooth down your stomach appreciative. Almost doting. Waiting until you stop breathing heavily. Until the expansion of your diaphragm becomes less hitching. You'll get worked up either way, but Namjoon does not mind pausing so that you can breathe.

Much like the first time you ever took him. Namjoon lies his cock against your stomach, showing you, measuring how deep he'll penetrate you. He reaches past your belly button.

Between his legs, Hoseok's cock twitches and he resists the temptation to touch. To reach down and fist his knot for a bit of relief.

At the first press of his cock at your hole, you start to scramble and panic, squirming away from the girth, and the thickness, giggling all the while. If Alpha wants you to take his cock, he'll have to make you.

Luckily, Namjoon has backup.

It's all instincts, Hoseok swears it is, but he shuffles forward faster than a lightning bolt to hold your hips. His big hands on your love handles, fingers dimpling in where your body goes soft, holding you still so that Namjoon can press his cock to your hole and push.

Watching you take Namjoon’s cock is…something else.

Hoseok watches your face through it, staring at you through his fringe. Hobi feels want to stir in his gut as you go ridged for a moment and then slump as your body gives and Namjoon pops home. Mouth in a cute little ‘oh’ blinking up at him blearily. Staring straight through him.

Namjoon’s hand's fist in the nest on either side of you, pausing to touch Hobi's hip in thanks before he readjusts for a better angle and his hips push flush with a wet squelch. He stays home for a second, letting you feel all of him. The hot heavy length inside of you. Filling you up so completely so perfectly. His forearms bulge and he trembles and holds himself over you. Straining at holding back.

He savors it, the way your insides go hot and tight. There is no room to clench down, no room left in your tummy. No spot that he can't touch. Namjoon pushes past that hardness and into your womb oh so easily.

It feels like honey, feels like velvet. Fucking an omega in heat, fucking them so deep he goes all the way in is such a novel experience for Namjoon.

Hoseok curses low, and Tae pops her head up from the nest and pillow.

“God that’s so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon pants, knot feeling tight at being watched. But it's there- the little bump in your stomach. It's a small belly bulge at first, but then more prominent as Namjoon pauses, hand on your waist, making your back arch so that it's more visible. Reappearing every time he pushes all the way in.

It’s always a little intoxicating when the rest of the pack watches him. The way you stretch around him is purely pornographic, you really are so small that it looks nearly comical. Looks like it shouldn’t fit. It's hard to choose what to look at, the way your hole parts around him or the reappearing and disappearing bulge.

Even though you've gained weight, and a good layer of healthy chub covers you now, Namjoon is still too big to be hidden. The bulge in your stomach goes from just below your belly button to right above it. You can almost see the ridge of the head of it when he shifts just right.

You hiccup with every slight movement. Namjoon can feel it, the twitch of your diaphragm around his cock. Your hiccupping is so cute that he can’t help but look down at you and coo.

“Oh? Is it a lot? Is it too big pup?”

He thrusts in when you try to speak just to make you choke on your words. Just to make you hiccup again. Tears budding at the corner of your eyes, “Wait until you feel my knot sweet thing, I’ve got it just for you. Gonna keep it warm for me yeah?”

Namjoon takes your hand and presses it over your stomach, making you feel up and down his length while it’s inside of you. “Feel that pup? Feel how well you take alpha?”  

You blink up at him utterly gone, unable to string even a simple ‘yes’ together let alone a coherent thought. All of you is small and surrendered to the feeling of it. The edges of his body go hazy as he bends down to lap at the tears on your cheeks and at your mouth parted, the kiss sloppy and half feral.

The heat in you simmers until you’re bubbling until you're the silvery feeling of molten metal. You're the dripping sugar off of a spoon.

Getting fucked by the pack alpha is the closest thing to religion that you'll ever know. Transforming your body and turning it from a place of pain into pleasure. The closest thing to a drug that you'll ever do. You giggle almost high from it.

Your toes curl and Tae and Jimin shuffle over to watch. Falling into line at Hobi's side. Settling in to get a better view of the pack alpha breeding you. You can't tell if it's embarrassment or the heat that making you feel so hot, so- so-

So wanted. Not possessed but desired. Not lusted after but devoted to.

The pack alpha is here, the pack alpha has you. He's showing you what it means to be a member of his pack, and the others are watching, learning how to breed you, feeling the full weight of his dominance, and waiting their turn like the good alpha's that they are.

They look like they want a turn, hungry eyes roaming your body, staying fixed on your tummy. At Namjoon's bulge popping in and out of existence.

Namjoon is the pack alpha for a reason and that reason makes you choke on your own breath when he slides all the way into the hilt. Hand still pressed over that spot. Feeling himself through you.

When he presses down, you see stars. Spots of bright pleasure dance behind your eyelids. You push at his hand a little panicked, but Namjoon just chuckles down at you.

Jimin shuffles a little too close, a bit too eager, and Namjoon growls. A warning.

Namjoon calms his instincts after a second, still working his cock gently in and out of you. After a second his growl quiets to a purr, and he juts his chin, letting the other alpha's come closer.

The fit is so tight, so tight and wet that you drip down onto the nest. You scrabble, pushing, clawing. Pawing at the nest, trying to find something to hold onto as you feel Namjoon’s gargantuan knot press into your hole. Just as intimidating to take inside your heat as outside of it.

Hobi grabs your hand, holding you through it, wordless, licking his lips and watching.

“Fuck- fuck it’s your fucking slick that has me- fuck-” but Namjoon’s not too embarrassed about popping a knot so quick. It will be a while until he can’t fuck into you. Your body is pliant and poised to take it. But even Jinnie doesn’t make Namjoon lose his cool approximately 2 seconds into fucking.

It’s just your effect on them. Just your slick. It has to be. The alternative is…a bit shameful to consider. Namjoon should be a good alpha, should be perfect, he shouldn’t be so in love with someone that just their hand on his chest can make him cum, but it’s close. It’s perilously close. That’s just the effect you have on them.

“Wan' it, want it please. Please alpha?”

“Ah,” Namjoon’s smile and dimples above you make you blush, more than the knot nudging at your hole. You’ve taken it before, you know you have, but it’s no less daunting. Your body feels no pain this time, none of the strain. “I should stop being so mean, but you make it so cute when you whine and pout, can you forgive Alpha?”  

Namjoon makes you feel so quiet, so dizzy, you let out a little ‘ah ah ah's at every thrust.

Every time his cock goes all the way in there are hands on you. The pack's hands. Feeling up Namjoon’s cock through your body cupping it until he growls. Making the fit feel tighter if that's even possible. someone touches your lips, your chest, your throat. there are hands everywhere on you.

"Come on Hobi don't you want to feel? It's so strange-" you mewl, but it falls on deaf ears as he tentatively reaches out, his growl a pitch higher than Namjoon’s. It rouses not only Yoongi, fluffy head perking up from across the nest but also Jinnie and Jungkook.

The whole pack wakes up to watch the pack alpha knot you.

You're so dizzy, so lost to the feeling of Namjoon fucking you, everything falls over you like ripples. One sensation after another, one packmate after another.

You can’t make your mouth form words, can't say anything as Yoongi leans down and kisses your belly bulge, the unmistakable bump of Namjoon’s cock inside of you. He kisses your mating mark too. Stroking over your cheek.

Namjoon’s stomach goes glossy, and the pleasure ripples over you in unending waves. Like the ocean is tugged along by the moon so is your pleasure tugged along by the attention of your pack. Everyone praises you. Jungkook’s giggle, nuzzling into your stomach. “Pups getting pupped.”

Jin drags his teeth, someone cups your cheeks and preses a kiss to your temple. “Wow, it’s like- so noticeable. I’m sort of surprised can you feel this?”

"Yes." Namjoon's voice is so deep, you've never heard it like this. Jungkook presses down on your tummy making you whimper. He ignores you.

"How about this-" he catches Jungkook's hand, he's heat-addled even if he is momentarily lucid.

"Yes Koo, I can feel it. settle."

Tae tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “We can tell exactly how far Joonie is inside of you sweetheart, do you like it?”

“So sweet.” Jin presses his face into the bulge, nuzzling into it, scenting it so that everyone knows both of that- all of this is his.

“Hyung, can I go next? I wanna feel it too.”

“Minnie you’ve already had your turn, let Hobi have it, you know how much he loves sloppy seconds.”

Hobi's cheeks are hot pressed to yours, where he nuzzles, hand shy, snaking down to feel too. And you’re so dizzy, so out of it at the attention. It’s so much, having them all here like this. Having them all touch you all at once. It's half worship and half curious, half heat and half molten love.

At their prodding, Namjoon reaches over. Jin and Jungkook sit side by side presenting. Namjoon takes a bit of slick from Jin's hole, and then Jungkook's, gathering it on his knuckles and fingers before he pulls. Out of you and uses it. Rubs it up and down his already glossy cock.

He's extra wet at the tip from cum, from the others that went deep enough that Minnie couldn't quite clean it up. All of it is now pushed out around Namjoon because you simply couldn't all fit.

A tiny drop of it drips down the cleft of your pussy, your entrance winking at them. trying to clench around nothing.

It's a bit of a strange ritual, two omegas showing dominance over another, but you're the lowest omega in the pack so of course your pack alpha needs a marking before he has you. You need to remember who that knot belongs to. You're only allowed to have it because Jinnie and Jungkook say you can (that an because it might be cute, the way you stretch and cry around it)

But it makes you hiccup when he pushes in and you realize you have Jin's and Jungkook's slick making you feel so wet. Not just all the cum. You probably shouldn't be able to feel the difference, but it's almost like it gets a little tingly, everything more sensitive now, the heat and friction, everything heightened.

Honestly, heats are so filthy. You'll blush at half of this once you're cognizant enough to feel embarrassed.

Namjoon takes his cock all the way out to do the same thing again, to re-wet his cock with Jungkook and Jin's slick but there's no need. He takes it out and you clench almost violently. Squirting wet, noisy, messy. All over his cock, all over his thighs and stomach really.

 “Ah fuck.”

“I’m sorry I’m- hng” you try to apologize, but Namjoon does not hear your pleas, eyes fixated between your legs with a curious expression on his face. He takes both of your wrists in his hands, pulling you onto his cock in one hard thrust.

“Sorry for what pup? Sorry for this?”

“wait Joonie- wait-“ you’re panicked but he just grins. Your alpha knows what you can take, he knows and you’ll take what he can give you. He puts it in and takes it out again, and gets the same result.

Wet slick, squirting s bit less than before. Your back arches and you let out that cute little sound again, deep in your throat. A choked dry sob.

Namjoon puts his hand over your pussy the next time he does it, putting it in gently and jerking it out rough, but yeah- you squirt every time, every time your body has to clench closed around the emptiness.

Whatever hidden sensitivity that always makes you so messy is stretched to the breaking point by his cock. your pussy actually might be a little broken with how much you squirt. little dribbles of it near constantly. It’s so hot, so fucking hot that every time he takes it out, you have what must be a mini orgasm, or maybe a full one. Namjoon’s not counting.

Namjoon wonders how many more times you can do that, how many more times he can make you squirt before you’ve got nothing left. Before you’re dry and fucked out and settled.

Alpha’s need to settle their omega’s don’t they? Namjoon shouldn’t stop until you’re empty. Until you're milked dry.

(Yoongi looks to the side of the nest, mentally counting bottles of water and how much you'll need after this).

Namjoon smears your slick across your tummy bulge with a dark laugh.

“So fucking cute-”

Jimin tries to bully his way between your legs, mouth open, almost drooling. But Namjoon pushes at his face the other alpha snarls. Tae has him nearly by the knot and Namjoon glances at her spitting out his orders. His hand stays under your knee while he rocks inside, not giving you a break, not even for a second to punish Jimin.

“Get his collar. If he wants to use his mouth for something productive. He can clean up Jin and Koo.”

You mewl, crying, overstimulated tears wetting your cheeks. crying openly at the feeling of namjoon splitting you open. spots dance in your vision and you feel like you actually are going to pass out.

“Ah, I think she liked that.”

"The growling?"

"Probably Joonie throwing his knot around." Namjoon looks up at Jin a look so feral and dominant it makes the pack omega blush all the way from his ears to his stomach.

"You seemed to like it too when I was knot deep in your-"

Your head lolls to the side. you loose track of time. namjoon's cock twitches inside of you and he keeps fucking you. Each of them, one after the other, bends down to kiss you. You’ve got hands on your cheeks, kisses to your scent gland and someone bends down to give you a hickey and it’s- it’s so much.

Alpha is gonna breed you- gonna breed you so well that you won’t be able to stop it taking. You can tell- cock’s like his aren’t just for nothing. You know that he’s going to knock you up. Your omega is purring in your chest, the heat spiking at the prospect of it so hazy and out of it. 

“Little omega, gonna fill you” he growls out, palm pressed flat to your stomach. “Feel me here yeah?”

You claw at the nest again when Namjoon knots you, choking when he pushes it in, slick dribbles from your clit, you’ve basically been constantly squirting. Through all of it, but the gush when Namjoon’s knot pops home is-

Some of it hits his face. It's so loud, so much. You've never squirted so hard.

warmth fills you from the inside out, so much of it, soaking you on the inside, filling you up. thats the fullness you where craving, the heat your body needed. you settle back against the nest, only half conscious.

Namjoon's fucked you so good, you don't even apologize for squirting all over him.

When Jimin claws his way over after thoroughly cleaning both Jin and Jungkook of the pack’s spend. He laps it from Namjoon’s face. Jin holds his collar through all of it. The slick on his chest, the slick on his neck, his face.

Only once Namjoon is nice and kissed clean, do the pack alpha and pack omega guide Jimin lower.

~-~

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Notes:

well here you go! i listened! i put out a poll the other day asking what you guys wanted me to prioritize, this or the new edited version of chapters 1-5 and i listeneddddd i think i deserve a good kiss for it <3

editing the begining....i don't like this begining, it's too wordy but i couldn't figure out how to cut it down because i know hobi's supposed to sort of be the focous of this chapter but still- it's one of those things where i dont know if its just not interesting because i've read it so many times while editing or if it's just actually not interesting.

i think that hoseok was really worried that he would be afraid of the m/c in heat, but he's actually really afraid for the m/c in heat and that he's not very prepared to handle. he's just a head full of worries isn't he. the more i read the mroe i realize how just anxious he is.

listennnnnnn i kjnow everyone said they didn't like it when i used the word cunnie in the poll but cunnie is my favorite word to use for pussy when the m/c is feeling small and- and- and- it's so /cute/ alright. i can't not use it. she's got a cunnie or a puphole not a pussy. thats just how it is.

in my head, this is the stuffed animal that hobi gets her <3 i chose the one with headphones cuz it reminded me of hobi <3 i argued with myself a little if i should tag this chapter with plushophilia, lmk if i should add it

listen, i know the tenses get fucked at the part where hobi is remembering jimin and tae and the m/c but i honestly don't care. english is my first language but i aim to be as disrespectful with it as possible. the horny brainworms made me dumb. it doesn't matter if its gramatically correct it just matters if it's /hot/

i have this headcannon that jimin actually /does/ become addicted to the m/c's slick. it would start slow, and every time he comes home from work he would kinda...man handle the m/c and eat her out. but then he does it again the next day and then again. and then offers to eat her out in the shower. and then one day when they're having dinner he gets down on his knees instead of eating, and pretty soon he realizes all he thinks about is slick and the pack bring it up and they have to wein him off of it slowly. keeping him on a leash and collar all the time. kept away from the m/c until his hormones calm down and he's not on the edge of rut all the time and he can be normal about it. after that the m/c's slick is only a very very special treat for minnie.

i don't think the m/c realizes it, but the reason /why/ she doesn't like to present is because the scars on her back are on display that way. she doesn't like going back up because i think...thats probably how she was posed when geumjae cut her up. it's very instinctual because she was probably in omegaspace when it happened (poor pup) so her omega is a bit traumatized by it.

i know the alpha's don't mention the marks on her back or her other scars at all, but i think it's because they've started to see her through them? like i don't think they notice them that much anymore because they've just accepted they're apart of her <3

stay tuned for the next chapter! i'll post a teaser for it the second that tumblr removes my ban!

The next three and a half days progress in a haze of lust and love and comfort. If asked, you’re not sure that you could articulate just what it’s like- the thrall of heat. The fever that burns through you, simmers your bones to dry kindling and hungry wind. The fire that craves not for food or water or air, just their touch. Just them.

I would love to say that your, Jungkook and Jin’s heat goes well- but in all reality it doesn’t. In reality- it’s a bit of a shit show.

One omega in heat is generally chaotic, but 3 is a horny hurricane of slick, cum, and tears. Your packmates are bound to get exhausted at one point and fail to fulfill your needs through the own simple fragility of their bodies. Your alphas aren’t indestructible or immune from exhaustion, as much they like to pretend otherwise.

Normally Jin and Jungkook are a bit of a handful. On account of being a little older, Jin is sweet but a little demanding.

Willing to scruff the alphas just to sit on their knots and all but bully Namjoon into letting him hog his (Something that Namjoon only sometimes allows.) Possessive and protective of them. Often sleeping with one hand pressed to Namjoon’s stomach, his throat, or when the heat fever spikes particularly high- wrapped around his knot. Protecting it, keeping it safe. To make sure no one steals it.

Jin gets incurably sleepy during his heats, Awake one moment and fast asleep the next. Easily worn out. Jin’s pout is never far from his plush lips, eyes always about to narrow when someone denies him his requests (usually for his own good).

Jin has asked for…strange things in heat before. For the alpha’s to breed each other, knock each other up. For them to knot his jaw if they won't knot his hole (often already occupied). Stuff like that.  

But he’s softer sometimes. More maternal. Checking their bodies obsessively for wounds, keeping them in the nest no matter if they need to eat or pee or go let Noodle out the back. Licking their scent glands raw to soothe until the heat fever burns so bright that he can’t resist any longer.  

By comparison, Jungkook is a big bunny rabbit.

Insatiable and energized with every wave of heat, Jungkook turns twitchy and needy in the heat fever. Just as happy to bounce on a knot as he is to take a pounding. Jungkook requires stamina, Jungkook requires energy. Often laconic or non-verbal. Jungkook does not like it soft, likes hair pulling and biting and his knees scraping against the nest. Pulled from one knot to the next.

The pack is no stranger to waking up to Jungkook astride them, powerful thighs straining to lift himself up and down in the omega’s half-asleep state, sleep fucking his way to an orgasm. Their pj's pulled low or ripped if he's eager enough. Cute little gasps echo off the tall ceilings as he takes his pleasure at a dreamy pace. One of the alpha’s staring up at him sleepy, stretched out, happy to have a bit of a break from moving.

Jin honestly doesn’t know where all the energy comes from.

Sometimes the pack tie him up and fill his holes with some silicone just to get a break. With barely 10 minutes between his heat spikes at his worst. He’s willing to take anything- a spank to his cock, a knot meanly fucked in and out of his hole all loose when he’s too far gone. Anything and everything until the spikes get less searing and the fire ebbs from flames to embers.

Edging and overstimulation are the pack’s best friends when it comes to Jungkook’s heats. That’s what Jungkook needs; to whine and whimper and flinch at every touch until it’s worn out of him. Until pleasure becomes pain and then goes back again. Flip-flopping until Jungkook can’t tell if it hurts too much to keep going or if it feels too good to stop.

It’s a good thing he’s equally soothed with a plastic knot as a real one, that he’s happy so long as he’s filled and plugged up so that no cum escapes. Precious and warm and his alpha’s gift. Evidence of their claim and devotion.

Evidence too of what bonds the omega’s together.

Nestmates do this, they take their breeding together in their nest during a heat. That’s what’s good and right. What Jungkook’s instincts crave. There is safety in numbers. The more pups the better.

(never mind the fact that out of heat, jungkook plans to be pupfree forever thank you very much).

But everyone knows not to take the things said during a heat seriously. that all that talk of breeding and pups is just that- talk. what matters is the devotion and the sentiment. Yes I am planning on keeping you forever. No you don't have to worry if I'll love you forever, let me claim you, let me show you in a way that matters.

It’s cute even if it is a little gross, how possessive omegas can get of alpha cum during heats. Their bellies going swollen and messy with it. A little plug does wonders to soothe any of Jungkook’s discomfort. A spank to his hole before one is shoved in even more so. The cherry on top.

The pack has learned how to meet his needs well, even at the expense of their own. That’s one thing that separates your alpha’s from the others, they don’t think about their own pleasure at all, they don’t think about their own needs- only yours.

I want to share my side of the nest with you, I want to talk you through it- the pain and the pleasure. I want you to feel love in every kiss, every bite.

The pack has wondered many times over the last year where you fit on the spectrum from bratty to obedient, from lethargic to energized.

Would you pout and whine like Jk? Bouncing on their knots for a bit of reprieve? Or would you be like Jin- bratty and needy in all the best ways? A princess and the pee, the omega and the knot. It’s all very fairytale.

But compared to Jin and Jungkook, you’re a bit of an angel.

They thought after so long your heat would hit hard, that your body would make up for time lost and leave it long and drawn out and brutal. That your lack of heat for so many years would reward you with spikes that never end and pleasure that went too far. That it would be rough.

Yoongi would never want to abandon the others, but even he has to admit that you need to be his priority sometimes. You’re more delicate than the others. That is a fact that he's never been able to ignore.

But he need not worry. If anything, your heat just makes you more gentle, soft, and round at the edges where your anxiety and fear can sometimes turn you a bit prickly.

Something about the heat just wears all of your energy out of you, makes you sleepy and soft, hurtling down through Omegaspace so far that you can’t really feel anything if it’s not good, brain a mess of good pup, good alphas breed good puppies, knot good puppies too, pup pup pups.

You are completely pliant and suggestible. Tears forever hovering on the edge of your waterline summoned by the slightest edge of disapproval. Good, you just want to be good. To part your legs and let them have the sweetness between them. You don’t need to be needy; you hardly even need to ask before someone is there. Someone is always always there.

The need builds to a fever's pitch, a fire burning through you. You’ve never felt so touch-starved before. Your skin dimpling with gooseflesh the second you feel even the slightest warmth, the slighted brush of possible body heat. There is something frantic in you, the hot flush crawling under your skin that stills only when they touch you.

Is this what overstimulation feels like to Jimin? Is this what he feels like when he holds Tae? does he feel the same sense of lingering relief? You watch the ceiling spin as Yoongi heaves you up. Everything is in slow motion. Putting it together second by second. Everything slow and drippy like syrup.  

The thing about omega's in heat is that they're a little bit dumb.

Like, there's no way that you could have ever conceivably run away from Yoongi and Tae and Hobi, no way that you could have escaped given your small size and their height. your run is doomed from the start.

The heat hormones are a little intense, a little hard to thing through.

You can't get over how good the pack’s hands feel, how calloused and intentional, bird bones and painted nails. Slightly rough and always firm. Calloused between the thumb and forefinger from pencils or firearms.

They’re always so gentle. So gentle that you feel every touch as not hunger but love instead. Maybe that’s what heats are? The need for love and pack sated by your bodies, that would find no satisfaction in it otherwise. There is no lust without love for any of you. You wouldn’t have gone into heat without them and their tender love and care. The love has always been there and this is no different.

You don’t have to question if they need you and want you the same way that you do. The scent of arousal is heady on the air, not just from the omega’s- but from them too. You can scent it; how they’re feeling. Their hunger.

It’s as if they've just come from in from out of the cold. It conjures up images of warm fires inside honeyed houses, of someone washing your face and you trust them not to get soap in your eyes, of waking up in the nest with your eyes still closed, the warmth all around you. Someone buttoning up your coat. Something warm and sweet to eat in your hands, sugar on the edge of your tongue, crystals of sweetness glittering and dusting deserts like starlight.

Only you are that sweet thing, you are that warmth. Your alpha's are the ones that have come in from the cold. 

There’s this mischievous victorious edge to Jimin’s scent, the vanilla sweeter and smokier than usual. The concerned edge to Hobi's- the caramel all warm and melty but with a sharp hint- like his anxiety has turned syrupy by proximity to the omega’s in heat. The calm edge to Tae's; roses in the morning, cinnamon sugar sweetness for breakfast even if it will spoil you for later.

But Namjoon- you hiccup when you breathe it in too deep. A shudder runs down your spine.

Namjoon smells so much richer than usual. Mouthwatering and potent. Dangerous and musky. Namjoon smells like a threat and a promise. Like a storm coming that you cannot evade. Namjoon smells like an ache. Your lungs flutter around it, your breath going heavy, and your eyes roll back briefly.

You feel drunk on it, almost tipsy from it. So good that just catching it in the air makes you slick up, and it turns the tops of your thighs all glossy underneath the big shirt you wear, the big shirt that gets pulled this way and that when Yoongi and Hobi and Tae pick you up and drag you from the hallway into the nest room.

You squirm, trying to get to him at the end of the hall as they move you. Their single-minded focus is getting you somewhere safe and comfortable even as the fever climbs and climbs. Your skin turning hot beneath their touch so quickly that they share nervous glances.

One moment your skin is sweet warm to the touch, the next your pulse is racing and you’re burning up. Cheeks pink, temples damp. Your pupils are so dilated it turns your eyes dark and glassy, so little of their usual color visible.

You’d be worried and teary at Hobi's scent but it’s just so fun.

You’re having a hard time holding onto your worry. Being restrained by them feels like playing this way. His hands go hard around your wrists as you push and giggle. His thin bones pressed to your fragile ones. Grinning up at them a little feral, a little heat addled.

You try to push and roll away futilely, unable to put any real force behind it as Tae grabs your ankles and Yoongi takes you around your middle. You catch sight of his grin as you squirm. And his hands go harder around your waist. Pausing to tickle at your ribs before they toss you- a little unceremoniously- into the center of the nest.

Your body is bare from their touch for about two seconds but you still don't like it. No sooner has a whine started to build in your throat. Nuckles brushing the nest, belly up, staring up at them dazed. Then your alphas and mate descend on you. Depressing the nest with their knees and feet, rushing and hurrying to cover you.

The whole house is full of the sound of snarls, wet slaps, and the burning haze of arousal. The hormones drip to a slow build. Setting everyone on edge. Even Yoongi breathes through his teeth. You try to kick at Tae's thigh just for fun but pull back once Yoongi’s fingers scrape your ankle in warning.

Tae doesn’t seem to like your squirming, taking your wrists in both of her hands and pressing them into the nest until you feel it in the bones of your wrists. With firmness comes clarity.

Holy fuck. Tae's so hot.

Her hair spills over her face and her eyes are dark.  The hem of her dress pulls low, and you try to lean up to nuzzle into it, lips curled into a snarl, a laugh. You could bite her. You want to bite her. You try too- but it’s hard to bite her when all you want to do is laugh.

Yoongi's fingers continue to tickle against your ribs, laughing and giggling through your very first spike of heat, ticklish. Squirming, held down until your breath goes ragged and you sag back against the nest, your surrender is just as sweet as the rest of you. You're so dizzy you're unable to fight against them. The heat zoomies worn out of you.

You laugh until you hiss. Curling to the side just a little as you double over in pain. A wave racks through you. Burning and stinging from your stomach outwards.

Yoongi stills, one hand on your knee, eyes wide. Tae lets your wrists go so you can clutch at your stomach. Holding your face through it. Hobi's hand is hard on your shoulder, knuckles white, expression stricken but unsure.

"Oh my little honey, don't worry, we'll make it better, shh just-" She's a little more panicky than the rest of them are. Her hand goes to Yoongi’s hip, his waistline, all but tugging at his shorts as if to say ‘do something.'

Yoongi holds your stomach too. Alarmed by your trembling. "Are you- do you need-“a knot, hovers on the edge of his tongue.

But you just blink. “Yoongi- it's too much- it burns- Sore- so sore here.” You touch your stomach gently, but it's so sensitive it still makes you hiss, eyes watering. Yoongi's hands slowly press to yours, flat, long fingers covering yours.

It's gone as quick as it comes, the wave ebbing after a stiff peak. And after a moment with more of Tae's shushing. You relax, stretching back out in the nest. Breathing heavily until you aren't. Until the cramping and the aching need want need to be filled in your head quiets.

Yoongi's fingers swirl on your stomach, gently. It's sensitive, but it actually does make you feel better. “You ran, do you want us to wait for Namjoon or-" You’re already shaking your head no when Yoongi cuts off. Letting your legs flop open so that he can shuffle forward closer. Nudging at the back of his hips with your heels.

You don't wonder why Yoongi mentions Namjoon. He's the pack alpha, and the right to breed you first in heat is his as dictated by old laws and rules. It’s stupid, but it’s instinctual. If you weren't mated, Yoongi might be tempted to ask Namjoon for permission.

Yoongi huffs at the mere idea of it.

But Namjoon isn't like that. He cares about your wants first. His own ego is very far down on his list of priorities and probably ranks just after Noodle's well-being in terms of Namjoon's pack alpha running task list.

Dominance is its own kind of submission.

And, judging by Jin's snarling from the other room- he'll be preoccupied for at least the next hour. You don't know if you can wait that long. A whine drips out of you, a sound small and weak. The fire starts to tickle in your tummy, insistent.

Hobi shuffles closer to you. Bare-chested, his red shorts looking tight. Looking unsure. "You did run, do you not want-" us, does not come out.

You shift, futile in your efforts to try and get comfortable, it's impossible with the weight of your instincts pinning you down, the pervasive ache that's sort of everywhere.

“Nah, just ran cuz it’s fun. Not cuz I didn’t want you to fuck me.”

Yoongi huffs and Hobi's grin cracks. His anxiety dissipates, fond with it. Yoongi's fingers itch up your thighs, parting them just a little so that he can shuffle forward closer to you. Until you can feel the heat from his tummy against yours.

You can feel so much. Your whole body one big nerve ending. You can feel the slight fluff and softness of the peach fuzz on his tummy dragging against yours as he gets closer. The feel of his slender but strong fingers circling your ankles. All of it.

You like this, you always like it when Yoongi's close.

“Glad we cleared that up, it’s not like I can’t literally see you slicking up but-“ you laugh and try and swat at him. He drops one of your ankles to catch your hand and tangles it with his for good measure.