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Jimin wakes up alone.
Arguably, the worst kind of waking up. Especially on mornings when his cursed biology seeks an anchor; someone to steady the jumbled mess of emotions before the animalistic frenzy hits full force and he loses his mind for good.
Oh, Jimin hates it.
Reaching out, he fumbles for the light switch. The sun hasn’t yet climbed high enough to throw color onto the pitch-black sky. The florescent lamp on the ceiling flickers to life in a few weak pulses before settling into a steady shimmer, similar to the perspiration clinging to Jimin’s skin.
He’s always hated the lighting in that god-forsaken rental, and the fuzzy, throbbing feeling behind his eyes doesn’t help either. It makes him feel drunk on something he can’t drive out of his system, which is always unsettling.
Jimin exhales, long and drawn out, eyes still pressed shut. He wishes to stay blind for his surroundings a little while longer. Instead, he lets a trembling hand slide over the worn-out sheets to his side.
They're cold; a familiar kind. One that always greets him around the time he dreads the most—every six months when his heat arrives. And with no alpha.
Jimin never had one, too timid to approach anyone. Alphas did occasionally try to flirt with him, of course, but when they see Jimin isn’t very experienced as an omega, they either lose interest or turn mean. Jimin always pulled away before it got ugly. He never liked conflict or straying too far from his comfort zone. Playing the part of a desirable omega had always been far beyond that threshold.
So he made peace with the idea of enduring heat after heat alone, trapped in the quiet of his tiny rental. Just him and the hollow ache of wanting—needing—a warm body next to him, over him… inside of him.
His nose scrunches, a pout blooming on his bitten lips. Jimin fists the crumpled sheets beneath in a quelled whimper when a wave of heat slashes through his body in stark contrast with the frosty air of his poorly insulated room.
It'll start soon. Jimin had spent all of yesterday in bed, mentally bracing for the coming days of agony, but no amount of preparation could ever soften the dread.
He’d built his nest early in the wee, a safe place to retreat to, but he didn’t have much to put in it. A handful of old sweaters, a few towels, and the only blanket he owns.
And maybe that’s part of the problem. Jimin can’t find an alpha because he has little to offer. It even shows in his appearance. He can’t afford to dress prettily like other omegas do. His wardrobe consists of two plain sweaters he variates between washings, a single shirt for warmer days, and a pair of black jeans so worn they barely hold together.
He’s a student at the public university, juggling two jobs just to afford tuition and rent. His cramped little goshiwon is nothing more than a single bed, a desk, a tiny dresser, and a makeshift kitchen box—four moldy walls and a suffocating sense of solitude. Even his nest, no matter how humble, can’t mask the bleakness.
Rent and university being enough of an expenditure, means Jimin can’t afford to worry about how he looks or where he sleeps; even if his gaze sometimes lingers on passing omegas’ neat outfits or nice belongings. To say Jimin lives with limited means would be an understatement. He's barely scraping by, and he refuses to burden his parents by asking for money. They have enough on their plate back in Busan. Besides, Jimin’s the one who insisted on studying in Seoul, convinced it would bring better opportunities. He just never expected it to be so lonely.
Now, curled up in his makeshift nest, Jimin palms at one of his sweaters, fingertips ghosting over the polyester. The thought of ever inviting an alpha into this space makes his stomach twist with shame.
What alpha would want to claim him here? What alpha wouldn’t take one look at his life and reject him outright? It’d crush him.
Jimin sighs, hand drifting down to rub at his belly in a futile attempt to self-soothe. He needs comfort; needs someone to assure him it’ll be alright this time.
With every passing year, heats grow harder. The hollow ache deepens as if nature’s punishing him for being unwanted, and as if that weren’t cruel enough, due to accumulated stress and anxiety, Jimin started producing very little slick during his heats. Which means when the fever takes hold, it won’t just be lonely—it’ll be unbearable.
Whenever Jimin tried to alleviate some of the emptiness, he had to rely on artificial lube. But more often than not, he couldn’t afford it, forcing him to make do with spit. That, of course, was the worst-case scenario. Saliva either dried too fast or made things too slippery, robbing him of the friction he so desperately needed. And it was never enough. His heats lasted no less than two days. He could never produce enough saliva to mimic the slick an omega required when the need to be filled—constantly, smoothly, painlessly—became unbearable.
It made Jimin dread his heats... wholeheartedly hate them.
Now, as one hand presses against his belly, the other grips his thigh, squeezing, as another vicious convulsion cuts through him. A pained wail slips past his lips as he curls in on himself, a crease forming between his brows as slick dribbles out of him.
It’s happening too fast, too soon. He can't afford to waste slick, not on pre-heat. His body needs to save every drop of the pitiful lubrication for when the real suffering begins.
Jimin's eyes snap open, surprise and horror flickering in them as his hand scrambles in panic from his thigh to his cleft, desperately trying to push the wetness back into his small hole. It’s too tight—too unused—for its own good.
While trying to scoop up the wetness, the tip of his middle finger accidentally breaches the first ring of muscles.
Jimin jerks. Damn it.
He shouldn’t have touched, not yet. Not before it’s absolutely necessary.
Jimin mutters a low curse but doesn’t pull his finger out. He can’t frankly. It feels like a much-needed plug—pathetically inadequate, but better than nothing.
A minute passes, the simple pressure dulling the worst of the ache, but soon, his shoulder starts to protest the awkward angle. He’s always struggled with this. His fingers were never enough, not in length, not in reach, not in relief. Jimin’s limbs would cramp before he could satisfy even a fraction of the emptiness clawing at his insides. It’s why, in the past, he had resorted to shameful measures. Like the slim bedpost. Jimin fucked himself on it with eyes squeezed shut until his heat broke. He couldn’t make himself look; not when he was feeling like a ragdoll, deserving only of inanimate coldness, instead of a warm touch.
During another unfortunate heat, Jimin had reached for his solid, cylindrical pencil case, since omegaen heat toys were never something he could afford. He was so ashamed after, he couldn't even look at it for weeks after his heat ended. Since then, he swore he’d never use anything but his fingers, even if it left him sobbing from dissatisfaction.
Now, as he slides his finger out, a familiar burn starts to build, bittersweet and searing. His jaw clenches and he bites his bottom lip, trying to keep quiet. He never liked hearing his own pleasure. It made Jimin feel uneasy. The lewd sounds would bounce off the walls and loop back to his ears, not caught by another’s, never eliciting praise for how pretty they sound.
Thoughts swarm Jimin’s mind like invisible mots.
He needs something inside him. Now.
Scrambling to the side of the bed, Jimin yanks open the tiny bedside drawer, blindly searching for the last remnants of lube from a heat months ago. His fingers close around the bottle, and he hastily checks the expiration date. A month left.
Relief floods him. He uncaps it, flips it over, and squeezes, but only a pitiful drop comes out.
Jimin’s stomach twists.
No!
His lips part in a soundless cry of frustration as his grip tightens around the bottle. He shakes it violently, trying to coax out more... still nothing.
Jimin’s face contorts in a grimace and he hurls it at the wall. The dull thud it makes feels like mockery.
Fuck. He can't do this with spit again.
Desperation propels him to his feet. In a daze, he throws on the nearest hoodie, pulling the laces tight around his neck, sleeves tugged over his wrists to trap his scent. His worn-out wallet is in his hand before he even thinks to check its contents, mind already hazy.
The mini-market below his building is the only place open at this hour. Keeping his gaze low, he beelines for the health and beauty aisle. The lube selection is pitiful, but he grabs the smallest bottle and heads straight to the counter.
The beta cashier greets him with the usual sneer.
Jimin braces himself.
The man eyes the lube, then him, lips curling in a condescending smile.
Jimin stares at his feet; he doesn't have the patience for this.
There's a loud tstsk. Then the beep of the scanner. The product slides across the counter with a flick of the cashier’s wrist.
“That’ll be 8,000 won.”
Jimin’s head snaps up. 8,000?!
He quickly opens his wallet and rummages through its contents, realizing he probably doesn’t have that kind of money right now considering it’s the end of the month.
And the worst is true—he only has 5,000.
Jimin wants to cry. Not just from the realization that he can't take the lube home, but from the humiliation of standing here, vulnerable, in front of this smug beta who can already smell his pre-heat.
“Aren’t you going to pay, omega?” The title drips with disdain.
Jimin swallows his pride and extends the cash with downcast eyes. The tremble in his fingers is frustrating. Under different circumstances, he wouldn’t put himself through something like this. He’d rather bark back at the awful cashier, turn on his toes, and be out of the store in a heartbeat.
“That’s 3,000 won short. Are you blind, or just dumb?” the beta scoffs, shoving Jimin’s hand away.
A quiet growl builds in Jimin’s throat. His fist clenches around the rejected bills.
“And really, what kind of omega buys their own bitch products right before their heat?” the cashier taunts, voice dripping with mockery. “You reek. One would think even someone like you would have an alpha by now, but alas. You must be pretty shit if no one wants to lay a finger on you, even when you’re at your sluttiest.”
The words hit their mark, and Jimin’s inner omega almost crumbles. His fingers tighten around the money until it crumples. Anger wells in his chest, but so does something worse; something small, and broken, and ashamed.
He’s about to storm out, humiliated, when a dangerous snarl rips through the air and reverberates through Jimin’s body like a tidal wave.
He perks up, sensing the presence of—
“Alpha!” the cashier croaks out.
The omegaen part of Jimin simmers. His hole clenches on nothing, and he curses inwardly at his own weakness, thighs press together.
“Good morning!” the cashier stammers, suddenly polite.
“How about giving my omega what he wants, beta,” the stranger replies sharply.
Both Jimin’s and the cashier’s breath catches. Jimin’s thoughts twirl around like a carousel, his heart jumping at the possessive pronoun.
“Y-your omega, sir? I—my apologies. I didn’t know,” the beta stutters, scrambling to scan the lube again. He packs it up for Jimin and hands it with a low bow.
Not really caring for the masquerade, Jimin turns to look at the stranger behind him.
The alpha's tall, and broad, and built to take a squirming omega apart with nothing but sheer strength.
Jimin pushes the thought away to focus on the man in front of him. Yes, man. Not merely an alpha with a very precious knot attached to him, Jimin’s little remaining rationality helpfully supplies.
His stern eyes are narrowed towards the beta, posture threatening. Yet, his face doesn’t match the brutality of his presence, something strikingly beautiful in it... Jimin finds familiarity in that beauty.
His scent is intoxicating, woody and smokey, thick and consuming; and not just because of the pre-heat. No, Jimin's sure this man will smell enticing even during his most rational, heat-free days.
The alpha’s gaze softens the moment their eyes meet. The growl fades into a low rumble, a mere clearing of the throat.
“You alright?” The question is careful. Gentle.
Jimin nods, still unable to comprehend why the alpha would help him out. Alphas didn’t just go around calling shabby-looking omegas ‘theirs’ in ran-down mini-markets.
Did he perhaps smell Jimin’s pre-heat and will now want something in return for the kindness? Or maybe he’s a friend of the cashier and is just messing around with him.
All possible scenarios cross Jimin’s mind in the matter of a millisecond. He straightens up as much as the tightness pulling at his tummy allows. Grabbing the bag with lube from the beta’s still-waiting hand, Jimin does the only thing he can do.
When he leaves the store, the stranger alpha follows.
“Hey!”
“Thank you for the help, sir, but I have money.” Jimin tries to sound firm, but it comes out high-pitched.
Why the hell did he call him ‘sir’? The alpha might as well be younger than him.
Determined, Jimin pushes the cash he’s still clutching into the stranger’s chest, cheeks now powdered in the pink shades of embarrassment. His body might be weakened by the malice of biology, but his pride shall remain untouched.
The alpha looks at him with an unreadable expression, but Jimin can swear he catches a glimpse of hurt behind the black eyes staring back at him.
“I can take care of myself,” Jimin adds a bit more unsurely, gaze falling. He’s always hated lying.
“I’m sure you can.” The ghost of a smile runs through the alpha’s lips. “I just saw you’re in a predicament, and since that beta decided to be a jerk about it, I felt the need to step in.” He tilts his head down to meet Jimin’s downcast eyes, pushing his hand back. “It’s not pity. You know how alpha instincts are.”
Jimin can’t deny that. Alphas do tend to step in when an omega is in distress, and Jimin’s surely giving off plenty of that.
“Thank you, but I’d still be more comfortable if you gave me your details so I can transfer the rest of the money for the—” Jimin’s throat tightens.
For the lube. Fuck. The alpha saw.
It wouldn’t be so humiliating if it weren’t the standard for alphas to take care of these things for their omegas, rather than having a bunch of pre-heat omegas wandering around town, practically drowning everyone in their pheromones while shopping for heat products.
Oh, pheromones.
Fuck. Fuck. Jimin must reek by now.
His fingers twitch as he tugs at his sleeves on instinct, as if he can somehow bottle up his scent, keep it from spilling into the air. But it’s too late. The alpha must be able to smell it, Jimin’s pre-heat clinging to every inch of him, telling the world just how needy and vulnerable he is right now.
How is the alpha not all over him by now? Doesn’t Jimin’s scent drive him insane? Unless he's just that undesirable even in pre-heat.
Something sharp twists in his chest, and a familiar sting pricks the back of his eyes.
“You don’t want to hurt my alpha pride, do you?” the stranger lets out a small laugh, but it trails off when he catches the turmoil flickering across Jimin’s face.
His expression softens.
“Hey, are you sure you’ll be alright? Do you have—” he pauses, choosing his next words carefully, “—an alpha? Or maybe a friend who can pick you up? It’s not good for you to be out and about in that… state.”
There’s no malice in his tone. But something about the question sets Jimin’s nerves on edge.
Why did he ask about an alpha first?
“N-no, I’m fine. I live upstairs.” Jimin tries to wipe at his eyes quickly to not let the rebellious tears spill over. “Have a good evening and thanks once agai—”
Pain slices through his stomach, sharp and sudden, making his knees buckle. The bag nearly slips from his grasp.
“Hey, hey!”
A firm hand catches him before he can collapse.
The alpha lets out a deep, guttural groan that makes Jimin stiffen. He must've gotten a full hit of his potent scent. The same unreadable look crosses the stranger's face, the one he had when Jimin first tried to pay him back for the lube.
Jimin’s body reacts before his mind can stop it, every muscle turning to liquid, instinct screaming at him to give in. He knows it’s wrong. He doesn’t know this man, after all, the alpha could be dangerous. But there’s something about him; something familiar and safe, and Jimin's in pain and touch-starved and exhausted.
“A-alpha please.”
The words slip out before he can stop them.
Did he just beg?
His heart pounds against his ribs. He’s been denied a lot of things in life, but he’s never begged before; not until today.
The alpha looks stunned, but recovers quickly. His grip on Jimin tightens as he helps him straighten up.
“Jungkook.” He clears his throat. “My name is Jeon Jungkook.”
He hesitates, eyes lingering on Jimin with an expectant kind of patience.
“I-I’m sorry. I’m Park Jimin.”
“Jimin.” Jungkook nods. “Do you need help getting upstairs?”
Heat coils low in his stomach. Jimin clenches his fists, trying to brace himself against the next wave of pain.
He shouldn’t agree. Letting an unknown alpha escort him into his apartment while he’s in pre-heat is practically an invitation. But the mere thought of going through another heat alone—he can’t.
Jimin nods.
When Jungkook offers his hand, Jimin takes it, warm and solid, as they begin the slow ascent up the stairs. With every step, Jimin’s breathing grows heavier, his mind—hazier. He can feel the alpha’s grip tightening, as if afraid Jimin might slip right through his fingers.
The alpha’s breath is uneven now, Jimin notices, and he can only imagine how much effort he’s putting into staying in control right now. That, or Jungkook’s not really attracted by his scent, his mind supplies destructively.
By the time they reach his door, Jimin barely has the strength to lift his head.
Jungkook halts and hope flickers in the omega's chest, unbidden. Maybe Jungkook will offer to stay, or tell Jimin he’s wanted, but then—
“You’ll be good, right?” Jungkook’s voice is strained. “I should probably go.”
Jimin swears he can hear a hopeful tinge behind the alpha’s gritted teeth.
“No!” The word escapes before he can filter it.
The alpha’s brows arch.
“I-I mean, I don’t have anyone to—” Jimin’s voice thins out to barely a whisper.
“You’re alone,” Jungkook states a little too matter-of-factly. True, nonetheless.
Jimin ducks his head, shame curling tight in his chest.
Jungkook steps closer, and his scent, thick and heady, wraps around Jimin like an embrace. The omega lifts his gaze to meet a pair of inky eyes.
“Tell me,” Jungkook murmurs, voice rivaling honey, “how is someone like you alone?”
The hidden praise in the alpha’s words sends something sharp and fragile cracking inside of him.
“Jimin.”
His name sounds like a warning. And Jimin's so miserably wet, sticky slick squelching in his cleft and making every move sound pornographic.
“Look at me.” And still, Jungkook holds him. “Do you want an alpha during your heat?”
Jimin nods, trying to school his expression to give his answer more weight.
“No one’s really offered.” Jimin can’t believe he’s sharing this with a stranger; a stranger who might just be trying to be polite.
Jungkook releases a breath, scent spiking and Jimin wants to drown in it. His skin burns, legs giving out again, and he stumbles forward on instinct, closing the last bit of distance between them.
“God, what do I do with you?” Jungkook growls more to himself than anyone else, his arms wrapping around Jimin.
Jimin hesitates for only a second before he leans in, brushing his lips over Jungkook’s shoulder, close enough to his scent gland to feel the warmth of his skin.
The alpha snarls.
“Allow me to serve your heat.”
Jimin’s heart squeezes. The amount of self-control this man has standing before an omega in pre-heat is staggering. Somewhere in the fog of Jimin’s mind, red flags wave frantically, whispering warnings. Yet, something in Jungkook’s patience makes Jimin feel safe.
“M-mine?” Jimin all but whimpers, fisting weakly at the alpha’s shirt.
Someone’s finally offering themselves to Jimin. Raggedy Jimin. Leaking, needy Jimin.
Jungkook’s hold tightens, and the omega realizes if they don’t step inside now, he’ll be taken right here for everyone to see.
Jimin pulls away with reluctance and scrambles for his keys, quickly turning the lock. He pulls shyly at Jungkook’s sleeve to signal him to come in. When the alpha enters, he halts at the door to study his surroundings.
That’s it then. Now, he’ll leave, Jimin thinks. His place is too small, too shabby, too plain. The only window in the room is so narrow, there’s barely any sunlight coming through, the few possessions Jimin owns barely making it look like a home. And then there's the impromptu nest still on his bed, looking as pitiful as everything else. What alpha would ever want to breed an omega in such an awful nest?
Jimin’s shoulders hunch.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I don’t have much.”
Jungkook’s eyes snap to him.
“Your nest?”
Jimin hears no spite or disgust in the question, so he nods when Jungkook inspects the small collection of fabrics from afar.
“It’s ok if you don’t want to enter it. I don’t mind being, um, taken somewhere else.”
Jimin turns to look around the room, realizing the absurdity of what he said. The room is the bed. There’s not a lot of space besides it where anything can happen. Besides, it’s unheard of for an omega to leave their nest during a heat. That’s their safe space, where they feel most comfortable and secure.
Jimin’s attempt to please Jungkook at the expense of his own needs and desires is blatantly obvious.
Jungkook’s face contorts in a grimace. He takes a few steps towards the omega, closing any distance between them.
“Invite me into your nest.” His hand moves to Jimin’s reddened cheek as if to thumb at it, but he seems to decide against it and simply tucks some hair behind Jimin’s ear. “I want to see you in it.. if you’ll allow me.”
Jimin’s face must betray his anxiety at the unfamiliarity of the situation because Jungkook quickly adds:
“Nothing has to happen. We can just lie down for a while. Or cuddle.”
Okay, good.
But also, no. That’s not what Jimin wants.
“I won’t do anything unless you tell me it’s alright, Jimin.”
This alpha's a bit odd.
“Yes. Yes, cuddling might help.” The words tumble out, forced by shyness, by fear, by the unfamiliarity of having someone offer.
Jungkook nods. He shrugs off his jacket, revealing broad shoulders and a solid build that makes Jimin gulp in anticipation. The omega extends a shaky hand to the soft pile, impatient to take the alpha to his small nest.
“Please, c-come.”
The sight of an alpha climbing into a nest Jimin’s used to seeing empty for so long is both surreal and deeply arousing. Jimin watches, mesmerized, as each taut muscle flexes and releases while Jungkook kneels at the center of the soft nest—an apex predator amidst Jimin's fuzzy blankets. If this is a dream, Jimin never wants to wake up.
Like a lamb before a wolf, he gingerly nestles himself among the layers of fabric. It’s awkward at first—bodies pressing together in the tight space, the air thick with silence that makes their quickened breaths the white noise of the room. After some murmured adjustments, they settle with Jungkook spooning Jimin, big and solid against his back. Jimin soon realizes just how bad of an idea the position was.
The alpha’s lips are right by his neck, while his hips press flush against Jimin’s ass, and—
Oh. Jimin’s mind somersaults.
He can feel it. The hard outline of an alpha cock, hot and thick even through the fabric.
A full, humiliating blob of slick soaks through his clothes, and he barely manages to swallow the quiet moan that accompanies it.
“Jimin.” Jungkook’s voice sounds a little strained.
Jimin clenches his eyes shut. He knows. His pants must be wetting Jungkook’s right now.
“Jimin!” Jungkook repeats more sternly. “You need water, or you’ll get dehydrated.”
It’s obvious what the alpha’s addressing. The slick really is a lot; abnormally so. Perhaps it’s the presence of an alpha so close for the first time. Jimin can only imagine what would happen once—
Jungkook moves like he’s about to get up, and panic slams into Jimin like a freight train. He scrambles to hold onto the alpha, because he can’t leave. Not now.
“Hey, hey! Relax,” the alpha soothes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The promise is grounding, but not enough. Jimin’s body moves before his mind can catch up, subtly rocking his hips back into Jungkook’s. A simple, yet effective little circle.
The hard cock pressed against him twitches—hard because of him; hard for him.
The pain in Jimin’s belly awakens at the thought, cutting like a knife through soft tissue. His brain whites out and he screams into the pillow as the most powerful cramp yet hits.
A blend of calming alpha pheromones rushes to his senses and lips press against Jimin’s scent gland, suckling gently and relaxing Jimin’s spine line an epidural. The scream tapers off into a much softer moan, and Jimin’s ass pushes further into the little nook of Jungkook’s hips.
“Shy, little thing,” Jungkook breathes out as if his lungs have been burning. “Why won’t you say what you need?”
There’s nothing more he wants than what rightfully belongs to his omega right now—a knot; this alpha’s knot. Once in his nest, the knot is only his to have, only his to take, and, take, and take.
“It’s yours, omega," Jungkook whispers, as if a continuation of his thoughts. "All you have to do is ask."
Vulnerability takes over completely when Jimin’s hands reach back blindly. Jungkook shifts, pulling away just enough to give him space to fumble at his zipper, hands trembling as he tries to work it open. Halfway through the task, Jimin stops to let out little oh-s as more slick spills, the amounts he’s leaking rivalling the sum of what he’s been able to produce since presentation. And all that just because of a knot awaiting him. So close, if only he could—
“Allow me.”
Jungkook’s hands replace Jimin’s. Capable fingers tug the zipper down in one smooth motion.
Jimin whines impatiently, tugging at his own hoodie, because it’s too damn hot. Jungkook helps with his pants until Jimin’s bare.
The omega curls in on himself, heat prickling across his skin, unsure if it’s from shyness or the deep flex of his insides. He’s still facing away from Jungkook, but the sudden whiff of the alluring alpha scent tells him the other must’ve also shed his clothes; that, and the warmth radiating against his back.
“Omega.”
Jungkook’s hands find his hips. Jimin jolts, a lightning bolt of sensation striking straight through him.
“Sensitive?”
A soft whimper's the only response.
“Do you want me to touch you, little one?”
Little one. Jimin doesn’t dare turn around to see just how much Jungkook's sheer size dwarfs him—especially now, with the alpha’s bare muscles making Jimin’s plumpness all the more pronounced.
He nods, with his cheeks aflame and his skin alive.
“I need more—more than cuddling,” Jimin’s throat works around the words.
Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice.
Hands tug at the waistband of his delicate underwear. Jimin's wearing his favorite pair—the soft, baby-blue ones he rarely allows himself to use. They’re his most omega-like, delicate and pretty in a way that makes him feel right. He usually saves them, afraid of wearing them out too quickly, but today, with the rest of his underwear in the laundry, he had no choice.
And now, he’s glad for it, because when Jungkook touches the fabric, he groans, deep and rough and devastating.
“A soft little thing, aren’t you?”
Jimin wants to coil from the beautiful threat in his tone.
“I’ll be gentle.” Jungkook’s hand slips under the fabric, and Jimin’s body straightens, limbs stretching.
A hand cups his cocklet. Jimin’s hard, but even when aroused, it’s small enough for a palm to cover it whole thanks to his omegaen genes. The same ones that make it softly textured and pink, with a delicate turf of hair around the base.
“So fucking sensitive,” Jungkook growls.
He makes the first firm stroke, smearing beaded pre-cum along the chubby length. When Jimin doesn’t try to pull away from the touch, Jungkook speeds up, pushing the thin foreskin down and twisting his wrist at the tender rosy cockhead. His other hand kneads at Jimin’s generous ass, pulling his cheeks apart.
Like this—pretty cock milked in one hand, plush ass worked in the other, Jimin looks like he belongs to the alpha.
Jimin’s hole gives an empty clinch.
“Alpha, your—”
He still can’t say it. But he can show.
His hands reach back again, searching for an alpha cock. When they land on their target, Jimin sobers up. Jungkook's still in his boxers, but the outline he can feel is dangerous.
Unsurely, his fingers brush to gauge what he’s been dealt, but the angle is uncomfortable and the cross of hands makes it harder for Jungkook to keep the pace on his cocklet. Jimin has to turn around.
With one last whimper, he moves to face the alpha and the sight nearly sends him into a frenzy.
Jungkook’s eyes are nearly pitch-black. His chest is flushed, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to every ridge of muscle, making each sharp contour stand out, save for the veins that bulge along his forearms and hands. The dark brown of his nipples stands firm against his sculpted chest, framed by the inky black tattoos that mark his skin. Strands of damp hair cling to his forehead, his lips pulled in restraint.
Jimin doesn’t dare look lower.
“What do you need, omega?” the alpha asks, visibly holding onto a thread.
Jimin mewls softly, fingers hooking on Jungkook’s waistband and pulling just enough to let some of the potent scent whiff his way.
He lets out a tiny, sweet moan.
There’s a deep grumble, followed by shuffling. Jungkook’s taking off his own boxers.
Jimin tries to focus on the alpha’s face. He’s never seen an alpha cock in person before; never had to handle one. The hesitation is probably plastered on his face because Jungkook wraps a hand behind Jimin’s neck and presses their foreheads together.
“Relax for me, puppy.” He pecks the omega’s trembling lips.
Labored breaths mingle, and with a shaky inhale, he gathers the courage to slip a hand down, his eyes following the movement. Under their bellies, Jimin’s gaze meets what can only be described as the most appetizing sight he has ever laid eyes on.
Hefty and thick, Jungkook’s curved cock is lined by a long throbbing vein reaching all the way up to the velvety head, glistening wet and engorged. Trimmed pubic hair adorns the base, trailing up his belly, and all Jimin can think is how he wants to trace it with his tongue.
The cock makes every instinct in Jimin light up. He wants it inside his body, thrusting, knotting, breeding.
His mind delegates all power to his hands, as he takes a handful of cock and moans from the sheer weight of it; how it comes alive under his touch.
Jungkook’s chest heaves, his eyes pressed shut with a deep crease between his brows in an obvious effort to keep from mounting.
“You've no idea what you’re doing, do you?” he grunts through gritted teeth and moves closer, bringing a slight burn to where their foreheads press.
Jimin mewls and starts stroking the girth with fervor, even if his hand barely wraps around, his fingers slipping, damp with sweat and pre-cum. He wants to suckle on it. Badly.
Jimin never liked the idea of having something other than food in his mouth. But the alpha’s cock looks like the sweetest, girthiest popsicle—all red, and wet, and hard.
His lips part, pink tongue lapping out unconsciously, and before Jimin can even register the action, Jungkook’s thumb is there, pressing against the wet muscle. Jimin startles with a choked-up sound, but quickly closes his slicked lips around the finger, suckling on instinct.
Jungkook releases a feral groan, deep and guttural, as if something inside him finally snaps.
It must, because he moves, sliding over Jimin in one seamless motion, caging him beneath. The cock slips from Jimin’s quivering fingers and the omega pulls them up to his chest, shrinking slightly under the looming presence above him. He finally has an alpha on top.
Jungkook wraps one hand around his waist, lifting him up to push a pillow under his hips, while Jimin observes with wide eyes, pliant and confused.
“I figured you’d not be ready to present just yet.” Jungkook’s voice lacks judgement.
The alpha’s right. Jimin is too shy to present. It's the most vulnerable position for an omega, after all.
“Allow me.” The alpha moves down Jimin’s body, eyes never leaving his.
He presses small kisses on Jimin’s pink areolas, making the omega convulse.
Jungkook soaks it in with a satisfied smile—the sweet pout, the light flush of Jimin’s cheeks, the flutter of his lashes. Greedy for more of Jimin’s pleasure, he catches one of Jimin’s puffy nipples between his teeth and pulls until the nub stretches and reddens. On release, it snaps back with the slightest jiggle.
Jimin’s back lifts off the mattress as if to feed the abused peak back into Jungkook’s wet mouth. His fingers simultaneously tug at the alpha’s hair in a pretence attempt to stop him, the movement lacking power.
Jungkook doesn’t stop. He sucks harshly, sweet taste glazing his tongue as he flicks it over the nipple.
“A-alpha, no.”
A smirk plays on Jungkook’s lips. He moves lower, dragging his mouth along the omega’s navel, dangerously close to where Jimin’s neediest.
Jimin hides his face into his palms, but the alpha lifts to take a hold of his wrists and plant them on his sides, feigning a displeased look. Jimin submits stupidly fast, tilting his head to the side to bare a soft expanse of unclaimed neck.
Teeth click audibly. Jungkook garbs his chin to bring his eyes back on his.
“Don't do that.”
It’s obvious he’s trying to keep his tone as gentle as possible. He must know how devastated an omega in heat can be when an alpha refuses to claim them.
Experienced. Jungkook’s experienced.
Jimin snivels, and Jungkook rubs a soothing thumb on his cheek before slowly leveling his face with the omega’s hips. He knows how to distract an omega from sulking, too, apparently.
Jungkook grabs a soft thigh in each hand and pushes them apart. A strong, cloyingly sweet scent whiffs from the exposed hole, making Jungkook’s eyes tinge red.
“D-don't look at it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to—”
"—eat it?" the alpha’s teeth bare. “But I do.”
A mix of fear and anticipation overwhelms Jimin. They stare at each other for a long moment, unmoving, before Jungkook slowly moves down to Jimin’s leaky entrance.
Jimin scrambles to close his thighs, fingers digging painfully into Jungkook’s shoulders. The omega needs everything Jungkook’s willing to offer, but accepting it is hard. Especially when the alpha’s eyes are taking him apart with a gaze too intimate to be a stranger’s.
Jimin knows this gaze. He’s seen it before, hasn’t he?
His panicked thoughts are cut short by Jungkook licking a long, wet stripe up his rosy taint, erasing all rationality from his mind. The feeling of Jungkook scooping up a generous amount of his slick directly from the source makes him moan loudly. His fingers weave into Jungkook’s hair, tugging desperately just as his thighs clamp shut with force.
The alpha moves fast, gripping them firmly and spreading them apart again in one swift motion.
“Don’t crush me now, puppy! I only had a taste."
Jimin wails pathetically and Jungkook lowers to his hole again, lips glistening with the omega’s juices. He looks positively hungry; and probably is.
The alpha’s tongue leaps out and circles Jimin’s leaky pucker again. Considering the low humming sounds of satisfaction coming from Jungkook, Jimin figures he must taste quite good to the alpha. At least he doesn’t have to worry he’s not wanted anymore.
As it laps at his hole, Jungkook’s tongue slips inside the hot heat, almost as if on accident. Jimin’s moans grow louder, a tight knot forming in his belly, entrance clenching at the intrusion. Jungkook thrusts his tongue in and out rhythmically in a delicious slurp, slick pooling around his mouth and dripping down his chin. Jimin can’t believe all of this is coming from his own body. It’s pouring out so profusely, it urges him to not waste it, to plug it in and keep it safe inside. And habits die hard.
“M-my… it’s leaking.”
Jungkook stills, slightly puzzled.
“You’re in heat.”
“No, I shouldn’t waste—I need—plug it, alpha.”
Jimin doesn’t want to cry; doesn’t want to be one of those desperate omegas. Fuck, he really doesn’t. But that damn heat's taking over new territories of his brain with each passing second, and there’s an actual alpha with him. The little control he has is slowly slipping between the fingers he threads in Jungkook’s hair. It all becomes too much because he needs, damn it, he needs—
“Plug me, alpha!” Jimin almost screams and Jungkook reacts in a flash.
He rises once more, looming over Jimin, his presence overwhelming. One hand remains hovering over the omega’s lower body. When their faces align, Jungkook’s voice drops, firm and unyielding.
“Arms,” Jungkook commands, and Jimin obeys instantly, offering both hands, now curled into tight little fists from exertion.
Jungkook catches them with ease, pinning them above the omega’s head in a firm grip.
“I want you completely still now, understood?” His voice is laced with warning. “Otherwise, I could hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt you, Jimin.”
Jimin nods quickly—too quickly—desperate to show he understands, though the meaning barely registers past the loud buzzing in his ears. His blood rushes through his veins in a frantic pulse, sending his body into overdrive with the need to just stop leaking.
“Relax for me,” Jungkook rasps into his ear.
The hand lingering on Jimin’s lower body finds his hole again, fingers collecting some of the slick around it only to push it back in. Jimin’s mouth gapes open, back arching unnaturally high off the mattress. A thick, milky lump of sticky white gushes around the alpha’s fingers, making space for the intrusion.
Jimin’s body is on fire—needing, begging, wanting.
Jungkook watches the omega intensely, eyes analyzing every small twitch of muscle, as his fingers dig deep into the wet warmth. He must know Jimin needs more, will soon start hissing for it, but wills himself to go slow. He scissors his fingers inside, stretching, molding the soft interior for what’s really meant to enter the tight space.
Jimin twists and trashes under the alpha’s steel hold, eyes blinking from the ceiling to Jungkook and back again, unseeing. He’s fully sunken in a space that tells Jungkook he’s completely in control now. His fingers sink deep, the angle right, and Jimin wrenches out a scream.
“In—in, alpha!”
It’s a command that Jungkook’s not brave enough to refuse. His sole purpose right now is to serve Jimin’s heat, not to indulge his own desires. But, damn it, if it were under slightly different circumstances, he’d make sure Jimin passes out from pleasure several times before fucking him stupid. He’d make the omega beg for mercy, drooling and needy, until Jungkook allows him to hang off his knot. He would edge and edge until what’s left is but a puddle of tears, slick, and wet pleas.
Jungkook would allow himself to go feral on Jimin.
But not now; he can’t now. The lamb under him is in too much pain for such sweet cruelty. Jimin's all twitches and soft mewls, skin pinkening at every little press of fingers, as gentle as they come. And Jungkook will pace himself.
Slowly, the alpha pulls his fingers out, slick coating them in strings like honey. He wants to lick them, but instead decides they’d find a better home in Jimin’s mouth. The omega obviously enjoys having something to suckle on while being taken care of at the other end.
He brings his wet digits to Jimin’s lips and Jimin immediately latches on.
Jungkook smirks, satisfied.
“Precious, aren't you.”
Jimin’s eyes are closed, nose scrunched up, mouth working diligently. His thighs press together, strained as the heat must again remind of the need to have something thrusting between them.
Jungkook allows himself only a minute of watching the omega lick his fingers clean, before he mounts, spreading Jimin’s soft thighs to get access to where he’s needed most. He takes the omega’s trembling feet and pushes them up, folding him in two and studying the still-too-tight opening that flutters under him.
“I want knot, pleasekno—” Jimin jerks, words tangling together under the thick veil of pheromones.
Jungkook takes his cock, now alarmingly red and angry, and nudges at the delicate rim, making Jimin’s legs tremble even more intensely.
“Calm down, pup.” Jungkook strokes his thigh reassuringly, but Jimin’s too far gone, his eyes unfocused. Jungkook knows the only way Jimin will feel relief is if he fills him to the brim.
The alpha forces the tip of his cock in. The blunt head breaches the two slicked up rings of muscles, making the big vein on his length throb and load with blood. Jungkook tilts his head back and focus on the ceiling for a moment, because the sight underneath him is sure to turn him feral.
Jimin’s body is slightly twisted to one side from strain, skin glistening with sweat and slick. His mouth is wide open in a silent moan, eyes filled to the brim with tears, as he fists the sheets on both sides of his head. The tip of alpha cock inside him plugs the small messy hole in a way that bruises the skin around, stretching. Jimin’s own cocklet stands leaky and erect between the tight slit of his perched-up thighs.
Jungkook wants to roar and take.
“More, in—alpha, ‘s wet.”
Jungkook inhales slowly to re-focus. Jimin stirs needily underneath, shuffling the cockhead inside, unaware of Jungkook’s silent struggle until the alpha growls louder than any noise he’s let out so far.
Jimin freezes, body curling up. His hands let go of the sheets and clasp together at his chest as if to self-soothe.
Jungkook curses at himself.
“Shh, ‘s alright! Didn’t mean to scare you, pup.”
He just kisses the underside of the omega’s lifted thighs gently, and Jimin relaxes a bit, but his eyes stay on Jungkook as if he’s too afraid to look away now.
Jungkook distracts by pushing more of his cock in, looking at the delicious way Jimin’s hole stretches to accommodate him. It’s dusted crimson and more wetness gushes out with each inch that pushes in.
He wants to abuse it in the best way possible.
“Yesyesyes!” There’s relief in Jimin’s words.
Jungkook doesn’t stop until he’s all the way in; until Jimin’s stuffed full.
At a high-pitched wail from the omega, Jungkook moves. The stroke is slow, deep, and thorough. Jungkook throws his head back and moans lowly, while Jimin answers with a row of unabashed panting.
The alpha fully sheaths him on his heavy cock once, twice, until he feels himself start an unforgiving pace. The warmth wrapped around him urges him to fuck, to knot, to breed.
Jimin’s soft ass bounces on each powerful slap of hips, the plush flesh jiggling when Jungkook’s tumid balls slam against it. The omega’s mute, irises completely sunken in pleasure. His entire body jolts under the alpha’s insistent thrusts, not a muscle moving on its own, pliant.
“My tiny omega.” Jungkook’s hold gets progressively more possessive, the pale bruises on Jimin’s bottom being proof.
An almost pained-sounding whine escapes Jimin’s gaping mouth, as his eyes lid half-way, arms and legs shaking in tiny convulsions. Jungkook’s cock penetrates impossibly deep, fucking into his most delicate places. Jimin’s cocklet gives a few pathetic twitches before milky strips of cum spurt on his belly, cumming completely untouched.
Jungkook slows down in both surprise and because the omega’s clenching on him, tight as a vice.
“There you go, angel, ride it out,” the alpha encourages, grinding slowly as Jimin’s entire body spasms and relaxes only to spasm again, tiny sweet noises escaping his pink-bitten lips.
Jimin sure is a pretty sight when properly fucked.
Jungkook uses the moment of rest to inspect the pink hole that’s been taking the abuse of his cock. Jimin’s ass-cheeks are blushed from the harsh slapping of skin against skin, and so is the soft area around his opening, now slightly gaping.
Jungkook smiles. Jimin might have a chance of being knotted tonight, after all. The alpha considered skipping on the knot for the sake of Jimin’s safety, but seeing how prettily his hole gave in to the stretch, he might be able to put a knot in there, too.
“A-again, alpha, don't stop. I need y-you to…” he trails off.
Jungkook squints in question.
“What’s that, pup?
Jimin buries his face in one of the nest’s blankets, muffling a tiny, hushed whimper. It’s endearing really, and precisely because of that, Jungkook decides to keep teasing
“Why do we need to keep going if you spurted already, little one?”
Jimin mumbles something quietly, not looking at Jungkook, until the alpha guides his chin towards him.
“You need to be louder.”
Jimin gulps with big watery eyes and, unsurely, he mouths:
“B-breed me.”
“Breed you?” Jungkook feigns surprise.
Jimin’s lips protrude in a tiny pout. He turns to hide his face again, even more ashamed. Jungkook wills himself to keep up the pretence a little while longer. Just a little.
“My pup wants to be pupped? Is that it?”
Jimin gives a small, coy nod. For an omega to want to be pupped means the heat's at its peak.
“Words, baby,” Jungkook reminds.
“I’m r-ready to be bred.” It’s said so quietly Jungkook barely catches it.
“Very well. Ass up, baby boy.” He pats the omega’s thigh and Jimin starts trembling again.
He’s finally asked to present.
Jimin remains still for a moment, unsure what to do. Jungkook’s cock is still in his hole and he can’t imagine removing it; not now. It’s the plug he so desperately desires.
The alpha quickly catches on to his predicament, taking one of Jimin’s legs and nudging it over the other to signal Jimin to turn around on his cock. Considering there’s no other way to change positions without being disconnected, Jimin obeys. He lifts one leg up and twists his body to lay on his stomach. The movement makes Jungkook’s cock brush his inner walls in 180-degree radius, forcing a new wave of pleasure down Jimin’s own cocklet.
Jungkook snarls, catching the omega’s hips in a bruising grip as if to anchor himself. The world spins for both of them while they adjust to the new angle.
“Breed, alpha.”
It’s spoken too softly and innocently to be another command, yet Jungkook takes it as such. A flame kindles in his irises at the sight of Jimin’s hips lifting from the mattress. Two plumb ass-cheeks squeeze his large cock tightly, Jimin’s delicate cocklet draped between trembling thighs, all pretty and soiled.
The perfect presentation.
Jungkook snaps his hips forwards. He does a single, sharp drag out, only to target a very particular spot, and slams right back in, merciless.
Jimin cums on the spot once again. His cocklet dribbles a string of pearlescent while straight onto the nest, and with each snap of Jungkook’s hips, new spurts come out. The alpha fucks thoroughly, shifting Jimin’s body all the way up to the headboard. The clothes and towels the omega used for his humble nest are surely ruined by now.
The sounds coming from Jimin are barely human—high-pitched and resembling a chorus of a sin-glorifying choir. It’s how Jungkook knows not to stop. He splays himself against the omega’s back and thrusts into oblivion.
He’s so close to Jimin’s scent gland that all he wants to do is claim, mind going in circles. The omega doesn’t help either, tilting his head and baring himself.
“Don’t!” Jungkook reprimands.
Jimin immediately coils, pushing his ass to meet Jungkook’s cock, as if to amend. And it works; it really fucking works, because he only bites Jimin’s earlobe and rails the omega into the mattress with newfound fervor.
Jimin legs soon give out and he collapses flat onto his tummy, cheek pushed into a pillow. Jungkook’s cock is too engorged to thrust in with his ass-cheeks clenched so tightly, so he flips the omega on his side, one leg held up, as he continues to fuck.
“Can’t stop, pup.” Jungkook’s voice is shaky, hips stuttering. “Alpha can’t stop now.”
They’ve been at it for hours and Jungkook’s afraid he’ll go mad if he doesn’t knot soon. Thankfully, Jimin’s been hiccuping for a knot incessantly after having his n-th consecutive dry orgasm. At one point, he started cumming every few minutes, body going into overdrive, mainly because instead of slowing down each time Jimin cums, Jungkook would start thrusting in and out even harder. The over-sensitive twitches always bring out the sweetest sounds from the omega and the tightest squeezes around Jungkook’s cock.
And as Jimin extends needy fingers towards his knot, Jungkook halts to catch his wrist mid-air, immobilizing him. The omega cries out as he’s suddenly fucked into at a race-like pace.
Loud oh-s and ah-s leave his lungs, unable to catch his breath when Jungkook flips them over so that Jimin’s limp body is on top.
“Want a knot, puppy?” he growls. “Just wait and see what alpha has for you.”
The alpha plants both feet firmly on the mattress and his hips jump up to meet the omega’s tender cleft, frothing the slick there. Jimin paws on the alpha’s chest, as his small sensitive nipples brush his. The slick drips on Jungkook’s balls in strings and the soft mewls go straight to the alpha’s cock.
Jungkook wants to soak all of Jimin in, to let himself be part of the omega.
His thrusts drive so deep that Jimin shrieks.
“Too deep, alpha, ‘s too d-deep.”
But Jungkook can’t stop. He’s so close to knotting the small thing in his arms.
Hot tears spill on Jungkook’s shoulder as Jimin snuggles into the alpha’s neck, squeezing him tighter as his ass bounces over the hard cock pistoning in and out of his stretched hole.
“Just a little longer, little lamb,” Jungkook barely manages through gritted teeth, holding the omega’s ass spread to lessen bruising. “Hold on just a little more.”
After a dozen harsh thrusts, Jungkook’s knot swells and catches on the sensitive rim, making Jimin trash even harder. Soon, the knot grows too big to keep penetrating without tearing, so the alpha sinks deep inside Jimin and holds there.
The first wave of alpha semen feels surreal. Jungkook lets out a feral growl, eyes flickering yellow as his seed floods the omega’s hole. He bares his fangs, grazing dangerously close to where a mating bite should be. His entire being trembles with the aching need to just do it.
The omega smells like his.
But just before he does, he feels Jimin’s heartbeat against his own chest, rapid and uneven. The frantic rhythm snaps him back to reality.
Today, he serves. He doesn’t take.
Jungkook swiftly turns his head, sinking his teeth into the pillow beside him, tearing through the fabric. In his arms, Jimin jolts and cums one last time with the alpha throbbing inside him.
They both heave as their heartbeats even out. Satiated, Jimin’s heat seems to have broken, his body cooling rapidly. It usually takes days for an omega’s heat to subside, so Jungkook frowns, concern flickering in his dark eyes. Locked with the boy atop him, he does his best to inspect him.
“Jimin?” Jungkook calls softly, his senses gradually returning to him.
Jimin blinks, caught between wakefulness and unconsciousness. “’m cold,” he murmurs.
Without hesitation, the alpha reaches for a blanket, fishing it out from the dirtied clothes and towels in the nest that barely looks like a one anymore. He swiftly drapes the cover over them and pulls Jimin close, enveloping him in warmth.
“Rest now. We have time.”
Jimin’s eyes flutter shut, his breathing slow and steady. He looks positively devoured.
Jungkook brushes a damp strand of hair from his forehead and presses a lingering kiss to his temple.
“You did so well, little omega.”
***
Jimin wakes when a sliver of morning light slips through the lone window, cutting across his face. He blinks against the brightness, vision sluggish as he turns toward the crooked clock on the wall.
6:35 AM.
He grumbles, stretching out a hand to grab his pillow, but his fingers meet nothing but empty space. His eyes shoot open.
The nest. The heat. The alpha.
Everything comes back like a tidal wave.
He jerks upright, heart pounding, eyes darting frantically around the room. His nest's gone and his bed's cleared out of everything but the cover draped over him. No sign of Jungkook, too.
Desperate, Jimin inhales sharply, searching for the lingering scent of wood and spice, but the window is wide open. A crisp breeze filters in, erasing any trace of the alpha’s presence. It’s useless.
For a moment, Jimin wonders if it had all been a dream.
Did he go downstairs and meet a rather peculiar alpha? Did said alpha fuck him into oblivion and break his heat in record time since his presentation? Is Jimin going insane?
He rubs his eyes with vigor, willing himself to think clearly and smother the panic blooming in his chest before it takes root.
Jimin shifts, preparing to push himself up—
He feels it; the proof he’s not crazy.
Jimin twists around to get a feel of it, but his entire body aches at the movement. Carefully, he turns towards the small mirror on one of the walls. Despite its size, it manages to reflect what he needs to see—a drop-shaped plug tapering off into a small gem stone nestles prettily in-between his ass-cheeks.
Jimin stares at it for a while. He’s always wanted to own one of these.
He can’t shake the feeling of familiarity with the pretty object. It’s as if it has been his for a while; as if he’s felt the nice stretch it provides, the fullness that soothes his innermost instincts.
Jimin’s fingers brush over it, and he realizes he’s smiling, but the warmth fizzles out as quickly as it came when the thought of the person who put it there so diligently intrudes again.
Did Jungkook leave for good?
He wasn’t obliged to stay, after all. He had come to serve Jimin’s heat, nothing more. And he had, undeniably, taken good care of him. The alpha even cleaned him and the nest, and made sure to appease his post-heat necessities by plugging him, knowing Jimin will need it upon waking up. That should be enough.
And still, something in Jimin’s chest tightens painfully.
He didn’t want to wake up alone again. It’s the worst kind of waking up.
His skin crawls with the aching need for the alpha’s warm touch. Jimin wants someone to hold him, to scent him, to tell him he did well yesterday; to tell him he’s loved and wanted.
The ache deepens, and Jimin slowly turns away from the mirror, curling into himself. All previous thoughts about not being good enough for any alpha to stay come rushing back.
Perhaps Jungkook thought he was just a good fuck but didn’t want anything more from him. The alpha didn’t even bite when he knotted.
Jimin's undeserving to be a mate. He’s poor as they come, without much to offer, his life a cycle of working and studying. Who would want a burden like him?
The omega slowly lowers himself back onto the bed, curling into a tight little ball beneath the covers. He squeezes his eyes shut, silently pleading for sleep to return so he can escape his reality, if only for a little longer.
His thighs press together so he can feel the plug and maybe imagine it’s an alpha who stayed.
A single tear spills down his cheek.
Jimin hates it.
***
Jimin feels like only a few moments have passed when his phone buzzes on the nightstand, the vibrations inching it closer and closer to the edge. He doesn’t want to answer it, unsure he can steady his voice with the tight knot of anxiety choking him from the inside. But just before the phone tips over, he catches it and answers.
“Hey!”
It’s Taehyung. His one and only friend Taehyung. The kind omega who he hasn’t seen in at least a week.
“Hey back,” Jimin replies gloomily.
He knows he can’t mask his emotions; no amount of effort could hide them right now.
“How are you? Haven’t heard from you since you started preparing for your heat.”
“Been better.”
Jimin's too laconic, but he needs this conversation to be over so he can go back to sleep and forget how miserable he feels.
“Mm...” Taehyung’s tone shifts. “Did Jungkook come?”
Jimin jumps up.
“What?”
A long pause stretches on the other end of the line.
“Um, I asked if Jungkook came over by any chance." Taehyung’s voice sounds hesitant. "He mentioned he’d try to visit you this time around.”
“Tae?”
“Jimin, I—”
“Taehyung, how do you know Jungkook?” Jimin feels an ugly bouquet of emotions start to bloom in his chest, confusion and anger being amongst the thorniest of them.
Did Taehyung send Jungkook? Was it all non-coincidental? Was he indeed a puppet in a well-played theatro?
Jimin knew something was off. No alpha like Jungkook would ever choose to take him in his ugly nest and serve his heat. Jimin's an undesirable omega.
The silence on Taehyung’s end is deafening. It allows for all of Jimin’s destructive demons to scream into his ear, each one louder than the last.
“Taehyung,” Jimin starts again carefully, but his voice's no longer trembling. “I met Jungkook only yesterday. In the early morning. How do you know about him? How—”
“Jimin, I think you should talk to your alpha,” Taehyung cuts in so quickly, Jimin catches up to the meaning with slight delay.
Your alpha.
Jimin’s mind sticks to the possessive pronoun like a moth tangled in a spider’s web, trashing and unable to break free from its grip.
“M-my what?”
There’s a heavy, almost sorrowful sigh from the other end.
“We’ll talk later Jimin. Try and relax, ok? I’m sure Jungkook will be back soon.”
The line disconnects. Jimin stares at the phone, frozen, as if waiting for Taehyung to return and finish explaining, except he doesn’t.
Then, a loud thud jolts him from his thoughts, and the phone slips from his hand, clattering to the floor. Jimin twists his head toward the entrance, eyes locked on the door handle, which begins to slowly turn.
Jimin catches the scent before he sees him. Wood and spice.
Jimin shuffles back on the mattress until he’s pressed against the wall.
He came back. Jungkook came back for him.
The thought brings both relief and horror.
Who is Jungkook? A stranger Jimin had carelessly let into his nest. The alpha who had served his heat. Who Taehyung somehow knows.
Who the fuck is Jeon Jungkook?!
“Morning!” Jungkook’s lips curve into a small smile as he enters the room, his familiar filling the air, comforting in a way that Jimin can't ignore.
The omega's heart tightens, and before he can stop them, tears spill down his cheeks, his shoulders rounding. He’s so confused.
Jungkook’s smile falters and he drops the bag he’s carrying, quickly rushing to the bed.
“What’s happening? What’s wrong? Does something hurt?”
Jimin instinctively raises his hands in a gesture for Jungkook to stay back and sees the exact moment the alpha’s expression shatters in the realization that Jimin's… afraid.
“Jimin—”
“Who are you?” Jimin snivels, hands trembling. “I don’t know you… I don’t know you and yet you came back. Why?”
He knows he’s too pathetic a sight to even be embarrassed about his nudity right now. He’s no stranger to humiliation. Another day, another painful reminder of his worthlessness.
“You know me, Jimin.” The alpha’s voice is a bite dipped in pain. “I always come back. Just like you do. You always come back to me Jimin. Come on!”
“What—Jungkook, what are you talking about? I’m so confused, and—and—” Jimin hyperventilates, wet hiccups eating up his words.
“Jimin.” Jungkook steps closer, cautious. “Jimin, I’m your alpha.”
Your alpha. That possessive word echoes in Jimin’s mind again.
“We’ve been together for a while now, pup. It’s been seven months since we met, remember? At Taehyung’s birthday party? You wore that nice blue sweater.”
Jimin does have a blue sweater.
“We danced for hours that night, and talked for even longer on the terrace. You told me how you sometimes forget. You…” Jungkook swallows hard, his voice thick with emotion. “You told me you sometimes don’t remember things. People. Your memory’s a little... affected since the accident. Do you remember telling me that, Jimin?”
The accident. Right, he had an accident.
He'd hit his head during a particularly dangerous flip he was trying out during his dance practice back in Busan, when he could still afford hobbies. He hadn’t danced since; hadn’t remembered much of anything, either.
“You told me you were due to have your heat this week,” Jungkook continues. “You said you didn’t want me there, in case you had another episode, but I couldn’t, Jimin. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone," he talks fast. "I stayed close. And when that god-awful beta at the mini-market tried to push you around, I couldn’t just stand by anymore.”
Jungkook’s voice breaks, his shoulders dropping in defeat.
“I’m your alpha, Jimin. Your alpha.”
“Jungkook.”
The name rolls off Jimin’s tongue sweet and familiar. Because that’s Jungkook. His Jungkook. His alpha.
How could he forget—
“Jungkook.” The omega’s hands move from defensive to something more open, more inviting. “Alpha.”
Jungkook’s eyes glint with hope, and before Jimin can say another word, the alpha climbs into the bed, pulling Jimin into his arms. Their scents mingle in the a familiar concoction, and Jimin feels the tension in his chest finally begin to ease.
“I remember.”
Jungkook’s hold tightens, and he shifts Jimin onto his lap. Upon straddling the alpha, the plug between Jimin’s cheeks starts to slip out, but Jungkook quickly puts a finger on it, holding it in place. As if he knew it would happen; as if it’s happened one too many times before.
“I thought you left me. I couldn’t smell you and—”
Jungkook shushes him with a kiss.
“I’m here.” The alpha cradles him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jimin clings to him, but a question still lingers in his mind. He pulls back slightly, meeting Jungkook’s gaze with a mix of curiosity and hesitation.
“When we were at the mini-market... how did you know I’d forgotten you? You let me introduce myself." He shifts. "Why didn’t you try and make me remember then?”
Jungkook exhales slowly, thumb brushing gently across Jimin’s cheek.
“I wasn’t sure until you called me ‘sir.’ That’s when I realized you didn’t remember who I was. Your scent was so strong, I could tell you were pretty far along in your pre-heat, and didn’t want to risk you panicking when you were this vulnerable. So, I just went along with it.”
Jungkook smiles kindly. It makes fresh tears sting at the corners of Jimin’s eyes, lower lip quivering. All the memories of his lonely, empty heats—those were from way back, before Jungkook. Before his world, despite the trauma, began to hold unexpected beauty. How had everything gotten so bright, only to be snatched away so easily from his mind?
“I’m so sorry,” Jimin snivels. "I’m sorry for forgetting you. I’m sorry I might forget you again.”
Jungkook swallows his words. The kiss is slow, tender, and wet from the tears pooling at Jimin’s lips. When they finally part, Jungkook smiles a little brighter.
“I bought us some breakfast.” He nods toward the bag he'd brought in, a subtle shift in the conversation, but a welcome one.
Jimin’s stomach growls loudly at the mention of food, and he suddenly realizes how wolfishly hungry he is. The heat had left him drained, his body craving nourishment.
“Thank you!” Jimin leans forward to place another brief kiss on Jungkook’s. “Let me pitch in. How much was it?”
Jimin pulls from Jungkook’s hold, albeit reluctantly, to reach for his wallet. His fingers fumble as he pulls it out, only to glance at the meager amount of money inside. His face falls, realizing it’s definitely not enough to cover whatever Jungkook had bought.
He bites his lip, feeling the sting of embarrassment, and the anxiety creeping in again.
“You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you,” Jungkook grins.
He stands up with ease and scoops Jimin off the bed, tossing him over a shoulder and playfully smacking his bare ass.
“Jungkook!" the omega croaks. "Let me down!”
“Only if you promise not to say something like that again. What kind of alpha am I if I can’t take care of you, huh?” Jungkook teases. “I might not be able to provide for both of us fully until I graduate, but I can definitely buy you breakfast, Park Jimin.”
He lowers the omega back to the bed, sitting him on the edge before kneeling in front of him.
“And your lube.”
Jimin’s eyes go comically wide, and he smacks Jungkook in the chest.
Jungkook laughs, the sound warm, and Jimin can't help but join him, until the giggles die down to be replaced by a comfortable silence; the kind only lovers share.
One day, I’ll put the world at your feet, Park Jimin,” Jungkook whispers.
How did he ever forget Jeon Jungkook?