Archive of Our Own

₊‧ ꒱☀️꒰ ‧₊

Chipper, upbeat music drifts through Jungkook’s headphones. It syncs perfectly with the bright colours and flashes of neon that dance across the loading screen, nearly blinding as they bounce across Jungkook’s face and light up his room.

Eyes glued to his phone, Jungkook bops along absentmindedly with the music, fingers of his free hand tapping along to the rhythm against the arm of his chair. There’s a stupid amount of notifications that he doesn’t have the energy to deal with right now, too eager to start gaming on one of his rare nights off—his parents asking when he’s coming for dinner next, a group chat he keeps meaning to mute anyway, a handful of comments or likes on his latest social media posts.

It’s all the usual stuff, but he skims it anyway as he waits, idly scrolling through the list until one catches his attention, the red and gold app icon making Jungkook sit up a little straighter in his chair, ears perking up.

Hello, Sir. You have 1 new match. 💌

Jungkook’s thumb flies to the notification, tapping it swiftly. He’s greeted by the familiar logo—the top-down view of a red rose spinning slowly on a black background, circled by delicate green leaves and thorny stems. Below it, in elegant gold font, is the name of the app itself: ROSEBOUND.

This app has been both a blessing and a fucking curse. It saves Jungkook the agony of awkward misunderstandings and bitter disappointment, and he has had some pretty fucking good matches. Nobody he really connected with beyond one or two sessions, but still—he’s had better luck through it than he ever has just going out and trying to meet people.

The only downside is that, just like meeting someone face-to-face, his hybrid type tends to be an issue. There’s lots of omegas looking for a good Dom, but there’s significantly fewer interested in a Dom like Jungkook. What he wants is super specific, sure, and not all that common, but he figured his chances would be a little higher on an app meant for people who have more niche tastes.

Still, he can’t help the little thrill that goes through him every time he has a new match. At the very least, it’s fun to chat with people on here. Worst case scenario, all Jungkook has to do is end the conversation, and that’s that. Nothing messy. It’s simple and easy. He doesn’t even need to give his name if he doesn’t want to.

Knee bouncing, Jungkook pulls his phone closer to his face when the loading screen finally fades, his eyes quickly scanning the profile of his latest match.

peachymimi95

🌹SUBGENDER: omega

🌹HYBRID TYPE: cat

sub in search of Dom who isn’t afraid of a few claws 🩷

A crooked grin slides its way onto Jungkook’s face, a little bubble of giddy excitement rising in his chest as his eyes go wide. Bottom lip pulled between his teeth, he reads the profile over again a little more carefully, and then again, tongue toying with the rings in his lip with anxious delight as he finally scrolls back to look at the picture attached to the profile.

This guy sounds too good to be true. He looks like something right out of Jungkook’s filthiest fucking dreams—at least, from what he can see of him anyway. His profile picture only shows the lower half of his face and below, taken at an angle that highlights the curves of his slender body, the shape of his hips and ass. Even from just one photo, Jungkook can tell that this guy is small but strong, delicate and dainty and fucking proud of it. He has lips like a fucking angel, plump and pillowy and no doubt soft as hell, and Jungkook starts to feel a little dizzy, quickly forcing himself out of his thoughts before he gets too far ahead of himself and has to tap out of tonight’s gaming session before it even starts.

Jungkook hits the Approve Match! button with an almost embarrassing amount of enthusiasm. In all his months trying his luck with this app, he’s always been a little hesitant with each match. He knows exactly what he’s looking for, but the same can’t be said for most people, in his experience. Even when they think they do, they always seem to like the idea more in theory than in practice.

He’s used to it by now though.

The sudden ping of someone joining the call echoes through his headphones, way too fucking loud. Jungkook jumps, nearly tossing his phone across the room in his haste to hide something that nobody but himself can even see, fumbling with it in an attempt to keep from dropping it on the floor. He curses quietly, blowing out a slow breath of relief when he gets a proper grip on it, taking a quick scan of his screen to confirm he didn’t accidentally do anything fucking stupid like delete the match.

“‘Kay. Hello to you too,” says the voice of Kim Taehyung in Jungkook’s ear, his words tinged with confusion. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Uh. Nothing.” Jungkook carefully sets his phone down safely on his desk, far enough away that he won’t be tempted to reach for it. He’s glad they decided against having cams on tonight since it’s just their friend group, or he’d have to come up with some bullshit excuse to get Taehyung off his back. He can feel the redness in his cheeks, knows his ears are twitching in that way they do when he’s really excited about something. “The fuck took you so long?”

Taehyung scoffs. “I was busy getting us an extra team member since Joon flaked again. Jungkook, Jimin. Jimin, ignore him, he’s an asshole.”

Soft, tinkling laughter floods Jungkook’s ears as he rolls his eyes at his friend. “Whatever, hyung. Nice to meet you, and I’m sorry you also have to know Taehyung.”

“This is so fucking rude.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“Don’t be nice to him!”

More of Jimin’s pretty laugh comes through, even over Taehyung’s lighthearted complaints, the sound sending pleasant tingles down Jungkook’s spine. He feels himself grinning, shaking his head as he scoots his chair closer to his desk and gets started on setting up their game.

“So, have you ever played before, Jimin?” he asks, mouse clicking. “Or did Tae rope you into this completely blind?”

Jimin snickers. “Oh, I’ve played. I’m not amazing at the game, but I know a thing or two about it.”

“He’s actually pretty fucking good,” Taehyung adds. “Like, just wait, Kook. He’s about to blow your fucking mind.”

“Tae! Don’t give him the wrong impression. I’m really nothing special. I’m not, like, Hypernova levels of good or anything. Not even close.”

Jungkook has to bite back a laugh, the inside of his lip caught between his teeth. So Taehyung didn’t tell his friend before recruiting him as a replacement, huh?

Probably for the best. Jungkook uses his alt account on nights like this for a reason, after all.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures Jimin, fingers drumming lightly against the keyboard without pressing any down as he waits for Taehyung to send off the invite for their team. “We’re just here to have fun. No pressure, just vibes.”

“Right,” Jimin replies, letting out an audible sigh of relief. “Just vibes. Okay.”

Taehyung snickers into his mic and earns a click of Jimin’s tongue in response, the two starting to bicker quietly as their team loads into the lobby, familiar characters flickering to life in front of Jungkook’s eyes. He likes to use their casual gaming sessions to play characters he doesn’t get to during proper matches, just to keep things interesting for himself. It’s also the best way, in his opinion, to better understand how to handle his opponents. Knowing how each character plays is key to his in-game strategy, and essential to their team’s wins.

Eyes scanning the names of his teammates, Jungkook is surprised to see who he can only assume is Jimin—the name silkshot glimmering between Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s—immediately select Mirage Medic.

Jungkook hums curiously, clicking his usual choice for nights like this. Blades shimmer to life as his character materializes on screen, the gears of the neon clockwork mask turning to click it into place over a face distorted by glitchy pixels. He can swap to something else next round, depending on how their team plays, but starting the night with Chrono Assassin is the best way to get himself into the groove of things.

Well, other than Crystal Sniper, at least. But people get suspicious when he starts nailing every headshot. Easier to accuse him of cheating than to admit they might be playing against someone more skilled.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Taehyung chirps, locking in his own choice. Another support character, and one Jungkook knows Taehyung is shit at. He snorts, and Taehyung scoffs in response. “Got a problem, pal?”

“Nope,” Jungkook replies casually, dragging out the syllables as he idly wanders his character around the loading zone, waiting for the round to start. “Can’t wait to see your death count.”

“I’ll kick your ass, how about that?”

Sweet laughter drifts over the headset, quiet but unmistakable. Jimin seems nervous, or maybe just shy—he falls silent again shortly after, his laugh fading away as his character goes zipping by Jungkook’s in an erratic, impatient little pattern.

The countdown pops up on the screen, brightly coloured numbers glitching as they go to zero. Jungkook weaves his fingers together and pushes them out, knuckles popping, then finds his keys and mouse. He stretches his neck from side to side, one ear giving a quick flick as he focuses in.

A routine. A ritual. Something there are dozens of fan-made compilations of out there. From streams to championship competitions, there’s enough footage of just his pre-game quirks from over the years to see Jungkook’s progression from fresh, anxious streamer with three viewers, to a household name in the world of gaming.

The match starts, and Jungkook falls into a rhythm. He knows this game like the back of his hand, could probably play with his eyes closed. Yet he never gets tired of it, never gets bored of the bright pixels and electric, energetic beats of each map’s rotating soundtrack. It brings him a sort of comfort that he has rarely found in anything else.

A couple minutes in, Jungkook spots Jimin’s character crouched behind a blue-neon painted brick wall, attempting to sneak past the other team’s defences. If Jimin can get by, then Taehyung and one of their other teammates can safely move in and attack.

“Hold there, Jimin,” Jungkook murmurs into his mic, watching from his hiding spot a few steps away as Jimin zooms back behind the wall, moments before he can dart out into the open. If he goes now, the other team’s sniper will spot him, and Taehyung will have to fight to hold on until Jimin respawns and makes it back.

“Oh— Okay,” Jimin replies. He stands still as a member of the other team zips by, followed by their own team’s fifth member.

Jungkook takes his chance, his character flickering in and out of a solid form to a cluster of floating pixels as he makes his way up through the winding streets of the map, sneaking between cracks in the neon-glowing walls of crumbling, candy-coloured buildings.

“Hold…” he repeats in that same low, calm tone. His attention is laser-focused on taking aim, eyes narrowed in concentration as he lines up the teleport that will set him just behind the sniper. “Just a bit longer. Gonna take him out, then you go on my mark. Okay?”

A small hum of acknowledgment floats through his headset. Jimin’s voice is sweet, soft. Light and airy. Jungkook has a brief, fleeting moment where he wonders if the owner of the voice is as pretty as it is.

“Okay.”

Jungkook executes his attack perfectly, the enemy disappearing off his screen in a colourful explosion of pixels that pile at his character’s feet like sand.

“Now, Jimin.”

The moment he gives the word, Jungkook sees Jimin rush out from his hiding place. He joins Taehyung and their other team member, healing them through an assault on the opposite team as Jungkook supports from his perch well above the chaos.

It’s the push they need, and a few minutes later, the screen flashes with their victory as Jungkook secures the final zone for their team. Taehyung lets out a whoop of excitement, his keys clacking maniacally as he goads the sore losers on the other side, already hurling insults their way.

Jungkook just tunes it out, used to this sort of thing. He’s heard it all before.

Instead, he leans back in his chair as the stats of that round go by, half-paying attention as he says, “Good job, Jimin. You play really well.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jimin replies. He laughs, the sound a little muffled. “I tried my best. I’m sweating over here, I’ll be honest. You guys play hard.”

“Told you that you’d be impressed, Kook,” Taehyung adds, pleased with himself. Jungkook can imagine the smug grin on his face, but can’t bring himself to be annoyed by it this time.

If Jimin keeps playing like that, Jungkook might just have to suggest making him a more permanent member of their casual gaming nights. It’s only the first round, but Jungkook has a good feeling that Jimin is going to make things interesting.

“If anything, I’m mad you kept him a secret this long, hyung,” he teases, smiling to himself when he hears Jimin’s pretty laugh again. Jungkook pops back upright, rolling his shoulders as he reaches for his mouse. “Okay. Ready to go again?

Jungkook loses track of how many matches they play. At some point, Taehyung taps out in favour of sleep, but Jimin decides to stay when he learns that Jungkook still has another few hours in him before he heads to bed.

Also a night owl, it turns out.

By the time they call it quits, Jungkook is buzzing with the excitement of their countless victories, still wide awake when he finally crawls into bed after his nightly routine. It’s not just the game, though—there’s something else that’s been just at the back of his mind, a little flicker of anticipation and interest.

Phone in hand, Jungkook thumbs through his apps until he pulls up Rosebound, tapping his finger impatiently against the side of his phone as it loads. He has a new notification—another match, it seems—but he ignores it in favour of switching over to his chats. Sure enough, there’s unread messages waiting for him from the same person he matched with earlier, his pulse quickening as he opens the chat.

peachymimi95: hello, gorgeous 🩷

peachymimi95: any reason you have your type hidden?

peachymimi95: want me to guess, alpha? 😘 is this part of the game? what do i get if i win?

A grin slowly spreads across Jungkook’s face. He likes the forwardness, even if it does make him a little nervous. He’s just about to type a reply, fingers hovering over the keys, when another message comes through.

peachymimi95: ah, i’m sorry. i hope i wasn’t too forward. 😓 we can start over if you’d like!

jknot97: hey, no don’t worry! not too forward at all. i like the enthusiasm 

peachymimi95: oh, well in that case!

peachymimi95: it’s lovely to meet you, alpha. 🩷

peachymimi95: sorry about all that. i’ve had a few people tell me that it’s a turn-off to message first. 

jknot97: ? that’s stupid lol. their loss though

peachymimi95: my thoughts exactly!

peachymimi95: so, alpha, what are you doing up so late? or so early…?

jknot97: oh this is pretty normal for me, i’m self-employed so i make my own hours. you?

peachymimi95: oohhh me too! but i had a rare night off. my friend roped me into gaming earlier tonight, have you ever played NovaRush?

Jungkook hesitates, his thumbs hovering over the screen, tongue worrying at the ring in his lip. It’s a little too close for comfort, but it’s not like he has to be completely honest. The game is popular enough, and there’s nothing on his profile that could link to his real identity anyway.

jknot97: i play every now and then, yeah ☺️

peachymimi95: cool, maybe we could play sometime if you’re into that. winner gets to choose the loser’s punishment? 😘

jknot97: is that your way of saying you expect to lose?

peachymimi95: guess we’ll have to find out! 🥰

jknot97: guess so, omega

peachymimi95: so, self-employed? what do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?

jknot97: oh, i just do media shit. video editing mostly, nothing crazy exciting

Another half-truth. It’s easier to introduce himself as self-employed and focus on the editing he does for himself than it is to navigate the complexities of telling a stranger who he is. Even the people who aren’t big into the gaming scene often get weird about it, clinging to his status and money rather than really trying to get to know him.

He figures, if he clicks with someone well enough, they’ll understand why he was hesitant to share this part of himself right off the bat.

peachymimi95: that sounds very exciting, thank you very much!

jknot97: haha thanks. ☺️ what about you?

peachymimi95: nothing fancy here. i have a day job to keep up appearances but it’s soul-sucking and terrible. 🙄 keeps me plenty flexible though. 🩷

jknot97: hmmm let me guess. you work the corporate grind and you’re always bending over backwards for dickhead alphas in suits?

peachymimi95: 🤭 actually, i’m a yoga instructor.

jknot97: oh. you meant flexible, literally. 

jknot97: hot.

peachymimi95: why thank you 🩷 it makes my ass look pretty good too!

jknot97: ha, i bet it does, peach ❤️

peachymimi95: maybe one day you’ll get to see for yourself. 🩷

peachymimi95: i don’t do photos, before you ask. too many creeps, sorry. and i don’t give out my number or personal socials until after we’ve met up and i get a feel for you. i hope that isn’t a problem.

jknot97: not at all actually. i’m the same. so no worries, kitty. ❤️

peachymimi95: oooh careful, alpha. you’re really pulling me in with all these pretty names, you know. i might get attached if you’re not careful.

jknot97: oh good, that means it’s working ☺️

peachymimi95: haha, you’re cute. i like that 🩷 think we can chat some more tomorrow? get to know each other a little better? 😘 i have a good feeling about you, but i have a busy morning ahead of me and should probably try to get some sleep 

jknot97: yeah, ‘course we can. looking forward to it, peach ❤️ sleep well

peachymimi95: goodnight, mystery alpha! 🩷

₊‧ ꒱☀️꒰ ‧₊

Over the next week or so, Jungkook spends his every free waking hour getting to know peachymimi95—or just Mimi, as Jungkook has taken to calling him.

Their conversations are usually long and drawn out, both of them working odd hours or busy with real life obligations. It doesn’t bother Jungkook much, and he makes sure Mimi knows it. There’s no pressure from either of them to give time that they don’t have, and that in itself seems to make conversation flow easier between them.

Every time Jungkook picks up his phone and sees a new message, his heart does a little jump, excitement bubbling inside him. It’s still new, and they still haven’t officially agreed to meet up, but Jungkook has a good feeling about this. He knows they’re both hoping to turn this into more than just a one-off scene. It’s obvious in the way Mimi tries to get a feel for him, his casual flirtation more than just filthy words.

It’s a test, a real attempt to determine compatibility. Jungkook has to wonder if maybe Mimi has had just as much difficulty finding a decent match. They’re taking it slow, and honestly?

It’s nice for a change.

Jungkook is used to people who are looking for something quick, who lay it all out right off the bat without giving either of them time to properly get a feel for things. He keeps his hybrid type undisclosed until he feels comfortable with the person he’s talking to—most of them say they’re cool with it, but he can always feel the change when they find out. A shift in tone, or the pause between replies.

The same worry lingers at the back of his mind the longer he spends getting to know Mimi. If this doesn’t work out, Jungkook might just accept his fate and give it up. There are only so many times he can pick himself back up and try again after the disappointment of being ghosted, or left feeling uneasy and unsettled after a hookup, just because his partner had a problem with who he is.

So many predators think they want a prey hybrid to dom them, until it actually happens. They like the idea, the thrill of the “forbidden”. But their instincts win out, and more than once, it’s been Jungkook who has had to bring things to an early stop.

One of Jungkook’s ears gives an agitated little flick at the memories, his tongue worrying at his lip ring. It won’t do him any good to assume the worst, but he can’t help it, the familiar anxiety starting to creep up on him. His knee bounces as he thinks up his next reply, NovaRush’s main theme bright and chaotic in his ears while he waits for his friends to join.

They’re in the offseason of professional competition, so Jungkook has plenty of time to himself. He typically fills it with streaming to keep himself busy and keep his fans entertained. He loves the engagement, loves the interaction and the chance to play other games for a change, but he’s always drawn back to NovaRush, and the best way to play right now is privately like this. It’s fun to get to experience the game with no pressure, nobody watching—he keeps his second alternate account a secret for that reason.

Everybody knows the username of the account he uses to play on-stream. It started as an inside joke with Seokjin, and when Jungkook picked up streaming in his free time, it was an obvious choice—onebunarmy is both the best and most ridiculous decision he’s made during his career, but he fucking loves it.

Nobody but his closest friends know that he also plays under the name softlock when he needs comfort, consistency, familiarity. It’s his way to disconnect without needing to abandon what he loves most. To zone out when everything else feels like too much.

Relatively speaking, Jungkook lives a quiet, private life despite his name being pretty much everywhere. His brand, his team—they’re a force to be reckoned with, at least in the gaming scene. Everybody knows Hypernova, the top ranking professional NovaRush team in the country and one of the best in the world. The interviews, the sponsorships, the pressure to engage. Sometimes it all weighs heavy on him, makes him feel like he’s about to be crushed and spiral out of control all at once.

He likes when he can silence it all, even just temporarily. When he is in control, and everything else is steady and still and sure, and he just has to focus on what he knows best.

Whether it’s a game he’s played for half his life, or someone else’s pleasure. It quiets his mind, grounds him into something that’s his to share with who he chooses.

The ding of someone joining the voice chat catches his attention in the middle of the sentence he’s typing, thumbs continuing to fly over the keys as he half-glances up at the screen.

“Hey, Jimin,” he greets, eyes on his phone to read over his message one last time before hitting send. “How’s it going?”

jknot97: hmm, that’s good to know. so you like being tied up and looking all pretty, kitty? blindfolds or no?

Jungkook sets his phone facedown in an attempt to avoid the temptation of looking at it every few seconds, wheeling himself closer to his desk. His head tilts, ear flicking curiously at the silence.

“Jimin?”

“Huh—? Oh! Oh, god, sorry.” Jimin laughs, soft and sweet in Jungkook’s ears. He clears his throat and continues, “Sorry, I didn’t realize you said anything, I was just… How are you, Jungkookie?”

Smiling to himself, Jungkook clicks around a bit, typing Jimin’s username in to send an invite to join his party. “I’m alright. Had a long day streaming, but I’m not ready to wind down just yet.”

“Streaming?”

He hears the intrigue in Jimin’s voice, wonders if his head tilts cutely when he’s interested in something, or if his ears twitch. If Jungkook isn’t mistaken, Jimin is some sort of cat hybrid like Taehyung—it wouldn’t surprise him if they shared many of the same mannerisms.

“Ah, yeah. Not sure Taehyung ever mentioned it—honestly, I don’t know what he’s said about me… ever. But it’s what I do when I’m not competing.”

The silence on the other end of the call stretches on long enough that Jungkook has to glance at his second screen to make sure he’s still connected, that he didn’t mute Jimin by accident.

“You… stream. You’re— Sorry, I just, um.” Jimin pauses, and when he continues, his voice is softer and a little hesitant. “I think you forgot to swap accounts, Jungkook.”

Sure enough, when Jungkook’s eyes flick to the bottom corner where his player icon and username sits, he sees it: onebunarmy, ridiculously high levelled but missing the badge that indicates his professional, affiliated status that he has on his competitive account.

“Oh my god,” Jimin whispers, and Jungkook can practically feel the awe, the shock, drifting straight through his headset. “This whole time— Why didn’t anybody tell me that you’re the goldenstarcandy? I’m so embarrassed, oh my god, I would have tried so much harder if I’d—”

The sound of his username makes Jungkook laugh. He’s not entirely sure why, maybe it’s the abject horror in Jimin’s voice, or the ridiculousness of somebody getting excited over Jungkook. He still can’t get used to that feeling, even this far into his career. It’s bizarre, but not uncomfortable—makes him feel a little giddy and awkward at the same time.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he rushes to say. “It just figures Taehyung didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if you just didn’t know, or if you were trying to be polite about it.”

“You mean this whole time, Taehyung has been friends with you and somehow managed to keep that to himself? That’s a fucking miracle. I promise you, I had absolutely no idea.” Jimin lets out an audible exhale, seeming to take a moment to collect himself. “Okay, sorry— I’m sorry. I can be totally normal about this, I swear. Please don’t block me.”

Jungkook laughs again, grinning when he hears Jimin’s nervous chuckle. “It’s all good, hyung, don’t worry. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

As he speaks, Jungkook quickly disconnects from the game, swapping over to softlock before loading it back up. He sends another invite, and this time Jimin joins up instantly.

“You’re really good though, for the record,” Jungkook says. “I’ve met some really, really bad players. Trust me. I’m not lying to you when I say you play well. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

Jimin laughs, the sound devolving into an incredulous sigh. “I’m flattered, really, but I’ve seen you guys play. You’re something else.”

Even though Jimin can’t see him, Jungkook shrugs, smiling softly. “It just comes from years of practice and almost killing each other a few hundred times,” he says, and Jimin giggles quietly. “You’ve been improving too—you’re good at listening and doing what I tell you to do.”

He means it as a joke. But Jungkook catches the slight dip in his own voice, the soft murmur from his lips, a moment too late. He hopes he’s imagining the silence that falls between them again, his nose twitching as he rushes to collect himself and move on before Jimin gets the wrong idea.

“Anyway, point is,” he says quickly, as casually as he can manage, “I like playing with you.” Jungkook glances at his second screen, tongue prodding his lip ring, searching for any kind of distraction from his own slow simmering embarrassment. “Speaking of Taehyung, where the hell is he?”

Jimin clears his throat softly, replying, “Uh, good question. Should we wait for him…?”

“Nah. He can join in whenever he gets here,” Jungkook decides, queuing them up before Jimin can protest. “If he doesn’t wanna be left out, then he should be on time.”

Jimin laughs, the sound a little bit muffled, and Jungkook can’t help the crooked little smile that slides onto his face. “Fair enough. Let’s go, bunny boy.”

Snorting, Jungkook casts his second monitor a withering glance, right where the square that normally holds Taehyung’s face in it would be when their cameras are on. It’s habit at this point, with how often Taehyung harmlessly says or does things to get under Jungkook’s skin.

“Bunny boy? Really? Jumping right to it when I don’t even know what you look like?” he teases, shaking his head. One of his ears gives a quick flick and he glances at his camera, still used to it being on after streaming all day.

Another giggle reaches his ears, and it takes everything in Jungkook not to melt right out of his seat. It’s unbearably adorable, the sound soft and sweet, and Jungkook is tempted to crank his game volume down even further just to better hear Jimin.

He only stops himself when he realizes that’s probably a bit creepy. Jungkook hardly knows Jimin still, has rarely spoken to him one-on-one like this. For all he knows, being on voice chat like this could already be pushing the limits of what Jimin is comfortable with, especially given that he now knows about Jungkook’s public persona.

Movement catches Jungkook’s attention out of the corner of his eye, his head turning instinctively, only for him to freeze when he realizes what it is. He blinks, speechless as he takes in the shape that is definitely not Taehyung, giving a shy wave.

Jimin is barely illuminated by the glow of his computer screen, the vibrant pinks and blues and reds of NovaRush casting vivid smatterings of colour across his face. Round cheeks and a sharp jawline, a delicate nose, plush lips, his smile soft and a little hesitant. Black ears that are unmistakably those of a cat poke out from equally dark hair, wiggling as Jimin stares expectantly at his camera, a fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Now you do,” Jimin says simply, and a moment later he’s gone, his face replaced with the default image of his profile picture—a small, adorable pixel version of one of the NovaRush animal mascots.

Jungkook huffs out a bewildered laugh. His smile grows, nose scrunching as his heart flutters, the barest hint of a spike in his scent reaching his nose. Jimin is painfully cute, not only in personality, but appearance-wise too. It’s rare for Jungkook’s scent to be strong enough for him to notice it when he’s alone like this. It usually only happens when he’s stressed or really angry.

If he wasn’t already busy pursuing Mimi and trying to make that work, he might be fucked. Jimin is, so far, everything Jungkook admires—witty, a little snarky, competitive, and now too, he knows Jimin is physically his type as well.

But it’s too risky, too complicated, to try and find what Jungkook is looking for in a partner in somebody he already knows. He learned that the hard way. Matching on Rosebound is the safest and most logical choice.

“Knew you were a cat,” is all Jungkook says as they finally load into a match, earning a snort of surprise from Jimin.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” he wonders, tone full of lighthearted amusement and a hint of curiosity.

“Oh, just had a feeling. You’re a lot like Taehyung. It made the most sense.”

Jungkook swears he hears the ghost of a rumble that could be a gentle purr, though he can’t tell for sure. He’s spent enough time around Taehyung and Yoongi to know what it sounds like—not to mention his fair share of omegas—but it’s so soft that Jungkook thinks he might simply be imagining things.

“I will take that as a compliment, then,” Jimin says proudly. He locks in his usual character, and Jungkook grins as an idea pops into his head, selecting his as well.

“How about we swap after this round?”

“Hm? Swap?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook’s knee bounces, the map loading in around him. “Next round, I’ll go MM and you play Chrono.”

Jimin barks out a laugh, his character running up in front of Jungkook’s and standing ridiculously close. “You’re funny.”

“I’m serious,” Jungkook replies, laughing as he watches Mirage Medic’s looping thumbs down animation. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I make a total fool out of myself in front of the best player in the country, that’s what.”

“I’m shit with Mirage, hyung. I’m a fucking awful support in general.”

There’s a small pause, and just as the countdown reaches zero and their match starts, Jimin simply comments, “True. You are pretty bad.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head, that stupid, lopsided grin plastered on his face. “Is that a yes?”

It takes Jimin a moment to answer, likely focused on getting himself where he needs to be in-game. He laughs quietly, light and pretty, with a hint of exasperation laced into it.

“Sure, Jungkook. Just be ready to get fucking destroyed.”

Really, it doesn’t matter to Jungkook whether they win or lose. He is awful at most of the support roster—including Mirage Medic—and it’s no secret. But for Jimin to know that, he must be at least somewhat familiar with Jungkook outside these casual game nights.

The thought sticks with him through the night, his mind drifting back to Jimin’s initial shock at finding out that Jungkook is a member of the country’s top professional NovaRush competitive team. He obviously knows who Jungkook is.

Taehyung deserves some credit for actually keeping his mouth shut. Everything Jungkook has told him over the past however many years has ended up being the business of everyone in their inner circle of friends.

Jungkook has absolutely no doubt that he can trust Taehyung with his deepest secrets. He’s just surprised that Jimin seemed to have no clue at all that Taehyung was friends with someone like Jungkook—or the rest of NovaRush for that matter.

He has to wonder how Jimin will feel about that. He was surprised enough by the Jungkook reveal. Jungkook can only imagine his shock when he hears that Taehyung is extremely close with all of them. It doesn’t sound like Jimin is a hugely dedicated fan, maybe just a casual viewer, but still.

Jungkook will be surprised if Taehyung lives to see another day after this. He’s heard the two bicker—he can almost guarantee that Taehyung won’t hear the end of it.

The victory message flashes across Jungkook’s screen, his face splitting into a grin. Off to a good start tonight.

It doesn’t even matter that they end up losing every other round they play, or that Taehyung texts Jungkook an hour later to say he got caught up with work and won’t make it at all. Jungkook enjoys himself more than he has in a while, a calmness spreading through him even as his death count climbs, his focus locked on coaching Jimin through a few proper strategies and techniques.

By the time they’re saying goodnight and logging off, Jungkook feels warm, his mind quiet and steady. He’s content in a way that’s familiar but only just, something he can’t quite put his finger on, but that he enjoys all the same.

Jimin knows who Jungkook is, and it didn’t change a thing. There was no judgement, no shame. None of the usual bullshit that Jungkook often has to put up with from predator hybrids over how he chooses to carry himself.

Even his successes in his career aren’t enough for some. He’s prey, so he should act like one, look like one—unassuming, conforming. Steady and calm like an alpha, but reserved and quiet.

Jungkook is many of those things. Just not the way he’s expected to be.

The smattering of piercings across his face and ears that glint in the bathroom mirror, the tattoos etched into his skin—even the way his black ears twitch as he stills, towel held to his face mid-pat, listening to the sound of a siren zooming by on the street below.

It’s a reminder of all his contradictions, of all the things that have been used to repeatedly invalidate or discredit him.

An alpha, sure. But the wrong kind. The docile kind. Not the commanding, outspoken, rebellious kind.

Not the dominant kind.

And yet here he is, all of those things and then some.

It has been ages since someone saw him and accepted him for who he is, exactly as he is. And as nice as it feels to know that Jimin sees past the image of who Jungkook should be, there’s still a part that he’s missing, made up of those vulnerabilities that Jungkook keeps locked away in his heart.

He can only hope that peachymimi95, whoever he is, will feel the same way as Jimin. He has a really good feeling about things with the omega, but his anxieties creep up on him anyway. Jungkook just has to trust that Mimi is being genuine, that he isn’t lying when he says Jungkook’s hybrid type won’t be a dealbreaker.

All Jungkook can do is wait and see. They’re getting closer and closer to being ready to meet in person. That will be the real test.

jknot97: anything you don’t like that i should know about?

peachymimi95: hm… don’t be mean to me. firm is good. extra firm is even better. but not mean.

jknot97: you like being told you’re good for me?

peachymimi95: fuck yes i do 

₊‧₊

jknot97: do you have a safeword?

peachymimi95: i prefer colours. gestures too, just in case 🩷 you?

jknot97: same here, actually

jknot97: i usually check in a lot, just to make sure. you okay with that?

peachymimi95: love it ☺️

₊‧₊

peachymimi95: when i act up, i want your full attention. want you to focus on me and only me. i’m never really upset 🩷 you’ll know if i am

jknot97: oh? you act up a lot? 🤔

peachymimi95: every now and then 😉

jknot97: so you’re a brat, huh? pretty obvious tbh. what’s okay with you to get you under control? when you break my rules?

peachymimi95: spanking. don’t let me touch. just don’t be cruel, and you’re golden, alpha 🩷

jknot97: how about sensory stuff? ice or wax?

peachymimi95: oh

peachymimi95: i’ve… never tried 

peachymimi95: but i like the sound of it. maybe one day?

₊‧₊

peachymimi95: you can tie me up anytime ;)

jknot97: yeah? how about collars, pretty kitty? leashes?

peachymimi95: i haven’t liked it in the past but i might be willing to try if you treat me right 🩷

₊‧₊

peachymimi95: sometimes i just need to be grounded. pulled out of my head for a little while. can you do that?

jknot97: yes, kitty. be good and let me take care of you. you want rules you can break until i can reel you in?

peachymimi95: yes

peachymimi95: but don’t ever leave me by myself. keep your attention on me once i have it

jknot97: done. i need to check in with you though. can i? you said colours are your go-to, right?

peachymimi95: check in as much as you want. and yes, colours. i need gestures too, just in case 

jknot97: you sink that deep?

peachymimi95: sometimes. i want to. i want to be made to let go completely. be at your mercy. want to be able to trust you with all of me

jknot97: i want that too. you’re safe with me. when you feel safe, i do too

₊‧₊

jknot97: how much is too much? i don’t want to overwhelm you 

peachymimi95: i like it pretty intense. but slow. easing into it is a must, or i panic

jknot97: that’s good, i wanna take my time with you ❤️ you said you like firmness, right? 

peachymimi95: oooh you remember ☺️ yes, firm is good. harsh is a no. and if you get really mean i’ll shut down. humiliation is okay to an extent, you can call me things like slut and whore and i’ll melt but only if you don’t make it cruel 🩷

peachymimi95: i like it if you’re warm. i get floaty and quiet when it’s really intense. that scares some people 

jknot97: not me. i’ll be right there with you if you’ll let me, as long as it won’t annoy you when i check in a lot

peachymimi95: definitely won’t annoy me, alpha 🩷 i told you i like that. i meant it.

₊‧₊

jknot97: what should i look out for? signs you’re not okay and stuff

peachymimi95: mm, i have trouble breathing. tail and ears go stiff, and i get unresponsive. if i really feel uncomfortable or unsafe then i try to pull away. can’t reply if you ask me something, even if i haven’t sunk low enough to go nonverbal yet

jknot97: got it. need me to stop touching you if that happens?

peachymimi95: just until i relax a bit. then stay close and gentle until i calm down completely

jknot97: i can do that, kitten ❤️

₊‧ ʚ🌙ɞ ‧₊

Peach swirls through the air, thick and cloying and heavy with the richness of warm vanilla. It sticks to Jimin’s tongue, coats his throat, fills his nose until it has him so dizzy that he almost can’t think straight.

It’s a damn shame nobody else can smell him right now.

His knees shift further apart, slipping on the soft sheets beneath him, suddenly sending the toy deeper inside him. Jimin cries out, a high, whimpering moan that breaks near the end as his orgasm tears through him, his walls clenching as he expertly forces himself down on the knot at the base of the dildo. Pleasure shoots through his body, hot and electric. He trembles through it, head tipped back as he gasps prettily, skin flushed and damp and tingling.

Streaks of white cover Jimin’s hand, his stomach, his muscles contracting as he rides out the aftershocks. The tiny, pretty dings floating from his laptop reach his ears as his hearing starts to return properly, ears twitching atop his head, the sound almost never ending—an influx of tips, and a sign of a successful performance.

“Ah, a-alpha, you fill me so— ‘m so full,” he keens, voice pitched in the delicate way that he knows drives his viewers wild. Jimin swivels his hips, whining through the overstimulation, his plush lips parted around pretty gasps below the mask that conceals the top half of his face.

“Hah… Wow,” Jimin giggles, bringing his messy hand up to hide his smile. His voice carries that airy, light sound that he reserves for the camera, always emphasized extra at the end of his streams. “That felt really good. Thank you all for joining me tonight. Hm?”

Jimin tilts his head, blinking as he reads some of the messages flying by. Long, delicate earrings sway with the movement, the dainty chains dangling from the bottom of his mask glinting in the soft lights. Jimin giggles again.

“You want me to go again? Oh, my. I don’t know. I think I would rather you keep dreaming of me until next time, darling. Too much of a good thing, right?”

The apples of Jimin’s cheeks glow pink from exertion, glittering with the small bit of makeup he has on. His lips tip up at the corners as he admires himself in the viewfinder of his camera—the perfect trick to make the audience feel like he’s looking at them—and shifts his hips with a small gasp.

“How about one last look, yeah? Just because I’m feeling kind,” he purrs, eyes hooded, twisting around until the camera has the perfect shot of his ass, the base of the knotted dildo still fit snug inside him.

Jimin peers over his shoulder, reaching behind himself as his hips wiggle. His tail swishes lazily from side to side, dark hair a brilliant contrast to the softness of the roundest part of his ass and the white tights reaching his mid-thigh. He hums as he grips the dildo, slowly easing it out of himself, his mouth dropped open around a long, breathless moan.

“Oh,” he whimpers, hole fluttering around nothing once he’s empty, dildo abandoned beside him on the sheets. He uses one hand to spread himself wide, his ass and thighs a mess of slick and sweat that makes him glow in the pretty soft-purple lighting of his setup.

Turning back around, Jimin curls his legs delicately beneath himself, panting as he tries to catch his breath.“Thank you,” he murmurs again, smile soft and sweet.

For a moment, the only sound comes from the rhythmic bass of the song playing softly over his speakers, giving Jimin time to collect himself as he peers at his chat. The messages fly by so quickly that Jimin can only catch a few more that aren’t just vulgar comments he doesn’t need to respond to. He spends a few more minutes thanking his subscribers and shouting out the familiar names, giggling quietly and promising to see them all again soon. The moment he shuts the stream off, camera going dark and the room silent as he pauses his music, Jimin huffs out a long exhale and flops backwards, limbs sprawled, loose and boneless.

He never comes that hard on stream. He’s usually too focused on performing, too busy making sure all the angles are perfect, that he times his breaths and each little moan just right. Jimin has his streams down to a literal science, and that leaves very little room for improvisation and letting loose.

Blowing out a breath, his lips vibrating with it, Jimin slips his mask off over his head, the air cooling sweat-damp skin, the ribbon tugging at his hair. Jimin turns it over in his hands, careful with the intricate butterfly wing that extends from the right side and the flowers that surround it as he runs a gentle finger across thin petals, then sets the mask aside.

Camming always takes a lot out of him, leaves him achy and tired and wanting nothing more than to eat his weight in food and nest until he drifts off to sleep.

But first he has to get cleaned up.

Sitting up with a groan, Jimin stretches his arms above his head, muscles sore, his limbs still tingling with a pleasant buzz. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, stripping his thigh highs off and pushing to his feet, legs trembling slightly as he gathers up his soiled bedding and tosses it aside for later washing.

He loves what he does, loves the freedom and performance of it all, the artistry and raw data behind a good stream. Jimin knows exactly how to optimize everything, from what lights accentuate his curves best, to how long he should tease before finally making himself come. A few of the other cammers he’s friends with think he’s fucking insane for his colour-coded spreadsheets, but to Jimin, it’s the best part.

Even as he slowly makes his way through to the bathroom, leaving the thick, slick-scented air of his room behind, Jimin goes over it all in his head. It’s routine to him, a comfortable and familiar one that’s just as important to his work as everything he does on-camera.

Steam fills the bathroom, hot water helping to loosen some of the stiffness in Jimin’s body and wash away the sweat and makeup and slick clinging to his skin. He takes his time, pays extra attention to his hair, lets the smell of sex roll off him and his natural, soft scent settle back into place.

He doesn’t find his arousal unpleasant by any means, but Jimin does find it harder to relax when it’s all he can smell on his skin or his clothes. The scent-boosting body wash he uses is a fucking miracle for times like these. It grounds him, pulls Jimin out of performance mode and back to himself.

Jimin lingers for a bit, lets himself enjoy the warmth a little longer, before stepping out and quickly wrapping himself in a large, fuzzy robe. He doesn’t bother with his hair, letting it drip dry as he goes through his skincare routine, humming quietly under his breath. His hair might look a little wild in the morning—especially right between his ears—but Jimin doesn’t care. He has nowhere to be tomorrow, so that makes it a problem for future Jimin.

It takes him no time at all to take apart all of his equipment and tuck it back into the closet. He could probably do it with his eyes closed at this point, with how often he does it. Ideally, Jimin would have a separate room and a permanent setup, but it’s a little difficult to explain that away to nosy guests and nosier parents. So, for now, he makes do with what he has.

Plopping his clean blankets back on the bed, kept safely on a plush armchair by the window to protect them from any potential debauchery, Jimin finally lets himself collapse. It takes a few long minutes of tugging blankets into place and fluffing pillows before he can get comfortable enough, his omega settling once Jimin is properly surrounded by his nest. He exhales quietly, everything soft and smelling gently of peaches and vanilla, a pleasant hum of satisfaction flowing through him.

He’s not moving for any reason for the rest of the night—except to get his food from the door.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Jimin snatches his phone off his nightstand, quickly opening up his conversation with Taehyung to shoot him a quick all done message.

His phone buzzes only a few seconds later, Taehyung’s contact photo popping up on screen.

“Hi,” Jimin greets as he answers the call, putting Taehyung on speaker before unceremoniously dropping his phone onto his pillow.

“Hi. Did those thirsty alphas tip you enough tonight, or do I need to report them all?”

Jimin snorts, tail swishing lazily in the air as he uses one finger to scroll through his phone, putting in his usual food order. He always gets enough to last him a few days, saving future Jimin the headache of trying to throw something together last minute.

“You know they always tip more than enough,” Jimin replies, rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

“Good,” Taehyung says. “Your ass deserves it.”

Dropping his head on his folded arms, Jimin laughs, a smile curling onto his lips. Taehyung has always been supportive of what he does, has never judged him for it the way a lot of other people in his life have. He doesn’t watch Jimin’s streams, even though Jimin has given him permission to, but once or twice he’s come through in a pinch and helped Jimin get set up.

“I know,” Jimin purrs, blinking his eyes open when his phone chirps, Taehyung’s laughter drifting through the speaker.

“Oh, by the way,” Taehyung adds, “since you’re free, me and Jungkook are about to hop on NovaRush for a bit if you wanna join.”

Jimin snorts, lolling his head dramatically to one side to shoot his phone an unimpressed look. He ignores the little flutter in his heart, the tiny spike of peach the hits his nose at the sound of Jungkook’s name. “Stop it with that tone.”

“Excuse you, I don’t have a tone.”

“Yes, you do. It’s the same one you’ve had since you first introduced us. The one that’s only gotten worse since I found out the truth. Which I still haven’t forgiven you for, by the way,” Jimin adds, sticking his tongue out even Taehyung can’t see him. “I’m going to pass either way. Too tired. Too hungry. Withering away.”

He heaves a dramatic sigh for emphasis, earning a snort from the other omega.

“Fine, suit yourself. Miss out on a night of the weird flirting you guys do, see if I care,” Taehyung replies with feigned disinterest, and Jimin scowls.

“We’re not flirting,” he insists, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning over his phone, humming with delight when he sees that his food is on its way to him. “I’m already talking to someone, you know that.”

“Someone you barely know, who might not even be your type,” Taehyung points out. “I’m just saying, Jimin—Jungkook is your type. Like, you guys would be perfect together.”

Jimin sighs, scent turning a little sour. “Taehyung. You know why it wouldn’t work. You know I’m looking for something specific, so just drop it, okay? There’s no way he’d be into me like that.”

Taehyung is silent for a moment, but Jimin knows it’s not out of defeat—he’s stubborn and strong-willed, and Jimin hasn’t heard the last of this personal mission of his to play matchmaker.

But Jimin is also stubborn, and Taehyung knows him well enough to understand when to stop pushing, at least for now. Jimin expects a handful of texts later tonight about the subject.

Jimin has to bite back a sigh, his tail twitching. He knows it comes from a place of love, and wanting to see Jimin happy. Taehyung means no harm. But Jimin has had enough of trying to make relationships work with alphas who treat him like an object. He’s tired of trying to teach the ones who see him as a person and not something to be owned how to understand what he needs.

That’s why he turned to Rosebound. Specified that he’s looking for an experienced Dom.

Ideally, he would be matched with an alpha who doesn’t see Jimin as something to be paraded around like a prize. He’s had a few clear misses, talked to a few men who led with all of the ways they wanted to own and control him. Those conversations always leave him with a bad taste in his mouth, his scent just on the wrong side of sharpened with discomfort. It’s always the predator alphas, the ones who see themselves at the top of the food chain, who get weird around him.

Jimin was raised to want that, to seek out a mate who doesn’t expect him to do anything but sit still and look pretty.

As much as he loves sitting pretty, he’d much rather do it on his own, next to a mate who celebrates his independence. Not one who tries to tear him down.

Every message he’s exchanged with jknot97 has felt like a breath of fresh air. Jimin feels an almost unfamiliar giddiness every time they talk, his stomach doing flips and an excited, lingering heat curling through him with each sweet word.

And maybe Taehyung is right. Maybe Jimin and Jungkook would be a decent match—they certainly have a lot in common, and Jimin can’t deny the way he feels himself start to melt into something comfortable and familiar with the way Jungkook speaks to him sometimes.

But that’s the problem. Jungkook likely doesn’t even realize what he does to Jimin. The soft tones, the steady commands with carefully placed praises—it’s everything Jimin wants, but with somebody who understands why. It wouldn’t feel right to ever expect that from Jungkook in an intimate setting. Not unless they discussed it in-depth, but truthfully? Jimin doesn’t have the energy for that.

Not when he has someone who seems to understand him so deeply already. He and jknot97 are insanely compatible—Jimin feels a level of safety with him already that almost frightens him, but instead leaves him hopeful and longing and excited to meet up with him.

“…Jimin? Hello, Earth to Jimin. Are you listening?”

Jimin blinks, tearing his eyes away from the empty spot on his wall that he’s been staring at. A soft blush creeps into his cheeks, his tail swishing behind him.

“Yeah, sorry, Tae. Just sleepy.” Not a total lie, but not exactly the truth. Taehyung doesn’t need to know what really had him distracted. “Isn’t Jungkook waiting for you?”

Taehyung snorts, and Jimin can picture the eye roll that goes along with it. “He decided he needs food first. I told him to just eat while playing but no, god forbid anything ruin his focus,” he says, his tone light-hearted and fond even as he pokes fun.

“He is pretty intense,” Jimin muses, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I guess that happens when you’re the top player in the country.”

“Oh my god,” Taehyung whines, but Jimin can hear the laughter in his voice, “let it go! Would you have played with us if I told you? No. No, you wouldn’t have. You should be thanking me, actually.”

Jimin gives a doubtful hum, tilting his head to one side as he pretends to think. “Hm, no. Nice try… oh.”

A soft ding draws Jimin’s attention to his phone, eyes going wide when he sees the little message across the top of his screen. His breath catches, tail flicking in barely-contained excitement as he snatches up his phone.

“Gotta go,” he says quickly, tapping the notification before it disappears. “Food’s here. Starving. Bye, Tae.”

Taehyung barely gets a half-spluttered word out before Jimin is ending the call and propping himself up on his elbows, phone in hand. He hasn’t heard from the alpha since last night, and while Jimin is fine with the pace they’re moving at, he feels that little spark of quiet delight in his chest when he does talk to him.

And right now, it’s a comfort he didn’t know he was craving—familiarity in the aftermath of such deep vulnerability.

jknot97: hey, kitten. hope you’re having a good night ❤️ sorry i didn’t reply back yesterday, work shit 😔

It’s so simple, so basic. So normal. Just jknot97 checking in with him, apologizing as though they hadn’t established early on that they’re both busy adults who might be a little slower to message back sometimes. Jimin’s heart flutters, a soft smile on his lips as he sees the little icon that indicates they’re both online—a rarity for them.

peachymimi95: all good, alpha 🩷 you know you don’t have to apologize for having a life. though i am really happy to hear from you tonight

jknot97: just tonight? 😨

peachymini95: hah! you’re so cute 🩷 i’m always happy to hear from you. just a little extra right now 

jknot97: oh, is everything okay mimi?

Jimin pauses, thumbs hovering over the screen. He isn’t usually this vulnerable in his Rosebound chats, preferring to keep his personal life separate from the fantasy until he’s met someone in person and knows for sure that they’re worth his time. He can’t explain why it’s different with jknot97. It just is.

peachymimi95: yeah, i’m fine i promise 🩷 just tired and a little lonely i guess. but you’re here now 🥰

A few moments pass, Jimin watching as jknot97 starts typing only to stop, then starts again. His teeth work nervously at his lip, ears flattening slightly as he waits, concern starting to creep in slowly. Had he gone too far? Was admitting to feeling lonely and craving the alpha’s presence, even digitally, the invisible line that Jimin was bound to accidentally cross?

The doorbell startles him so badly that Jimin nearly drops his phone. He perks up slightly, ears twitching as he hears the delivery person’s footsteps fading down the hall. With one last nervous glance at his phone—and still no reply from jknot97—Jimin carefully crawls out of his nest to gather his food from the door.

Depositing most of it in the kitchen, Jimin grabs a small serving and makes his way back to his room, food placed on the side table so he doesn’t make a mess. He forces his eyes away from his phone until he’s properly settled in his nest again, swallowing down the anxiety trying to claw its way up his throat.

The moment he finally glances at the screen, every bit of uncertainty and worry flies out of him at lightning speed. His heart flutters, pulse hammering a gentle rhythm in his ears, his cheeks turning a soft pink.

jknot97: actually, i was kind of hoping that i could… be there. properly be there. soon, maybe? if you’re ready for that?

Oh.

Oh.

A little zap of excitement shoots through Jimin, a surprised breath escaping through his lips. He replies a little too quickly, but Jimin can’t bring himself to care, warmth spreading through his body as he practically starts to purr with giddy delight—and the slightest hint of deep, heavy arousal.

Not enough to get him going again. Just that familiar heat, burning low like embers waiting to be sparked back to life. Something that lingers and builds, steady until it’s stoked by the right hands.

peachymimi95: yes

peachymimi95: please 

peachymimi95: i’d like that a lot

jknot97: really? like, soon maybe? possibly next week?

jknot97: ah, unless i’m getting carried away and that’s way too soon

peachymimi95: not too soon. very much not too soon and definitely okay with me

jknot97: thank god

jknot97: then… in that case, before we plan anything, i have to ask. what do you need after? ideal aftercare stuff. some people need to be totally hands off. that doesn’t work for me. i can’t just detach afterwards like that.

Jimin’s smile softens even more. He settles against his pillows, the sweet scent of peaches gentle in his nose. The thought of that—of strong arms around him, gentle palms caressing his heated skin as he slowly drifts back to himself, blissed-out beyond the point of recognizing his own name—tugs at something deep in his heart, a longing that blooms full and bright.

It doesn’t help that it’s exactly the comfort he craves after his more intense streams, like the one tonight. Nesting on his own only does so much to simulate being taken care of like that.

And jknot97 has no idea that he’s promising Jimin exactly what he needs. No idea how this one thing, regardless of all the rest, seals it for Jimin.

He tries to keep it together as he types his reply, still hoping to hold onto some of himself until they meet for real.

When they do, Jimin will let himself be brave. Things can always go wrong once they’re face-to-face—it’s happened to Jimin before—but there’s a soft, quiet voice that seems to whisper straight from the gentlest parts of Jimin’s heart that tells him to trust himself.

Trust his instincts. Trust that this is something real.

Jimin wants this so badly he can hardly stand it. The intimacy, the trust, everything he and jknot97 have spent weeks building between them. And soon enough it will be his.

Tangible and real.

peachymimi95: i like being held. love it and need it actually 🩷 tell me i did well and keep me close. i usually need to nest after, but i like it to smell like both of us.

jknot97: cute 🩷

peachymimi95: ☺️

peachymimi95: hope you don’t mind clingy. i won’t let go

jknot97: well lucky for you, i love clingy. helps me feel like i took care of you properly. it tells me that you’re okay even if you can’t say it yet.

jknot97: how else can i help bring you back to me?

peachymimi95: just keep touching me and talking to me 🩷 don’t worry about cleaning up right away. i like to be fully present before i do any of that. baths are okay though, as long as you’re with me.

peachymimi95: i also need to make sure that you’re okay. helps me not spiral, to know YOU know you were good to me. 🩷 it’s a dealbreaker if you don’t like being praised too

jknot97: oh

jknot97: i definitely like that a lot actually 

peachymimi95: then i think you and i are going to get along just fine ☺️🩷

₊‧ ꒱☀️꒰ ‧₊

Anxious doesn’t even begin to cover how Jungkook feels right now.

He has paced his apartment an absurd number of times, double and triple checking that it’s neat and tidy enough for guests. He hasn’t had anyone outside his immediate circle of friends over in months, let alone someone he’s trying to impress, and suddenly Jungkook is feeling very, very self-conscious.

He can’t even remember the last time brought an omega home with him. What if Mimi takes one look at Jungkook’s living space and immediately regrets his decision to meet up?

It’s not like Jungkook’s apartment is messy. It‘s just… him. Dark furniture and a gaming setup in the open living room, one half of which has been turned into a makeshift home gym. The kitchen is tidy and well-equipped, with huge windows stretching floor to ceiling that give the perfect view of the endlessly sprawling neon lights of the city down below.

Jungkook’s ear twitches every few seconds, an irritating quirk of his when he gets really nervous. He reaches up to rub at the tip of it, letting out a sigh of frustration as he leans against the back of the couch, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

Fucking prey instincts. It makes him want to scream, the way his body desperately urges him to run and hide. It’s like a whole other, visceral layer of anxiety on top of the regular stuff he already has to deal with.

But that’s why he wants this so bad. It’s why he’s hoping, praying, that Mimi will be just as into him in person, with everything laid out on the line.

This anxiety is just a stark reminder, like a knife stabbed right into his heart and slowly twisting, that Mimi doesn’t know yet what kind of hybrid Jungkook is. And even though Mimi swore up and down repeatedly that it doesn’t bother him, that he’s fine with whatever Jungkook is and it won’t change things once they meet up…

Jungkook is still terrified.

He can sense the sharp shift of his scent, filling the room in exactly the way he doesn’t need. He’s glad he opened a window, the cool nighttime air helping to filter out some of the stress rolling off him in waves—but he knows this isn’t exactly inviting to an omega. Jungkook does his best to reel it in, closing his eyes and breathing deep, rubbing with slow, patterned intent at his ear as he tries to get his scent back under control. Sandalwood and gentle cotton slowly creeps back into his nose. He just hopes it’s enough.

A gentle knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts. Jungkook’s head snaps up, hand hovering near his ear as it twitches back upright, his eyes widening.

This is it. The moment of truth.

Swallowing down his nerves, Jungkook straightens up, giving his head a quick shake. His hair falls in his eyes—maybe he should have styled it differently instead of leaving it in loose waves?—and he brushes is back, tongue worrying at his lip ring as he takes quick, careful steps towards the door.

A deep breath. Inhale, exhale, nerves and an overwhelming, burning excitement swirling together inside his chest.

Before he can second-guess himself, Jungkook swings the door open, heart slamming against his ribcage. And then he freezes, hand gripping the doorhandle, breath caught in his throat, eyes blown wide.

The man in front of him shifts nervously from side to side, a bag slung over one shoulder, one arm crossed over his middle. His attention immediately snaps to Jungkook the moment the door opens, big, beautiful brown eyes going so round, pinning Jungkook in place.

Same soft, plush lips from Mimi’s profile photo, the ones Jungkook has spent weeks dreaming about. His soft, cropped white hoodie shows just enough of the dark mesh shirt underneath, teasing the smooth skin of his stomach, a pair of joggers sitting just slightly too low on his hips. He’s all soft curves and defined edges, full cheeks glowing under the soft hallway lights, and an iridescent shimmer on his lids and lining his sharp eyes that makes him look dangerous in all the right ways.

Dark ears perk up with interest, his sleek, fluffy black tail giving an erratic twitch before stilling. His fur reflects gentle neon from the panel on the elevator behind him, a gorgeous contrast with the warm lighting pouring into the hall from Jungkook’s apartment.

He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Glows like a hologram, shimmery and prismatic, and so very real.

So real, and so painfully familiar.

“…Jimin?”

Familiar, sweet Jimin—his eyes impossibly round, staring at Jungkook like he’s seen a ghost.

His voice seems to snap Jimin out of his trance, the omega blinking wildly as he feels around in the pockets of his joggers, then plunges his hand into his bag, all without his gaze ever leaving Jungkook.

“I— What…” Jimin stammers, fingers trembling when he finally pulls his phone from an outer pocket of his bag. His eyes fly to it, the soft pink-red of Rosebound’s UI glowing against his skin. It makes his lips even more tempting as it reflects off gloss, accentuates the glimmer on his cheeks. “Did I—? How…? The address…”

As Jimin panics, Jungkook finally manages to pull himself together. Peach floods his nose, the unmistakable tang of anxiety so strong he can taste it when he opens his mouth to speak.

Whatever is going through Jimin’s mind right now has him looking like he’s ready to bolt. He’s a little frantic, eyebrows pinched together and pretty lips curved into a deep frown as he struggles to make sense of things.

Jungkook pulls his phone out without thinking, has Rosebound open in record time. The audible, soft gasp from Jimin the moment his phone chimes with a new message makes a shy little smile slide onto Jungkook’s lips.

jknot97: address is right, gorgeous.

Slowly, Jimin lifts his head to meet Jungkook’s gaze again. His mouth falls slack, arm dropping to hang at his side. He blinks once, twice, slow and steady—then laughs. That same lilting, loud sound that Jungkook has grown to love hearing through his headset, that he goes out of his way for these days. 

But now it’s real. Right in front of him, in arm’s reach, and bringing with it so much more than Jungkook ever could have imagined.

“Wow, I…” Jimin’s words trail off into another peal of laughter. This time it’s a little shy, one hand coming up to cover his mouth, ringed-fingers barely peeking out from beneath his sleeve. “Sorry, I’m not… I’m just surprised. Very, very surprised.”

“In a good way, I hope…?” Jungkook’s shoulders lift slightly, his smile soft but sure. He can already tell by the immediate way Jimin relaxed, the instantaneous change in his scent. Most of the anxiety is gone, replaced by the sweetest mix of vanilla and ripe peaches, delicate and decadent all at once. All that’s left is the expected hint of nervousness.

“The best way,” Jimin answers truthfully. His eyes roam Jungkook’s body, lingering for just a moment on the reflective trim of his pants and the tight fit of his shirt before flicking up to his ears.

Jungkook forces himself not to shy away under Jimin’s attention, instead clearing his throat when one ear twitches.

“C’mon, you don’t need to stand in the doorway all night,” Jungkook says, taking a step to the side and opening the door a bit wider to let Jimin by. The omega smiles at him and nods, murmuring a quick thank you as he steps past Jungkook, his nose twitching and lashes fluttering in a way that makes Jungkook’s alpha preen.

As Jimin slips out of his shoes, Jungkook makes his way into the kitchen, gesturing for Jimin to follow.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he offers, gesturing towards the fridge and its glowing front screen. “I can make tea, or coffee… There might be juice of some kind in there.”

Jimin’s soft giggle has Jungkook smiling, soft and a little shy. He’s still nervous as fuck, but already the familiarity of Jimin as someone he’s spent countless hours chatting with is helping settle them.

At least, until he remembers why they’re here. How they got here. This is more than just hanging out in person with someone Jungkook has been gaming with. This is the person he’s spent weeks getting to know, learning how to take care of before ever being in the same room as him.

It has Jungkook feeling a little dizzy, his mind spinning as he recalls everything Mimi—Jimin—has shared with him. It’s almost surreal, how they crashed together like this.

“Just water, please,” Jimin replies. The softness of his voice and the gentle back-and-forth twitch of his tail tells Jungkook that pretty much the same thing is going through Jimin’s head. “I, um. I think I understand why you stay so anonymous on Rosebound now.”

Jungkook gives a small laugh, nodding as he sets a glass in the little shelf in the fridge door and taps a few glowing buttons on the screen. The gentle electronic whirr fills some of the silence, making up for the fact that the music Jungkook had completely forgotten he even turned on suddenly doesn’t seem loud enough.

Placing the glass on the shiny black countertop in front of Jimin, he nods, shrugging one shoulder. “It scares a lot of people off, yeah.”

Jimin’s lips twitch into a tiny frown, his head tilting to one side. Black hair frames his face, looks so fucking soft, styled just enough to show he cares but without seeming stiff. It takes him a moment, eyes searching Jungkook’s face, before the meaning of Jungkook’s words clicks into place.

“Oh,” Jimin starts, straightening up, head shaking and eyes wide and sincere. His earrings sway with the movement, catching the gentle glow of the cabinet lighting. “Jungkook—no, I mean, because you’re so recognizable.” Jimin shuffles a small step closer, hesitant, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to just yet. “I’m not talking about your hybrid type. Just to get it out there, it doesn’t bother me. Doesn’t change anything for me. Actually, if anything…”

Jimin trails off, running a finger through the condensation on the outside of his glass before lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. Jungkook’s eyes follow the motion, drag across Jimin’s throat as he swallows, latch onto the flick of Jimin’s tongue against his lips to catch a wayward droplet. A tiny smudge of gloss on the rim of the glass glitters in the kitchen lights.

Fuck. Jungkook is so deeply, wholly fucked.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

Jimin breathes the words so softly that Jungkook nearly misses them over his own pounding heart. He meets Jimin’s uncertain, pleading gaze—his brown eyes wide and hopeful.

As if there’s still any doubt that Jungkook isn’t just as relieved, just as delighted, that something so unexpected and otherwise improbable just fell right into their laps.

“Me too,” Jungkook admits, just as softly, just to see Jimin’s pretty lips curl up in the corners, sweet and a little tempting. “Not having to do the whole…” He gestures vaguely at his head, ears giving a small twitch that makes Jimin giggle and Jungkook’s heart melt. “…reveal thing really takes some of the pressure off.”

Jimin hums in understanding. There’s no judgement, no pity in his expression, just the sympathy of someone who maybe, somehow, can relate to what Jungkook has gone through.

“Honestly, this is usually my least favourite part,” Jimin says. “Seeing who it is I’ve been talking to…” His head tilts again, playful, cheeky, and confident even through his lingering nerves. “But I already know you. Which is… Fucking wild, honestly. I never would have guessed that the nerd who…”

He trails off, a flicker of realization in his face. And then he laughs, a little softer than before, weighted with something as he takes another sip of his drink, murmuring his words around the glass.

“So that’s why you talked to me like that when we’d play.”

Jungkook nearly chokes, eyes going wide. Suddenly he wishes he grabbed himself a drink too, just to use as an excuse to avoid answering Jimin’s embarrassingly astute observation.

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to do it on purpose,” Jungkook rushes to say. “It just… It’s how I coach. When I’m super focused anyway...”

A tittering giggle makes Jungkook trail off, his cheeks warm as he meets Jimin’s playful gaze. His cup set aside again, Jimin swirls his finger through the water on the counter, tail swishing languidly behind him.

“It’s okay,” he replies, voice soft and sweet, heavy with something that draws Jungkook closer. “I never would have admitted it before because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I liked it. I guess you were just…” He shrugs, one teasing little lift of his shoulder. “Responding naturally to me.”

The air rushes from Jungkook’s lungs in a short, surprised laugh that brings with it any remaining tension and uncertainty. This isn’t just Mimi, who Jungkook has spent weeks getting to know. This is Jimin, who he also knows on a very different level.

This is both of them, the two people Jungkook has spent every moment thinking about, that he’s dreamed about and wanted in what he thought were two extremely different ways…

To Jungkook, this is everything. Because Jimin is one person, the one person he thought he could never want the way he does. Jungkook can finally put the pieces together, take the soft parts of Jimin that he’s been slowly falling for—that he’s been accidentally letting into the most vulnerable corners of his heart—and place them right next to the deeper, intimate parts that he’s grown to crave through late night conversations.

“I guess so,” Jungkook murmurs, voice dipping slightly.

The flicker of interest in Jimin’s eyes, the way his spine straightens slightly, doesn’t go unnoticed.

“So, do you… remember my limits?” Jimin asks, finally taking a proper step closer. His scent curls through the air, soft and delicate, pulling at something deep inside Jungkook. “Do we need to go over it, or…?”

Jungkook shakes his head. He feels a little silly saying it out loud now, but the way Jimin looks at him, leans in just slightly, is all the confidence he needs.

“I remember. I made a list,” he admits, and the way Jimin’s eyes widen, an impressed eyebrow arching, emboldens him further. Jungkook’s voice dips lower in volume, soft and gentle, steady and sure. “Firm, but not harsh. Don’t be mean. Punishment as guidance, not pain.”

“Yeah,” Jimin breathes, lips curling into a kittenish smile, his head tilting and tail swaying as he steps closer, nearly erasing all of the space between their bodies. Jungkook can see the excitement building in the omega, Jimin’s pupils wide and his lips parted slightly. “What about safewords?”

Jungkook nods. Jimin isn’t asking. It’s another test. A little push.

“Colours,” Jungkook replies. “Gestures if you’re nonverbal. Four fingers in the air means stop. Three, slow down. One,” he pauses, takes a deep breath—his hands hover between them, a moment of hesitation that Jungkook quickly shoves past, “means keep going.”

As the final words pass through his lips, Jungkook’s palms find Jimin’s waist, right where the hem of his hoodie reveals mesh-hidden skin. The touch has Jimin sucking in a sharp breath, the heat of his body sending a shiver of desire down Jungkook’s spine.

A small sound lifts from Jimin’s throat—the tiniest rumble of a purr, the sound going right to that visceral, instinctual part of Jungkook, a flicker of heat pooling low in his belly. Jimin’s scent is softer, sweeter, tempting and sensual and irresistible. He’s doing this on purpose. Pushing and pulling, even as he leans into the gentle steadiness Jungkook offers.

“I’m impressed, alpha,” Jimin lilts. Fingertips dance up the middle of Jungkook’s stomach, the touch barely there, his muscles jumping at the feeling. Warm breath ghosts across Jungkook’s lips—he can taste Jimin on the air, peach and vanilla mingling with the sugared sweetness of what must be his lip gloss. “Keep talking like that and I might actually let you touch.”

And just like that, Jimin is gone.

He expertly twirls out of Jungkook’s hold, hips swaying as he puts a few steps between them. His hands clasp behind him, his bag dangling off his shoulder, and that pretty, impish smile on his lips. Jimin’s eyes sparkle with delicate mischief, the bright blue-pink-purple of the city making him look like he stepped right out of one of the many holographic billboards that dot the sky.

The pull Jungkook feels is electric. Something settles inside him, something it usually takes much longer for him to feel when he meets someone for the first time. A steadiness, a calmness—a certainty and confidence.

Jimin is testing, still. Pushing. Trying to see if Jungkook can really, truly handle him like he claims.

Jungkook has never been so sure of himself. Even as pleasant, simmering surprise courses through his veins, even as he realizes that Jimin is going to be a fucking challenge, Jungkook knows.

He knows Jimin will surprise him. Knows that Jimin will be different, that he’ll be a force of nature that Jungkook is expected to tame.

And he fucking loves it.

With the confidence of someone who knows where he’s going, Jimin spins on his heel and darts towards the sleek staircase. He glances curiously behind himself, at the spot Jungkook still hasn’t moved from, then flashes a quick wink, his tail swishing playfully through the air as he practically bounces upstairs.

Jungkook laughs quietly to himself, following slowly behind Jimin, watching as the tip of his black tail disappears out of sight once he reaches the top. Jimin lets out a small ooh of delight, the sound of his bag hitting the floor echoing through the open space of the loft just as Jungkook takes the last step.

A soft giggle draws Jungkook’s attention across the room to where Jimin stands beside his desk, eyes curious as he scans Jungkook’s setup. Jimin trails a finger across the back of Jungkook’s chair, like it’s something he shouldn’t be touching but couldn’t resist anyways. He tilts his head, meeting Jungkook’s gaze just as Jungkook leans back against the high glass rails of the loft.

Seeing Jimin like this—real and tangible, the neon city lights dancing off the soft fur of his ears, his gaze lingering on Jungkook as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth before letting it snap back into place right as he turns his attention back to the room—it’s surreal. Jungkook feels like he’s dreaming, like he opened his eyes but never truly woke up.

His scent is steady and sure, a gentle wave of cotton that he can hardly detect over the brightness of Jimin’s tempting peach. Already Jungkook can feel the heat growing inside him, a pull in his belly when Jimin continues to flit around the room, like he’s more interested in the LEDs that line the underside of Jungkook’s desk, shifting through the colours of the rainbow, than he is in Jungkook himself.

“Jimin.”

The low, soft tone of Jungkook’s voice makes Jimin pause. He turns to Jungkook, head tilting to one side, his fingers curled around the arm of Jungkook’s gaming chair. Jimin is frozen mid-lean, his eyes scanning the length of Jungkook’s body, lingering, before flicking back to the desk and whatever seems to have his attention.

Jimin responds simply, lips tipped up in the corners, “You have a very interesting setup here. Am I supposed to be impressed by your… equipment?” He giggles, peering at Jungkook once again, eyes sparkling and mischievous. “‘Cause I’m not.”

Jungkook stands firm, eyebrow arched as he watches Jimin circle the chair, a delicate fingertip running along the smooth surface of his desk. Jimin’s chin stays tilted up, a smug smile dancing on his lips, his tail swishing languidly behind him. One black ear twitches, and Jimin spins around, brushing past Jungkook on his way to the large display of shelves lining the other wall. He scans the shelves with exaggerated interest, back arching in just the right way to be enticing.

Playing. Coaxing. Pretending he’s in charge, when they both know that’s not why either of them is here.

“You done?”

Again, Jimin pauses. His tail twitches, short little flicks, as he slowly turns to look at Jungkook, his hands clasped behind his back. Jimin’s eyes sparkle with a dangerous, excited sort of innocence, his plush bottom lip pushed out into a slight pout.

“But I’m not doing anything, alpha,” he insists, eyes round, his lashes fluttering.

Jungkook laughs, a soft, quiet sound. Not cruel. Just gentle, amused. The same excitement he sees building in Jimin starts to buzz through Jungkook, but it’s steadier, hungrier—a lower frequency. He straightens up, arms folded over his chest, his ears perked as he fixes Jimin with a steady look.

“Come here, kitty,” Jungkook coaxes. It’s not a command, but a request. An invitation.

And Jimin plays right into it.

Humming thoughtfully, Jimin tilts his head, cat ears twitching curiously. His gaze drifts down the length of Jungkook’s body, lingering just long enough on the vee of his hips where his dark shirt clings to his skin, before snapping back up again.

“What if I don’t want to?” he wonders, desire flashing electric through his eyes. “Are you gonna make me, alpha?”

Jungkook pauses. Holds Jimin’s gaze for just a moment, then lets his arms drop back to his side as he pushes off the railing, taking a few small steps towards the omega. His shoulders stay relaxed, even as he keeps his focus on Jimin, even as he watches Jimin fidget, his tail swishing in wild little patterns.

“Come here, Jimin,” Jungkook repeats, low and slow.

He sees the tiny fluttering of Jimin’s lashes—involuntary this time, his lips popped open around quick, exhilarated breaths. Jimin’s pupils are so wide they nearly swallow up all of the pretty rich brown around them, his eyes following Jungkook’s every move, flooded with a sort of deep, anticipating desire that makes Jungkook’s skin heat up.

Jimin sways slightly, like he’s being drawn closer simply by Jungkook’s presence. He wobbles just a bit, rocking back on his heels before finally shuffling a few steps forward. His scent is so much stronger this close, syrupy  sweet peach and the soft warmth of vanilla swirling through the air, the edge of arousal curling right around Jungkook. Tempting. Intoxicating.

If Jimin smells this good right now, Jungkook stands no chance against him. It’s all or nothing, and he can already feel his hunger growing, knows without a doubt that once will never be enough for him.

“That’s it,” Jungkook encourages, closing the last bit of distance between them. Jimin’s nose twitches, a soft inhale turning into a shaky exhale as he catches Jungkook’s scent on the air.

He’s so fucking gorgeous. Hair gently framing the sides of his face, neon rainbows bouncing off the delicate shimmer on his skin. Jimin is a force of nature, a heavenly creature dropped right into Jungkook’s lap by some benevolent divine creature of the universe. His cheeks are rosy, flushed with excitement and anticipation.

Jimin shifts, his arms coming out from behind himself, hands lifting, like he’s almost about to touch Jungkook. At the last second, he seems to change his mind, instead tangling his fingers together and twisting away.

His eyes never leave Jungkook. Even as Jimin turns, expression carefully pinched into an extremely unconvincing attempt at disinterest, he watches, waits.

Jungkook’s heart beats steady in his chest, a quick little rhythm flooded with anticipation. He’s waited long enough, been patient while Jimin worked himself up.

They’re here for a reason, and Jungkook is finally going to give them what they’re both after.

With the care of handling something delicate, something precious, Jungkook reaches out and gently grips Jimin’s chin, fingers curled beneath it, his thumb pressed just below the plush curve of his lower lip. He feels the omega’s breath hitch, his body going still. Not tense—just steady.

Paused. Waiting.

Carefully, Jungkook guides Jimin’s head back around to look at him. His pupils are blown, eyes sparkling with anticipation, even as they start to lose some of their defiance. He’s softening under Jungkook’s gaze, from the sound of his voice, from such a simple touch. Jungkook can feel the arousal starting to coil in his belly, his cock twitching in interest when Jimin exhales slowly through parted lips, his breath ghosting across Jungkook’s thumb.

“There you go,” Jungkook murmurs, catching the way Jimin’s tail finally settles behind him out of the corner of his eye. His thumb brushes up, sticky gloss smearing beneath the pad of it as he swipes it slowly over Jimin’s lower lip.

Jimin’s gaze darkens, eyes hooded as they begin to drift shut. Still, he holds eye contact, never wavering, even as the tip of his pink tongue darts out, flicking across the pad of Jungkook’s thumb.

Electricity crackles across Jungkook’s skin, arcs between them like lightning. He wants.

He wants.

He has wanted, so badly and for so long. And in Jimin, he may have finally found it.

Jimin, who wants it just as much. Who is giving himself over, willing and pliant and eager.

Jungkook aches with how badly he needs it—needs more of Jimin, more of this. He exhales once, sharp but sure, and leans in the rest of the way, using his grip on Jimin’s chin to coax him right into a heavy, open-mouthed kiss.

A soft whimper falls from Jimin’s lips, spilling right onto Jungkook’s tongue, sweet and lilting. Jungkook keeps one hand cupped below Jimin’s jaw, guiding him as Jungkook pushes closer, dips his tongue teasingly into Jimin’s mouth, the first brush of ball of Jungkook’s piercing making Jimin shiver. Jimin twitches, fingers brushing Jungkook’s stomach before pulling back, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch yet—holding himself back even as he trembles, eager and impatient but waiting.

“You can touch, kitten,” Jungkook murmurs into the next kiss, swiping his tongue across Jimin’s lower lip. “Go ahead.”

Jimin’s hands fly to Jungkook’s waist, fingers twisting into the thin fabric of his shirt as Jungkook pulls him into another kiss. He keeps his hand beneath Jimin’s chin, the other landing on Jimin’s hip before sliding around to rest at his lower back and tug him closer.

Jimin tastes like everything Jungkook has been craving. He’s so sweet, decadent, a swirling mess of peaches and vanilla, his lipgloss tinting his mouth with a hint of cherry. Dangerous and addictive, and Jungkook has only had his first taste. His head spins as he presses deeper, the kiss turning messy, Jimin tugging at his shirt and moaning softly when their hips meet.

Electricity crackles along Jungkook’s skin, his cock jumping at the contact. Jimin gasps into Jungkook’s mouth, his hips rolling, seeking more pressure, more friction. Already so desperate, the realization of just how badly Jimin wants him sending a shockwave of arousal shooting down Jungkook’s spine.

Jimin chases after him when Jungkook pulls back, his eyes hooded and a little wild, lips parted, following after Jungkook like he can’t get enough. He huffs out a small breath of frustration when Jungkook holds him in place, the hand on Jimin’s lower back moving to grip his hip and keep him still.

“Undress for me, pretty baby,” Jungkook says, voice low and steady, his eyes tracing the delicate features of Jimin’s face before landing on his lips. He steals another kiss, soft and gentle, lets it linger, then pulls back again, taking a small step back as his hands finally fall from Jimin’s body.

Trembling fingers grip the hem of Jimin’s cropped hoodie, curling delicately around it as Jimin lifts it over his head. He makes a show of it, even as his breaths come in shallow, excited bursts, even as his tail sways with barely-contained impatience behind him. The mesh shirt clings to his chest and abdomen, a glimpse of perfect, dusky nipples poking through, the bold ink of a tattoo curving along his ribs harsh against soft, delicate skin.

Slowly, Jimin begins to turn around, his eyes glued to Jungkook as he pulls the mesh top off and tosses it aside. His gaze is intense, burning, even as he blinks slow, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his joggers and works them down past his hips. He pauses, eyes flitting across the length of Jungkook’s body just as he pushes his pants over the swell of his ass—slow, deliberate, teasing.

Taking his time.

Jungkook stays where he is, taking in the shape of Jimin’s body, the dip of his waist and the plump curve of his ass. Jimin seems to vibrate under the attention, turning back around to face Jungkook with careful steps. He practically preens, chin tilted up, the rosy flush of his cheeks travelling down his chest, his cock hard and perfect.

The tiny jewel in Jimin’s navel makes Jungkook pause, staring at it as hunger swells inside him. He knew about the piercing, but seeing it, delicate and sparkling under vibrant neon, a tiny accent on the smooth planes of Jimin’s stomach, only makes Jungkook’s body thrum.

He wants more. Needs to see more, to see everything that Jimin is. He’s already so perfect, and they have barely gotten started.

“Good boy,” Jungkook tells him, eyes trailing back up the length of Jimin’s body, slow and careful, taking everything in.

The reaction is instantaneous. The soft hitch of Jimin’s breath is barely audible over the steady beat of Jungkook’s heart, his lashes fluttering as his fingers flex at his sides, cock twitching at the quiet praise.

“Get on the bed, kitten,” Jungkook says, his head tipping as one of his ears twitches towards it.

Jimin’s eyes float up, his attention caught by the motion. It’s like he’s studying Jungkook’s ears, really taking them in for the first time. For a moment, Jungkook feels a hint of worry, the smallest flicker of doubt—and then Jimin’s gaze drops again, a glimmer of weak, shaky defiance in his expression as he meets Jungkook’s eye.

“Wanna see you too,” Jimin murmurs, his words igniting the few remaining embers simmering in Jungkook’s belly.

Jimin’s voice is soft and thin, but not uncertain, not hesitant. Just breathy, lilted, delicate. His tail hangs low, swishing in slow, wide arcs, ears perked as he waits for Jungkook’s next command.

Everything about Jimin screams quiet confidence. Even under Jungkook’s direction like this, Jimin never shies away, never tries to hide. He simply waits, even as Jungkook takes his time to reply, even as Jungkook reaches for his belt but doesn’t actually undo it, his fingers resting atop it.

“Be patient. Get on the bed and be good for me, Jimin,” Jungkook says quietly. He holds Jimin’s gaze, sees the exact moment Jimin exhales softly, shoulders dropping as he lets go of his remaining attempts at defiance.

“Okay,” Jimin breathes, steps delicate and soft as he pads over to the end of Jungkook’s bed, dropping down and sinking into the soft black sheets. His tail curls around his hip, the tip of it flicking slowly back and forth, his knees pulled together. Jimin sits tall and pretty, fingers flexing against the sheets on either side of himself as he waits.

The contrast of Jimin’s dark hair, the black fur of his ears and tail, the richness of his tattoo and Jungkook’s sheets—all of it reflecting purple-pink-blue—against his smooth, honeyed skin tugs at something inside Jungkook, deep and visceral and raw. Jimin is so fucking gorgeous just sitting there, waiting, watching Jungkook expectantly.

He can’t wait to see how Jimin looks when he’s deep in his own pleasure, skin flushed and damp with sweat, thighs wet with slick, smelling only of Jungkook.

The thought alone has Jungkook’s cock jerking, aching to be free from his pants, aching for relief. He takes slow, careful steps closer to Jimin, warmth spreading through him as Jimin watches his every move, patient and still aside from the tiny movements of his tail.

Jungkook comes to a stop just in front of Jimin. He’s close enough that Jimin could touch if he wanted, but he doesn’t. He peers up at Jungkook through hooded eyes, his barely-concealed desperation flickering through them. Jimin’s fingers curl tighter into the blankets, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, body swaying closer to Jungkook almost imperceptibly.

“Please,” Jimin starts, words nearly whispered, “want to see you too, Jungkook.”

The tone of Jimin’s voice, light and airy and sweet, on the edge of desperate, shoots right through Jungkook’s body. It’s gorgeous and it’s erotic, and it’s everything he didn’t let himself imagine all those nights he spent listening to Jimin over his headset.

It’s so obvious now. The way Jimin responded to him, following his lead and letting him direct—they might have been totally unaware, but it was as if it came naturally to them. Dominance guiding submission, even subconsciously, like they were always meant to have this.

Jungkook wonders what might have happened if they’d known sooner. If he’d broken his own rule of not giving away any part of his identity on Rosebound.

Though maybe, in the end, things worked out exactly the way they were meant to. The fire burning hot through Jungkook only swells as he strips out of his clothes, carefully watching every tiny reaction from Jimin.

The way he shifts when Jungkook tosses his shirt aside, shaking his hair out of his face, Jimin’s eyes widening as he takes in the tattoos winding down Jungkook’s arm, the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen.

And the way Jimin freezes in place, lips popping open, his gaze hungry when it lands on Jungkook’s cock, curved high and hard, metal piercings catching colourful light.

A soft whimper falls from Jimin’s lips, his hand twitching like he might reach out and touch. Jungkook watches him silently, pushing his hair off his forehead as he waits to see what Jimin will do, his ears standing tall but relaxed. Jimin’s eyes dart up to his, like he’s seeking permission, fingers curled into a loose fist in his lap.

In the end, Jimin’s impatience seems to win out. Jungkook fixes him with a look of warning, but Jimin drops his gaze, reaching out and running a delicate finger up the length of Jungkook’s cock. He eyes the piercings, a tiny, shuddering gasp tearing through him when he brushes his finger over them, exploring, mapping out each ridge and dip of the glinting metal like he’s imagining exactly what it’ll feel like inside him.

Jimin already knew beforehand that Jungkook has them. They talked about it early on, made sure that the other knew what to expect the first time they took their clothes off. The kinds of piercings Jungkook has—and the number of them—aren’t everyone’s thing. It’s been a dealbreaker before, and that’s fine. It’s his body, and he doesn’t have to share it with anyone who doesn’t like what he’s done with it.

But Jimin immediately reassured him that he’s very much into it. That it’s something he’s always wondered about, has fantasized about once or twice. His eyes sparkle with intrigue, lips parted, tongue poking out like he’s about to give into temptation and duck down, take Jungkook’s cock into his mouth without permission.

A breathy chuckle slips past Jungkook’s lips, the sound making Jimin glance at him, just a quick flick of his eyes before turning his attention back to Jungkook’s cock again. Jimin hums softly, curiously, one cat ear twitching as his thumb brushes across the sensitive head, teasing at the piercing.

“Pretty,” Jimin muses, pushing his thumb against the metal ball, Jungkook’s breath hitching in his throat as he swallows down a small moan. Jimin’s head tilts, eyes slightly unfocused, even as he watches his thumb. “Knew you had them, but… Better than I imagined. Wanna feel—”

Wordlessly, Jungkook reaches out, cupping gently beneath Jimin’s chin right before the omega can lean in. Jungkook tilts his head up, Jimin’s eyes widening slightly, throat bobbing as he swallows. Jimin’s hand goes still, his thumb resting against the head of Jungkook’s cock, a teasing pressure on the largest of the metal pieces.

“Soon, baby,” Jungkook promises, languidly stroking his thumb across Jimin’s lip, a smile tugging at his mouth when Jimin instinctively flicks his tongue out to lave at the pad of it. “I didn’t give you permission to touch.”

Something flashes through Jimin’s eyes—bright, sudden, fleeting. The final bits of his remaining defiance. He blinks up at Jungkook, ears lowering against his head, coy and soft and sweet.

And then his tongue darts out again, coaxing the tip of Jungkook’s thumb in between those plush, sinful lips, right as Jimin rubs his thumb across the twin dydoe piercings set at the ridge of Jungkook’s cock. Jungkook’s hips jerk, heat flooding through him, his breath stuttering as he lets out a soft curse. He pulls his thumb from Jimin’s mouth, his free hand gently circling the omega’s wrist and giving a small, warning squeeze.

“You’re so impatient. Can’t even wait for me, can you?”

Jimin sucks in a small breath, blinking up at Jungkook as he lets him guide Jimin’s hand off his cock, keeping his hold on Jimin’s wrist. A small pout pushes onto Jimin’s lips, though Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s from being denied what he wants, or because he’s determined to prove Jungkook wrong.

“Can wait,” Jimin murmurs, “just don’t want to.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, a low rumble that visibly makes Jimin shiver. It’s not cruel, not mocking—everything about Jimin makes something inside Jungkook come to life, excitement and a steady sort of stillness settling over him the more Jimin pushes.

It’s everything clicking into place—between them, within Jungkook. It’s proof that he was right to take a chance on Jimin. That if this keeps up, this could be the best decision Jungkook has ever made.

“I know you don’t. But you want to be good for me, right, kitten?” Jungkook coaxes softly, and the reaction is immediate.

Jimin’s shoulders drop, pout deepening, his ears low and relaxed against his head. Wide eyes peer up at Jungkook through pretty, dark lashes, a puff of air exhaled across Jungkook’s thumb as Jimin murmurs, “Yes. Can be good for you.”

A smile twitches onto Jungkook’s lips, small but pleased, Jimin’s chin tilting higher as he sways towards Jungkook in response. “That’s right,” Jungkook says, hand falling away from Jimin’s chin to brush his fingers against his rosy cheek, Jimin’s lashes fluttering as he leans into the touch. “Move back now, baby. Get on the bed for me.”

Jimin gives a small nod, nuzzling into Jungkook’s hand. He gets lost in it for a moment, a burst of warm vanilla filling the air, Jimin blinking his eyes open only when Jungkook gives his wrist a small squeeze to grab his attention. He hesitates for just a beat as he processes Jungkook’s command, then leans backward, wrist slipping from Jungkook’s hold as Jimin braces himself on the bed and shifts further up.

For just a moment, Jungkook watches—he watches Jimin crawl backwards, long legs and perfect, thick thighs painted beautifully with cool neon tones, the contrast against dark sheets hypnotizing. This is the same Jimin who Jungkook got so used to hearing over his headset, giggling softly at Jungkook’s stupid jokes and cursing out strangers who pissed him off in-game. The same Jimin who Jungkook has seen in brief glimpses, face lit up only by the chaotic glow of NovaRush colours from his screen, too shy most nights to turn his camera on.

The same person Jungkook knew he was falling for, even if he couldn’t admit it. Jimin is bright, magnetic, sweet and soft—and he’s a force of nature, drawing Jungkook in not just once, but twice, even without realizing it.

“So pretty, Jimin,” Jungkook tells him, the words slipping off his tongue before he even realizes he’s said them. He kneels on the edge of the bed, moving towards Jimin, the omega’s eyes following Jungkook’s every move, brimming with eagerness and desire. “Even prettier in person. Let me see you, baby. Lie back and spread your legs.”

Jimin exhales a soft, shaky breath, lowering himself down against the pillows, back arching and head tipped down to keep his eyes on Jungkook. It’s like he’s watching, begging Jungkook to see Jimin give him everything—to not just look. To take what Jimin is offering him. Jimin’s tongue wets his lips as he lets his legs drop open, thighs already wet with slick, hole glistening, cock hard and curved against his hip, a tiny bead of precum dripping onto his skin.

The rush of saccharine sweet peach that hits Jungkook’s nose makes him dizzy with how strong it is, his cock jerking, body tingling with hot, heavy arousal and need. Jimin looks so perfect, spread out for him just like this, chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths, excitement nearly palpable as his fingers find the soft fabric of the sheets and curl into them with barely-contained impatience.

“Gorgeous. So fucking perfect,” Jungkook breathes, shifting forward on his knees until he’s situated right between Jimin’s open thighs. Jimin shifts his hips, arching closer, desperate for touch—but Jungkook stops him with a small shake of his head, palms pressing into the mattress on either side of Jimin’s waist.

“Then touch me,” Jimin insists, voice hardly more than a breathy whisper, no edge to it. Just dripping with need. “If I’m so perfect. Please.”

Jungkook’s gaze softens, the corner of his mouth curved up into a little smile. Jimin still trying to make demands, even as he lays so pliant and willing, sends something visceral shooting through Jungkook, a tiny shiver tingling up his spine.

“I will, kitten. I promise,” he soothes, earning a small, frustrated noise in response. Voice soft, tender, Jungkook asks, “Doing okay? What’s your colour, baby?”

The word leaves Jimin’s lips like a sigh. “Green,” he answers, a floaty little smile on his face. “Very green.”

Jungkook never could have imagined how beautiful Jimin would look like this, pliant and delicate, stretched out and eager. How soft Jimin gets when he actually listens, melting into the sheets with each word Jungkook gently murmurs to him.

Watching Jimin slip deeper, comfortable and safe under Jungkook’s care, ignites something in Jungkook, pushes him deeper into this headspace, has him feeling dizzy even as his mind clears and focus settles over him. He’s burning with the desire to touch, claim, worship. 

He wants everything Jimin will give him, heat swelling inside him as he gazes down at Jimin’s smooth skin, watching Jimin’s cock twitch just from having Jungkook’s full attention on him. Jimin’s hips wiggle the smallest bit, tempting Jungkook closer, pleading wordlessly.

“Sit still,” Jungkook tells him, lips twitching into a small, amused smile when Jimin lets out a huff of frustration. “You want me to touch you, right? Make you feel good?”

Slowly, Jimin nods, his pretty pout returning to his lips again. His hips still, ears angled down, fingers curling and uncurling weakly in the sheets as he works to keep himself from moving, to listen.

“Please, Kook,” he breathes, “I’ll be good— Please touch me.”

Jungkook could sit here and stare all night, watching Jimin fight his desperation, pretty and flushed all over. But his own need burns hot and bright inside him, his alpha thumping wildly in his chest, begging for him to make Jimin his tonight. To claim and take what he’s been waiting for.

“Good boy,” Jungkook murmurs, reaching out and finally, finally letting himself touch. 

Jimin gasps at the first brush of Jungkook’s hands against his skin, trembling softly from his words. Jungkook’s palms smooth down his ribs, his waist, mapping out the curves of his hips before trailing back up again. He watches with hungry eyes as Jimin twitches under his touch, arching into it despite himself, his grip on the sheets not enough to stop his body from reacting involuntarily.

“Oh,” Jimin exhales, his eyelids fluttering shut as Jungkook lets his hands wander Jimin’s chest, thumbs brushing across the hardened buds of his nipples. Jimin shivers, another soft whine falling from his lips, Jungkook’s nails dragging down his ribs, across his thighs, Jimin’s legs twitching at the touch.

“Fucking look at you. So perfect for me, baby,” Jungkook breathes, his hands sliding under Jimin’s knees to lift them just enough to drape Jimin’s legs over his thighs, tilting his hips.

He teases his fingers across the folds of Jimin’s hips, watching the way it makes Jimin gasp, his cock twitching as another bead of precum leaks from the tip. Jimin looks so fucking ruined already, and Jungkook has barely gotten started, barely touched him.

To hold this much power over someone like Jimin—beautiful, strong, ethereal Jimin—is something Jungkook will never take for granted. Something he hopes Jimin will trust him with again, over and over and over.

“Jimin,” he murmurs, because he can’t help himself, because he still can’t believe that he has Jimin here, spread out in front of him. Smooth and solid and real under his fingers. Jungkook leans in, hovers over him, breathes in peaches and rich vanilla and nearly drowns. “Jimin.” 

He would gladly let himself drown.

“Kiss me?” It’s a request, an ask, and Jimin whispers it so softly that it’s nearly swallowed up by the ambient hum of neon-lit tech. “Kookie— Kiss me, please? Please—”

Jungkook swallows Jimin’s pleas with his lips. He shifts his hips, fits himself between Jimin’s thighs and lowers himself down until their bodies are pressed flush, cocks slotted together. Jimin moans into his mouth, hips rocking upwards, seeking friction and making Jungkook growl low into the kiss as sparks of pleasure explode across his skin, tongue delving into Jimin’s mouth.

They kiss slow, messy, Jungkook taking his time to taste, to feel. Jimin trembles beneath him, the sheets tugged closer to his body as he does his best to keep from touching before he’s been given permission.

Pleasure prickles across Jungkook’s skin, his hips jerking, cock rubbing against the smooth planes of Jimin’s stomach. He feels Jimin gasp, feels him shudder, his legs tightening on either side of Jungkook as a high-pitched moan tears from his lips.

Jungkook’s fingers curl against Jimin’s hip, giving a small squeeze to steady Jimin, to steady himself, inhaling deeply as he pulls back just the smallest bit, just enough to break the kiss, Jungkook hovering millimetres away. Jimin’s chin tilts up, chasing after his lips, quick, panting breaths ghosting across Jungkook’s face as he bumps their noses together.

He can feel Jimin’s desperation and impatience, the energy buzzing through his body. Jimin tries to keep rocking against him, but Jungkook keeps him pinned in place with his hips, preventing Jimin from chasing his pleasure any further.

“Easy, kitten,” Jungkook soothes. “Breathe for me. There you go.”

Jimin gazes up at him, hooded eyes still impossibly round, his cheeks flushed a beautiful red. Sweat beads at his temples, dark hair clinging to his skin, kiss-bitten lips parted softly as he steadies his breathing, doing his best to follow the gentle rhythm Jungkook strokes up and down the outer side of his hip.

“Still with me?”

Jimin swallows, then nods, slowly at first before nodding with a little more force. “Yes,” he whispers, pretty lips curling into the ghost of a smile when Jungkook rewards him with one gentle kiss.

“Good. You’re doing so well, being so good for me, baby.” As he speaks, Jungkook lets his hand drift lower, pressing between Jimin’s legs. His eyes stay glued to Jimin’s face, heart pounding with every tiny expression, every twitch and flutter. “I knew you could be.”

The first brush of his finger against Jimin’s slicked-up hole makes the omega gasp, his hands flying from their place on the bed to grip to Jungkook’s shoulders, nails biting into skin. Jungkook pauses, finger drifting away, Jimin letting out a small sound of frustration at the loss of contact where he wants it most right now.

“Good boys don’t touch until they’re told,” Jungkook corrects softly, Jimin’s teeth closing around his bottom lip, doing his best to breathe in slow.

With hesitance, Jimin lets his hands drop, fingers dragging down Jungkook’s biceps before his arms fall against the mattress, draped above his head. Jungkook smiles, leaning back down, his free hand closing gently over Jimin’s wrists as he captures him in another kiss.

This time, Jungkook keeps it steady, controlled. He kisses Jimin like they have all the time in the world, like nothing exists beyond dark sheets coated in peach and sandalwood. All Jungkook knows is them, is Jimin, the sweet sounds that leave Jimin’s throat when Jungkook’s finger finds Jimin’s entrance again, swirling through the mess of slick before finally, finally pushing inside.

Jimin keens, a whimpered sound that gets swallowed by Jungkook as he works his finger deeper, teeth nipping at Jimin’s lip when Jimin’s head starts to turn away.

“A-Ah, oh,” Jimin gasps out, stretched around two fingers, wrists tugging lightly against Jungkook’s hold. “Oh, fuck.”

“So wet for me, kitten,” Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek, the underside of his jaw. Jimin nods, a wild little movement, his eagerness spilling out of his mouth in little chants of yes and for you. “You smell so good, too. Fuck, Jimin—being so good for me now.”

“M-More,” Jimin manages, cut off by another small noise as Jungkook works him open with long, careful movements. “Please…”

“Two isn’t enough for you?” Jungkook muses, watching the flash of heat in Jimin’s eyes at his gentle tease, his hole clenching around Jungkook’s fingers. He hums thoughtfully, a third finger teasing at Jimin’s rim, his other hand giving Jimin’s wrists a gentle squeeze of warning when he tries to wiggle his hips to get more of Jungkook inside him.

“Want more—want you,” Jimin whines in reply.

The sound goes right to Jungkook’s aching cock, desperate to be inside Jimin, to feel him clenching around his length, to watch how he writhes and squirms and begs for more. It’ll be so worth it, once he has Jimin exactly where he wants him.

Jungkook murmurs soft praises as he slowly works a third finger in, eyes tracking every little movement, every flicker in Jimin’s expression.

“Soon, kitten,” he promises. “Doing so well for me. Being so good now. Who knew such a huge brat could follow instructions so well, hm?”

Jimin huffs out a sound of agreement that turns into a long, low moan as Jungkook slowly presses his fingers deep, curling against Jimin’s walls, searching for that spot. He wants Jimin so far gone that all he can think about is Jungkook’s cock, fucking him open, making a mess of him. Filling him—

“Ah, shit,” Jungkook curses quietly. A small, confused frown pulls at Jimin’s lips when Jungkook pauses, fingers frozen deep in Jimin’s ass. “Sorry, just— Almost forgot to grab a condom,” he says, stealing a quick kiss from those pretty, pouty lips.

“Don’t need it,” Jimin insists, breath quickening at the implication. “‘M clean— you know—”

Jungkook shushes him quietly, a few gentle, carefully placed kisses effectively silencing him. “Next time, kitty. Next time, okay? Need to talk about it properly.”

They have discussed it, but not explicitly. It came up in one of their late night talks on Rosebound, both of them assuring the other that they get tested regularly. Jimin seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea of foregoing condoms, and while Jungkook isn’t going to pretend the thought doesn’t drive him nearly fucking feral, Jimin never actually said he’d be okay with it—especially not on their first night together.

Jungkook doesn’t even know if Jimin is on birth control. The odds of it being an issue are slim to none, between the combination of Jimin’s status as a male omega and the already bare-minimum chances from their conflicting hybrid types, but still. It’s not a risk they can take. Not with Jimin already so far gone that he’s hardly thinking straight.

“Mm… fine,” Jimin replies, his beautiful pout still clinging to his lips. Jungkook kisses it, again and again and again, until Jimin finally offers him a teeny, blissed-out smile. “Talk after.”

Jungkook nods, stealing one last kiss before pulling away to brush his nose across Jimin’s cheek, moving down to his throat and inhaling the rich, intoxicating heaviness of Jimin’s scent. “We will. I promise.”

It’s the promise of a next time, the agreement between them that this isn’t a one-off hookup. It means they’re both feeling what stirs inside Jungkook, a longing and a desire to build off of this, to see where else it can take them.

A trust that Jungkook has dreamed of finding in somebody willing to submit to him like this. Somebody who sees past his hybrid traits, who sees Jungkook for who he is, not who society thinks he should be.

He really got lucky. He really, truly believes that this could turn into something between them—more than just dynamics-based play. More than sex.

But for now, the thought is fleeting, his mind overrun with Jimin and the way he whines softly when Jungkook starts moving his fingers again. Slow, in and out, scissoring and massaging Jimin’s walls to open him up. Jimin’s hips start moving in small, involuntary circles, chasing the feeling, mouth dropping open and a high-pitched, needy moan falling from his lips and echoing in the space around them when Jungkook finally hits his prostate.

“Oh—please, please,” Jimin begs, fingers flexing, wrists straining lightly against Jungkook’s hold. “Ready—please, Kookie—”

“Okay, okay. I’ve got you,” Jungkook murmurs against Jimin’s scent gland, tongue flicking across it just to feel Jimin shudder as he continues to gently rub at that spot inside him. “Ready for me, kitten?”

Jimin nods, a little frantic, even as he tilts his head to give Jungkook better access to his throat that Jungkook happily takes advantage of. He kisses at Jimin’s scent gland, nips softly around it, feels Jimin tremble beneath him as he slowly pulls his fingers from Jimin’s hole, a trail of slick sliding out with them. Jungkook sighs against Jimin’s skin, a little shaky, even as his mind quiets further, Jimin’s body going lax as Jungkook sits up and steals a quick kiss.

“Just grabbing a condom, I’m not going anywhere,” he assures, Jimin’s eyes following his every move, sharp and alert through instinct alone—everything else about him is pliant, hazy, pleased. Jungkook leans over him, over the edge of the bed, his alpha thrumming with delight when Jimin stays put as Jungkook fishes a condom out from his nightstand before sitting back, poised between Jimin’s spread thighs.

Perfect, Jungkook thinks, the word echoing in his head as he tears open the condom packet and rolls it on, gathering slick from between Jimin’s cheeks and spreading it over himself. He hisses at the sensation, letting out a low groan at the relief of finally being touched.

Jungkook leans back down, kissing Jimin once as he reaches between them and lines himself up, pausing with the tip of his cock pressing against Jimin’s entrance.

“Green?” he whispers, forehead to forehead with Jimin, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest that the rhythm of it mixes with the omega’s shallow, panted breaths.

Trembling with anticipation, his back arching, arms still limp above his head, Jimin breathes, “Green.”

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

It repeats like a mantra as Jungkook finally pushes past the tight ring of muscle, Jimin’s legs tensing on either side of him, his mouth dropping open around a lilted moan. His body jolts, likely surprised by the feeling of Jungkook’s piercings—the pressure of the metal ball near the tip, the glide of the beads a little further down. His lashes flutter, eyes beginning to drift shut until Jungkook reaches up, fingers curling beneath Jimin’s chin.

“Eyes on me, baby,” Jungkook pants, hips rolling in slow, shallow movements, each small thrust sending him deeper and deeper. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Jimin manages a small nod, hooded eyes finding Jungkook’s, tiny sounds punched out of him every time Jungkook moves. He trembles softly, fingers curling into the sheets, his legs wrapping tight around Jungkook’s waist—a silent, instinctive plea for Jungkook to keep going, to not stop until he’s fully seated inside.

Jungkook lets out a low, satisfied groan when his hips finally meet the back of Jimin’s ass, dropping his forehead against Jimin’s as he steadies his breathing. It gives Jimin a moment to adjust, gives Jungkook a second to gather himself. Jimin is so hot, so tight, clenching and unclenching as he gets used to the feeling of Jungkook inside him, the new sensations of his piercings.

He’s so responsive already, so sensitive to it—Jungkook can only imagine how it’ll drive Jimin wild the first time they do this without anything in the way, when he can feel the cool metal against his skin, shifting inside his body.

His breathing slowed, Jungkook lifts his head slightly, just enough to be able to watch Jimin’s expression, to admire the little pinch between his brows when Jimin’s hips give an involuntary twitch and pull a soft moan from him, Jungkook’s cock twitching. Jungkook curses softly, heat coiling tight inside him when he rolls his hips gently, testing, gauging Jimin’s reaction.

Jimin gasps a stuttered breath, tail twitching and legs wrapping tighter around Jungkook’s waist, squeezing gently as he whispers, “Please, please—a-alpha—”

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathes out, hips jerking as his hand plants on the mattress beside Jimin’s head, fingers curling into the sheets. His other hand goes to Jimin’s waist, steadying him as he slowly pulls back. “I’ve got you, kitten,” he manages, breathless as he rubs his thumb slow against Jimin’s hip. “Ready, Jimin?”

“Yes— Ready— Ah!”

Jungkook gives one steady, gentle rock of his hips, Jimin’s voice breaking as it trails off into a pretty moan. His back arches, legs squeezing around Jungkook’s middle as Jungkook begins sinking into Jimin again and again with slow, shallow thrusts. He keeps his grip in Jimin’s waist, keeping Jimin still, keeping himself grounded with the feeling of every tiny tremble, every twitch and jerk and stuttered breath he pulls from the omega.

Jungkook’s head spins, pleasure prickling across his skin, every pretty noise Jimin lets out spurring him on until he finds a steady rhythm, the sound of his hips meeting Jimin’s ass with every thrust loud in his ears. Jimin is so wet, so pliant, that every snap forward has slick gushing out around Jungkook’s cock, sending bursts of cloyingly sweet peach into the air.

“That’s it—feel so good, Jimin,” Jungkook gasps around a moan, hips slamming a little harder into Jimin, a little faster. “Eyes on me— Look at me, kitten, come on.”

The hand on Jimin’s waist travels up, cupping his cheek, turning Jimin’s head so that when his eyes flutter open, Jungkook is staring right into them—soft brown clouded with lust, hazy and so far gone, that instinctual predatory edge all but faded away. Jimin stutters out a gasp, hands twitching, fingers curling into tight fists in his effort to keep them where Jungkook told him.

“There you go— Fuck,” Jungkook curses, shifting so he can wrap the hand bracing himself on the mattress around Jimin’s wrists again, to pin him in place, keep him right there. The movement has him sinking deeper, Jimin’s head snapping back as he cries out, body coiling tight, hips tilting to take more.

“M-More—there…!” Jimin manages in a small voice, wrists jerking against Jungkook’s hold. Every other breath comes out as a broken, lilting moan, his fingers grasping desperately at the air, trying to grip Jungkook’s, looking for anything to hold onto, to anchor himself.

Floating. Jimin is floating, his eyes shut, kiss-bitten lips hung open around each sound. It’s mesmerizing, watching him like this, seeing him so far gone under Jungkook’s touch.

Jungkook uses the hand on Jimin’s cheek to gently guide his head back around, his rhythm never slowing, thumb brushing rosy skin as he asks, “Still with me?”

A small, frantic nod.

“Colour, Jimin?” Jungkook whispers, feeling the heat coiling in his belly, the overwhelming rush of pleasure starting to burn through him like wildfire. Jimin clenches around him, rhythmic squeezes that make Jungkook tremble, the hand gripping Jimin’s wrists clasping a little tighter.

It takes a moment, Jimin’s eyes drifting back open as he fights to hold Jungkook’s gaze, panting out a broken, “G-Green.”

It’s the permission Jungkook needs, the reassurance. He nods—to himself or to Jimin, he’s not sure—and shifts again, chasing his pleasure, chasing the feeling building up in his body. He fucks into Jimin faster, harder, glancing down to watch himself disappear inside the omega as a wave of dizziness slams into him, his vision blurring when Jimin clenches down around him and shakes, nonsensical sounds spilling from his lips. Jimin’s cock twitches, his back arching like he’s seeking every bit of contact he can find, and then he’s spilling white across his stomach, long, broken moans pulled from his chest.

Jungkook goes to slow down, but Jimin shakes his head wildly, ankles hooking behind Jungkook’s ass even as he trembles and gasps, tear-damp lashes fluttering. He whines, breathes out what sounds like don’t stop, and please, body trembling around Jungkook as sharp little aftershocks crash into him, riding out the end of his release, and he yet still wants more.

Jungkook feels something snap.

He loses control of his hips as he slams into Jimin once, twice, burying deep and rocking against him as he’s pushed over the edge, spilling into the condom with a deep, breathless moan. Stars pop behind his eyelids, wave after wave of white-hot pleasure rolling over him, limbs numb and tingling as he slowly comes back to himself, floating high on the lingering sparks of his orgasm.

Falling forward, Jungkook catches himself on his forearms, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush Jimin. His ears droop, landing against the bed with a soft thump, sweat beginning to cool on his back as he tries to catch his breath, ears ringing and heart running a mile a minute. His hips twitch, giving the slightest forward jerk, and Jimin whines in response, body still trembling beneath him.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, nose seeking out Jimin’s scent gland, giving it a gentle nudge as he reaches between them to grip the condom and slowly begin to ease out. Jimin whimpers, face twisted with the discomfort of overstimulation, his body tense as Jungkook’s piercings drag against his walls. “Did so well. You were so good for me, kitten. Made me feel so good.”

Jungkook kisses Jimin’s throat softly, sitting back to discard the condom, tying it off and tossing it aside to worry about later, eyes lingering momentarily on the rush of slick that spills from Jimin’s hole. It evokes other filthy fantasies, makes his still half-hard cock twitch, his ears perked up as instinct tells him he could very well go again. Instead, Jungkook shoves the thought aside, bringing himself back to the present with a few gentle strokes of his palm across Jimin’s thigh.

Pushing sweat-damp hair off his forehead, Jungkook carefully leans back over Jimin, fingers carding softly through the hair just at the base of the ears atop Jimin’s head.

The effect is instantaneous, instinctual. Jimin leans into the touch, his eyes still closed and lips parted as he pants, limbs loose and body limp. He’s fucking gorgeous like this, fucked-out and glowing, the air swirling with sugared sweetness.

“You with me, pretty baby?” Jungkook coaxes, settling himself down beside Jimin, pulling the omega close. “Jimin?”

“M’okay,” Jimin mumbles, nuzzling closer, his movements slow as Jungkook guides him into lying halfway atop him, Jimin’s head on his chest. He lets out a sigh so heavy, so full-bodied, that Jungkook feels it in his bones, Jimin melting into him as Jungkook starts to gently massage at his hips and lower back.

A small noise starts from Jimin’s chest, low at first and barely perceptible, then louder as Jungkook’s hands move higher, rubbing small patterns into Jimin’s skin. It vibrates through him, Jimin’s tail beginning to sway lazily behind him, his nose finding Jungkook’s scent gland to press against it as the unmistakable rumble of purring reaches Jungkook’s ears.

He doesn’t mean to, but he laughs—just a quiet huff through his nose, a tiny breath that escapes from the fondness blossoming in his chest. He’s never had a cat hybrid purr for him like this, has rarely heard it from past omegas he’s spent heats or ruts with. It’s tiny, adorable, a mix of both the hybrid and omega parts of Jimin coming together now that he’s so sufficiently satisfied.

Jimin makes a small sound of curiosity, like he heard Jungkook’s laughter but only kind of registered it in his floaty state. He doesn’t move, but Jungkook feels one of his ears twitch, his hand travelling up to scratch lightly behind it.

“Feel okay?” he asks softly, letting his fingers brush across Jimin’s cheek and smiling to himself when it makes Jimin’s nose scrunch, the omega giving his limbs a small stretch.

“Mhm,” Jimin hums, adjusting to his head on Jungkook’s chest right atop his heart, fingers flexing gently against his skin in a rhythmic little pattern. “Slow. Floaty. But okay.” He giggles, a breathy little sound that tickles Jungkook’s skin. “Heart’s racing like a bunny. Cute.”

This time, Jungkook laughs for real, still soft but enough that he shakes Jimin with it. He runs his palm down the curve of Jimin’s waist, cresting his hip and the roundest part of his ass before drifting back up again, just feeling Jimin as the omega starts to come back to himself.

Fingers start to trace abstract designs across Jungkook’s hip, slow and languid, a sign that Jimin is at least somewhat aware of himself and his surroundings again.

“You with me?” Jungkook asks softly after a few quiet moments, his fingers buried in Jimin’s hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. He gets a small nod in response before Jimin lifts his head, adjusting so that he can gaze up at Jungkook through tired, heavy eyelids.

“Yeah,” he answers, a tiny smile curled onto his lips. His gaze is clear again, eyes bright and sparkly even though he looks like he’s moments away from falling asleep. “I’m good. Great, actually. Think you fucked a few years worth of stress out of me.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, draping the arm not trapped beneath Jimin across his face, nose scrunching up as his lips stretch into a crooked grin. The compliment sends a little shiver through his body, teeth catching his lip ring as he fights off the tiny pulse of arousal it brings with it.

Jimin’s own tiny snicker is interrupted by a sound of intrigue. Jungkook peeks out from underneath his elbow just in time to see Jimin glance back up from where Jungkook’s cock still rests half-hard against his thigh, a delicate eyebrow arched in what Jungkook thinks would be demanding if Jimin didn’t look so thoroughly exhausted.

Smile turning sheepish, Jungkook waves it off, guiding Jimin back to resting properly on his chest. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, peering down at Jimin and meeting his questioning gaze. “Rabbit thing. It’ll, ah… go down in a bit. I’m not uncomfortable. Perfectly satisfied and everything, I promise.”

And he is. It’s not a lie, not even a half-truth—even with his practically non-existent refractory period, getting off once is enough for him. Especially with a partner like Jimin. The rest is just an added bonus, good for when it’s convenient and only mildly awkward when it’s not.

Thankfully, Jimin seems content with his answer, humming thoughtfully as he crawls on top of Jungkook and plops down—careful to avoid touching his cock. Jungkook gives him a grateful pat on the ass, and Jimin laughs, nuzzling closer to press a kiss beneath Jungkook’s jaw.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to meet Jungkook’s gaze. Jimin is warm all over, vibrating like a tiny star, skin lit with neon. He leans in, lips meeting Jungkook’s in a soft, careful kiss—nothing like the ones they shared before.

It’s everything Jungkook imagined kissing Jimin would be like. Everything he hoped it might feel like to be with the version of Jimin that barely had more than a nickname. Two different fantasies, and yet both belonged to the same person.

To Jimin. Soft, gentle, snarky Jimin. Dangerous, intoxicating, sweet Jimin.

“Of course,” Jungkook replies, smiling into the next kiss, and then the next. “Thank you for trusting me. Do you need anything from me right now?”

Jimin thinks for a moment, apparently content to let Jungkook pull him in for a longer kiss before finally shaking his head.

“This is good. Maybe water? But not yet,” he says, boneless where he lays atop Jungkook, his ears tickling Jungkook’s jaw when Jimin ducks down to seek out his scent gland again. “Just hold me like this.”

Easy, Jungkook thinks.

He could hold Jimin just like this for hours.

It’s still brand new, yes—there’s still so much for them to learn about each other, so many things that could change how this feels—but Jungkook is willing to take the risk. He wouldn’t have taken this step, would never have agreed to meet up with Jimin if he didn’t have a good reason to.

He and Jimin just clicked, not once, but twice. That has to count for something.

And judging by the way Jimin drifts off, tail swishing contently against Jungkook’s legs, lounging atop him like nothing exists beyond this, right here and right now, Jungkook has a pretty good feeling that Jimin just might feel the same way.

₊‧ ʚ🌙ɞ ‧₊

Sunlight streams in through huge windows, reflecting off sleek black counters and shiny, thrumming appliances. The wide open space is lit so brightly that it almost feels as though they’re outside, morning light setting the room awash with a comfortable, quiet glow.

It’s such a huge contrast to what Jimin first saw when he arrived last night—dark and inviting, tempting, small corners lit up with the neon hum of display panels and soft mood lighting. This morning, it’s big and bright, modern but not obscene in its extravagance—just like Jungkook, in a way.

Jimin had a lot of expectations leading up to the moment that door swung open, but this certainly hadn’t been one of them. He trusted that he was meeting someone who wouldn’t turn out to be a total psychopath, but the odds feel so insanely slim that Jimin almost feels like he must be dreaming. There’s no way this is real.

But the pleasant ache in his lower back, the way his omega thrums and he has to fight to keep from purring, the notes of soft cotton and sharp sandalwood on his skin? It’s undeniable. It is real, and it’s better than he ever could have imagined.

Taking a small sip of coffee, Jimin lets his eyes roam Jungkook’s body, the alpha’s back turned to Jimin as he mixes something up in a frying pan sizzling on the stove. His pants are just the right fit that they show off the firm shape of his thighs and ass, the thin taper of his waist from broad shoulders obvious even in his loose t-shirt. The normally subtle waves in his hair are a little unruly, left to finish air drying after a quick shower to clean them both up last night, and even from behind it makes Jungkook look soft and sweet in that almost intimidating way. His rabbit ears sit upright, one slightly turned downward at the top—something Jimin is quickly realizing means Jungkook is comfortable and content.

He’s seen it more often on Jungkook’s streams than anything, but it’s still something Jimin has come to recognize about him. Jungkook is surprisingly easy to read—something Jimin hadn’t expected from such a well-known public figure.

Hell, Jimin never expected to even know Jungkook on such an intimate level. It was one thing to wind up gaming with him, but ending up in bed with him wasn’t even within the realm of possibilities in Jimin’s mind. He’d already accepted that Jungkook was off-limits, had poured all of that energy and desire into getting to know the stranger on Rosebound instead, in hopes of building something real to distract from his budding feelings for Jungkook.

The minute that door opened, all those feelings came rushing right back. Longing and desire. The fluttering in his stomach that he feels every time Jungkook’s gentle, soothing voice drifts through Jimin’s headset.

Of course Jimin thought he was nothing special. Jungkook probably spoke that way to everyone, when he wasn’t performing for an audience. At least, that’s what Jimin told himself in his attempt to get his feelings under control.

Now, though?

Now Jimin isn’t so sure. The realization that the attraction is mutual has totally shifted Jimin’s perspective, has had him reflecting on every little conversation that they’ve had since the first night Taehyung invited Jimin to game with them.

They really did seem to just click right away. Jungkook is sweet and funny and attentive—everything Jimin adores in an alpha. His hybrid type never even really crossed Jimin’s mind, aside from the few times he let himself entertain some not-so-innocent thoughts once or twice. For him to turn out to also apparently be everything Jimin has been looking for in a Dom?

Jimin is genuinely considering buying himself a lottery ticket on his way to the studio today.

“I can feel you staring, you know.”

Jimin startles, eyes widening as he scrambles to take a sip of his coffee in an attempt to look busy, both hands clasped around his mug. His tail gives a betraying little flick through the air right as Jungkook turns around, the smile on Jungkook’s face growing wider.

“Am not,” Jimin counters, even as his gaze stays trained on Jungkook, shy though it may be.

Jungkook laughs, the corners of his eyes scrunching up and his smile wide and brilliant, and Jimin melts into his seat at the sound. His shoulders droop, fondness tugging at his heart as he shamelessly watches the alpha’s muscles shift when he begins to plate their breakfast, the smell of fresh food mingling with Jungkook’s warm scent.

“Sounds like something someone who’s staring would say.”

This time Jimin laughs, sitting up a bit straighter and setting his mug aside when Jungkook slides a plate in front of him, handing him a pair of chopsticks with a little flourishing wave and a small bow for theatrics.

“Okay, maybe I am staring,” Jimin says, brows arching challengingly at Jungkook. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Jungkook freezes, his first bite of food paused mid-air, halfway to his mouth. He takes in the smug, teasing smile on Jimin’s lips, the way Jimin’s ears twitch with delight he can’t hide, then laughs, shaking his head as he shoves his food into his mouth and chews thoughtfully.

Under Jungkook’s attention, Jimin can’t help but preen. He sits up tall on his barstool, tail swishing leisurely behind him, ears forward but not on alert. Jimin is used to having eyes on him, even if they’re usually through a screen or when he’s folded into weird shapes at the front of a yoga studio, but something about Jungkook makes him feel shy and brimming with confidence all at once.

Like Jungkook sees him, not the performer. It’s a strange feeling, one Jimin isn’t quite used to, but he welcomes it. It makes sense, considering Jungkook now knows two of the most intimate sides of him. One day, if this lasts, Jimin will have to navigate telling him about the third, more frightening part, but that’s a problem for later. That’s a problem for when they’ve decided if this is going to turn into something.

And Jimin has a very good feeling it will.

“So,” Jungkook starts, casual as anything, “the whole ‘working late’ thing.” His eyes flick up to meet Jimin’s, something playful dancing in them. “Was that just part of the brat act?”

Jimin nearly chokes, swallowing hard around his mouthful of food. He washes it down with a big sip of coffee, trying to avoid Jungkook’s knowing gaze.

“Uh— Something like that,” Jimin admits weakly, his cheeks flushed a light pink as heat floods them, a tiny smile on his lips.

Technically not wrong. Jimin is a brat on stream. And he was playing it up for Jungkook in their chats on Rosebound too.

The truth is just a little more delicate. A little too dangerous right now. It’s why Jimin refuses to share any personal information. He can’t risk a viewer recognizing him before he’s had a chance to build some sort of rapport with them.

He’ll tell Jungkook eventually. Jimin doesn’t think it’ll be an issue, but still. It’s not exactly a good morning-after you fucked me so well I saw god conversation anyways.

Eager to shift the attention away from himself, the warmth in his cheeks reaching a glowing red, Jimin arches a brow and points his chopsticks in Jungkook’s direction.

“What about you, huh? What’d you tell me? Media shit?” Jimin snickers at the way Jungkook’s smile turns sheepish, one of his tall ears giving a small flick before drooping at the tip. He has to hold himself back to keep from reaching out and stroking it. “A bit of an understatement, don’t you think?”

“Technically the truth?” Jungkook offers, lifting one shoulder in a playful shrug.

“You told me you were self-employed,” Jimin fires back, grinning around his next bite of breakfast.

Jungkook’s nose scrunches, and it’s the cutest fucking thing Jimin has ever seen. Despite rough-around-the-edges aesthetic Jungkook gives off, he really is just a huge sweetheart. It makes Jimin a little dizzy, reconciling the Jungkook in front of him now—the one he’s used to hearing over his headset, the one who he has occasionally watched compete or stream—with the version of him Jimin saw last night.

It’s not that it’s difficult to believe. It’s how wholly, fundamentally, it makes sense.

Of course Jungkook, sweet and kind and giggly, with his soft bunny ears and his plethora of piercings and tattoos, would be the type to dominate with a firm hand and gentle words. Jungkook is someone who is used to being in the spotlight, with eyes on him all the time. Of course he knows how to make someone like Jimin feel seen, feel safe to let go. To trust.

Laughter fills the open air of the apartment as Jungkook shakes his head, fondness written across every inch of his face. He looks at Jimin like he never wants to look away, and Jimin giggles when he realizes that Jungkook is drifting—his gaze softens, expression thoughtful and a little awestruck as he studies Jimin’s face.

The sound of Jimin laughing at him snaps Jungkook back to the present, his cheeks turning pink and one of his ears twitching as he huffs out an amused sound.

“I mean, technically I am self-employed during the off-season,” he says, flashing Jimin a shy, toothy grin, propping one elbow against the counter as he gathers up another bite of food—way too big to be reasonable, but Jungkook doesn’t look the least bit concerned about it. “Those brand deals and stream subs don’t exactly pull themselves, you know.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jimin mumbles, mostly to himself, as he takes a sip of coffee.

Jungkook hums curiously around his food, realization striking Jimin as he nearly chokes on his drink, swallowing with a wild shake of his head that he hopes comes across as dismissive rather than panicked.

“I mean, from watching you, of course,” Jimin rushes to correct. “You work hard. It can’t be easy to keep up with all of that.”

Nodding in understanding, Jungkook replies, “Oh, I’m so used to it by now that it’s just part of life, you know? But, thank you,” he adds, a little softer, a hint of quiet delight creeping into his smile. “I didn’t know you watched.”

Some of the panic bleeds from Jimin, his shoulders relaxing as he finishes off his food, delicately placing his chopsticks down beside his place. “Honestly, I already watched your streams sometimes, even before I found out who you are,” he admits, shrugging one shoulder. There’s really no point in denying it. “That’s why it’s so impressive that Taehyung managed to keep your secret. That man has no filter.”

Jungkook laughs, bright and boyish. “No filter, shit at keeping secrets. Yeah, trust me. I’m impressed too.”

“Hey, um…” Jimin starts, gaze flicking out the window, taking in the early morning of the city as it begins to buzz to life. The view up here is breathtaking, and Jimin really hopes he’ll get to appreciate it again sometime soon. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Hm?”

“That I… knew who you are. And still went through with all this?”

Jungkook pauses with their empty plates in hand, blinking owlishly at Jimin. His head tilts, ears flopping with the motion, and it’s so painfully adorable that Jimin wants to cry.

“Why would it bother me?” Shaking his head, Jungkook sets the dishes down and faces Jimin, bracing his palms on the ledge of the counter, a small frown tugging at his perfect lips. “Hyung, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not like you knew who you were talking to on Rosebound. You didn’t pretend to not know who I am when you realized I’m not just some random loser who games every night. This,” he gestures between them with his tattooed hand, Jimin’s eyes tracking the gesture shamelessly, “thing between us happened totally naturally. What, did you think I’d want you to forget how fucking into you I am just because we turned out to not be total strangers?”

It’s a genuine question, not an accusation—there’s no anger behind it, just honest curiosity. Maybe a little confusion, like Jungkook can’t even fathom the possibility of that ever happening. Even now, he looks at Jimin like he’s seeing him for the first time, a breathless sort of wonder sparkling in his eyes.

“If you ask me,” Jungkook continues with a loose shrug, “it’s pretty fucking cool that things worked out this way. We didn’t just click as a match on a hookup app, hyung. We did as ourselves too. If anything, I’m glad it was you.” He smiles again, that same one that Jimin is starting to realize is reserved for him. “I mean it.”

Jimin’s tail swishes behind him, a little wild in the way it moves. He clamps his teeth down on his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the huge, ridiculous grin trying to split across his face, but it’s useless—his cheeks hurt, eyes curving into crescents as his face glows a bright, delighted pink, hiding behind both hands as he laughs.

“You’re too fucking sweet, Jungkook,” he says, peeking through his fingers. Jungkook’s smile is back, full and bright, and he flashes Jimin a wink that makes Jimin squeak with more laughter. “Okay, okay! I should really get going. If I’m not there, the studio doesn’t open, and I’ll have a line of angry middle-aged omegas ready to beat me to death with their yoga mats.”

Jungkook pulls a face, shaking his head in sympathy. “Well, hey—if you need a ride…?”

He jerks his head towards the door, Jimin following the gesture until his eyes land on something he half-noticed last night in his panic. Two motorcycle helmets sit on a bench by the front door, one slightly larger and the other smaller and less well-used.

A flicker of heat shoots through Jimin, and he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from shivering, to keep his scent tightly controlled before he floods the room with a burst of ripe peaches.

“Please don’t flirt with me right now,” Jimin laments, rolling his head around to bat his lashes dramatically in Jungkook’s direction. “Please. I am a weak, weak man, and I will sacrifice my livelihood for your dick.”

Jungkook snorts with surprised laughter, eyes trailing across Jimin’s exposed collarbones just before Jungkook turns around to resume tidying up their dishes. Jimin doesn’t miss the heat in his gaze, the little spike of sandalwood and tiny twitch of Jungkook’s nose that says he would not complain about that.

Sliding off the barstool, Jimin continues, “Thank you for the offer, really. Unfortunately for us both, I drove myself here, just in case things… You know.” He holds his hand out, pointing his thumb at the ground and wiggling his hand until it almost veers into a thumbs up, grinning when Jungkook nods in solemn understanding. “But maybe next time…?”

He watches Jungkook with a kittenish smirk, slowly making his way towards the front entryway. A pleased, knowing look settles onto Jungkook’s face as he follows after Jimin, arms crossed over his chest and every movement deliberate.

Like he’s the predator and Jimin his willing prey.

“Next time, huh?” Jungkook murmurs, so close to that voice that made Jimin melt in the space of a heartbeat last night.

Jimin slips his shoes on, grabbing his bag from its spot by the door and tossing it over his shoulder as he steps a little closer to Jungkook. He smiles, reaching out to catch one of Jungkook’s hands in his, letting them hang between them as Jimin sways their arms back and forth just slightly.

“There better be a next time,” he insists, shuffling another fraction forward, leaning in until he’s close enough to pick up on the sandalwood and cotton curling into the air. He can hear his own tiny, nearly imperceptible purrs, that strange combination of cat and omega that he felt for the first time last night, with just a hint of coy flirtation now. “Now that I have my claws in you, I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Jimin leans in, his grip on Jungkook’s hand getting a little firmer. The alpha’s other hand settles on Jimin’s hip, drawing him in, innocent enough that Jimin is able to stay clear-headed even as he shivers.

“Especially now that I know I can have you,” he adds, chest-to-chest with Jungkook, free hand curling around Jungkook’s elbow as their fingers tangle together at their sides. “You, not just the guy on Rosebound. Because, my god—I want you so bad, Jungkook.”

A tiny puff of air punches itself out of Jungkook’s chest, ghosting across Jimin’s lips. Jungkook’s scent curls brightly around them, the warmth of fresh cotton settling like a blanket across Jimin’s shoulders. It’s delight, and it’s desire, and it’s everything Jimin needs to know this is the right choice.

He melts into it when Jungkook closes the distance, apparently at a loss for words and choosing a kiss instead. It’s soft and a little filthy all at once, Jungkook’s hand drifting from Jimin’s hip to the small of his back, pulling him closer as he slowly licks into Jimin’s mouth and leaves him breathless.

“You’re making it really hard to walk out that door,” Jimin murmurs when they pull apart to catch their breath, foreheads resting together. Jungkook chuckles quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of Jimin’s hair back, fingers ghosting across his cheek.

“Sorry,” he says, not the least bit apologetic. “Can’t help it. You’re really fucking pretty.”

Jimin giggles softly, turning his head to nuzzle into Jungkook’s palm. The gesture conjures up images from the night before, and Jimin tips his head further, chest rumbling softly as he noses at Jungkook’s skin.

“Will you scent me before I go?” Jimin asks quietly, eyes drifting shut as Jungkook’s thumb brushes softly across his cheekbone, back and forth. “Only if you’re okay with that, of course.”

Wordlessly, Jungkook coaxes him forward, dropping a small kiss to Jimin’s cheek, his jaw, trailing down to his scent gland. “More than okay with it,” he murmurs, tongue flicking out to taste Jimin, huffing out a soft, overwhelmed breath the moment he does.

Jungkook scents him thoroughly, until Jimin is weak in the knees as trembling softly, the low thrum of arousal building between his legs. As much as he wants to say fuck it, to throw his bag down and toss himself at the alpha, Jimin manages to resist, lashes fluttering as he looks up at Jungkook when he finally leans back.

“There,” Jungkook says, eyeing the spot on Jimin’s neck that’s likely blooming a soft pink from Jungkook’s mouth. “Your turn.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide, lips popping open in surprise when Jungkook tilts his head, gently guiding Jimin forward.

Every alpha Jimin has been with before always made a big deal out of him wanting to scent them. Unless he was in heat, or they felt particularly threatened by something, Jimin rarely got to leave his claim on them like this. Even in his longest lasting relationship, he sometimes had to fight just to scent the alpha when Jimin’s omega was feeling antsy.

Jungkook asking him to do it, when everything is still so new between them? When Jimin is thoroughly drenched in sandalwood and cotton, leaving no doubt that he just came from a tryst that was good enough for him to want to walk away smelling like Jungkook?

It’s new. It’s unexpected. It makes something warm blossom in Jimin’s chest, so overwhelming that he forgets how to breathe.

With a small nod, Jimin leans in, nosing at Jungkook’s throat and drinking him in. He nips and sucks, tongue flicking out to tease and taste, until Jungkook smells like him—smells like he just rolled right out of Jimin’s nest, tousled and satisfied and delighted to smell like him.

“There,” Jimin parrots back, his mind spinning and heart pounding. He plants his hands on Jungkook’s chest, leaning in to catch him in a kiss that lingers. “Now I can go.”

He feels Jungkook smile against his lips, the alpha stealing one last peck before stepping back, though Jimin can feel the reluctance in the way he moves.

“Text me later?” Jungkook asks, shyness dancing in his smile now that there’s a bit of distance between them—now that he seems to realize he’s drowning in peaches and vanilla.

“‘Course,” Jimin promises, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I’ll text you when I get to work…?”

Jungkook nods, enthusiastic as anything, his eyes bright. “Yeah, okay. Talk to you soon, then.”

The beep of the front door sounds far away when Jimin pulls it open, stepping into the hall without ever taking his eyes off Jungkook as the alpha gives him a quick wave, only blinking when the door shuts between them. It all feels so surreal—the thumping of his heart in his chest as it beats in a giddy little rhythm, the blue glow of panels lining the walls outside every apartment, the thrum of the elevator as it whirs and grinds its way to Jimin from floors below him.

He had high hopes when he first agreed to meet the alpha he matched with on Rosebound. Jimin felt that it could go somewhere between them, if they were both on the same page about putting in the work to turn it into more than a sexual arrangement.

Now, he has no doubts. What he feels for Jungkook is already so much deeper than simply sexual compatibility. It’s that, but it’s so much more.

It’s like coming home to something familiar after a long day. Like a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a smoky, scent-thick room. It’s the undeniable, comforting truth of trusting someone to explore the deepest, most vulnerable parts of himself that Jimin longs to hand over.

And it’s knowing that he can be himself. Jungkook already knows what Jimin looks like and sounds like after a long night, when he just wants to exist without putting on any performances. He’s heard Jimin curse out opponents in NovaRush for arbitrary shit, listened to Jimin snort with laughter until he was wheezing and couldn’t breathe.

He saw Jimin, freshly showered and barefaced, lit only by the artificial glow of his computer screen and the light of the small scent-controlling diffuser he keeps on his desk to quell his omega when it gets too anxious.

He’s seen Jimin bare, spread open and falling apart for him, lost and floating and completely at Jungkook’s mercy.

Jungkook has seen it all, took all these pieces of Jimin and put them together, and still chose him. Chose him last night, and again this morning—promised him a next time and sent him off with his scent clinging to Jimin’s skin and clothes.

They still have so much to learn about each other—secrets to tell, at least from Jimin’s side—but for once, Jimin doesn’t dread it. He wants to get to know Jungkook better, to spend time together and explore what they could have.

He wants Jungkook to push him deeper, sink him into the space he’s dreamed of reaching, and then pull him back out and still hold him.

He wants someone who won’t let him go once he’s broken the surface and come back to himself.

Jimin is tired of Doms who think their job ends once Jimin’s mind is clear again. He needs someone who can let their guard down, who can be his in every way—who can take care of him when he’s deep in subspace and wants to share his life with him.

An equal, even when the power dynamics aren’t at play. Especially when they are. Someone who sees him as more than a prize to flaunt, and as more than a submissive to control.

In such a short amount of time, and without either of them realizing it, Jungkook has already proven that he is exactly what Jimin has been searching for. He sees Jimin as he is, sees him as whole. The Jimin who pretties himself up and acts like a brat because he feels too much and needs to be steadied, and the Jimin who just wants to throw on an oversized shirt and a pair of briefs and squint his way through a few hours of gaming because his glasses are too far away for him to grab.

Jungkook wants that.

Wants Jimin.

There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind that this is something good, something real. He feels it deep within himself, in the way his omega already seems to know something he doesn’t, his heart bursting with an emotion he can’t quite name.

He can’t wait to test. To push. To curl up with Jungkook after they’re both spent and buzzing and just enjoy each other’s company.

It’s something he’s always craved, but never found in past partners. And now he knows that he finally has it waiting for him in the form of an alpha who defies all preconceived notions of who he should be.

Jimin was always told not to waste his time on prey hybrid alphas. Of course, in the end, it makes sense that he would find everything he’s looking for in the exact kind of man he was raised to believe would never be good enough for him.

It’s no wonder they were drawn to each other.

Jungkook, just like Jimin, isn’t interested in being who the world tells him he should be. He’s unapologetically, unquestionably himself.

They are, in all ways, the perfect match.