Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Winter was coming, and with it came the harsh reality that hunting would become increasingly difficult. Food would be scarce, and stocking up for the long, unforgiving months ahead would require more effort than ever. This meant rationing, worry, and the heavy burden of ensuring that every member of the pack had enough to survive. The thought of empty food stores and gnawing hunger loomed like a dark cloud over the Park Pack.

There was a time when such worries would have been unthinkable. The Park Pack was once one of the strongest packs to ever exist, thriving on lands so rich and bountiful that they became the envy of all who heard of them. Their fields yielded harvests that could feed an army, their forests overflowed with game, and their rivers filled with fish. But such abundance came with its own curse—the jealousy and ambition of those who coveted it. Two winters ago, that envy reached a boiling point. Their neighbors—wolves who had once shared trade and alliances—became their greatest enemies. The Park Pack was ambushed, their lands attacked with a ferocity born of desperation and greed.

The memory of that night lingered like a scar on the hearts of the survivors. The pack’s people were slaughtered, cut down while defending their home. Their resources, painstakingly gathered and stored for the winter, were stolen, leaving them with nothing but blood-soaked earth and broken spirits. What once was a land of life and prosperity became a place of loss and grief.

In the aftermath, those who survived faced a choice: surrender to despair or find the strength to rebuild. They chose the latter. With trembling hands and weary hearts, they buried their dead and salvaged what they could. They fought to keep their pack alive, to remember those who had fallen by carrying on. They tended to their lands, repaired their homes, and healed their wounds, both physical and emotional. Together, they learned to live with less, to make do with what little they had left.

Yet, it was never the same. 

Their lands had lost their richness, the soil no longer yielding the same bountiful harvests that once fed and sustained the pack. The crops, which used to flourish with life, grew weak and thin, barely providing enough to make it through each season. Their people, once strong and full of pride, carried the weight of their loss in their gazes. The scars of that day were forever etched into their minds, reminders of what was stolen and what could never be fully restored. Fear clung to their memories, a constant reminder of their vulnerability.

As the Head Omega, Jimin could no longer stand to see his pack suffer like this. It pained him deeply to watch their proud, resilient people reduced to survival alone. Together with his father, who led the pack with a heavy heart, and his right-hand and closest friend, Taehyung, Jimin traveled far and wide. They visited distant places, spoke with powerful packs, and pleaded for aid to restore what had been taken from them. They sought help to revive their lands and rekindle the hope that had all but withered.

But their pleas fell on ears that listened only with greed. None of the packs they turned to were willing to help without extracting a price. Each offer of assistance came with strings attached, terms that made Jimin’s blood run cold. What they demanded in return was a cruel reminder of the harsh world they lived in—Jimin himself. They wanted him to form a union, to offer himself as part of an arrangement that would strengthen their own power and status. The offers came from alphas—some twice, even thrice his age, with multiple mates already or a history of broken unions. These were not bonds built on trust or love; they were transactional, designed to enslave and control.

Jimin’s heart recoiled at the thought. How could he agree to such terms? How could he surrender himself for a future bound by chains he had no wish to wear? Yet, each refusal tightened the grip of despair on the Park Pack. The desperation of their situation gnawed at him, whispering that perhaps there was no other way. He found himself caught between duty and dignity, determined to protect his people but unwilling to sacrifice himself to those who would see him as nothing more than a tool.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

One cold evening, after finishing his pack duties and making sure his people had enough food to last until the weekend, Jimin received a summons to meet with the council. His body was tired, his spirit even more so, but there was a flicker of hope within him, fragile but present. Despite the many failed negotiations with other packs, he clung to the possibility that this meeting would bring good news.

But his heart sank when his father spoke. The words cut through the air, heavy with the weight of what they meant. 

“The Jeon Pack has extended an offer,” his father began, voice rough with exhaustion. “The Head Alpha is willing to help us. They are prepared to provide shelter within their pack, to see to our needs and provide meals throughout the winter drought. They will take us in and treat us as their own.” He paused, the silence pressing down on the room like a suffocating blanket. “This is more than any other pack has ever offered.”

The weight of his father’s words pressed on Jimin’s chest, making it hard to breathe. This was the best offer they had received. It was a lifeline for their struggling pack, a chance for survival. But the price they asked was more than just goods and resources—it was Jimin himself, like always. The offer was tied to him becoming the mate of the Jeon Pack's Head Alpha. The thought made his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach.

Around him, the council members watched intently. Their eyes, worn from years of hardship, were full of expectation, hope, and guilt. They knew the price was steep, perhaps too steep, but they also knew how dire their circumstances were. Jimin stood at the center of the room, every pair of eyes on him, waiting for his response. He opened his mouth, but no words came. The weight of their silent pleas crushed him, pressing every unspoken thought deeper into his soul.

“Son,” his father said softly, breaking the oppressive silence. “I know this decision isn’t easy. I know it will demand great sacrifice. And I won’t force you to make it. If you choose to accept, I will stand by you. If you choose to refuse, we will support each other and do everything we can to survive another winter.” He tried to smile, but it was strained, a reflection of his weariness and pain. “Whatever you decide, I will respect it. I will support you.”

Jimin’s gaze met his father’s, searching for any hint of reassurance. He saw only a man who had given everything for their pack, who bore the same burden Jimin carried. As much as they hunted and rationed, it was never enough. With each passing winter, their struggle worsened. This offer, however painful, was a chance at survival—a cruel chance, but a chance nonetheless.

Jimin closed his eyes, the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. He didn’t know what to say, what to feel. All he knew was that, once again, the survival of his people rested on his shoulders—and he wasn’t sure how much more he could bear.

Jimin had been quietly sacrificing his own rations to ensure his packmates, especially the children, had enough to eat. It was a secret burden he bore without complaint. He could see it in his father too—the sunken eyes, the dry lips, the gauntness in his frame. His father had been doing the same, giving everything he had so that others might endure. Jimin’s heart ached at the thought. Sacrifice had become their way of life.

The omega’s fists clenched at his sides, his palms damp with sweat. His stomach twisted with a mix of fear and resignation. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as much as he could, even though his hands shook and his knees threatened to give way.

“I’ll do it,” he said, his voice wavering despite his best efforts. He hoped no one noticed just how fragile it sounded, how much it cost him to say those words.

The room fell into stunned silence. The council members stared at him, their faces reflecting shock that slowly shifted to disbelief and, finally, palpable relief. The weight of their hope hung heavy in the air, pressing down on Jimin’s shoulders. They had been desperate—so desperate—and now, for the first time in too long, they saw a glimmer of hope, however dim and painful.

Jimin’s father let out a deep sigh that seemed to echo throughout the room. It was a sound of exhaustion, of acceptance, and of the deepest sadness. His father’s expression was pained, and he looked at Jimin with both love and grief. He had always adored his son, doing everything in his power to shield him after his mother’s passing. This was not the life he wanted for Jimin. No parent would wish this for their child.

But there was no escaping it. This was their reality.

Jimin met his father’s gaze, feeling the depth of their shared pain. He understood that this decision tore at his father’s heart just as much as it did his own. And yet, they both knew there was no alternative. The survival of their pack depended on it.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stand tall even as a thousand doubts clawed at him. If this was what it took to keep his people alive, to ensure no more children went hungry, then he would do it. He would rather sacrifice himself—his freedom, his future—than carry the crushing weight of having failed the pack that had already lost so much.

“I’ll do it,” he repeated softly, more to himself than anyone else. He would endure whatever came next. For them. Always for them.

Jimin didn't have the privilege to meet the Head Alpha of the Jeon Pack before their mating ceremony. When he and his father had gone to the Jeon Pack to plead for help, the Head Alpha had been absent, engaged in a mission. They had been forced to rely on the Head Omega, delivering their desperate plea in the hopes it would be passed along. Because of that, Jimin hadn’t expected much to come from it and had prepared himself for more disappointment.

He had heard stories, of course—whispers of the Head Alpha’s reputation. He was said to be a powerful leader, one who commanded respect with both strength and fairness but with a strictness that left no room for error. The Jeon Pack was revered among wolves, known for its enduring legacy spanning more than a thousand years. Through every generation, it had never fallen, never been bested in battle or strength. The weight of such a reputation made Jimin’s stomach twist with uncertainty.

Yet, rumors surrounded the Head Alpha as well. Jimin had heard that he was already forty years old, nearly twice his age, and that he had never taken a mate. This would make Jimin his first. The thought unsettled him, filling him with apprehension. How could a leader of one of the strongest packs remain unmated for so long? Surely there was a reason—a flaw no one dared to speak of aloud.

Perhaps the Head Alpha was impossible to live with. Maybe he was cruel or had a temper that made him feared even among his own people. Jimin’s mind conjured images of an overbearing, domineering figure, someone who would make his life miserable and strip away whatever agency he still possessed. He thought, too, of the possibility that the alpha was unattractive—a man so undesirable that no one would dare to bond with him. The idea left a bitter taste in Jimin’s mouth, filling him with dread.

The urge to back out, to find another way, clawed at him with every anxious breath. But he couldn’t afford to be selfish. His people were counting on him. The children he had watched grow, the elders who had shared their wisdom, and the packmates who had sacrificed so much—they needed him to go through with this. Their survival depended on his decision.

So, Jimin steeled himself. Whatever the Head Alpha was like, however difficult the road ahead might be, he would endure it. He had no choice. He had to save his people, his pack.

When Jimin was first told he would be mated to the Head Alpha of the Jeon Pack, a man who was forty years old, he had expected someone entirely different. He imagined an old, weathered alpha with graying hair, a face lined with age and a body softened by the years. Jimin prepared himself to accept whatever fate lay ahead, focusing on his duty to his people rather than his personal desires.

So, when the day of their first meeting arrived, and he stood before Jeon Jeongguk, he was stunned into silence. The man before him was anything but old or frail. Jeongguk was devastatingly handsome, with sharp features that demanded attention—a strong jawline, full lips, and eyes as dark and intense as the night. His raven-black hair fell effortlessly around his face, framing his sculpted cheekbones. Jeongguk’s physique was powerful, his broad shoulders and defined muscles speaking of strength honed through years of hard training. He exuded a raw, almost palpable sex appeal, each movement radiating confidence and authority that made it impossible to look away.

Jimin blinked, his mind struggling to reconcile what he saw with what he had expected. This couldn’t be right. There had to be some mistake.

“You're…” Jimin’s voice faltered as he took an involuntary step back. His eyes darted to his father, who offered him a reassuring but tense nod. Jimin turned back to Jeongguk, swallowing hard. “You’re the Head Alpha?”

Jeongguk’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, tilting his head slightly as he studied Jimin. “Is that surprising?” His voice was deep, smooth, and commanding. Every word seemed to resonate in Jimin’s chest.

Jimin’s mouth went dry. “I—uh—yes,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing. He immediately felt foolish. “I mean... I thought—” He stopped himself, unsure of how to continue without sounding rude.

Jeongguk’s smile widened, and for a moment, it softened the sharp angles of his face. “I’ve heard the stories too,” he said, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. “Apparently, I’m supposed to be old, wrinkled, and unapproachable.”

Jimin’s eyes widened further. “That’s not—” He stopped, realizing he was digging himself deeper. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right,” Jeongguk interrupted, stepping closer. His gaze never left Jimin’s, and there was something both reassuring and utterly disarming about the way he moved. “I’m sure I didn’t meet your expectations either.”

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat as Jeongguk closed the distance between them. The alpha’s presence was overwhelming, filling the room and leaving no space for anything else. It wasn’t just his looks; it was the authority he carried with him, the way he seemed to command respect without a word. Jimin felt small and exposed under that gaze, every nerve in his body on edge.

“You are... different from what I expected,” Jimin admitted quietly, finally finding his voice.

Jeongguk’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “And what did you expect, Jimin?”

The way Jeongguk said his name sent a shiver down Jimin’s spine. He hesitated, glancing away, unable to hold that penetrating gaze any longer. 

The way Jeongguk said his name sent a shiver down his spine, and for a moment, he couldn’t hold that gaze any longer.

Someone old, wrinkly, and… ugly. That was what Jimin wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. This was neither the time nor place for sarcasm—not with so much at stake. It wouldn’t do to offend the Head Alpha, especially not when they had just met and everything was still so uncertain. He didn’t know Jeongguk well enough to gauge his reaction to such a jab, and the stakes were far too high for careless words.

Instead, he pressed his lips together, stifling the retort that threatened to slip out. His eyes moved over Jeongguk once more, taking in the alpha’s confident stance, the intensity of his gaze, and the effortless way he commanded attention. This man was nothing like what Jimin had prepared himself for.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, and it was partly true. He hadn’t expected any of this—the intensity, the presence, or the way his heart raced in the alpha’s proximity.

“Whatever you expected,” Jeongguk said gently, “I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Jimin met his eyes again, surprised by the sincerity beneath the alpha’s confident exterior. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he simply nodded. Words failed him, but one thing was certain—this man was nothing like he’d imagined. Jeongguk was dangerous in a way Jimin hadn’t prepared for. Not because he was cruel or harsh, but because he was... captivating. Irresistibly so.

Jeongguk extended a hand, and Jimin stared at it for a moment before placing his own trembling fingers in the alpha’s palm. “Shall we get to know each other, then?” Jeongguk asked, his voice low, inviting, and yet commanding.

“Yes,” Jimin whispered, feeling the weight of this new reality settle over him. It was different than he’d expected—terrifying, yes, but also undeniably intriguing. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but as Jeongguk’s warm grip closed around him, he knew there was no turning back.

Jeongguk’s grip was steady, his warmth grounding, but Jimin couldn’t shake the knot of unease twisting in his stomach. As the alpha led him into a smaller, private room, the sounds of the gathering faded, leaving an almost oppressive silence in their wake.

The room itself was simple yet inviting, with a fire crackling in the hearth and casting shadows across the dark wooden walls. The air carried the faint scent of pine and something sharper, unmistakably Jeongguk. It made Jimin’s head spin, though he forced himself to stay composed.

Jeongguk gestured to a seat near the fire. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Jimin hesitated, unsure if he could feel anything close to comfortable in this situation, but he obeyed nonetheless. His hands clasped tightly in his lap as he perched on the edge of the chair, back straight and shoulders tense. He watched as Jeongguk moved with ease, pouring two cups of tea from a kettle as if this were a meeting between equals rather than a prelude to a bond that would irrevocably tie them together.

When Jeongguk offered him a cup, Jimin took it with trembling fingers, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” Their fingers brushed briefly, and Jimin’s pulse leapt in response, though he quickly looked away to hide his reaction.

Jeongguk settled into the chair across from him, the firelight dancing in his eyes as he regarded Jimin thoughtfully. “You seem nervous,” he said after a moment, breaking the silence.

Jimin swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain of the teacup. “I am,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “This... it’s all a lot to take in.”

Jeongguk nodded slowly, as if he’d expected the response. “That’s fair. It’s not every day you’re told you’ll be mated to someone you’ve never met.” There was no malice in his words, only understanding. “I won’t lie to you, Jimin. This isn’t ideal—not for either of us. But it’s the reality we’ve been given.”

The honesty in his tone disarmed Jimin, who had expected... something else. He wasn’t sure what, exactly. Dismissiveness, perhaps, or some form of arrogance. But Jeongguk spoke plainly, his words resonating with a sincerity that was hard to ignore.

Jimin dared to meet his gaze, finding himself caught once more in those dark, intense eyes. “You don’t want this either?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself.

Jeongguk’s expression didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something—an emotion Jimin couldn’t quite place. “I didn’t expect it,” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”

The admission left Jimin momentarily stunned. His heart fluttered, though he quickly quelled the sensation. This was no time for misplaced feelings. “Why?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost fragile.

Jeongguk leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he held Jimin’s gaze. “Because it’s necessary. For your pack. For mine. And because...” He paused, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. “I believe this could work, if we allow it to.”

The simplicity of his words struck something deep within Jimin. It wasn’t love, but there was a possibility here. A chance for something other than the cold, distant bond he’d envisioned.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Jimin admitted, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

Jeongguk’s smile softened, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to know right away. We’ll figure it out together.”

For a moment, the only sound was the soft crackling of the fire. Jimin dared a glance up and found Jeongguk still watching him, his expression thoughtful.

“I know this isn’t easy for you,” Jeongguk said finally, his voice softer now. “You didn’t ask for this, and I can’t imagine how much pressure you’re under.”

The words caught Jimin off guard. He blinked, unsure how to respond. “I... I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “I thought you’d... I don’t know. Be more—”

“Distant? Demanding?” Jeongguk guessed, arching a brow.

Jimin flushed, his cheeks burning. “Something like that.”

Jeongguk let out a low chuckle, the sound unexpectedly warm. “You wouldn’t be the first to think that.”

Jimin’s lips pressed together, his fingers tightening on his cup. “I guess I don’t know what to expect from you,” he said quietly. “From any of this.”

Jeongguk’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something more serious. “I get it. Honestly, I don’t know what to expect either. But I’m not here to make this harder for you, Jimin. I don’t want this to feel like... a punishment.”

The sincerity in his tone made Jimin’s chest ache. He glanced at Jeongguk again, finding those dark eyes fixed on him with an intensity that was hard to look away from. “It doesn’t feel like that,” Jimin said softly, though it wasn’t entirely true. “It’s just... a lot.”

Jeongguk nodded slowly. “It is a lot. And I’m not going to pretend this will be easy, but I think we can make it work. If we’re honest with each other.”

Jimin hesitated, the weight of the alpha’s words sinking in. “You think so?”

“I do,” Jeongguk said, his voice steady. “We don’t have to be perfect at this. We just have to try.”

Something in Jimin’s chest loosened, just a little. He nodded, though his grip on the teacup remained firm. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll try.”

Jeongguk’s smile returned, faint but genuine. “Good. That’s all I need.”

The silence that followed was warmer, less suffocating than before. Jimin sipped his tea, the heat grounding him.

“So,” Jeongguk said, his tone lightening. “What do you do for fun? When you’re not... you know, saving your pack.”

The question caught Jimin off guard, and he blinked at Jeongguk, unsure if he’d heard right. “For fun?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk said, leaning back in his chair. “What makes you happy? Or relaxes you?”

Jimin hesitated, caught off guard by the casualness of the question. “I... I like the forest,” he said slowly. “It’s quiet. Peaceful. It helps me think.”

Jeongguk nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I get that. I go there for the same reason.”

“You do?” Jimin asked, surprised.

Jeongguk chuckled. “Yeah. Sometimes it’s the only place I can breathe. Leading a pack can get... overwhelming.”

The admission made Jimin blink. He hadn’t expected Jeongguk to share something so personal, so openly. “I guess I never thought of it that way,” he said softly. “You make it seem so... effortless.”

“It’s not,” Jeongguk said, his tone wry. “But you learn to hide the cracks.”

Jimin studied him for a moment, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Maybe Jeongguk wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed. Maybe, beneath the layers of authority and strength, there was someone he could understand.

The mating ceremony was held deep within the Jeon Pack’s forest. It was a sacred place, revered by generations of wolves and steeped in tradition. The forest floor was adorned with flowers, herbs, and glowing lanterns that flickered like tiny stars, casting a warm glow over the gathered pack. The air hummed with anticipation, a mix of solemnity and celebration.

Jimin stood at the edge of the clearing, his heart pounding in his chest. He had tried to prepare himself for this moment—to step into an unfamiliar pack, to bind himself to a man he barely knew, all in the name of duty and survival. He had expected cold stares, whispers, perhaps even hostility. After all, he was an outsider, and their mating was not born of love but necessity. It was a bargain struck to ensure the survival of his people. He couldn’t have blamed the Jeon Pack for resenting him.

But as he stepped forward, guided by Jeongguk’s strong yet gentle hand, Jimin was met with something he had not anticipated—kindness. The pack members turned to him with warm eyes and open smiles. Some reached out to touch his hand as he passed, others offered murmured congratulations, and children peeked out from behind their parents, curiosity lighting up their faces. Jimin blinked, momentarily stunned. This wasn’t the cold reception he had braced himself for. Far from it.

Jeongguk seemed to sense his surprise. “They welcome you, Jimin,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. “You are one of us now.”

Jimin swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding. He had no words for what he felt—a rush of relief, gratitude, and the faintest spark of hope. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he had feared.

When the ceremony began, Jimin was nervous as hell. His hands were clammy, his heart pounding so hard he was sure everyone could hear it. The forest felt both vast and intimate, the gathered pack members watching in silence, the moon casting a silver glow over the clearing. But for all the attention focused on him, it was Jeongguk’s gaze that made Jimin’s knees weak. Those dark brown eyes bore into him with an intensity that was almost too much to bear—deep, unwavering, and filled with something Jimin couldn’t quite name. It was as if Jeongguk was seeing every part of him, stripping away his defenses with just one look.

The elder stepped forward, his hair streaked with gray and his presence commanding respect. He raised his hands, signaling for silence. “Today, we gather beneath the watchful eyes of the moon and stars to witness the union of our Head Alpha, Jeon Jeongguk of the Jeon Pack and Head Omega, Park Jimin of the Park Pack,” the elder intoned, his voice carrying through the forest like a gentle wind. “This bond, forged in strength and commitment, will unite our packs and strengthen our future.”

Jimin took a shaky breath, fighting to steady himself. He focused on the reason he was here—the vows they were about to exchange, the bond they were about to forge. As part of the ceremony, they had each been asked to prepare something for the other—a symbol of their commitment, their willingness to walk this path together. Tradition dictated that these gifts should be meaningful and made with care, reflecting their connection to the pack’s history and customs.

Jeongguk stepped forward first, his expression serious but his touch gentle as he lifted something from a small wooden box. In his hands was a necklace, crafted with intricate detail. The cord was woven from the fibers of moonflower stems, a rare plant that bloomed only under the light of the full moon—a symbol of resilience and hope. Hanging from the cord was a pendant carved from a piece of polished obsidian, shaped like a crescent moon. The stone gleamed under the lanterns’ light, its dark surface catching glimmers of silver. Jimin could see tiny engravings along the edges—symbols of protection, unity, and strength. Jeongguk stepped closer, his hands steady as he fastened the necklace around Jimin’s neck.

“This is for you,” Jeongguk said softly, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “The moonflower symbolizes resilience, and obsidian wards off harm. It will remind you that you are never alone, and that I will stand with you through every challenge.”

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat, his fingers brushing the cool surface of the pendant. He hadn’t expected something so thoughtful, so deeply meaningful. For a moment, he couldn’t find words. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Now it was Jimin’s turn. He reached into his own small pouch, feeling the weight of his own gift. With hands that shook slightly, he brought forth a necklace he had crafted himself. The cord was made from strands of wolfbane—a rare herb associated with loyalty and strength, traditionally used in protective charms. Hanging from it was a small pendant made of emerald, shaped into a wolf’s paw. The stone was smooth, polished to a sheen, but the shape was precise, capturing the fierce loyalty and spirit of their kind. Etched into the jade were intricate symbols for renewal, courage, and unity.

“This is for you,” Jimin said, his voice gaining strength as he stepped closer. He lifted the necklace over Jeongguk’s head, his fingers brushing against the alpha’s skin as he settled it in place. “The wolfbane cord represents loyalty and strength, and jade is a symbol of protection and harmony. It will remind you that you are not alone—that we are stronger together.”

Jeongguk’s eyes softened, a hint of warmth breaking through the intensity. He touched the pendant, his fingers lingering over the carved symbols. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice low and full of meaning. “Thank you.”

The exchange hung between them, heavy with meaning. Around them, the pack remained silent, honoring the moment. Jimin’s heart pounded even faster, but it was no longer just nerves. He felt... something shift. 

The elder stepped back, and the pack members began to chant, a low, rhythmic sound that resonated in Jimin’s chest. It was an ancient song, one that spoke of unity, strength, and the cycle of life. Jeongguk turned to him, his expression serious but gentle. He extended his hands, palms up, inviting Jimin to place his own in them. Jimin hesitated for a heartbeat, then took Jeongguk’s hands, feeling the warmth of his touch.

“Park Jimin,” Jeongguk said, his voice steady but soft enough that only Jimin could hear. “I vow to stand beside you, to protect you, and to honor this bond. Whatever challenges lie ahead, we will face them together.”

Jimin’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected words like these—so genuine, so... real. He nodded, finding his own voice. “Jeon Jeongguk, I accept this bond. I vow to stand with you, to support you, and to honor this pack as my own.”

A wave of cheers erupted around them, the pack’s joy palpable. Jimin felt a rush of warmth, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in so long. The elder stepped forward again, holding a ceremonial ribbon woven with symbols of the moon and stars. He wrapped it around their joined hands, binding them together. “With this, you are bound,” he said, his voice resonant with finality. “As one heart, one strength, one future.”

The ribbon glowed faintly, a symbol of their bond. Jimin felt the weight of the moment settle over him, but instead of fear, he felt... something else. The pack surged forward, clapping, cheering, and surrounding them with warmth. Jimin had never been part of a celebration quite like this. He had expected formality, stiffness, and perhaps even distance. Instead, he found himself engulfed by warmth. A young omega approached him, pressing a small bouquet of flowers into his hands. “Welcome, Head Omega Park,” she said shyly, then darted back into the crowd.

Jimin glanced at Jeongguk, who watched him with a mixture of pride and something softer. “This is your home now. You're safe here.”

Jimin took a deep breath and whispered, “Thank you.”

The ceremony continued with feasting, music, and dancing, the forest alive with laughter and life. As Jimin moved among the pack, greeted with smiles and kind words, he realized that while this was not the life he had envisioned, it might be one worth embracing. For his pack, and for himself.

Once the mating ceremony wrapped up, Jimin’s nerves kicked into overdrive. He had been prepared for the public display, for the vows, and for the exchange of symbolic gifts. But now, with the pack’s blessings and cheers still echoing in the distance, he knew what was next. The thought sent a wave of fear through him. Jeongguk was going to mark him, to bite him and seal their bond. It was tradition—expected, inevitable. Jimin’s heart pounded in his chest, and he felt a cold sweat break out across his skin.

The truth was, Jimin had never been in a serious relationship before. Leading and caring for his pack had always been his priority, leaving little time for anything else. He never thought he’d find himself in this position—mated to an alpha he barely knew, who was twice his age and whose reputation preceded him. The realization made his throat tighten with anxiety.

Jeongguk, who had been quietly observing Jimin’s reaction, stepped forward and guided him toward his cabin. The building was larger and more impressive than Jimin had anticipated. It was spacious, with high ceilings and polished wooden floors. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and carefully arranged artifacts. Everything was impeccably neat and organized, with an attention to detail that surprised him. There was even a faint, pleasant scent of pine in the air. It was the last thing Jimin expected—he would never have guessed that an alpha lived here.

Jimin tried to steady his breathing, determined not to let his nerves show. He was a leader; he couldn’t appear weak or unsure, even now. But as Jeongguk led him deeper into the cabin, his attempts to stay calm began to unravel. The alpha moved with confidence, his gaze unreadable, and it was infuriating. Jeongguk seemed entirely unfazed, while Jimin’s mind was racing, spiraling.

They stopped in the middle of the room, and before Jimin could say anything, Jeongguk began to walk toward him. Slowly. Purposefully. Jimin’s heart leapt into his throat. With each step the alpha took, Jimin’s pulse quickened. He felt trapped, cornered—not physically, but by his own expectations and fears. When Jeongguk finally stood directly in front of him, so close that Jimin could see the subtle rise and fall of his chest, he raised a hand.

Panic surged through Jimin. His instincts flared, and he was about to grab the alpha’s arm to defend himself when Jeongguk’s hand landed gently on his forehead.

“Are you sick? You’re so red,” Jeongguk said, his voice low and oddly gentle. His face was so close that Jimin could feel his breath against his skin. It was warm, intimate in a way that made Jimin’s stomach do an uncomfortable flip. And worse, he didn’t hate it. He hated himself for not hating it—because what the hell was wrong with him?

Jimin leaned away from Jeongguk’s touch, forcing himself to respond. “I’m not sick,” he said, trying to sound dismissive but failing miserably.

Jeongguk’s lips curved into a smirk that was both infuriating and annoyingly attractive. “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know. I’m not going to bite. Unless you want me to.”

Heat rushed to Jimin’s face, and he felt embarrassment and irritation. He scowled, trying to regain control of the situation. “Keep dreaming, Head Alpha. You’re not as charming as you think.”

Jeongguk chuckled—a rich, deep sound that seemed to reverberate through the room. “Oh, but I think I am,” he teased, his tone light, as if they were simply bantering over tea instead of him slowly driving Jimin to the edge of his sanity. “Go freshen up. Take a bath.”

“W-Why?” Jimin stammered, immediately wary.

Jeongguk raised an eyebrow, his expression perfectly serious. “So you can sleep.”

“Sleep?” Jimin repeated, disbelief in his voice.

There it was again—that damned smirk. It was maddening how good Jeongguk looked with it. “Why? Do you want to do something else?” Jeongguk asked, his tone teasing as he began to close the distance between them once more.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” Jimin said, his voice rising with panic and embarrassment. He took a step back, putting some space between them. “Please don’t move one step closer to me or I’ll—”

“What?” Jeongguk’s voice dipped lower as he leaned in just enough to make Jimin’s heart race. “Are you going to claw at me? Scratch me? Huh, kitten ?”

The nickname sent a wave of heat rushing to Jimin’s face. “Don’t call me that,” he snapped, his voice lacking any real bite. He wanted to punch Jeongguk for being so ridiculously attractive, for making him feel things he shouldn’t. No, no, no , he scolded himself. This couldn’t be happening. He didn’t like him. He didn't find him attractive. He was just stressed, sleep-deprived, and not eating well. He was hallucinating. That had to be it.

Jeongguk’s laughter softened, becoming something warmer, more real. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and for a moment, he looked heartbreakingly human. “I’m just kidding,” he said, stepping back and giving Jimin the space he desperately needed. “You can go shower. The tub’s ready, and there are fresh clothes in the bathroom.”

Jimin frowned, confusion flickering across his face. This wasn’t what he had expected at all, and he was certain it showed.

Jeongguk seemed to read his mind. “If you’re thinking I’m some old, mean alpha who takes what he wants because of what I did for your pack, then you’re wrong,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious. “I promise I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. If you don't want me to bite you, then I won’t. If you don’t want me to touch you, then I won’t. I will wait—until you allow me to, until the day you give me your heart.”

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected that—not from Jeongguk. He had prepared himself for something entirely different, for someone who would take whatever he wanted in exchange for the help he had given Jimin’s pack. But hearing this—hearing Jeongguk’s words and the sincerity in them—made relief wash over him so strongly that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He had been so afraid, dreading what would come after the ceremony. And now... now he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Jimin stared at him, struggling to find words. “Why?”

“Because I want more than just a bond out of necessity,” Jeongguk replied, his eyes never wavering. “I want it to be real. If you give me your heart one day, it’ll be because you want to, not because you have to.”

Jimin’s throat tightened. He hadn’t expected this—the patience, the sincerity. He’d prepared himself for a cold transaction, not for… this. Something dangerously close to hope flickered in his chest. He quickly masked it with a roll of his eyes and a small scoff. “You really are cheesy, you know that?”

Jeongguk’s laughter filled the room, light and genuine. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t,” Jimin muttered, turning on his heel and heading toward the bathroom, his heart still pounding but a little lighter now. As he walked toward the bathroom, Jeongguk’s laughter followed him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jimin felt like he could breathe again.

The Park Pack was adjusting remarkably well to life within the Jeon Pack after being taken in. The difference between the two packs was striking. While the Park Pack had struggled with depleted lands and scarce resources, the Jeon Pack’s territory was alive with abundance. Their fields stretched far and wide, filled with crops that were healthy and plentiful. There was an air of vitality that Jimin hadn’t seen in his people for a very long time.

Jeongguk had meant every word when he promised to take in Jimin’s pack and treat them as his own. He had ensured that the Park Pack members were given a place to live, opportunities to work, and access to the same resources as any other member of the Jeon Pack. It was not a matter of mere hospitality but genuine integration—a merging of their lives and customs.

Jimin had feared the worst when they first arrived. He had braced himself for hostility, for his people to be ostracized or treated as outsiders. But his worries were quickly proven wrong. The members of the Jeon Pack were kind and welcoming, their warmth breaking down walls faster than Jimin could have hoped. The Park Pack was invited into the communal activities, offered help when they needed it, and treated with respect. The transition was smoother than Jimin dared imagine.

Of course, not everything was perfect. There were a few who didn’t agree with the integration at first. Jimin noticed them watching from the edges of gatherings, their faces carefully blank as they observed the newcomers. But even they held their tongues, perhaps sensing the resolve of their Head Alpha. Over time, these hesitant pack members softened, seeing how well the Park Pack meshed with their own. Acceptance wasn’t immediate, but it grew with each passing day until even the silent watchers began to lend a helping hand.

Jimin found himself feeling both relief and joy. He often walked among his people, quietly observing their interactions. The children were the first to adapt, as children often are. He saw them playing tag, their laughter echoing through the village. They ran with bright eyes and endless energy, darting between trees and dashing across open fields without a care in the world. It was a sight that made his chest ache with happiness and the remnants of grief—for how long they had suffered before.

The dining hall was another place where Jimin felt his spirits lift. He would watch as his pack members filled their plates without hesitation. Here, there was no need to cut rations or save meager portions for later. He saw faces that had once been gaunt and tired now filled with color and life. They ate heartily, savoring every bite. Conversations flowed freely, laughter rang out, and the tension that had haunted them for so long began to fade. It was more than just nourishment; it was a restoration of hope and a return to a semblance of normalcy.

One evening, Jimin watched as an elder from his pack—once frail and worn—shared a story with a group of Jeon children. They listened intently, their eyes wide with wonder, and when the story ended, they clapped and begged for another. The elder’s eyes, which had once held only weariness, now sparkled with renewed purpose. Jimin felt a lump rise in his throat. This was what he had hoped for. This was what they had fought for.

In moments like these, Jimin allowed himself to smile. He was happy to see his people regain their strength and confidence. He was happy to see them laughing, working, and living without the constant fear of hunger and despair. And though the path to this new beginning had been difficult and uncertain, he knew it had been worth every sacrifice.

Jimin’s relationship with Jeongguk was going far better than he ever imagined. Months had passed since they were first mated. He hadn’t expected much from the beginning—how could he? He had entered this union to save his people, marrying an alpha twice his age in exchange for the Park Pack’s survival. He braced himself for formality, for coldness, maybe even for cruelness. But what he found instead was something entirely different.

Jeongguk was far kinder, far more considerate than Jimin had dared to hope. He took care of Jimin in quiet, thoughtful ways that surprised him. Even when he didn’t have to, Jeongguk went out of his way to make Jimin feel comfortable and welcome. It was confusing, disarming, and left Jimin feeling grateful and suspicious. Why would an alpha of such status go to such lengths for someone he barely knew?

During their first night in Jeongguk’s cabin, Jimin had been prepared for the worst. Instead, he was shocked to find that Jeongguk had prepared a separate room for him. It wasn’t just any room, either; it was a space that showed genuine effort. There was a soft, comfortable bed that cradled Jimin’s sore back, fluffy pillows that made him sigh in relief, and a blanket that smelled faintly of pine. It was luxurious compared to the thin sleeping mat he had used back at his old pack. They slept in different rooms, a decision that made Jimin feel safe and relieved. It showed that Jeongguk respected his space and wasn’t in any rush to force closeness.

Jimin often found himself wondering when Jeongguk had the time to prepare all of this. Did he care? That couldn’t be right, could it? Maybe he just felt bad and wanted to treat him well as a guest—or at least, that was what Jimin tried to convince himself.

Jeongguk’s thoughtfulness extended to their everyday lives, too. The Head Alpha made sure Jimin had breakfast, lunch, and dinner, even bringing him snacks in between his duties. The first few weeks, Jeongguk didn’t join him for meals, likely noticing how Jimin avoided him and how he wouldn’t touch his food until Jeongguk left the cabin. It wasn’t that Jimin didn’t want his company; he was just shy and unsure of how to act around him.

One morning, Jimin woke up earlier than usual. Still half-asleep, he wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Jeongguk was there, just finishing setting the table. He froze when he saw Jimin standing in the doorway. The omega’s hair was a messy halo around his head, his face adorably puffy from sleep, and his skin tinged pink. He was wearing an oversized, worn-out shirt that barely reached his mid-thigh, exposing his bare legs. Jeongguk’s eyes flickered downward before he quickly averted his gaze, swallowing hard.

Jimin caught the movement and barely suppressed a giggle. The mighty Head Alpha, caught off guard—it was oddly endearing. He almost wanted to tease Jeongguk right then and there, but he held back, savoring the moment instead.

“Your breakfast is ready,” Jeongguk said, his voice a little strained as he wiped his hands on his apron, avoiding Jimin’s eyes and focusing instead on the dishes. His movements were measured, as if regaining control over himself.

“Thank you,” Jimin replied softly, the sincerity in his voice catching even him off guard. He hadn’t expected to feel this… appreciated.

“Sure.” Jeongguk nodded, slipping off his apron and moving to wash his hands. He seemed ready to leave, just as he had done every other morning.

“Are you leaving?” The words slipped out before Jimin could stop them, and he mentally kicked himself for sounding so… needy? No, curious, he corrected. He was just curious.

Jeongguk paused, turning back with one brow arched. “Yes. Why?”

“Why don’t you stay and have breakfast with me?” Jimin tried to sound casual, even as his heart hammered in his chest. He picked up a piece of kimchi, using it as a distraction.

For a split second, Jeongguk seemed surprised, but he recovered quickly, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. “Why? Do you miss me that much when I’m gone?”

Heat rushed to Jimin’s cheeks. He scowled, crossing his arms in an attempt to regain some dignity. “In your dreams, Head Alpha,” he muttered, plopping into a chair with exaggerated nonchalance. “I’m just bored.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Jeongguk drawled, his amusement obvious as he took a seat across from Jimin.

They began eating in comfortable silence, and Jimin couldn’t help but stare at the spread before him—steaming bowls of rice, savory miso soup, perfectly grilled fish, kimchi, and an array of side dishes. It was enough food to feed a small gathering, and Jimin eyed it suspiciously.

“Are you trying to fatten me up so I can’t run away?” he quipped, arching an eyebrow and giving Jeongguk a sassy smirk.

Jeongguk chuckled, his gaze warm and steady. “Not at all. I just want to make sure you’re eating well. As your mate, it’s my responsibility to take care of your well-being.”

Jimin paused, his chopsticks stilling midair. “But we’re not real mates. We mated for convenience,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I’m not sure if I’m even convenient for you. You don’t have to take care of me. I’m fine on my own.”

Jeongguk’s eyes softened, something unspoken flickering behind them. “I know I don’t have to,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “But I want to. And for the record, you’re doing more than enough, Jimin. Before you came, this place was… too quiet. Now it’s full of life. And noise,” he added with a teasing glint, his lips curving slightly. “Thanks to you.”

Jimin’s cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and something else he didn’t want to name. “Way to ruin the moment,” he huffed, though his lips betrayed him by curving into a smile.

Jeongguk’s laughter, deep and genuine, sent warmth pooling in Jimin’s chest. “Sorry, little dove,” he said, his tone entirely unapologetic.

They continued eating, and the rhythm between them felt almost natural. Jimin, for all his attempts at nonchalance, couldn’t stop the way his heart raced whenever Jeongguk looked at him. At one point, he picked up a piece of grilled fish and, without thinking, placed it on Jeongguk’s plate. Realization struck him a second too late, and he felt heat rush to his face as he noticed Jeongguk’s gaze lingering on him, a soft smile playing on the alpha’s lips.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk said, his voice low, carrying a weight that made Jimin’s pulse quicken.

“Don’t mention it,” Jimin replied, his tone striving for casual, though it cracked slightly. He looked away, focusing on his own food, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of Jeongguk’s eyes on him.

As they continued, the atmosphere between them shifted again. Every brush of their hands, every shared glance, carried a tension that neither acknowledged but both felt. Jimin fought to keep his composure, but every teasing comment, every small gesture from Jeongguk, left him teetering on the edge. It was maddening, exhilarating, and entirely too much.

“So,” Jimin said, trying to fill the silence before it swallowed him whole, “are you always this insufferably nice?”

Jeongguk leaned back slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Just for you. Consider yourself special.”

“Lucky me,” Jimin shot back, rolling his eyes. But he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips—or the way his heart raced when Jeongguk’s gaze lingered a moment too long.

The conversation drifted from light-hearted banter to more serious topics. They discussed the packs’ integration, the progress being made, and the challenges that still lay ahead. Jimin admired Jeongguk’s insight and dedication to his people, even as he found himself bickering with the alpha over the most ridiculous things moments later.

“Mr. Head Alpha, you can’t just train for hours without taking breaks,” Jimin scolded, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Jeongguk with a pointed glare. “One day, you’re going to keel over, and I’m not dragging your unconscious body back here.”

Jeongguk leaned back in his chair, a playful glint lighting up his dark eyes. “Says the omega who pushes himself to exhaustion and conveniently ‘forgets’ to eat,” he shot back smoothly.

Jimin huffed, refusing to let him win this argument. “That’s completely different.”

“Oh, is it?” Jeongguk’s eyebrow arched, his lips curving into a smirk. “Please, enlighten me.”

“It is!” Jimin insisted, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “Also, stop hogging all the kimchi. Leave some for me.”

Jeongguk paused, as if deep in thought, before slowly shaking his head. “Hmm... no.”

“You’re impossible!” Jimin exclaimed, reaching across the table and making a grab for the plate, only for Jeongguk to pull it just out of reach. “Seriously, are you five?”

“And you’re cute when you’re angry,” Jeongguk replied, leaning in slightly with a grin that sent heat rushing to Jimin’s cheeks.

“Stop it,” Jimin demanded, trying to glare but failing to hide the small laugh that escaped. “You’re infuriating.”

“I know,” Jeongguk said, his voice softening as he met Jimin’s gaze with a warmth that made Jimin’s heart skip a beat. “But I’m willing to be a little less infuriating if it means more breakfasts like this.”

For a moment, the air between them shifted—something tender and unspoken passing between their eyes. Jimin’s face softened, but he quickly masked it with a scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered, grabbing a piece of kimchi and finally succeeding in taking it from Jeongguk’s plate. “I’m only here for the food.”

“Sure you are,” Jeongguk replied, clearly amused. His eyes lingered on Jimin a moment longer before he turned back to his own plate. “I’m glad you’re eating.”

Jimin’s fingers stilled for a moment, a flicker of something he didn’t want to name tugging at him. “Yeah, yeah. Eat up before I decide to make you starve.”

Jeongguk’s laughter echoed softly through the room, and Jimin pretended not to notice the way his chest felt a little lighter. This back-and-forth, this strange warmth—it was becoming something he looked forward to more than he’d ever admit.

To Jimin’s surprise, he found himself growing uncomfortably comfortable in Jeongguk’s presence. At first, every interaction was charged with tension—a wariness that kept him on edge, ready for something to go wrong. But the longer he spent around the alpha, the more those edges softened. The silent gestures of kindness, the small, thoughtful acts Jeongguk showed him day by day—they chipped away at the walls Jimin had built around himself.

It wasn’t immediate, and it certainly wasn’t without its struggles. Jimin still had moments when he braced himself for harsh words or for distance to spring up between them. Yet, time and again, Jeongguk proved him wrong. The alpha’s steady presence became something Jimin could rely on—his confidence, his gentle humor, the way he listened without judgment and offered support without expecting anything in return.

What surprised him even more was how little he felt the eighteen-year age gap between them. He had expected it to be a barrier—something that would constantly remind him of their differences. But Jeongguk’s open-mindedness and understanding made it feel almost nonexistent. Whenever Jimin found himself bracing for a clash in perspectives, certain that Jeongguk wouldn’t understand because of their age difference, the alpha proved him wrong time and again.

There was one evening in particular that stood out. Jimin had been frustrated after helping some younger pack members learn a new form of communication using encoded signals—a skill he had picked up from neighboring packs during their travels. He expected Jeongguk to brush it off as an unnecessary endeavor or to dismiss its value because it was different from the traditional ways of teaching. But instead, Jeongguk sat beside him, genuinely interested, and asked Jimin to teach him as well.

As Jimin explained the basics, frustration evident in his voice, Jeongguk approached with interest. He didn’t dismiss or question the value of what Jimin was teaching. Instead, he settled next to him, his posture relaxed but his gaze intent. “Show me,” he said, his voice low but sincere. There was no hint of condescension, only genuine curiosity. “I want to learn.”

Jimin hesitated, searching the alpha’s face. “It’s not that complicated,” he said, a touch of defensiveness in his tone. “It’s just… different. Probably seems pointless next to the older methods.”

Jeongguk leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving Jimin’s. “Different isn’t pointless,” he replied. “And if it’s important to you, I trust there’s a reason. So, teach me.”

The earnestness in Jeongguk’s voice sent a flutter through Jimin’s chest. As they worked through the signals together, Jimin found himself relaxing. Jeongguk picked up the cues quickly, even offering suggestions for refining certain movements to make them clearer and more efficient. It left Jimin stunned—and a little in awe.

After a while, Jimin paused, casting a sidelong glance at Jeongguk. “You really don’t have to humor me, you know,” he said, his words soft but laced with a hint of self-protection. “I get that it’s… unconventional.”

Jeongguk’s gaze remained steady, a touch of warmth softening his expression. “I’m not humoring you,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I meant it, Jimin. Different isn’t bad. I want to understand what matters to you.” His eyes glinted with a hint of playful challenge. “Besides, who better to learn from than you?”

The casual flirtation caught Jimin off guard, and he felt a flush creep up his neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Head Alpha,” he retorted, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“Not even a little?” Jeongguk leaned in closer, his voice dropping slightly. The proximity sent a shiver down Jimin’s spine, and he was suddenly very aware of the warmth radiating from the alpha. There it was again—that ever-present tension that seemed to spark whenever they were close.

“Stop that,” Jimin muttered, his voice betraying his resolve. “I’m trying to focus.”

“Am I distracting you?” Jeongguk asked, his lips curving into a faint smile. He didn’t move away, and Jimin found it both infuriating and… thrilling.

“Yes,” Jimin admitted, more breathlessly than he intended. He turned back to the signals, willing himself to focus. “You’re insufferable.”

Jeongguk’s low chuckle sent warmth pooling in Jimin’s chest. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Moments like these shattered Jimin’s preconceived notions about their age gap. Whenever he thought their differences would become insurmountable, Jeongguk’s genuine interest and respect proved him wrong. It made Jimin feel seen—not as someone to be coddled or underestimated, but as an equal. It was disarming, comforting, and, much to Jimin’s reluctant realization, dangerously endearing. Slowly but surely, he found himself not just lowering his guard, but craving more of the warmth Jeongguk seemed to offer so effortlessly.

Before he knew it, Jimin no longer felt like he was walking on eggshells around Jeongguk. He caught himself leaning into their conversations, sharing small pieces of himself he had kept hidden. He could sit beside the alpha during meals without tensing up, laugh at his teasing remarks without feeling self-conscious, and let his guard down just a little more every day. It was disconcerting and comforting all at once.

It scared him a little, how fast he had adapted to this new normal. But at the same time, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders—a reminder that maybe he didn’t have to carry everything alone. In Jeongguk’s presence, he could be himself, and that was something he hadn’t realized he needed until now.

Every day, Jimin found himself waiting for Jeongguk to come home so they could share dinner together. It had become a routine—a part of his evenings that he looked forward to more than he cared to admit. Sometimes their meals were filled with chatter, and light-hearted teasing that made him laugh in a way he hadn’t in years. Other nights, when they were both worn out from their responsibilities, the silence stretched between them, but it was never awkward. It was the kind of quiet that felt like a warm blanket, soothing and safe. During those moments, Jeongguk would catch his eye and offer him a small, tired smile, and Jimin’s heart would skip a beat before he could stop it.

It wasn’t just during dinner. Jimin started to notice other things, too—small things that shouldn’t have meant as much as they did. He’d catch himself lingering at the doorway, watching as Jeongguk tidied up or prepared for bed, reluctant to retreat to his own room. More than once, he realized he was staring at the alpha a little too long, his gaze tracing the sharp line of Jeongguk’s jaw, the way his dark eyes softened when he was lost in thought. The realization would leave him flustered, cheeks burning as he quickly turned away.

Then there was the way Jeongguk teased him. It was infuriating and entirely too effective. A single playful comment or a smirk would send heat rushing to Jimin’s face. He hated how easily Jeongguk could make him blush, how his pulse would quicken with the simplest of touches—a brush of their fingers as they passed a dish, the accidental bump of their shoulders, or the warmth of Jeongguk’s breath against his neck when he leaned in too close. Jimin would stiffen, his skin prickling with awareness, and every nerve in his body would be acutely focused on the alpha’s presence. The faint scent of pine that always lingered around Jeongguk didn’t help; it was a calming aroma that made Jimin’s head spin.

Could this be…?

No, he shook his head, banishing the thought as quickly as it came. There was no way. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly be falling for a forty-year-old alpha who had saved them from downfall. That would be… absurd. Ridiculous. Maybe he was just confusing his feelings of gratitude for something deeper. Maybe it was the relief of being safe and cared for that was muddling his emotions. It had to be. He was just grateful, nothing more. That was the only explanation.

Jimin tried to convince himself of this every day. He repeated it like a mantra whenever his heart raced at the sound of Jeongguk’s voice or when he found himself yearning for the alpha’s touch, even in the smallest ways. It had to be gratitude. He didn’t like Jeongguk—not in that way. It was impossible. The thought alone made him scoff at himself.

And yet, every time he told himself it wasn’t real, he felt the faintest pang of doubt. Because no matter how much he denied it, there was a part of him that was beginning to hope. And that terrified him more than anything else.

It was midday, and the sun was blazing in the sky, relentless in its heat. Jimin wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling it trickle down his neck and soak into the back of his shirt. He and Taehyung had just finished carrying heavy boxes of food stock into the kitchen, the last batch for the cooks to prepare meals for the pack. The effort had left him exhausted, his muscles sore from exertion.

“That was exhausting. I thought I was going to have a stroke,” Taehyung groaned dramatically, stretching his back with an exaggerated crack.

Jimin rolled his eyes, unable to hide his amusement. “You’re such a drama queen,” he shot back, smirking. “You barely broke a sweat. Look at me—I’m practically drowning here.” He gestured at his sweat-drenched clothes for emphasis.

Taehyung let out a laugh and shook his head. “All that muscle and you still whine like a pup,” he teased. They walked side by side toward the river, the cool water calling to them. The thought of washing away the sweat and grime was a welcome reprieve from the heat.

As they neared the riverbank, Taehyung suddenly halted, his expression shifting to one of intrigue. He tutted his tongue, his eyes narrowing in playful curiosity. “Well, well, well. Look who we’ve got here,” he drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What?” Jimin frowned, following Taehyung’s gaze. His friend was staring intently at something—or rather, someone—by the river. Jimin’s eyes trailed over, and then he saw it.

Oh.

There was Jeongguk, standing near the water’s edge, his presence commanding even in casual conversation. He was talking with another omega, one Jimin vaguely recognized from the pack. The two of them seemed at ease, their laughter floating through the air like a melody carried by the wind. Jeongguk’s smile was broad, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and the omega beside him laughed in response, a soft blush coloring their cheeks.

Jimin felt a flash of heat that had nothing to do with the sun. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to maintain a neutral expression. There was no reason for him to feel this way. Jeongguk was the Head Alpha; of course, he would interact with other pack members. It was his duty. And yet… watching him laugh, seeing that easy smile—one Jimin had started to think was reserved for their private moments—made something in his chest tighten painfully.

“Oh, this is interesting,” Taehyung murmured, clearly enjoying the show. He glanced at Jimin, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “You okay there, Jiminie?”

“Of course,” Jimin said, too quickly. He turned away from the scene, his shoulders stiff. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Hmm, no reason,” Taehyung replied, his tone too casual to be innocent. “It’s just… you seem a little tense.”

Jimin shot him a glare. “It’s because it’s a hundred degrees out here.”

“Sure, sure,” Taehyung said, nodding sagely but clearly unconvinced. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, you could always go over there and make your presence known. Mark your territory.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jimin hissed, feeling his face heat up. “This isn’t… it’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh,” Taehyung drawled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

Jimin’s gaze drifted back to the river despite himself. Jeongguk’s laugh rang out again, and the omega beside him touched his arm lightly, a gesture that made Jimin’s fingers twitch. He hated the surge of jealousy that coursed through him, hated how it made his stomach churn. Jeongguk hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just talking. But it didn’t stop the irrational urge to march over there and… and what? Interrupt? Make a scene?

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This was ridiculous. Jeongguk was allowed to talk to whoever he wanted. It wasn’t as if they had any sort of claim beyond what was already defined by their arrangement. And yet, the idea of anyone else seeing the side of Jeongguk he had come to know made his chest ache.

“Your alpha looks so happy, doesn't he?” Taehyung’s voice dripped with playfulness, adding fuel to the fire that was already burning in Jimin’s chest.

“He’s not my alpha,” Jimin shot back, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He tried to sound indifferent, but the bitterness in his voice betrayed him. His eyes darted back to where Jeongguk stood, still talking and laughing with the other omega. The sight made Jimin’s chest tighten uncomfortably.

The omega threw back their head and laughed, the sound high-pitched and grating on Jimin’s nerves. He wanted to march over and cover their mouth—anything to make it stop. Jeongguk hadn’t moved, still completely engrossed in whatever conversation they were having, and that only made Jimin’s irritation flare higher.

“You sure about that?” Taehyung’s teasing didn’t let up, his eyes sparkling with glee. “I can smell how sour your scent is. Jealousy looks good on you, Jiminie.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jimin hissed through gritted teeth. “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Right.” Taehyung snickered, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I don’t blame that omega, though. Anyone with eyes would find the Head Alpha attractive.”

Jimin clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. “There’s nothing attractive about him,” he bit out. “He’s old, and mean !” He punctuated the words by stomping his foot, as if that could make it more true. Without waiting for Taehyung’s inevitable retort, he turned on his heel and stormed toward the river.

As he moved, Jeongguk’s attention shifted. The alpha’s gaze locked on him instantly, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Jeongguk’s lips curved into a smile—a smile that was warm, familiar, and somehow meant just for him. It sent a rush of heat through Jimin’s veins, but he quickly smothered it with irritation. He glared at Jeongguk, refusing to smile back, and instead shifted into his wolf form—a stunning white wolf with a sleek, shiny coat and piercing blue eyes.

Feeling petty and utterly unwilling to let the moment pass, Jimin trotted closer to where Jeongguk stood, deliberately brushing past him and the other omega. He let his body linger just long enough for his fur to graze against Jeongguk, his tail dragging over the alpha’s side. The intent was unmistakable—he was marking his scent, making his presence known in no uncertain terms. Jeongguk’s eyes widened slightly, his body tensing as he swallowed hard, clearly affected.

“You should go,” Jeongguk said to the other omega, his voice dropping, the hint of a growl evident.

“Why? We’re not done talking yet,” the omega replied, batting their eyelashes with a practiced air of flirtation.

“Leave.” Jeongguk’s tone was firm, bordering on a growl.

The omega jumped, startled by the sudden change. With a huff, they turned and left in a rush, their previous confidence disappearing.

Satisfied, Jimin sauntered away, his tail flicking in what could only be described as a smug manner. He ignored Jeongguk completely, even when he felt the alpha’s eyes on him, following his every move. He moved to the edge of the river, determined to act as if none of it mattered.

Moments later, he sensed a shift behind him—the familiar energy of Jeongguk’s transformation. Jimin didn’t turn around, but he could feel the presence of Jeongguk’s wolf—a magnificent black wolf with a powerful build and striking gray eyes. It was a sight that always left Jimin momentarily breathless, though he’d never admit it.

Despite himself, Jimin felt the urge to turn, to close the distance between them, to acknowledge the connection that always seemed to spark between them when they were in their wolf forms. But he refused to give in. He couldn’t let Jeongguk know just how deeply he affected him. So, he pretended not to notice, even as every instinct in his body screamed for him to turn around, to run, to play, to howl.

I don’t like him. I never will.

Jeongguk padded closer, his movements slow and deliberate. He stopped just short of touching Jimin, his presence heavy, and intoxicating. The air between them was thick with tension—charged and electric. Jimin could feel every beat of his heart, every breath he took. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

After what felt like an eternity, Jeongguk let out a soft, rumbling sound—a sigh and a growl. Jimin’s ears twitched, betraying his interest, but he remained where he was, resolute.

Then, with a final glance, Jeongguk stepped back, giving him space. The black wolf turned and moved a few paces away, settling near the water’s edge. He kept his gaze on the horizon, as if giving Jimin a choice—to come closer or to walk away. The silent offer lingered in the air, unspoken but understood.

Jimin exhaled slowly, his resolve wavering. He wanted to be petty, to stay away, but the pull toward Jeongguk was stronger than his pride. For now, though, he stayed where he was, refusing to let his guard down completely. But the warmth in his chest betrayed him—he couldn’t deny that a part of him liked knowing that, even in the smallest of ways, Jeongguk had chosen him.

Later that night in the cabin, Jeongguk did what he always did—he tried to make conversation. He talked about mundane things, little observations from his day, things he’d noticed in the pack. Normally, Jimin might have responded with his own witty remarks. But tonight was different. The air between them was thick with tension, and Jimin, still feeling petty and angry, refused to engage. He pretended not to hear Jeongguk, focusing on folding a blanket as if it was the most important task in the world.

Jeongguk let out a soft sigh, clearly picking up on the mood but refusing to back down. “Jimin, he was just a friend,” he said, his tone patient but tinged with a hint of amusement. “Nothing more. He was asking about how the trade negotiations with the Song Pack went. He’s friends with some of their members.”

Jimin’s movements stilled, and he raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress the scoff that escaped him. “Really?” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t look like a conversation about trade negotiations to me.”

Jeongguk’s lips twitched, and a spark of something mischievous flickered in his eyes. He stepped closer, his presence warm and overwhelming. “What did it look like, then?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. “You seemed very interested from where I was standing.”

Jimin’s fingers tightened around the blanket, and he rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t interested,” he shot back. “I was just… surprised. You seemed awfully friendly for a trade discussion, that’s all.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jeongguk hummed, clearly unconvinced. He took another step forward, his proximity making the air between them hum with tension. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were… jealous.”

Jimin’s heart leapt into his throat, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Jealous? Of what?” he snapped, turning to glare at Jeongguk. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” Jeongguk leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down Jimin’s spine. “Because I can smell it, you know.”

“Smell what?” Jimin demanded, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Jeongguk’s eyes softened, but his smile was infuriatingly smug. “Your scent,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving Jimin’s. “It’s sour when you’re upset. Sharp.”

Jimin swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. “You’re imagining things,” he managed to say, though his voice sounded weak even to his own ears. “I don’t care what you do.”

“Right,” Jeongguk said, drawing the word out slowly. He reached up, his hand brushing a strand of hair from Jimin’s face. The touch was soft, almost tender, and it made Jimin’s breath hitch. “If that’s true, then why are you avoiding me? Why can’t you even look at me?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Jimin insisted, forcing himself to meet Jeongguk’s eyes. “I just don’t feel like talking. Maybe I’m tired.”

“Maybe,” Jeongguk agreed, but his voice was full of challenge. “Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me talking to someone else.”

Jimin clenched his jaw, torn between wanting to snap back and wanting to run away. “You think too highly of yourself,” he said, his tone biting. “Not everyone falls at your feet, Mr. Head Alpha.”

Jeongguk chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made Jimin’s skin tingle. “I know that. But you’re different, Jimin. You don’t need to fall at my feet.” He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart. “You already have me.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The intensity in Jeongguk’s gaze left him feeling exposed, vulnerable. He wanted to say something, anything, but words failed him. All he could do was stare, caught between denial and the undeniable truth.

“You’re insufferable,” Jimin finally managed, his voice shaking. He pushed past Jeongguk, determined to put distance between them, but Jeongguk caught his wrist gently, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t go,” Jeongguk said, his tone suddenly serious. “I don’t want you to be upset. Talk to me, Jimin.”

Jimin stopped in his tracks, turning sharply to face him, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else—something deeper and more vulnerable. “I’m not upset,” he snapped, his voice tight. “You can talk to whoever you want, flirt with them all you want. It’s not like I have any say in it. We’re not even bonded.”

There. He’d said it. The truth that had been gnawing at him for weeks finally spilled out. At first, he had been relieved by the lack of a bonding mark. He hadn’t been comfortable with the thought of being bitten, of tying himself irrevocably to an alpha he barely knew. But now? Now, the longer he spent with Jeongguk, the more it bothered him. The lack of a bond felt like a gaping void, one that only deepened every time he saw Jeongguk surrounded by swooning omegas. They flirted with him without hesitation, and each time, it chipped away at Jimin’s composure.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the raw emotion in Jimin’s words. He took a step closer, but this time his movements were careful, almost hesitant. “Jimin… I didn’t seal the bond because I wanted to respect your boundaries,” he said softly, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “During the mating ceremony, you didn’t seem ready, and I would never want to force a bond on you. Ever. But that doesn’t mean I want anyone else.”

Jimin looked away, feeling his chest tighten painfully. He hadn’t expected such raw honesty and vulnerability from Jeongguk. It wasn’t like him to lower his defenses like this, to bare himself so openly. It made the walls Jimin had carefully built around his heart feel flimsy and weak, ready to collapse under the weight of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face. But he couldn’t do this—not now. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation, to confront the confusing mess of feelings inside him.

“Let’s… let’s talk about it later,” Jimin said, his voice softer than he intended, a hint of exhaustion coloring his words. “I need some air.”

Jeongguk’s shoulders sagged, the defeat evident in the way his usually confident posture deflated. In that moment, he looked younger, softer, his expression open and full of a quiet ache. It tugged at Jimin’s heart in a way that made it hard to breathe. But he wasn’t ready to go there—not yet. The alpha gave him a slow, sad but understanding nod. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Just… don’t go too far. It’s late.”

Jimin swallowed, the concern in Jeongguk’s voice making it harder to turn away. “I’ll be fine,” he replied, trying to keep his tone steady. “I just need… a minute.”

Without waiting for a response, Jimin walked out of the cabin, his steps quick and purposeful as he stepped into the cool night air.

Chapter Text

When Jimin returned to the cabin that night, the tension in the air was almost suffocating. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the living room, where Jeongguk was sitting, wide awake. The Head Alpha’s posture was stiff, his foot tapping against the floor in a restless rhythm. He looked up the moment Jimin walked in, his dark eyes searching Jimin’s face with concern and hesitation.

“Are you okay?” Jeongguk asked, his voice steady but edged with worry as he immediately rose from his seat.

Jimin froze, caught off guard by the warmth in Jeongguk’s tone. He nodded quickly, avoiding the alpha’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, his words rushed and unconvincing. Without waiting for a response, he hurried past Jeongguk, retreating to his room.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, Jimin leaned against it, his chest heaving with suppressed emotion. He felt overwhelmed—guilt, confusion, and a twinge of something deeper clawed at his insides. The pine scent that lingered in the air, tinged with a faint sadness, only made the ache worse. He bit his lip, his omega screaming at him to turn back, to comfort the alpha who had done nothing but show him kindness. But he couldn’t bring himself to face Jeongguk, not yet. He didn’t know how to confront the storm of feelings brewing inside him.

Since that night, Jimin had gone out of his way to avoid Jeongguk, refusing to meet the alpha’s eyes or share more than a few clipped words in passing. At first, Jeongguk made every effort to bridge the growing gap between them. He would wait for Jimin at breakfast, sitting patiently at the table with a hopeful expression, only for Jimin to grab a piece of fruit and rush out without so much as a glance his way. He left small tokens of affection—wildflowers he’d picked during his hunts, placed delicately on the table where Jimin couldn’t miss them or freshly cleaned fish he’d caught himself. At night, he lingered in the living room, waiting for Jimin to return, his presence a silent plea for a conversation that never came. 

But as the days passed and Jimin’s silence persisted, Jeongguk’s efforts gradually stopped. The flowers stopped appearing, and the dinners they once shared at the same table turned into quiet meals eaten separately. When their paths crossed, Jeongguk offered only a tight, polite smile before continuing on his way. Jimin knew it wasn’t meant as indifference—it was Jeongguk respecting his space. Yet, it stung more than he cared to admit.

The ache in his chest grew as his heart clenched painfully every time he caught sight of Jeongguk. The alpha’s once warm gaze had cooled, replaced by a polite detachment that made Jimin’s throat tighten. All he received now was a brief nod or a tight smile in passing, and even that felt like a reminder of the distance he had created between them. His omega protested at every turn, clawing at him with an almost desperate need to close the gap, to go to the alpha and beg for his forgiveness—for his affection.

Jimin’s instincts screamed at him to fix it, to nuzzle into Jeongguk’s chest and let the pine-scented warmth soothe the turmoil inside him. But he ignored those urges, burying them beneath layers of uncertainty and fear. For all his life, Jimin had guarded his heart fiercely. He’d never let himself feel so deeply for anyone, let alone an alpha. Vulnerability had always been dangerous—a crack in his armor that could be exploited. And now, faced with these unfamiliar emotions, he found himself paralyzed, uncertain of how to reach out without feeling exposed.

How could he go to Jeongguk when he didn’t even know what to say? He had never felt this way before—never been so painfully aware of someone’s absence, of the void left in their wake. These feelings were foreign, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying.

He had always been independent, self-sufficient. The idea of needing someone else—of craving their presence as much as he now craved Jeongguk’s—was entirely new to him. And it wasn’t just need; it was something deeper, something raw and vulnerable that he didn’t know how to face. What if he went to Jeongguk and couldn’t find the right words? What if he broke down entirely? Or worse, what if Jeongguk had already grown tired of waiting for him?

Jimin buried his face in his hands, frustration bubbling to the surface. He had never felt so lost, so unsure of himself. He had no roadmap for this—no experience to guide him through the storm of emotions threatening to pull him under. All he knew was that he missed Jeongguk with a fierceness that scared him, and yet, he didn’t know how to bridge the gap he had created.

So, he stayed silent. He stayed distant. And with every passing day, the ache in his chest grew heavier, threatening to consume him.

To cope with the turmoil inside him, Jimin threw himself into work. He spent most of his days outside the cabin, tirelessly fulfilling his pack duties. He visited the Park Pack members frequently, checking in on their well-being, ensuring they were adjusting to life within the Jeon Pack. He found solace in the familiarity of these interactions, a sense of purpose that helped distract him from the growing tension in his personal life.

Jimin also started volunteering more with the Jeon Pack, offering his help wherever it was needed. He assisted with preparing meals in the communal kitchen, played with the children, and even helped mend clothing alongside the seamstresses. The pack members welcomed his presence, their warmth and gratitude helping his frayed nerves. They didn’t question his sudden enthusiasm for keeping busy, but Jimin could sense their curious glances whenever Jeongguk’s name was mentioned in passing.

Despite his efforts to distract himself, Jimin couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that followed him everywhere. He missed Jeongguk’s easy smiles, the soft baritone of his voice, and the way his scent used to fill their shared spaces with comfort. Even the tension of their playful arguments now felt like a loss. Jimin hated himself for the selfishness of his longing—he was the one who had pulled away, after all. He had no right to feel this way.

One evening, as Jimin was helping an elder from the Park Pack carry firewood, he overheard two Jeon Pack omegas talking nearby. Their voices were hushed but laced with excitement.

“Did you see the Head Alpha today? He was helping at the eastern border patrols again,” one of them whispered.

“He’s always working so hard,” the other replied, a note of admiration in their tone. “And he’s so kind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an alpha treat his pack with so much care.”

Jimin’s hands stilled, his chest tightening as he listened. He already knew all of these things about Jeongguk—he had seen that care and kindness firsthand. But hearing it from someone else, knowing how much Jeongguk meant to the pack, made the weight of his avoidance feel even heavier.

By the time Jimin returned to the cabin that night, his resolve was wavering. He stood outside the door for what felt like an eternity, his fingers hovering over the handle. He wanted to go in, to talk to Jeongguk, to tell him everything that had been building inside him. But the fear of rejection—of not knowing how to express what he was feeling—kept him rooted in place.

Eventually, Jimin pushed the door open, the familiar scent of pine and warmth greeting him like an old friend. The living room was empty, but the faint light coming from under Jeongguk’s door told Jimin that the alpha was still awake. For a moment, Jimin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, with a soft sigh, he turned toward his own room, his courage failing him once again.

The ache in his chest felt heavier than ever.

“Jimin, are you even listening?” Taehyung’s voice snapped him out of his daze, cutting through the rustle of leaves and the faint whistle of the wind. Jimin blinked, startled, and turned to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, his hands resting on his hips, an eyebrow raised in mild exasperation.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Jimin muttered, quickly ducking his head as he returned his focus to the task at hand. His fingers worked to unearth the potatoes from the cold, firm soil, brushing off the dirt as he placed them in the basket beside him.

They had volunteered for the harvest together after the council mentioned the need for extra manpower. Taehyung hadn’t hesitated to say yes when Jimin invited him, though Jimin had a sinking feeling his friend had ulterior motives—like prying into his mind and figuring out why he’d been so distracted lately.

“I haven’t said anything until now because I figured you’d tell me when you were ready,” Taehyung said, his voice softer this time, but still probing. He crouched down beside Jimin, leaning on his knees as his sharp gaze searched Jimin’s face. “But you’ve been so out of it all morning. Don’t tell me you fought with the Head Alpha.”

The mention of Jeongguk made Jimin’s chest tighten uncomfortably. He forced himself to keep his hands moving, ignoring the way his breath hitched. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. “It’s nothing like that.”

Taehyung didn’t look convinced. “Then what is it? You’ve been quieter than usual for days. You hardly eat, you hardly sleep, and now you’re zoning out in the middle of harvesting. If you didn’t fight with him, then why do you look like the world’s ending?”

Jimin swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The truth was, Taehyung wasn’t wrong. He was distracted—by thoughts he couldn’t quite shake, by emotions he couldn’t quite name. He felt like he was unraveling, slowly but surely, and he hated it.

“I’m fine, Tae,” Jimin said finally, his voice quiet but firm, though it did little to mask the exhaustion that clung to him. “Don’t worry too much. It’s just… been a lot lately.”

Taehyung gave him a long, measured look, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine,” he said after a moment, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe Jimin for a second. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you. But if you’re so bothered by whatever this is that you’re practically a ghost during the day, maybe you should ask yourself why. And more importantly, what you’re planning to do about it.”

Jimin’s fingers stilled against the dirt, his chest tightening at the weight of Taehyung’s words. He wasn’t wrong—Jimin was bothered. More than he’d ever been in his life. It was like carrying a storm inside him, filled with doubt, fear, and something he didn’t quite have a name for yet. And it was killing him.

But what could he say? That he felt like Jeongguk’s presence was consuming him, even when the alpha wasn’t around? That he felt torn between his growing sense of admiration for Jeongguk’s strength and kindness, and the gnawing fear of what it meant to belong to someone so completely? That he was scared of losing himself in this arrangement, of becoming something less than what he wanted to be?

No. He wasn’t ready to say any of that. Maybe he never would be.

Instead, he forced a small, tight smile and said, “I’ll be fine. Really. Just give me some time.”

Taehyung sighed, heavy and long, clearly unimpressed with Jimin’s answer. “Let’s pretend like I believe you,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to take this box to the kitchen.” He gestured toward the wooden crate beside him, filled with the potatoes he had harvested.

Jimin nodded silently, watching as Taehyung straightened and hoisted the crate onto his shoulder. Taehyung lingered for a moment, as if waiting for Jimin to say something—anything—but when Jimin stayed quiet, he shook his head and walked away.

Jimin let out a slow breath once he was alone, his shoulders slumping as he sat back on his heels. The quiet settled around him, broken only by the distant chatter of other pack members and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind. He stared down at the half-dug row of potatoes before him, his fingers curling and uncurling against the soil.

Taehyung was right, and Jimin hated how much it stung to hear it. He needed to figure out what was bothering him—and what he was going to do about it—before it consumed him entirely. But how could he confront something he didn’t fully understand?

The thought of Jeongguk’s face flashed in his mind again—the way his dark eyes seemed to see straight through him, the way his presence filled every room like a tangible force. Jimin’s chest tightened as the memories of their last interaction surfaced, unbidden and sharp. He didn’t know if it was fear, frustration, or something else entirely, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t let him go.

Jimin was crouched low in the dirt, his fingers working methodically to loosen the stubborn soil around a potato plant. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the fields, and for a while, he found solace in the rhythm of his work. The world felt quiet here, with only the occasional rustle of leaves or chirp of birds breaking the stillness. It was exactly what he needed—a chance to clear his mind and focus on something simple, something grounding.

But the peace didn’t last.

Voices drifted over from the edge of the clearing, just loud enough to pull Jimin from his thoughts. He froze, his hands pausing mid-motion as he strained to make out the words. At first, he thought it might be harmless chatter, but as the words became clearer, his stomach twisted.

“I don’t even know what the Head Alpha saw in that omega,” one voice said, dripping with disdain. Jimin’s heart sank as he immediately recognized it. It belonged to the omega who had been openly flirting with Jeongguk at the riverside not too long ago. is tone was sharp, biting, as if he were spitting venom into the air.

“The Head Alpha was kind,” another omega chimed in, his voice carrying an edge of mock sympathy. “We all know that. He probably felt bad for him, pitied the omega. That has to be the only reason.”

Jimin clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the potato plant. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop—shouldn’t let their petty words get under his skin—but he couldn’t help it. Their voices were too loud, their words too cutting to ignore.

“It annoys me to see that omega,” the first voice continued, his tone harsher now. “Acting like he’s got it all, when his whole pack would’ve been wiped out if he hadn’t clung to the Head Alpha. Now he struts around like he actually belongs here, like the Head Alpha is his.”

The second omega let out a laugh, the sound grating and mean. “I don’t think the Head Alpha even likes him,” he said smugly. “You still stand a chance, you know. You’re better than that  Park omega. Everyone knows he isn’t even the Head Alpha’s type.”

The first omega giggled, the sound high-pitched and insincere. “You think so?”

“Oh, I know so,” the second one replied. They burst into laughter then, their voices blending into a sound of mockery that grated at Jimin’s nerves.

He tried to ignore it. He really did. He focused on the potatoes in front of him, on the soil beneath his hands, on the ache in his back. But their words kept coming, each one cutting deeper than the last. How dare they speak about him like that? Like they knew anything about him? About Jeongguk? About what he and his pack had been through?

The jealousy and anger Jimin had been bottling up for so long flared, hot and uncontrollable. He dropped the potato plant, stood to his full height, and marched toward the voices without a second thought. The world around him seemed to blur, his focus narrowing on the two omegas as they came into view. They hadn’t seen him yet, too absorbed in their cruel little conversation.

“What about you say all that bullshit to my face?” Jimin demanded, his voice sharp and laced with venom.

The two omegas froze, their laughter cutting off abruptly. They turned to face him, their expressions a mix of shock and guilt. For a moment, neither of them said anything, their wide eyes darting between Jimin and each other.

The omega who had been flirting with Jeongguk recovered first, his lips curling into a sneer. “Why? Isn’t it true?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as if daring Jimin to argue.

Jimin rolled his eyes, the motion exaggerated and filled with disdain. “You’ve got so much free time making up stories in your head, you’ve actually started believing them.”

His nostrils flared, his face turning an angry shade of red. “The pack was fine before you and your lot showed up,” he spat. “Now you act like you belong here.”

“Seems like that’s your problem,” Jimin shot back, his tone icy. “Because everyone else has been nothing but kind to us. It’s just you who can’t seem to act like a decent person.”

The second omega, emboldened by his friend’s anger, stepped forward, his expression smug. “They’re just scared of what the Head Alpha would say if they spoke out,” he said. “But trust me, no one wants you here. You’re nothing but beggars. Charity cases. The Head Alpha took you in because he pitied you.”

Jimin’s hands shook at his sides, his anger barely contained. “Shut up,” he said through gritted teeth.

The first omega stepped closer, his scent sharp and cloying as he tried to tower over him. “Oh, did I hit a nerve, Park omega?” he taunted. “Tell me, am I wrong? If I’m wrong, then show me your mating mark. Oh, wait. You can’t, can you?” His voice turned mocking, each word a dagger aimed straight at Jimin’s chest. “Because there’s nothing to show. The Head Alpha hasn’t bonded you, hasn’t marked you. He’s not yours. Get that through your thick skull—”

Before the omega could finish his sentence, Jimin snapped. The words cut through him like a blade, slicing past every wall he had to keep his composure. His vision blurred with red, his chest tightening with a storm of rage and frustration that could no longer be contained.

Jimin pounced without thinking, his body moving on pure instinct. One moment, the omega was smirking smugly, his scent thick with mockery. The next, Jimin had him pinned to the ground, his claws raking across the omega’s arm as a feral growl tore from his throat. His friend ran away, leaving him behind to save himself.

The omega let out a startled cry, his confidence crumbling in an instant. Jimin wasn’t thinking anymore—his world narrowed to the overwhelming need to hurt, to make this omega feel the weight of the disrespect he had dared to show. His claws found skin again, dragging down the omega’s forearm and leaving behind angry red welts that quickly turned bloody.

“You think you know me?” Jimin hissed, his voice unrecognizable—low, raw, trembling with fury. “You think you can say those things about me, about him, and walk away like it’s nothing?”

The omega beneath him struggled, his face contorted with panic as he tried to break free. But Jimin was relentless. He clawed again, his strikes fueled by weeks of bottled-up emotions—anger, jealousy, shame, and the constant pressure of being viewed as nothing more than a charity case. It all came pouring out now, uncontrollable and vicious.

“Stop—get off me!” the omega shouted, his voice cracking with fear. But Jimin didn’t hear him. His mind was a blur, his senses overwhelmed by the sharp scent of blood and the omega’s growing panic.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear voices shouting, footsteps rushing toward him, but they felt far away. His entire world was the omega beneath him, the satisfaction of making him feel even a fraction of the pain Jimin carried every day.

Strong arms wrapped around Jimin from behind, pulling him back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of him. He struggled, snarling as he twisted in the grip, trying to claw his way back to the omega. “Let me go!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation. “He needs to learn—he can’t just—he can’t—”

“Jimin, stop!” a deep, commanding voice barked. The tone cut through the haze clouding Jimin’s mind like a blade, freezing him in place. The fight drained from his body in an instant, leaving him trembling in the stranger’s arms.

His breath came in short, ragged gasps as he finally looked up, realizing that the one holding him was Jeongguk. The Head Alpha’s expression was hard, his jaw tight, but there was something else in his eyes—concern, worry, and a flicker of something Jimin couldn’t quite place.

Jimin’s gaze darted to the omega he had attacked. The other omega was on the ground, his clothes torn and his arms streaked with blood. He looked terrified, his eyes wide as he clutched his wounded arm. Around them, a small crowd had gathered, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion. The whispers started immediately, buzzing like a swarm of angry bees.

“What’s going on?”

“Did the Park Head Omega attack him?”

“Why would he do that?”

“He went feral. Did you see his eyes?”

The words hit Jimin like a slap, the realization of what he had done crashing down on him all at once. He sagged in Jeongguk’s arms, his entire body shaking as he stared at the omega on the ground. His claws were still out, his hands stained with blood. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he looked away, unable to face what he had done.

“ Enough ,” Jeongguk said sharply, his voice cutting through the crowd’s murmurs. The authority in his tone silenced everyone immediately. He turned his attention to the omega on the ground, his expression unreadable. “Get him to the healer. We will talk later.”

The omega scrambled to his feet, wincing as he clutched his arm. He didn’t say a word as he was helped away by another pack member, his scent still thick with fear and anger. The crowd began to disperse, though a few lingered, casting curious glances at Jimin as they whispered among themselves.

“What about the Head Omega Park?” one of Jeongguk’s men asked cautiously.

“I’ll take care of him,” Jeongguk replied, his voice leaving no room for argument. His words were calm but firm, the authority in his tone unmistakable. The conversation ended there, and the men exchanged glances before retreating.

Once they were gone, Jeongguk turned his attention to Jimin, who now stood a few feet away from him. The omega couldn’t bring himself to meet Jeongguk’s eyes, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him. When Jeongguk stepped closer, Jimin didn’t resist as the alpha gently scooped him up, cradling him as if he were something fragile.

Jimin’s head rested against Jeongguk’s chest, his body giving in to the exhaustion. He winced inwardly when Jeongguk’s hand inadvertently brushed against a sore spot on his side where the other omega had hit him earlier. Thankfully, Jeongguk didn’t seem to notice, and Jimin was relieved. The last thing he wanted was to make a fuss over his injuries.

The walk to the cabin was quiet, the only sound being the crunch of Jeongguk’s boots on the dirt path and the occasional rustle of leaves. When they finally arrived, Jeongguk carried Jimin inside, heading straight to the kitchen. He gently placed the omega on the sturdy wooden table, pausing to arrange a pillow under him for added comfort.

Jimin shifted slightly, acutely aware of how close they were now. The room felt small, and the alpha’s presence seemed to fill every corner of it. His heart raced, not from fear but from the sheer intensity of the moment. Being alone with Jeongguk, in such close proximity, was overwhelming.

“Stay there,” Jeongguk said, his voice softer now but still commanding. “I’ll get some supplies to clean your wounds and bandage you up.”

Jimin nodded mutely, unable to find his voice. He watched as Jeongguk disappeared into another room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The silence was heavy, and Jimin’s mind wandered to everything that had happened—how he had ended up here, hurt but somehow under the care of the Head Alpha. He hadn't expected Jeongguk to step in so decisively, let alone carry him with such tenderness, especially after Jimin had ignored him for weeks.

When Jeongguk returned, he carried a wooden basket filled with supplies. He set it down on the table, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

“Your clothes are covered in blood,” Jimin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He ducked his head, guilt washing over him.

Jeongguk glanced down at himself, as if noticing the stains for the first time. Without hesitation, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the floor like it was nothing.

Jimin froze. His mouth went dry, and he quickly looked away, his face heating up. He hadn’t expected that—not now, not here. It wasn’t the first time he had been around an alpha, but Jeongguk was... different. His body was lean but powerful, every muscle defined and speaking of strength earned through years of training and responsibility. The way the firelight danced over his skin only emphasized his form, and Jimin couldn’t stop himself from stealing a glance. His gaze lingered for a moment too long on the lines of Jeongguk’s chest and the hard planes of his stomach.

Get it together, Jimin, he scolded himself, snapping his eyes away. This wasn’t the time or place to be drooling over the Head Alpha. Jeongguk had just defended him, carried him, and was now about to patch him up—and here he was, ogling him like a lovesick pup.

Still, no matter how hard he tried to focus elsewhere, Jimin’s mind kept circling back to the way Jeongguk’s body moved, so effortlessly commanding and sure. He bit the inside of his cheek, desperate to ground himself, but it was no use.

It was then that Jimin noticed something else—a glint of emerald against Jeongguk’s bare chest. His heart stuttered as he realized what it was: the necklace he had given Jeongguk during their mating ceremony. The cord was worn but intact, and the pendant still gleamed as if it had been polished regularly.

Jimin blinked in disbelief. He had assumed Jeongguk had discarded it long ago, especially since he hadn’t seen it since that day. He had convinced himself it didn’t matter, that Jeongguk didn’t care enough to keep it. But here it was, hidden beneath his clothes all this time.

The sight made Jimin’s chest tighten. He felt his cheeks flush as he bit down harder on the inside of his mouth to stop himself from smiling. Why is he still wearing it? he wondered. The thought made his heart race in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Are you okay?” Jeongguk’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Jimin startled slightly. The alpha had been watching him, concern etched into his features.

Jimin nodded quickly, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was shaky.

“I’m going to start cleaning your wounds,” Jeongguk said softly, his voice calm but tinged with intensity. His dark eyes flicked up to meet Jimin’s, and the omega could see the emotions swirling there—anger, worry, and something deeper. “This will sting a bit,” he warned, his tone gentle but firm.

Jimin nodded, his throat dry. He could see the tension in Jeongguk’s shoulders, the way his brows furrowed slightly as if he were trying to hold himself together. The alpha’s pine scent, was tinged with unease, and Jimin didn’t have to guess why. Jeongguk was upset—not at him, but at the situation, at the fact that Jimin was hurt.

The alpha dipped a clean cloth into the water, wringing it out before bringing it to Jimin’s face. He started with the cut on Jimin’s cheek, his touch careful and deliberate. The sting was immediate, and Jimin winced, his body jerking slightly.

Jeongguk froze instantly, pulling the cloth away. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with guilt. He looked at Jimin for reassurance, his hand hovering uncertainly.

“It’s fine,” Jimin said quickly, though his voice wavered. “Keep going.”

Jeongguk hesitated for a moment before continuing, his movements even gentler this time. He cleaned the dried blood from Jimin’s cheek and temple, his thumb brushing against Jimin’s skin as he worked. Every so often, Jimin winced, unable to stop the soft sounds of pain that escaped him. Each time, Jeongguk would pause, his brows knitting together.

“Sorry,” Jeongguk said again, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked as if he was the one in pain, his gaze darting between Jimin’s face and the wound he was tending to. “I’ll be more careful.”

“You don’t have to apologize every time,” Jimin murmured, his cheeks warming. “It’s not your fault.”

Jeongguk didn’t respond, his lips pressed into a thin line as he continued cleaning the wounds on Jimin’s face. When he finished, he moved to Jimin’s neck, tilting the omega’s chin gently to the side. His fingers brushed against Jimin’s jaw, the touch light but firm.

“This might sting a little more,” Jeongguk warned, dipping the cloth back into the water.

Jimin nodded, swallowing hard as Jeongguk worked. The warmth of the alpha’s touch contrasted with the sharp sting of the antiseptic as Jeongguk wiped over the faint scratches and bruises scattered along Jimin’s neck. Jimin winced again, and Jeongguk’s hand stilled.

“Why?” Jeongguk asked suddenly, his voice low. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Jimin lowered his head, shame welling up inside him. The words stuck in his throat, refusing to come out. Jeongguk sighed, putting the cloth aside before turning to face the omega.

“Will you stop ignoring me and just talk to me?” Jeongguk's voice softened, his eyes wide and glassy. “Please?” The plea broke Jimin’s heart.

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” Jimin finally began, his fists clenching tightly. “They said I don’t belong here. That you didn’t seal the bond with me because you only pitied me, that I’m just your charity case. They said you don’t even like me, and that my pack and I have no place here.”

Jimin's voice trembled as he continued, “And that omega told me I wasn’t your type, that you didn’t want me—that’s why you haven’t marked me yet. I hate it! It hurt more than I want to admit. It hurt so much that I couldn’t control myself. I just... lashed out. All I wanted was to make him feel the pain he made me feel.”

The words poured out of Jimin, raw and unfiltered. He bared his heart to Jeongguk, unable to stop the flood of emotions that slipped past his lips.

Jeongguk took a deep breath, letting his head hang low for a moment before raising his eyes to meet Jimin's. “Jimin-ah…” was all the alpha managed to say before he pulled Jimin into a tight embrace. The omega’s body tensed up initially, but the tension melted away as soon as their bodies collided. Jeongguk's arms wrapped around him, one hand gently caressing the nape of his neck while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“When I helped you and your pack, it wasn’t because I pitied you,” Jeongguk whispered, his voice soft but firm. “It was because I saw so much potential in you. I knew you could stand up again if you got the support you needed. I believed in you, Jimin, and I still do.” He paused, his fingers continuing their comforting motions. “None of what that omega said is true. Not a single word.”

Jeongguk pulled back just enough to look Jimin in the eyes, his expression earnest. “I didn’t seal the bond and mark you because I knew you weren’t ready. But god, Jimin, I want to—so badly. I want to mark you, so everyone knows you belong to me. That you’re my omega, and no one else has the right to even think about coming close to you.”

Jeongguk's eyes softened, and he leaned in slightly, his forehead resting against Jimin's. “And who said you’re not my type? They know nothing about us. Nothing about me.” He took a shaky breath, his voice growing more intense. “Every time I see you, I want to pull you in, to scent you, to hold you close. I want to kiss every part of you, to leave my marks all over you so everyone can see that you are mine. Do you know how hard it is to hold back? To stop myself from losing control when I catch even the slightest whiff of your scent? They know nothing, Jimin. Nothing about how I feel for you.”

Jimin's eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill as he listened to Jeongguk's heartfelt words. The vulnerability in Jeongguk's voice, the sincerity in his eyes—it all struck a deep chord within him. Jeongguk cupped Jimin’s face gently, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down his cheek.

“You mean everything to me,” Jeongguk continued, his voice almost breaking. “I know I should’ve been more straightforward and more honest about my feelings, but you need to know—I chose you because I wanted you. Not out of pity, not because I felt obligated, but because I like you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and more.”

Jimin's breath hitched as he felt the weight of Jeongguk's words. Slowly, he brought his hands up to grip the fabric of Jeongguk's shirt, his eyes closing as he pressed his forehead against Jeongguk's chest. The steady thump of Jeongguk's heartbeat reverberated against him, grounding him, comforting him.

“Jeongguk…” Jimin whispered, his voice barely audible. “I... I didn’t know. I thought... I thought maybe you regretted everything. That I wasn’t enough.”

Jeongguk tightened his hold, his heart aching at Jimin's confession. “Never,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Jimin's temple. “You are more than enough, Jimin. You are everything. And I promise, I will do whatever it takes to make sure you always know that.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence filled only by the sound of their breathing before Jimin slowly pulled back, his gaze lifting to meet Jeongguk's. Without a word, he cupped Jeongguk’s face with both hands, his eyes searching the alpha’s face, as if seeking one final reassurance. Then, with a tenderness that made Jeongguk’s heart stutter, Jimin leaned in and pressed their lips together.

Jeongguk's eyes widened, momentarily taken aback, before they fluttered closed, and he melted into the kiss. It was soft, almost tentative at first—like they were both testing the waters. Jimin’s lips were warm and slightly trembling, but Jeongguk could feel the emotion behind the kiss—the longing, the fear, the hope.

Their lips moved slowly against each other, tender and gentle, as if savoring the moment. Jeongguk could feel the warmth spreading through his chest, a sensation so powerful it nearly overwhelmed him. He wrapped his arms around Jimin's waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. Jimin arched into Jeongguk, his body pressing against the alpha's, feeling the warmth radiating from him. A soft mewl escaped Jimin’s lips when Jeongguk’s tongue brushed against his mouth, seeking permission to deepen the kiss.

Jimin granted it, parting his lips, and Jeongguk slipped his tongue inside, exploring gently. The omega tasted sweet, and Jeongguk couldn’t help the low rumble of satisfaction that escaped his throat. He tightened his grip on Jimin’s waist, his hand sliding up to rest between his shoulder blades, holding him firmly but lovingly. Jimin let out a breathy moan, his fingers threading through Jeongguk's hair, tugging slightly as he lost himself in the sensation.

It should have been embarrassing—humiliating, even—that something as simple as a kiss could unravel him so completely, leaving him a trembling mess with slick leaking out of his ass. But how could he feel ashamed when his mate was this breathtakingly hot? Just the brush of those lips against his own, firm yet teasing, was enough to light a fire in his veins, melting any resistance he might have tried to muster. Every kiss carried a possessive edge, a reminder that he belonged to someone who could effortlessly claim every piece of him, body and soul. It wasn’t just the physical attraction; it was the way Jeongguk’s presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, every corner of his thoughts, leaving him no choice but to surrender. So, really, what could he do but give in?

Jeongguk smiled against Jimin’s mouth, pleased by the sounds he was drawing out of him. He pulled away just enough to nibble on Jimin’s bottom lip before diving back in, his kisses growing more passionate, more demanding. Jimin matched his intensity, his body trembling slightly from the emotions coursing through him.

“Ouch,” Jimin winced, his face scrunching in pain as he instinctively pulled away from the kiss. Jeongguk’s grip on his waist had tightened just a bit too much, a sharp pang shooting through him, and his lips parted with a small gasp.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened in panic, his heart skipping a beat as he immediately pulled his hands away, as if afraid of causing more harm. “Shit,” he breathed out, his voice laced with worry. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.” His hands hovered in the air, trembling slightly as they searched for a place to land without causing Jimin further pain. He could feel his chest tightening at the thought of hurting Jimin, his eyes anxiously scanning the omega’s face for a sign of reassurance.

Jimin couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up, the situation feeling both silly and endearing. Jeongguk was always so careful, so gentle, even though he possessed the strength to crush Jimin with ease. The alpha’s panicked expression made Jimin’s heart swell with warmth. He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against Jeongguk’s in a light peck, an attempt to soothe the other's worries. “I’m fine,” he said with a small smile, though the pain was still faintly lingering. He reached up, cupping Jeongguk’s cheek with his hand. “I think there might be a wound on my waist,” he added, pouting slightly, his eyes dipping down to his side.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows knitted together, guilt pulling at his expression. “A wound?” He echoed, his gaze dropping to Jimin’s side, and the alpha's heart clenched with worry. He swallowed, his throat feeling dry, and looked back up at Jimin, seeking permission. “Can I?” Jeongguk asked, his hands hesitantly moving to the hem of Jimin’s torn shirt. His voice was soft, almost unsure, as if he feared he might overstep a boundary.

Jimin nodded, giving him a gentle smile of reassurance. “Yeah, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice laced with trust. He watched as Jeongguk’s hands carefully took hold of the hem, the alpha’s fingers brushing lightly against his skin, almost as if he were afraid to touch him too roughly. Jeongguk’s touch was delicate, so unlike the power Jimin knew he had. It made Jimin’s heart ache in the best way possible, knowing how much Jeongguk cared for him.

Slowly, Jeongguk lifted the torn fabric, his eyes glued to Jimin’s body, his heart pounding as he revealed the pale skin underneath. Then, his eyes immediately stopped on an accessory resting against Jimin’s waist. His breath caught in his throat, and it took him only a moment to realize what it was—the necklace he had given Jimin during their mating ceremony. The sight of the delicate chain against Jimin's skin made something warm bloom in Jeongguk's chest, his heart swelling with an emotion that left him momentarily speechless.

“You still have it,” Jeongguk said, his voice barely above a whisper, like he couldn’t believe it himself. His eyes were wide, filled with awe and tenderness, as if he were seeing something precious and fragile.

Jimin nodded, his cheeks flushing pink, his gaze dropping shyly. “I don’t really like wearing necklaces,” he admitted, his voice soft, almost embarrassed, “but I didn’t want to not wear it… so I’ve been wearing it on my waist instead.” He glanced back up at Jeongguk, his eyes searching the alpha’s face for a reaction.

Jeongguk’s expression softened even more, his lips parting as if to say something, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he reached out, his fingers tracing along Jimin’s waist with a feather-light touch, brushing against the chain and the small pendant that rested there. His fingertips moved delicately, feeling the cool crystal against the warmth of Jimin’s skin, and the omega shuddered under the touch, a small gasp escaping his lips.

Jeongguk’s heart pounded in his chest, the reality of Jimin keeping the necklace so close to him made his heart stutter. He could feel the pendant beneath his fingers, the weight of its meaning heavy in his heart. Without thinking, he let out a groan, his head dropping forward until it rested on Jimin’s shoulder, his forehead pressing against the omega's skin. “Ugh,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

“Why?” Jimin giggled, his fingers threading gently through Jeongguk’s hair, his own heart fluttering at the closeness between them.

Jeongguk lifted his head slightly, just enough for Jimin to see the look in his eyes—a mix of adoration and playful annoyance. “You’re so sexy, it’s annoying,” he grumbled, his lips curving into a small pout, his gaze lingering on the necklace at Jimin’s waist before trailing back up to meet Jimin’s eyes.

Jimin’s blush deepened, his heart skipping a beat at Jeongguk’s words, and he couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across his face. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Jeongguk’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “You’re so silly,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

Jeongguk smiled against Jimin’s shoulder, his arms wrapping more securely around the omega’s waist, careful of the bruise but holding him close nonetheless. He breathed in deeply, the familiar scent of Jimin calming his racing heart. “I mean it,” he said, his voice softer now, more sincere. “You’re perfect.”

Jimin's heart swelled at the words, his eyes growing misty. He held Jeongguk tighter, his fingers continuing to stroke through the alpha's hair, and he whispered back, “And I’m all yours.”

Jeongguk’s chest tightened at the words, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He lifted his head, capturing Jimin’s lips in a gentle, lingering kiss, pouring every ounce of his love and devotion into it. The necklace, the bruise, everything else faded into the background—all that mattered was Jimin, here in his arms, and the promise that they would always be each other’s.

Since that day, Jimin had only grown closer to Jeongguk, and his feelings for the alpha could no longer be contained. It was as if a dam had broken, allowing all the love he’d kept inside to finally pour out, and Jimin found himself wanting to share every part of his heart with Jeongguk.

They slowly returned to their routine, but something had shifted between them. Their relationship had grown stronger, the bond between them deepening with each passing day. Jimin dared to say that their relationship had gotten so much better, especially with him learning to accept his feelings for the older man and finding ways to express them openly. He learned to hold Jeongguk’s hand without hesitation, to rest his head on the alpha’s shoulder during quiet moments, and to share his thoughts and fears without holding back. And Jeongguk, in turn, had stopped holding himself back as well. He showered Jimin with the love and care he had always wanted to give but had been too afraid to. He treated Jimin like he was precious, always attentive, always gentle.

At first, Jimin thought it was scary to receive this kind of love and support from Jeongguk. He wasn't used to being treated with such devotion, and it was almost overwhelming. The alpha's attention felt like a spotlight, and sometimes Jimin found himself wanting to shy away, afraid he wasn’t worthy of it. But slowly, day by day, he learned to embrace it. He learned that Jeongguk’s love wasn’t something to be feared but something to cherish. And with that realization, Jimin found himself falling even deeper, the love he felt for Jeongguk growing until it filled every corner of his heart.

There were small, everyday moments that made Jimin’s heart swell—like the way Jeongguk would always have a cup of tea ready for him in the morning, or the way he would pull Jimin into his lap when they were sitting on the couch while Jeongguk read a book. Jimin loved how Jeongguk’s eyes would light up whenever he entered a room, how he would drop whatever he was doing just to give Jimin his full attention, as if nothing else mattered.

One evening, they were in the kitchen, cooking dinner together. Jimin was chopping vegetables, his eyes focused on the task at hand, when he felt Jeongguk’s arms wrap around his waist from behind. The alpha’s chin rested on his shoulder, and Jimin could feel the warmth of his breath against his neck.

“Smells good,” Jeongguk murmured, his voice low and soft, sending a shiver down Jimin’s spine.

Jimin smiled, his hands stilling as he leaned back into Jeongguk’s embrace. “It’s just stir-fry,” he said, his voice teasing. “Nothing special.”

“It’s special because you’re making it,” Jeongguk replied, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Jimin’s neck. Jimin felt his cheeks flush, a warmth spreading through his chest at the simple words. He turned his head slightly, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes, and the look of pure adoration there made his heart skip a beat.

“You’re too much sometimes,” Jimin whispered, his lips curving into a shy smile.

Jeongguk just grinned, his arms tightening around Jimin for a moment before he released him, stepping back to give him space. “I can’t help it. You make me feel like that,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

Jimin’s heart swelled, and he turned back to his chopping, a smile tugging at his lips. Moments like these, simple and sweet, were what made everything worth it. The everyday intimacy they shared, the way they loved each other without reservation—Jimin had never imagined he could be this happy, but here he was, living it.

He had once thought that receiving love from Jeongguk would be frightening, that he might not know how to handle it, but now, standing in the kitchen with the alpha by his side, Jimin knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was more than happy—he was over the moon, and as far as he was concerned, this was exactly where he was meant to be.

The training hall was quiet as Jimin stood at the front, gesturing to the diagrams on the board behind him. His voice was clear and patient, each word carefully enunciated as he explained the intricate system of encoded signals their packs could use for communication during missions or even in their daily life. The group of alphas, omegas, betas seated before him listened intently, nodding along as they scribbled notes or asked the occasional question.

At the back of the room, Jeongguk leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed and a faint smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes never left Jimin, tracing every subtle gesture, every sparkle of excitement in the omega’s gaze as he delved into the technical details. There was pride in Jeongguk’s expression, knowing he had been the one to encourage Jimin to do this. Still, he kept his presence understated, silently supporting his mate.

As Jimin wrapped up the session, the attendees began to move out, offering polite bows and thanks for the lesson. Jimin returned their gestures with a warm smile, his cheeks slightly flushed from the praise. Jeongguk pushed off the wall, ready to approach Jimin, when a young alpha from the Jeon pack bounded over, his energy bright and eager.

“Head Omega Jimin! That was amazing!” the alpha exclaimed, eyes wide with admiration. “I was wondering if you could go over that part about the layered signals again? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Of course!” Jimin replied, his face lighting up. He turned back to the board, happily going into a detailed explanation. The younger alpha nodded along, hanging on every word, though the way he leaned a little too close and his grin lingered a little too long didn’t escape Jeongguk’s sharp eyes.

Jeongguk’s jaw tightened, his arms dropping to his sides as he observed the scene unfold. The young alpha’s enthusiasm seemed to border on flirtation, and Jimin, ever kind and oblivious, didn’t seem to notice. The knot of jealousy in Jeongguk’s chest grew tighter with each passing second.

The final straw came when the alpha laughed a little too loudly at one of Jimin’s lighthearted remarks, his hand briefly brushing Jimin’s arm. Jeongguk was moving before he could stop himself. He strode forward, his presence immediately commanding attention. Without a word, he slipped a firm arm around Jimin’s waist and pulled the omega against his chest. His dark gaze locked onto the young alpha’s, a silent but unmistakable warning flashing in his eyes.

The alpha’s confidence crumbled instantly under Jeongguk’s intense stare. “Oh, um… I think I’ve got it now. Thanks, Jimin-ssi!” he stammered, bowing awkwardly before scurrying out of the room.

Jimin turned to Jeongguk, his brows furrowed. “Was that really necessary?” he asked, crossing his arms. “You scared him away! He just wanted to learn.”

Jeongguk pouted, his lips jutting out adorably as he tightened his hold around Jimin. He nestled his face into the crook of Jimin’s neck, his warm breath tickling the omega’s skin. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he mumbled, his voice low and sulky. “I was jealous.”

Jimin blinked, his initial annoyance melting away into amusement. A laugh bubbled up, and he reached up to pat Jeongguk’s head affectionately. “Jeongguk-ah, you don’t have to be jealous,” he said softly, turning to press a gentle kiss to the alpha’s lips. “I have my eyes only for you.”

Jeongguk’s pout softened into a small smile, though he still held Jimin close. “I know,” he admitted, his tone quieter now. “But I hate when everyone’s eyes are on you. It drives me crazy.”

Jimin chuckled, brushing his fingers lightly through Jeongguk’s dark hair. “You know I suffer from that more than you do, right?” he teased. “I have to watch omegas drool over you and swoon every single day.”

Jeongguk pulled back just enough to meet Jimin’s gaze, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “That’s different,” he grumbled.

“How is that different?” Jimin countered, smirking.

“It just is,” Jeongguk insisted, pulling Jimin into another hug, his possessiveness softened by the affection in his touch. Jimin shook his head, his laughter echoing in the now empty room as he let Jeongguk hold him just a little longer.

Jeongguk might have been a lot older than Jimin in years, but at heart, he was still a kid in so many ways. He craved attention and affection constantly, seeking it out with a kind of endearing persistence that could make anyone's heart melt. Whether it was wrapping himself around Jimin during quiet moments or following him around with those wide, puppy eyes, Jeongguk always found a way to make it clear just how much he needed Jimin’s love.

And Jimin? He couldn’t have been happier to give it. The omega had an endless well of love to pour out, and Jeongguk was the perfect person to receive it. Jimin’s heart softened every time Jeongguk clung to him, whether it was with a shy request for cuddles or an unsaid plea for reassurance on tougher days. He lived for the way Jeongguk would nuzzle into his neck, murmuring soft, affectionate words, or for the moments when the alpha’s teasing smile would melt into a genuine expression of contentment as Jimin ran his fingers through his hair.

To Jimin, Jeongguk wasn’t just an alpha or a mate—he was the one person he wanted to shower with every ounce of warmth he could offer. Jeongguk’s neediness wasn’t a burden; it was a privilege. It was a reminder that even someone as strong and commanding as Jeongguk trusted him, relied on him, and loved him deeply. And in return, Jimin made it his mission to ensure Jeongguk never doubted just how much he was adored.

Every hug, every kiss, every moment spent in each other’s arms showed how strong the bond they shared—a love so profound that nothing could ever exhaust it. 

After all, Jimin believed, love wasn’t meant to be hoarded—it was meant to be given freely, especially to someone as precious as Jeongguk.

“Jimin-ah, are you still in the shower?” Jeongguk called out, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“Almost done,” Jimin answered, his voice echoing softly in the steam-filled room. Once he was done, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He could hear Jeongguk moving around outside, footsteps muffled by the carpeted hallway.

When Jimin finally emerged, his damp hair falling in soft waves over his forehead, he found Jeongguk lounging on the couch, a book in hand. Jeongguk looked up at him, his gaze following the droplets of water that trailed down Jimin's neck and disappeared beneath the fluffy towel.

“Come here, Jimin-ah,” Jeongguk said, patting his lap invitingly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Come sit with me for a bit.”

Jimin blinked, a little taken aback by the casual suggestion. He hesitated, looking anywhere but at Jeongguk's eyes, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. He had never been this close or intimate with anyone, and the idea of sitting on Jeongguk's lap felt far too intimate. But Jeongguk's eyes were insistent, his smile just a bit too tempting, and before he knew it, Jimin found himself shuffling over, his heart pounding in his chest.

Jeongguk's hands were warm as they wrapped around his waist, effortlessly lifting him and positioning him on his lap. Jimin let out a small gasp, startled by how easily Jeongguk handled him, the alpha’s strength evident even in this simple gesture. His towel-clad body settled against Jeongguk's thighs, and Jimin felt a rush of warmth that had little to do with his recent shower.

He stiffened, every muscle in his body going rigid. He could feel Jeongguk’s breath on his neck, hot and teasing, as the alpha's nose brushed lightly against his damp skin. Jeongguk inhaled deeply, and Jimin shivered at the sensation—at the way Jeongguk’s nose nuzzled against the sensitive spot just below his ear, as if savoring the scent of his freshly showered omega. The intimacy of it made Jimin’s pulse race, and he bit his lower lip, trying to control his breathing.

“Relax,” Jeongguk murmured, his voice low, the warmth of his breath fanning over Jimin’s ear. He chuckled softly, the vibration of his chest resonating against Jimin’s back. “No need to be so tense.”

Jimin swallowed hard, nodding, but he couldn't help it—he was so aware of everything. The way Jeongguk's broad chest pressed against his back, the strength in the arms that held him so securely, the way Jeongguk’s fingers splayed across his waist, holding him in place. And then there was the very obvious pressure of Jeongguk’s bulge pressing up against his back, making Jimin’s throat dry.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust himself, but the movement only seemed to make things worse. He could feel Jeongguk's arousal, hot and firm even through the fabric of his pants, and it was pressing right against him. His face flushed an even deeper shade of red, his breath hitching as he tried to move again, to find a position that didn’t make him so acutely aware of Jeongguk’s growing arousal.

“Ah, Jimin,” Jeongguk groaned, his voice roughened with something darker, something that made the hairs on the back of Jimin’s neck stand on end. His grip tightened on Jimin’s waist, stilling his squirming. “You keep moving like that, and you’re going to make it worse.”

Jimin froze, his body instantly going rigid, heart pounding as he struggled to focus on anything other than the scent of Jeongguk’s arousal and the slick beginning to drip, sliding down his thighs. Jeongguk, however, only let out a soft laugh, his lips brushing against Jimin's ear, sending tingles down Jimin's entire body.

“You’re so cute when you’re shy,” Jeongguk whispered, his voice dripping with amusement. He pressed his nose against the crook of Jimin’s neck again, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly, his breath hot against Jimin’s skin. “But you don’t need to be so stiff, omega. I’ve got you.”

Jimin closed his eyes, trying to control the heat that spread from his neck down to his chest, pooling low in his belly. He had never felt this kind of closeness before—this intimate, overwhelming feeling of being completely enveloped by someone else’s presence. And it was Jeongguk, of all people, who was making him feel this way. Jeongguk, who held him so easily, so tenderly, yet with a possessiveness that made Jimin’s pulse race even faster.

The truth was, Jimin had always found himself drawn to Jeongguk from the very first day they met. Taehyung was right—anyone with a pair of functioning eyes could tell that Jeongguk was incredibly attractive. Jimin was no exception; it was impossible to resist someone who radiated such raw charisma and undeniable sex appeal. But back then, Jimin had been stubbornly in denial, constantly reminding himself that there was no way he could be interested in Jeongguk—not in an older alpha who was practically twice his age. The thought of it felt wrong, irrational even, and Jimin convinced himself it was just admiration, or perhaps an admiration bordering on envy. But deep down, in the quiet corners of his heart, Jimin knew it was more than that. There was something about Jeongguk that captivated him—a warmth in his smile, an intensity in his gaze that made Jimin's heart beat just a bit faster every time he was near. It was attraction, plain and simple, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

And now, that very same alpha—Jeongguk, the one twice his age—was making Jimin's head spin with arousal, leaving him teetering on the edge of his own restraint. The attraction Jimin had fought so hard to suppress had grown into something far more overwhelming, something undeniable. It wasn’t just the way Jeongguk looked, though that was enough to turn heads anywhere. It was the way he carried himself, the confidence that seemed almost effortless, the warmth behind his teasing smiles, the way his voice dipped into a tone that made Jimin's pulse quicken. And Jimin was no longer denying it, no longer ashamed to admit just how deeply he desired him. It was exhilarating, almost liberating, to finally let go of all the excuses and what-ifs. He could want Jeongguk—he could allow himself that. And he was proud of the way he had grown past his fears, allowing himself to embrace the longing that made his heart beat faster and his skin tingle. Because, as it turned out, being this close to Jeongguk, knowing what he wanted and allowing himself to reach for it—it was better than anything Jimin could have imagined.

“I…” Jimin started to say, but his voice came out as barely a whisper. He swallowed again, trying to find the words, but all he could feel was the steady thud of Jeongguk’s heartbeat against his back, the way Jeongguk’s fingers brushed against his bare skin just above the towel, sending shivers down his spine.

“Shh,” Jeongguk hushed him, his lips brushing the shell of Jimin’s ear. “Just relax. Let me hold you.”

Jimin exhaled shakily, his body slowly starting to relax against Jeongguk’s, though his heart still pounded in his chest. He let himself sink into Jeongguk’s hold, feeling the warmth of the alpha’s body enveloping him. And as Jeongguk continued to nuzzle against his neck, pressing soft kisses against his skin, Jimin realized that he didn’t mind this closeness as much as he thought he would.

During that heated, head-spinning encounter on the couch, Jimin felt his heart race and his breath hitch, his body betraying the anticipation coursing through him. He thought to himself, “It’s finally happening,” as he surrendered to the sensations, feeling the weight of Jeongguk’s gaze and the warmth of his proximity. The air between them was thick with tension, charged with longing and uncertainty. The soft press of Jeongguk’s lips against his own, the heat radiating from his skin, and the slick leaking against his thighs all made Jimin’s thoughts blur into white noise.

But just when Jimin was sure Jeongguk was about to fully give in, the alpha suddenly pulled away. The sudden loss of his touch left Jimin feeling exposed, the cold air brushing against his flushed skin. Jeongguk’s expression twisted, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes. The veins on his neck and arms strained, as if it took every ounce of willpower he had to tear himself away from the moment, and from Jimin.

“You should—wear clothes, or you'll catch a cold,” Jeongguk finally said, his voice rough and almost strained as he avoided eye contact. His gaze flitted to the floor, then the ceiling, anywhere but at Jimin. “I'll dry your hair once you're done,” he added, his words hurried and awkward as he stepped back, heading straight to the bathroom.

Jimin watched him go, his chest still rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline. He could feel Jeongguk’s presence lingering, the warmth dissipating all too quickly. He let out an incredulous huff once Jeongguk was out of sight, lips curving into a pout as frustration bubbled inside him.

“I was ready to strip, you know,” he muttered to himself, letting his pettiness show in the privacy of the empty room. He ran a hand through his damp hair, feeling the coolness of it against his fingertips. His eyes narrowed in the direction of the bathroom door, the sound of running water muffled behind it.

Jimin wrapped his arms around himself, the tension slowly draining from his body as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. It wasn’t that Jeongguk didn’t want him—he could feel the alpha’s desire like a palpable thing, humming in the air between them. It was more than that; it was restraint, the kind that came from a place of care, maybe even fear. The kind that made Jeongguk’s jaw clench and his eyes cloud over, as if he was fighting against instincts he wasn’t ready to unleash.

Jimin sighed, shaking his head with a rueful smile. Jeongguk’s hesitation was both endearing and maddening, a reminder of how much the alpha held himself back, always careful, always considerate. Jimin knew it was out of respect that Jeongguk kept pulling away, never pushing beyond kisses and touches. He adored that about Jeongguk—how mindful he was of boundaries—but it was driving him crazy because he wanted more so badly. It left him feeling half undone, yearning for the connection that he craved but Jeongguk refused to take.

“You’re such a tease,” Jimin whispered to the empty room, a soft laugh escaping him despite the lingering heat in his cheeks. 

He had been so ready to give it all, to let Jeongguk do whatever he wanted, to surrender himself completely. Jimin had spent weeks preparing, his nerves filled with excitement and trepidation. He’d studied everything he could, quietly researching in the dead of night, even enduring Taehyung’s relentless teasing when he finally mustered the courage to ask for advice. Taehyung had laughed at him—loud, unrestrained, and borderline obnoxious—but had eventually offered a few useful tips, though not without adding a generous dose of smug remarks about Jimin’s eagerness.

Still, Jimin took it all in stride, every blush-inducing comment and every knowing smirk, because he wanted to be ready. 

Jimin had never done this before; he had never gone past kissing and touching, even in his past relationships. At twenty-two, he was still a virgin, and the thought of giving that part of himself to Jeongguk was thrilling, terrifying, and everything he wanted.

He wanted it to be perfect when it finally happened. He wanted to meet Jeongguk’s gaze with confidence, not uncertainty, to feel their connection deepen in a way that transcended words. But every time Jimin thought the moment had arrived—when Jeongguk’s hands were firm on his hips, when his breath was hot against Jimin’s neck, when the air between them felt thick enough to drown in—the alpha would hesitate.

And then, Jeongguk would pull away.

He would leave Jimin trembling, aching, his body alight with frustration and unfulfilled need, the only remnants of their near-encounter being Jimin’s rapid heartbeat and the embarrassing slick that pooled between his thighs. Jimin couldn’t understand it. He’d been so certain Jeongguk wanted this too, could feel it in the way his gaze darkened and his hands lingered too long. But then, why? Why did Jeongguk always stop? Why did he leave Jimin on the edge, craving something he couldn’t quite grasp?

The questions gnawed at him, filling the moments between their meetings with doubt and longing. He wanted to ask Jeongguk, but every time he tried, the words died on his tongue, his fear of rejection outweighing his frustration. 

He tried not to dwell on it too much because, in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t really define their relationship. Jimin was content with how things were between them right now. Their bond felt natural, like it had been growing and intertwining for longer than either could truly measure. He liked it that way—simple and warm, without unnecessary complications.

When Jeongguk came out of the bathroom, he looked noticeably calmer. However, a flush of red still stretched from his face down to his chest, evidence of either the hot shower or lingering embarrassment from earlier. Jimin couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly handsome Jeongguk looked at that moment. The alpha’s damp hair clung to his forehead, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he flashed a boyish smile at Jimin. Sometimes, the omega wondered how Jeongguk managed to look so good—so youthful and full of life—as if they were the same age. Jeongguk had a way of making Jimin feel safe, like he was the only person in the world that mattered.

The alpha sat on the couch and patted the spot beside him, beckoning Jimin closer with a soft, inviting smile. “Come here, let me dry your hair,” Jeongguk said, his voice filled with so much tenderness that it made Jimin giggle, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably from his chest.

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice. He eagerly moved to sit beside Jeongguk, handing over the towel without hesitation. The alpha gently took it, and soon, Jimin felt the soft material brushing through his damp locks. Jeongguk’s touch was so careful, so delicate, that it almost lulled Jimin into a state of drowsy relaxation. Every movement felt unhurried, as though Jeongguk was savoring this quiet moment between them.

Jimin blinked, trying to shake off the wave of sleepiness that was creeping in. This wasn’t the time to nod off—not when he had something on his mind. Twisting his body slightly so he could see Jeongguk better, he tilted his head and hesitated for a moment.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jimin asked softly, his voice carrying both curiosity and nervousness.

Jeongguk’s response was swift and endearing. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Jimin’s lips, a fleeting but sweet gesture that left the omega’s cheeks flushing pink. “Of course, you can,” Jeongguk murmured, his tone warm and reassuring. “Ask me anything.”

Jimin bit his bottom lip, still a little hesitant. “Anything? I’ve been really curious about something, but I don’t know if it’s okay to ask. What if it’s too personal?”

Jeongguk chuckled softly, the sound like a low rumble in his chest. He paused his movements, one hand still holding the towel while the other rested lightly on Jimin’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said, his gaze locking with Jimin’s. “Whatever it is, just ask. Isn’t it better to talk about things and get to know each other even more?”

Jimin couldn’t help but smile at the alpha’s unwavering patience and kindness. His grin was so wide it made his eyes turn into tiny crescents, and he leaned forward to nuzzle his cheek against Jeongguk’s, drawing out a small laugh from the alpha. “You’re right,” Jimin said as he returned to his original position, allowing Jeongguk to continue drying his hair.

The moment felt so domestic, so intimate, that it filled Jimin with a sense of happiness that made his chest swell. Whatever he wanted to ask, he knew Jeongguk would answer him honestly, without judgment. That was the kind of person Jeongguk was—kind, thoughtful, and endlessly patient.

“How come you’ve never had a mate before? I mean, you’re so handsome, so attractive, and you’re incredibly skilled in so many things. You’re a leader, after all,” Jimin said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I can’t imagine anyone not liking you—actually, everyone in this pack seems to have a huge crush on you,” he continued, pausing to pout and huff at the thought. The expression made the alpha smile softly, an amused chuckle rumbling through his chest. “You get what I mean?” Jimin finished, his curiosity genuine as he gazed at Jeongguk, searching for answers.

Jeongguk nodded. “I do, I get what you mean,” he replied, his hands busy with the towel, gently drying Jimin’s damp locks. He worked with care, almost as if he were handling something precious. “I’ve been in relationships before, of course, but none of them really worked out. I guess I just wasn’t compatible with them,” he continued, his voice even and thoughtful. “Our values didn’t align, or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. So, instead of forcing things, I let it be. I decided to focus all my energy on leading the pack. I figured that if I were meant to find someone, they’d come to me eventually.”

The alpha paused, a small, almost wistful smile touching his lips. “But time passes so quickly, you know? Before I even realized it, I was already forty years old, and still unmated.” His voice remained calm, devoid of any regret or sadness. There was acceptance there—as if he was at peace with how his life had unfolded so far. “I suppose you’ve heard some of the rumors about why I’m still unmated. None of them were true, though. Honestly, I wish they were, just to make my story a little more interesting. But the truth is, I’m just a boring unmated Head Alpha,” he finished, a gentle laugh escaping him.

Jimin shifted in his seat, turning so he could look directly at Jeongguk. He reached out, grabbing the alpha’s hands, squeezing them lightly. The omega’s eyes were sincere, full of appreciation. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Jimin said softly. “I know you didn’t have to share all of that, but I’m grateful you did.” He hesitated for a moment, then looked down. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but a twinge of jealousy had flared at the thought of Jeongguk being with anyone else. He wished, somewhere deep inside, that he could have been Jeongguk’s first—first love, first everything. It was foolish, and he knew it, so he pushed the thought away, reminding himself that what mattered was the present. He didn’t want Jeongguk to ever regret choosing someone younger, someone like him.

Jeongguk noticed the way Jimin’s fingers tightened around his. He gently pushed a stray lock of Jimin’s hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “I’d love to share every part of me with you,” he murmured, his gaze soft as it held Jimin’s.

Jimin leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment. It felt so comforting, so right. “But wasn’t it lonely?” he asked quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Living alone for so long?”

Jeongguk’s smile was faint, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It definitely was,” he admitted. “There was a time I was so sure I was going to die alone. I thought that maybe this was my fate—to be a leader, to guide others, but never to have someone for myself. But now you’re here,” he said, his voice softening as his thumb brushed over Jimin’s knuckles. “And that’s all I need. You’ve changed everything for me.”

Jimin’s heart ached at the confession, a pang of sadness for the lonely years Jeongguk must have endured, believing he’d end up alone. He couldn’t stand the thought of that—of Jeongguk being alone, without someone to cherish him. Without thinking, he moved closer, wrapping his arms around Jeongguk’s neck, pulling him into a hug. He nuzzled his cheek against the alpha’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent.

“I’m glad I’m here now,” Jimin whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “And I’m even happier that you’re not alone anymore. Now you’re no longer that handsome but old, grumpy, and lonely alpha.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows shot up in mock offense, and without warning, he poked Jimin’s side, hitting his most ticklish spot. Jimin let out a surprised yelp, his body jerking as he nearly fell off the couch. The alpha was quick to catch him, his arm wrapping securely around Jimin’s waist, pulling him back against his chest.

“How dare you call me old and grumpy?” Jeongguk said, his tone full of playful indignation. But the warmth in his eyes gave him away, his laughter spilling over as Jimin giggled, struggling half-heartedly in his grasp.

“I’m just being honest,” Jimin teased, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. “You’re a little bit grumpy sometimes… but I still love you for it.”

Jeongguk’s playful expression softened at that, his heart swelling at the words. He held Jimin a little tighter, resting his chin atop the omega’s head. “And I love you,” he murmured, his voice tender, full of promise. “For all that you are—for being here with me, for making me feel alive again. For making me believe that maybe I was never meant to be alone after all.”

Jimin closed his eyes, letting himself melt into the warmth of Jeongguk’s embrace. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right—like they were exactly where they were meant to be, together. And for both of them, that was more than enough.

Time had a way of slipping through Jimin’s fingers without him even noticing. At 23 years old, Jimin felt as though life had transformed in the blink of an eye. While not much had changed outwardly, his heart felt lighter, his days brighter, and he was undeniably happier. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was fulfilling, and Jimin found himself genuinely grateful for everything he had.

It was hard to believe that it had been a little over a year since he and Jeongguk had officially mated. Jimin had just turned 22 back then, nervous and terrified about starting this new chapter with the alpha who had quickly become his everything. He often marveled at how time seemed to move faster now, as if his days were a reel of cherished memories speeding by.

Though they’d been together for more than a year, their bond had yet to be sealed. Their relationship remained tender, built on moments of stolen kisses and gentle touches rather than anything more intimate. At first, Jimin had worried about this, wondering if there was something wrong or if they were somehow falling short of what a bonded pair should be. But time—and Jeongguk’s unwavering patience—taught him the value of waiting.

Jimin had grown to understand that their relationship didn’t need to follow a strict timeline or societal expectations. Love wasn’t a race, and sealing their bond would happen when they were both ready. For now, he relished the quiet confidence he felt in their connection, the way Jeongguk always made him feel safe, cherished, and deeply loved.

In the past, Jimin might have been more impatient, desperate to push things along. But with Jeongguk, he’d learned to trust the process, to embrace the natural flow of their journey. He had come to believe that the things meant to happen would unfold in their own time, exactly when they were supposed to.

After finishing his duties for the day, Jimin found solace in spending time with the pack’s pups. They brought a sense of lightness to his life, their innocent laughter and endless energy a contrast to the seriousness of his responsibilities. On his way home, he often caught sight of them drawing on scraps of paper or the sand, their little hands scribbling wild, imaginative stories. Sometimes, they were chasing each other in an intense game of tag, their giggles filling the air.

One particular afternoon, as Jimin was passing by, a small pup—no older than five—accidentally bumped into him while darting away from her “it.” She stumbled back, wide-eyed with shock, and blurted out an apology. “I’m so sorry, Head Omega!” Her voice was squeaky and trembling, her little face scrunched up in guilt.

Jimin crouched down, his smile warm and reassuring. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, brushing imaginary dust off her shoulder. “Are you alright? No bumps or bruises?”

The pup shook her head vigorously, her pigtails bouncing. “I’m fine!” she chirped, her guilt quickly replaced by a beaming smile that made Jimin’s heart melt.

From that moment, Jimin couldn’t resist the charm of the pups. He approached the group where they were gathered and cleared his throat. “Hey, do you mind if I join you? I’d love to play with you guys.”

The pups exchanged mischievous glances, their eyes gleaming with playful schemes. One of the older pups grinned, crossing his arms in mock authority. “Okay, you can play with us, Head Omega,” he declared, “but there’s a condition!”

Jimin raised an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“You have to be ‘it’! Always!” the pup said with a cheeky grin, his declaration followed by a chorus of giggles from the others.

“Deal!” Jimin agreed without hesitation, his enthusiasm catching the pups off guard. They cheered and immediately scattered, shouting, “You can’t catch me!”

From then on, it became Jimin’s routine. After wrapping up his duties, he would head straight to the clearing where the pups played, ready to dive into their world of make-believe and endless games of tag. He would chase after them tirelessly, their delighted shrieks music to his ears.

One night, as Jimin finally returned home, Jeongguk was lounging in the living room, a curious look on his face. “You’re coming home later than usual these days,” the alpha remarked, setting down the book he’d been reading. “What have you been up to, huh?”

Jimin laughed sheepishly as he flopped down onto the couch. “I’ve been playing with the pups,” he admitted, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Jeongguk raised a brow, his lips curling into a teasing grin. “Playing with the pups? You mean our Head Omega Jimin is getting bossed around by toddlers?”

“Hey!” Jimin protested, pouting. “They’re adorable! And they’re not bossing me around... much.”

Jeongguk laughed heartily, his deep voice filling the room. “You’re too soft for your own good. But it’s cute,” he added, ruffling Jimin’s hair affectionately. “Just be careful. Those little rascals will have you wrapped around their tiny fingers in no time.”

“They already do,” Jimin muttered under his breath, smiling to himself.

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the pack’s playground. Jimin, as usual, was surrounded by the pack’s pups, their cheerful laughter filling the air. They had roped him into another game of tag, and despite the omega’s protests that he wasn’t as fast as them, the pups showed no mercy.

“Catch me!” one of the older pups called, darting away with a squeal.

“Not so fast!” Jimin laughed, chasing after her, his steps light as he dodged around the playground’s scattered toys and makeshift obstacles.

As he turned to follow the next pup, his foot landed on an uneven patch of ground hidden beneath the soft grass. His ankle twisted sharply, and a jolt of pain shot up his leg. Jimin let out a sharp gasp, stumbling and collapsing onto the ground.

The pups froze in their tracks, their laughter dying down instantly. “Head Omega?” one of them called out hesitantly, her voice trembling.

Jimin gritted his teeth, his face scrunched up in pain as he tried to move his foot, only to wince and let out a soft groan. “I—I’m okay, kids,” he said, his voice strained. “Don’t worry…”

But the pups weren’t convinced. One of the younger boys, tears welling in his eyes, whimpered, “You’re hurt! You can’t even stand!”

Another pup, a little older and bolder, stepped forward. “We need to get help!” she declared, her small fists clenched in determination. “The council is close by! Let’s go!”

Before Jimin could stop them, the group of pups had taken off toward the council hall. They sprinted through the clearing, their tiny legs carrying them as fast as they could, their panicked voices echoing in unison. “Help! Help! Head Omega Jimin is hurt!”

Inside the council hall, Head Alpha Jeongguk was in the middle of a strategy meeting, his deep voice commanding attention as he discussed border patrol schedules with the other wolves. The sudden commotion outside made the room fall silent. Moments later, the door burst open, and a group of frantic pups stumbled in.

“Head Alpha Jeongguk!” one of them cried, out of breath and red-faced. “Head Omega Jimin—he’s hurt! He fell, and he can’t stand up!”

Jeongguk’s eyes widened, his entire body going rigid. “Jimin?” he said sharply, already rising from his seat. “Where is he?”

“The playground!” the pups exclaimed, their voices overlapping. “He’s in so much pain—please, hurry!”

Without a second thought, Jeongguk left the room, his long strides carrying him quickly toward the playground. The alphas in the meeting exchanged glances, but none dared to question his abrupt departure.

When Jeongguk arrived at the playground, his heart clenched at the sight before him. Jimin was sitting on the ground, his face pale and twisted in pain, one hand clutching his ankle. The pups were huddled around him, their little faces full of worry.

“Jimin,” Jeongguk called, his deep voice softer now as he approached.

Jimin looked up, relief washing over his features as he saw the alpha. “Jeongguk,” he breathed, his voice shaky. “It’s not too bad, I think. I just—twisted my ankle.”

Jeongguk knelt beside him, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “Not too bad? You’re in so much pain that you’ve gone pale,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. His hands moved carefully as he examined Jimin’s ankle, which was already starting to swell.

Jimin winced as Jeongguk’s fingers brushed against the tender area. “Okay, maybe it’s a little worse than I thought,” he admitted with a weak laugh.

Jeongguk sighed, shaking his head. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. Why didn’t you stop playing when you got tired?”

“They’re just kids,” Jimin murmured, glancing at the pups who were now watching the scene anxiously. “I didn’t want to ruin their fun.”

Jeongguk glanced at the pups and softened, his authoritative demeanor giving way to reassurance. “You did your best, but you can’t take care of anyone if you don’t take care of yourself, Jimin.” He turned to the pups, his voice kind but firm. “You all did the right thing by coming to get me. Thank you.”

The pups nodded, their wide eyes still filled with concern. “Is Head Omega Jimin going to be okay?” one of them asked.

Jeongguk smiled gently. “He’ll be fine, but he needs to rest. Can you help me make sure he listens?”

They nodded enthusiastically, their fear giving way to determination.

“Alright, Jimin,” Jeongguk said, turning back to him. “Let’s get you home.”

“I can walk,” Jimin started, but Jeongguk shot him a look that silenced his protest.

“No, you can’t,” Jeongguk said firmly, slipping his arms under Jimin and lifting him effortlessly. “You’re letting me take care of you for once.”

Jimin’s cheeks flushed, and he buried his face against Jeongguk’s chest, muttering, “You’re so dramatic…”

The pups trailed behind them as Jeongguk carried Jimin back to their cabin, their giggles and reassurances filling the air. “Don’t worry, Head Omega! We’ll play tag again when you’re better!”

Jeongguk chuckled, glancing down at the omega in his arms. “See? They’ll wait for you. Now, let’s focus on healing your ankles.”

Once they were inside cabin, Jeongguk carried Jimin straight to the kitchen and gently set him down on the sturdy wooden table. The familiar creak of the table under his weight made a flood of memories wash over Jimin. He remembered another time when he had sat on this very table, battered and bruised after a fight with another omega. That was the day Jeongguk had tended to him so carefully, the alpha’s touch so tender it had left Jimin’s heart racing. It was also the day of their first kiss, a moment seared into his memory. Just thinking about it made Jimin’s stomach flutter, a warmth spreading through his chest. Even after more than a year together, Jeongguk still had that effect on him—making his heart race like it was the first time.

Jeongguk crouched down, his attention immediately focused on Jimin’s swollen ankle. The alpha’s strong hands were surprisingly gentle as he assessed the injury. Jimin winced and hissed in pain whenever Jeongguk tried to move his foot, making the alpha frown.

“Why weren’t you more careful?” Jeongguk asked, his voice laced with frustration, though his eyes softened as he saw the guilt written all over Jimin’s face. He sighed, his hand briefly brushing over Jimin’s knee. “I don’t like it when you’re hurt.”

Jimin glanced away, guilt settling heavily in his chest. “It’s okay,” he muttered. “It’s just a sprain. It’ll heal in a week.”

Jeongguk’s brow furrowed, his protective instincts kicking in. “You’re not going to just shrug this off, Jimin. You need to rest, and I mean real rest. No running around, no chores, no playing tag with the pups.”

Jimin groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “A whole week? I’ll die of boredom, Jeongguk!” He kicked his feet slightly in the air for emphasis but immediately regretted it, wincing in pain.

Jeongguk caught his foot gently, his strong hands stilling the movement. “Exactly my point. You need to stay still,” he said, his tone firm but full of concern. His gaze locked with Jimin’s, his voice softening. “If that’s what it takes for you to heal, then you’re staying in this cabin for a week. End of discussion.”

Jimin crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. “For a week? I’ll go crazy. I can’t just sit here doing nothing!”

Jeongguk smirked, already prepared for the omega’s protests. “Then I’ll stay here with you for a week.”

The room went quiet for a moment as Jimin blinked at him, the alpha’s words sinking in. His initial frustration melted away, replaced by a warmth that made his chest feel tight. “But what about your duties?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Jeongguk shrugged as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “There’s nothing urgent this week. I can clear my schedule or delegate to the council. It’s nothing they can’t handle without me.”

Jimin bit his lower lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at his lips, but it was a losing battle. His heart swelled at the thought of Jeongguk prioritizing him, staying by his side just to make sure he was okay.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jimin said softly, though his voice lacked conviction. He wasn’t sure he could turn down the idea of spending an entire week with Jeongguk.

Jeongguk raised a brow, his expression amused. “Oh, I absolutely do. You’d find some way to sneak out of this cabin if I didn’t.”

Jimin flushed, muttering, “I wouldn’t…”

“Yes, you would,” Jeongguk teased, brushing his fingers against Jimin’s cheek. His voice softened further, his tone turning serious. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Jimin. Let me take care of you.”

Jimin’s cheeks burned, and he ducked his head to hide the wide grin spreading across his face. “Fine,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Jeongguk chuckled, pleased with Jimin’s rare moment of compliance. “Good. Now, let’s get you some ice for that ankle and set you up somewhere more comfortable. Maybe I’ll even let you boss me around for a change.”

Jimin laughed, his earlier frustration fading entirely. “Don’t push your luck, Alpha,” he said playfully, leaning into Jeongguk.

That night, the cabin was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves outside and the sound of Jeongguk’s breathing behind Jimin. They lay in bed as they always did, Jeongguk spooning him protectively. The alpha’s strong arm was draped over Jimin’s waist, and his nose was buried in the crook of Jimin’s neck, breathing in his scent. It was comforting, familiar—but tonight, something felt different.

Jimin lay there, tense, his heart pounding in his chest. He bit his lip, mortified as he felt the unmistakable wetness of his slick begin to seep out. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought, heat rushing to his face. Jeongguk’s closeness wasn’t new; they had slept like this countless times. But tonight, his body was betraying him in the most humiliating way possible.

Was I really so touch-starved that this simple act was enough to turn me into a mess? Jimin’s thoughts spiraled as he tried to will his body to calm down. He squeezed his eyes shut, filling his mind with sad or mundane thoughts to distract himself. The pups were so worried earlier… I should bake them something as a thank you… Maybe cookies or—

But all his efforts were shattered when Jeongguk stirred behind him. The alpha shifted closer, his warm body pressing against Jimin’s back, and then—oh no—Jeongguk’s hips moved slightly, his hardened bulge brushing against Jimin’s ass.

Jimin froze, his breath hitching audibly. His entire body tensed as if struck by lightning, and he wanted to sink into the bed and disappear. A wave of heat rolled through him, pooling low in his stomach, and the wetness between his thighs only worsened. He was sure Jeongguk could smell him and that was mortifying to think about.

Jeongguk’s deep, sleepy voice broke the silence. “Jimin? You okay?” His words were muffled, his face still nuzzled against Jimin’s neck. The alpha sounded half-awake, his tone thick and husky, and it sent an involuntary shiver down Jimin’s spine.

“I-I’m fine!” Jimin squeaked, his voice higher-pitched than usual. He cursed himself internally for sounding so suspicious.

Jeongguk, now slightly more alert, propped himself up on one elbow. “Are you sure? You’re all tense,” he murmured, his hand sliding gently over Jimin’s waist. His touch was soothing, but to Jimin, it felt like sparks igniting across his skin.

“I’m just—uh, thinking about something,” Jimin stammered, his face burning hotter than the sun. He tried to shuffle away, but Jeongguk’s arm tightened around him, pulling him closer.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Jeongguk teased, his lips brushing lightly against Jimin’s ear. “What’s really going on?”

Jimin wanted to scream. Why does he have to sound like that? Why does he have to be so… He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s nothing, Jeongguk. Go back to sleep.”

But Jeongguk wasn’t letting it go. The alpha’s keen instincts were on high alert now, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Jimin’s temple. “You’re warm,” he noted softly. “Are you sure you’re not feeling unwell?”

Jimin groaned internally. He could feel the wet slick pooling embarrassingly, and he knew there was no hiding it. He squeezed his thighs together, hoping to keep it from being too obvious. “I’m fine, really,” he insisted, though his voice cracked slightly.

Jeongguk’s hand slid lower, resting on Jimin’s hip as he leaned in closer. “Jimin,” he said quietly, his voice dipping into that commanding tone that sent a shiver down the omega’s spine. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

That was it. Jimin couldn’t take it anymore. He blurted out, “I’m embarrassed, okay? Just… just go back to sleep.”

Jeongguk paused, clearly confused. “Embarrassed about what?” His tone was gentle but persistent, and Jimin hated how patient and understanding he sounded.

Jimin buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled. “It’s nothing! I’m just—my body’s being stupid, that’s all. Don’t make me say it.”

It took Jeongguk a moment, but then understanding dawned on him. He shifted slightly, his hand moving to rub soothing circles on Jimin’s hip. “Oh,” he said softly, his tone laced with affection. “Jimin…”

“Don’t say it!” Jimin groaned, mortified beyond belief.

Jeongguk chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’re adorable, you know that?” He pressed a kiss to the back of Jimin’s neck, his lips lingering. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jimin muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. “You’re not the one leaking slick like an idiot.”

“Do you want me to help?” Jeongguk’s voice dipped low, his scent growing more intoxicating, heavy in the air.

Jimin swallowed hard. He wanted to say yes, wanted Jeongguk’s touch more than anything, but embarrassment rooted him in place. “No, just… go back to sleep, please,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongguk’s laugh was deeper this time, but he quickly schooled his expression when Jimin shot him a glare over his shoulder. “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice full of fondness. “I won’t tease you. But seriously, Jimin, it’s fine. It just means your body knows you’re safe with me. That’s a good thing.”

Jimin’s heart clenched at Jeongguk’s words, his embarrassment slowly giving way to a sense of warmth and reassurance. The alpha’s arms wrapped around him tighter, and he nuzzled his nose against Jimin’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Jeongguk murmured, his voice soft and sincere. “Every part of you.”

Jimin’s cheeks burned, but he couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. “You’re so sappy,” he mumbled, but his tone was affectionate.

“Only for you,” Jeongguk said, pulling him even closer. “Now, go to sleep, baby. You’re safe with me.”

For the first time that night, Jimin relaxed, letting himself sink into the alpha’s embrace. And despite the lingering heat in his body, he felt content, knowing Jeongguk loved and accepted him, no matter what.

The week they spent cooped up in the cabin brought Jimin closer to Jeongguk in ways he hadn’t thought possible, deepening the love he already felt—if that was even possible. Jeongguk had always been caring, loving, kind, and attentive, but every time Jimin witnessed these qualities, it felt like the first time all over again. The way Jeongguk’s eyes softened whenever he spoke, the warmth in his smile, the strength in his presence—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

Being confined together only magnified everything. Jimin’s sprained ankle meant he relied on Jeongguk more than usual, and Jeongguk had taken on the role of caretaker so seamlessly it was as if he was born for it.

“Don’t move, Jiminie,” Jeongguk murmured one morning, crouching in front of the couch where Jimin sat propped up with pillows. His hands were gentle as he wrapped Jimin’s swollen ankle in a fresh bandage, his fingers brushing softly against Jimin’s skin. Jimin’s breath hitched every time their skin made contact, the touch sparking tiny shocks that traveled straight to his core.

Later that day, Jeongguk cooked for them, refusing to let Jimin lift a finger. “You need to rest,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. Jimin watched him from the table, marveling at how effortlessly Jeongguk moved around the small kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, his expression focused as he stirred soup on the stove. When he brought over a bowl of steaming broth and carefully set it in front of Jimin, the gesture felt so intimate it nearly made Jimin tear up.

“Eat up,” Jeongguk said softly, sitting beside him and blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it. He lifted it to Jimin’s lips without hesitation. “It’s still hot. Careful.”

Jimin flushed but opened his mouth obediently. The soup was delicious, but the way Jeongguk watched him, his gaze full of affection, made it impossible to focus on anything else.

Despite the comfort of Jeongguk’s care, the time they spent together also made Jimin hyper-aware of his own body and the emotions he’d been trying to suppress. Every accidental brush of Jeongguk’s body against his sent shivers down his spine. Every lingering glance, every moment when their hands accidentally touched, left Jimin’s heart racing and his stomach fluttering uncontrollably. His omega was practically screaming at him to act, to close the distance between them, to press himself against Jeongguk and feel the heat of his body.

But the thought of acting on those feelings terrified him. Jimin was young, inexperienced, and unsure. Compared to Jeongguk, who seemed so confident and composed, Jimin felt clumsy and naive. What if he made a fool of himself? What if Jeongguk didn’t feel the same way? The fear of rejection or embarrassment kept him frozen, even as the desire to be closer to Jeongguk burned hotter with every passing moment.

Jimin was perched on the couch, his leg stretched out while Jeongguk knelt on the floor in front of him, carefully unwrapping the bandage from his ankle. The omega’s injury had healed faster than either of them expected, likely because Jeongguk had insisted on him resting completely. The alpha had been consistent in his care, making sure Jimin never overexerted himself, bringing him meals, propping his leg with pillows, and even giving gentle massages to ease the soreness around the injury.

Now, Jeongguk’s brow was furrowed in concentration as his hands worked meticulously, each movement deliberate and slow. His fingers brushed Jimin’s skin lightly, sending tiny jolts of electricity through him. Jimin tried to focus on the feeling of relief in his ankle, on the way Jeongguk carefully checked for any lingering swelling or discomfort, but his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere.

Jimin’s eyes wandered to Jeongguk’s face, tracing every detail. The sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, and—most distracting of all—his lips. They were slightly parted as Jeongguk worked, pink and inviting. The upper lip was thin but shapely, while the lower one was fuller, plush and soft-looking. Jimin’s mind betrayed him, he wanted to press his own lips against them, to feel their warmth and taste their sweetness.

His gaze drifted lower, and his breath caught at the sight of Jeongguk’s chest, partly visible through his loose shirt that hung open as he bent forward. The strong lines of muscle and the hint of smooth skin were enough to make Jimin’s cheeks burn. The heat in his stomach spread lower, pooling uncomfortably as Jeongguk shifted closer, his hands firm yet gentle as he rotated Jimin’s ankle slightly to test its movement.

“Does this hurt?” Jeongguk asked, his voice low and filled with concern, breaking through Jimin’s spiraling thoughts.

Jeongguk was beautiful—achingly so—and Jimin couldn’t take it any longer. The ache in his chest had grown unbearable, spreading like wildfire with every unsaid word, every lingering glance that stretched between them. He no longer cared about pride or the risk of embarrassment. All that mattered was that he tried—no, that he acted before the weight of his feelings crushed him entirely.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin blurted out, his voice trembling but insistent. His breath came faster than normal, as though he’d been running.

Jeongguk blinked, startled by the sharpness in the omega’s voice. His dark eyes locked onto Jimin’s, searching. “Yes?” he asked, his tone cautious but soft.

Jimin hesitated for only a moment before the words spilled out, each one laced with a vulnerability he couldn’t quite conceal. “Do you... not find me attractive?” His voice wavered, but he pressed on, willing himself to sound steadier than he felt. There was no reason to feel insecure—he knew this rationally. Jeongguk had never once made him feel unwanted, and yet… yet he couldn’t shake the gnawing doubt that had taken root in the quiet spaces between them. Perhaps it was his own youth, his lingering insecurities rearing their head, but he needed to hear the truth.

Jeongguk’s brows knitted together, his confusion palpable. “What?” he stammered, leaning slightly closer as though he hadn’t heard him correctly. “Jimin, of course I find you attractive. What—why would you even think otherwise?” His voice was full of genuine bewilderment, as if the very idea of Jimin doubting his desirability was unthinkable.

“Then why won’t you have me?” Jimin asked, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. His hands clenched into fists in his lap as he felt a flush of shame rise in his chest. “Why won’t you bite me and seal the bond? Why won’t you—” He faltered, biting his lower lip before forcing himself to continue, voice barely above a whisper. “Why won’t you have sex with me?”

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Jeongguk straightened slightly, his expression softening even as his throat worked, swallowing down what must have been a rush of emotions. He took a step closer, then knelt on the floor in front of Jimin, his eyes never leaving the omega’s face. Carefully, as though handling something delicate, he reached out to cup Jimin’s face in his hands. His palms were warm, and Jimin hated how much he leaned into the touch.

“Jimin,” Jeongguk began, his voice low but resolute, “just because I haven’t done those things doesn’t mean I don’t want to. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to hold back. How crazy it drives me not to touch you when it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. But I was waiting. Waiting for you to tell me that you were ready.”

Jimin’s breath hitched at the confession, emotions tightening his chest—relief, frustration, longing. He understood Jeongguk’s words, understood the care and respect behind them, but it didn’t make the ache any less potent. “I thought you would know,” he murmured, his voice trembling despite himself. “I thought you could smell it—smell me.” His face heated as he spoke, but he couldn’t stop now. “My slick… it leaks out of me whenever we’re close, Jeongguk. I know you can smell it. My scent changes when I’m near you. You know that, don’t you?”

Jeongguk’s jaw tightened, and his grip on Jimin’s face became firmer, though still gentle. “You’re right,” he admitted after a pause, his voice rougher now. “I can smell it. I notice it every time. But—” He exhaled sharply, as though wrestling with himself. “But that’s not enough for me, Jimin. I need to hear it. I need you to say it, to tell me what you want. I don’t want to misread or assume. I need your words.”

Jimin’s fingers trembled as they reached out to grip the hem of Jeongguk’s shirt. His heart thundered in his chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. It was harder to speak the words aloud than he had imagined, the vulnerability of it all threatening to choke him. But when he looked into Jeongguk’s eyes—dark, wide, and glistening with an emotion that mirrored his own—he found the courage he needed.

“Alpha,” Jimin whispered, his voice cracking but firm. “Please fuck me.” His hands tightened their grip on Jeongguk’s shirt, his knuckles white with the effort. “Touch me. Bite me. Mate me and bond me—please, alpha. I want you. I need you.”

Jeongguk’s eyes darkened further, his pupils dilating as the words seemed to unlock something primal within him. His scent grew stronger, richer, enveloping Jimin like a warm embrace. There was a flicker of hesitation, a moment where Jeongguk fought to keep his instincts in check, but Jimin saw the exact instant that restraint crumbled.

With a low growl, Jeongguk surged forward, his lips brushing against Jimin’s cheek before trailing down to his jawline, his warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin. “Are you sure?” he murmured. “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop. Tell me one more time, Jimin. Tell me you want this.”

Jimin’s breathing was ragged now, his body trembling with anticipation and need. “I want this. I want you, Jeongguk. Please—don’t hold back anymore.”

And just like that, Jeongguk’s resolve shattered.

Jeongguk closed the distance between them, and their lips crashed in desperation. The kiss was far from tender; it was raw, demanding, and brimming with an unrestrained hunger that spoke of all the times the alpha had been forced to hold himself back. Jeongguk’s hands found Jimin’s waist, gripping it with a possessive intensity before effortlessly hauling him into his lap. The sudden movement made Jimin yelp in surprise, the sound cutting through the air, but instead of fear, it only ignited heat deep in his stomach. His body responded instinctively, slick beginning to pool as his instincts roared in submission to the alpha’s dominance.

Jeongguk’s hand snaked up to the back of Jimin’s neck, his fingers threading through the soft strands of hair there as he tilted Jimin’s head to deepen the kiss. He slid his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, teasing, tasting, and claiming. The omega whimpered, the sound soft and breathless, and pressed himself closer, his small hands clutching at Jeongguk’s broad shoulders for stability. Jimin’s mind was spinning, caught somewhere between the unfamiliar sensations coursing through him and the undeniable instinct to give in, to let himself be taken.

He’d never done anything like this before—innocent kisses were the furthest he’d gone—but now, every nerve in his body felt alive, singing with a need he hadn’t fully understood until now. His lips parted wider, letting Jeongguk’s tongue delve deeper, tasting him in ways that sent shivers down his spine. Jimin clumsily tried to follow the alpha’s lead, his own tongue shyly brushing against Jeongguk’s before pulling back, only for the alpha to growl low in his chest and chase after him. The sound sent a thrill down Jimin’s spine, his thighs squeezing around Jeongguk’s hips on instinct.

The heat between them grew unbearable, the air thick with the mingling scent of pine and citrus. Jeongguk’s other hand moved, sliding up under Jimin’s shirt to rest on the small of his back, his palm pressing firmly against the curve there. The possessiveness of the touch made Jimin shiver, his body leaning fully into the alpha as though seeking more of that grounding force. Jeongguk's lips left Jimin's just long enough to trail a path along his jaw, down to his neck where he nipped lightly at the sensitive skin, earning another soft whimper.

“You’re so sensitive,” Jeongguk murmured against Jimin’s skin, his voice low and rough, sending a new wave of heat through Jimin’s already trembling frame. The omega could only nod weakly, his body pliant and eager as Jeongguk’s hands and mouth seemed to map out every inch of him.

It was overwhelming and intoxicating all at once, and yet, Jimin couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Instead, he let the alpha take the lead, trusting him to guide them through this intoxicating new territory.

Jeongguk’s lips moved lower, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along Jimin’s throat, each one sending sparks through his body. When Jeongguk’s teeth grazed the sensitive spot where neck met the shoulder, Jimin gasped, his hands flying to clutch at the alpha’s hair. The sound was pure and unfiltered, a raw need that seemed to fuel Jeongguk further.

“Do you even know what you're doing to me?” Jeongguk growled against his skin, his breath hot and ragged as his grip on Jimin’s waist tightened, making the omega’s stomach flip.

“I—I don’t,” Jimin stammered, his voice breathy and shaky, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Jeongguk could hear it. “I just... I want—” He cut himself off with a moan as Jeongguk’s hands slid lower, gripping his thighs with enough force to leave marks. The alpha shifted him, adjusting their position so that Jimin was pressed flush against him, the hard lines of Jeongguk’s body impossible to ignore.

“You want?” Jeongguk prompted, his dark eyes locking onto Jimin’s, intense and searching. His lips were swollen from the kiss, his cheeks flushed with heat, and the sight made Jimin’s throat go dry.

“I want... more,” Jimin whispered, barely able to meet his gaze, but the confession spilled from his lips without hesitation. His fingers tightened in Jeongguk’s hair, tugging slightly, and the growl that rumbled in response made his skin prickle with anticipation.

Jeongguk’s smirk was wicked as his hands slid under Jimin’s thighs, lifting him effortlessly as he stood from the couch. Jimin gasped, wrapping his arms tightly around Jeongguk’s neck, his legs instinctively locking around the alpha’s waist. The ease with which Jeongguk carried him sent a shiver down his spine, the sheer strength in his movements awakening a primal part of Jimin that he couldn’t ignore.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Jeongguk murmured, his lips brushing against Jimin’s ear as he carried him towards the bedroom. Each step felt deliberate, the intensity in Jeongguk’s gaze never wavering as though he was savoring every moment of having Jimin so close.

Jimin’s head was spinning, his thoughts a mess of desire and nerves. He clung to Jeongguk, burying his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of the alpha. It was grounding and dizzying all at once, like being enveloped in a storm that promised both destruction and salvation.

When Jeongguk finally lowered him onto the bed, it was with a gentleness that was the exact opposite of the passion of their heated kiss earlier. Jimin looked up at him, his chest heaving, his cheeks flushed pink as he tried to catch his breath. The way Jeongguk hovered over him, his gaze dark and heavy with want, made him feel utterly claimed before anything had even happened.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jeongguk said, his voice softer now but no less intense. His hands slid up Jimin’s sides, his touch firm yet careful, as though he was memorizing every curve and dip. 

Jimin swallowed hard, his lips parting as he struggled to find words. “You… you make me feel safe,” he admitted softly, his voice trembling with honesty. “Please touch me. More, alpha,” the words came out soft, almost shy, but they carried the weight of his trust. The moment froze in the air between them, and Jeongguk’s breath hitched, his dark eyes blazing as he processed what Jimin had just given him.

“Are you sure?” Jeongguk’s voice was low, rough with restraint, yet beneath the rasp lay something softer, something achingly tender, almost reverent. His hands hovered mere centimeters above Jimin’s nipples, his breath hitching with each passing moment. The pads of his fingers traced teasing, ghostlike patterns in the air, close enough that the warmth of his skin brushed against Jimin's, yet still refusing to touch. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the effort it took to hold back, as though even this act of waiting tested every fragile thread of self-control he had managed to cling to.

Jimin nodded, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted, still swollen from their kisses. “I trust you,” he murmured, his voice shaking but certain. “I want... I want to feel you.”

The alpha let out a shaky exhale, his head bowing for a moment as though the gravity of Jimin’s words was almost too much. “Fuck,” Jeongguk rasped, his voice thick with emotion as his hands finally came to rest on Jimin’s waist, his thumbs brushing over the soft skin there. “I’ve craved this... craved you, for so long. Your scent, your touch, the way you look at me—it’s driven me mad, Jimin.”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat, his chest tightening as he felt the raw honesty in Jeongguk’s words. “Jeongguk…” he whispered, his voice soft but urging, encouraging.

“You don’t understand,” Jeongguk continued, his eyes meeting Jimin’s, the intensity in them making Jimin’s breath catch. “Every time I’m near you, it takes everything I have not to pull you closer, not to—” His words faltered, and he swallowed hard, his hands sliding up Jimin’s sides slowly, reverently, as though committing every inch of him to memory. “Not to make you mine.”

The confession sent a shiver through Jimin, heat pooling low in his stomach as he let out a soft, unsteady exhale. “I want to be yours,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his cheeks burning with the admission. “I... I don’t know what to do, but—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Jeongguk interrupted, his tone softening as he leaned down, brushing his lips against Jimin’s in a kiss so gentle it left him trembling. “Just let me take care of you.”

Jimin nodded, his hands gripping Jeongguk’s shoulders as the alpha’s lips left his and began a slow path down his chest and stomach. Each kiss was deliberate, with his tongue occasionally flicking out to taste Jimin’s skin. The omega arched his back when Jeongguk's tongue swirled around his nipples, soft gasps and whimpers escaping him and spurring Jeongguk on.

“You taste so sweet,” Jeongguk murmured, his voice a low growl against Jimin’s skin as his lips moved to his stomach.

Jimin's hands tangled in Jeongguk’s hair, fingers tugging just enough to send a shiver through him. His body arched instinctively into the alpha’s touch, a breathless, desperate whimper escaping his lips. “Jeongguk, ah, please,” he gasped, the name barely audible over the pounding of his heartbeat. The heat of Jeongguk’s rough hands sliding down to grip his thighs made him tremble. With a firm pull, Jeongguk spread his legs just enough to settle more firmly between them. Jimin moaned helplessly, slick pooling between them as their cocks brushed—just barely, but enough to send sparks skittering through his nerves.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Jeongguk said, his voice rasping with effort as he forced himself to pause, to look up at Jimin with an expression so full of longing it made Jimin’s chest ache. “I need to hear you, Jimin. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Jimin whispered, his voice shaking but sure. “I... I want more.”

Jeongguk groaned, the sound deep and guttural as his lips captured Jimin’s again, this time with more urgency, more fire. His hands roamed freely now, exploring every curve, every dip of Jimin’s body with a touch that was both firm and reverent.

“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk murmured against Jimin’s lips, his voice thick with emotion and desire. “So perfect, Jimin. I’ve waited so long for this... for you.”

“Me too,” Jimin breathed, his voice soft and airy. “Please… fuck me now, please…”

Jeongguk pressed a final kiss to Jimin’s lips before pulling back, his dark eyes searching for permission. “Can I?” he asked softly. When Jimin nodded, granting consent, Jeongguk gently tugged his pants and underwear down in one swift motion.

The omega shivered as the cool air kissed his exposed skin, a soft flush spreading across his body. Jeongguk’s gaze roamed over him, darkening as he took in every detail—Jimin’s milky skin, the faint pink hue that seemed to color him everywhere, and the way his body bore marks so easily.

Jeongguk’s hands gripped Jimin’s thighs firmly as a low growl rumbled deep in his chest.

Jeongguk looked like he was on the verge of completely losing his mind, his chest heaving with labored breaths and his dark eyes clouded with lust. He was barely holding on, and Jimin wasn’t faring much better. The omega’s head was spinning, his mind drowning in waves of overwhelming pleasure that coursed through his trembling body. Every nerve was alight, every sensation heightened as his slick dripped down his thighs, the wetness making his movements slippery and desperate. He could barely form a coherent thought beyond the primal need for more—more touch, more friction, more of Jeongguk.

Impatience clawed at Jimin’s chest, the ache inside him almost unbearable. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in soft pants as he struggled to hold onto some semblance of control. But the need was too much, too insistent. His fingers trembled as he reached out, wrapping around Jeongguk’s wrist with a firm but urgent grip. The omega’s hand guided the alpha’s down, his actions deliberate, bold. Slowly, he brought Jeongguk’s hand to his throbbing cock, his eyes locking with the alpha’s in an unsaid plea that was both commanding and vulnerable.

The world seemed to stop for a moment as Jeongguk’s breath hitched audibly, his pupils dilating further. A shudder rippled through his frame, and he let out a shaky whimper that betrayed his own desperation. “Fuck, Jimin,” Jeongguk breathed, his voice rough and cracked with raw need, the words tumbling out almost helplessly.

The realization of what the omega wanted sent a jolt of electricity through him, igniting something primal and possessive deep within. His free hand came to rest on Jimin’s waist, fingers tightening slightly as if grounding himself in the intensity of the moment. Jimin’s skin was hot beneath his touch, slick and glistening, and Jeongguk felt like he was losing himself completely in the omega’s intoxicating scent, in the way his body fit so perfectly against him, in the way his name fell from Jimin’s lips like a desperate prayer.

Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping back against the pillows as Jeongguk's hand wrapped firmly around his cock. The slick coating Jimin's cock made the glide of Jeongguk's fingers smooth, every stroke sending waves of heat spiraling through Jimin's body. He was too far gone to feel even a shred of embarrassment, his need consuming every other thought.

The rough warmth of Jeongguk’s palm was both a torment and a blessing, and it took all of Jimin’s willpower to hold himself back from blowing his load right there and then. His hips bucked upward involuntarily, chasing the friction, and a desperate, needy whine escaped his parted lips when Jeongguk leaned down, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. Their tongues tangled, the kiss messy and raw.

Jeongguk’s strokes quickened, his grip tightening just enough to draw soft gasps and high-pitched moans from Jimin, each sound unraveling Jeongguk’s composure. His own arousal throbbed painfully against the confines of his pants, and his breath hitched as Jimin’s trembling hands found their way to his waistband.

Then, Jimin tugged Jeongguk’s pants down, his fingers fumbling in their haste. The moment Jeongguk’s cock was freed, Jimin’s small hands wrapped around him. Jeongguk was big; the omega’s hands could barely wrap around it. Jeongguk swayed forward, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as pleasure surged through him. His arms braced against the mattress on either side of Jimin, his head falling forward to rest in the crook of Jimin's neck as he struggled to stay upright.

“ Ah,” Jeongguk groaned, the sound rough and breathless against the curve of Jimin’s throat. Jimin’s hands moved with eager, uncoordinated strokes, his touch igniting every nerve in Jeongguk’s body. Jeongguk’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin below Jimin’s ear, drawing a shiver and another broken moan from the omega, making him wetter with slick.

“I'll put a finger in,” Jeongguk said, his voice steady despite the rush of arousal coursing through him. Jimin’s soft, trembling hands kept stroking him, his touch almost too much to bear. Jeongguk swallowed hard, trying to stay composed, but the way Jimin looked—eyes fluttering shut, lips parted in gasps of pleasure—was enough to drive him to madness.

Jimin opened his eyes slightly, meeting Jeongguk’s gaze. His cheeks were flushed a delicate pink. “It’s… my first time,” he admitted, the words coming out in a shy whisper. 

“Fuck, okay,” Jeongguk breathed, the confession leaving him lightheaded. He leaned down, pressing a reassuring kiss to Jimin’s temple. “I’ll be gentle, I promise. I won’t hurt you.” 

Still, even with all the care in the world, the first press of Jeongguk’s finger was uncomfortable. Jimin winced, his body tensing instinctively despite the slick making the motion smoother. “I’m sorry,” Jeongguk murmured, pausing immediately. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

Jimin nodded, biting his bottom lip, his breathing uneven. “It’s okay… It just… hurts a little,” he admitted, his voice trembling. He knew Jeongguk wasn’t trying to hurt him.

Taking his time, Jeongguk stroked Jimin’s thighs in soothing circles, whispering encouragement as he gently worked his finger in and out. Slowly, he added a second finger, pausing often to let Jimin adjust. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered, pressing kisses along the inside of Jimin’s thighs. “Tell me if I need to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” Jimin’s breaths turned into soft, broken whimpers as the initial discomfort began to melt away. He closed his eyes again, surrendering to the sensation. The tension in his body started to ease, his trust in Jeongguk allowing him to relax.

When Jeongguk added a third finger, he carefully adjusted Jimin’s position, lifting his legs and placing them on his shoulders to give himself better access. The stretch was deeper, and Jimin let out a sharp gasp, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Jeongguk murmured, his voice thick with both reverence and desire. He moved his fingers slowly, scissoring them to prepare Jimin, his own arousal almost unbearable. His cock throbbed, leaking precum as he held himself back.

Every movement was deliberate, every touch laced with care. Jimin’s quiet moans grew softer, his body responding more easily now as the tension eased. He opened his eyes again, locking gazes with Jeongguk, and whispered, “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure—” Jeongguk began, his voice a murmur, but the question hung unfinished in the air. Jimin, unwilling to wait, took control, pressing himself forward with purpose, his soft moan filling the room as Jeongguk’s huge cock slipped inside him. “Ah, fuck, Jeongguk…”

“ Fuck,” Jeongguk breathed, his grip tightening on Jimin’s hips. His body trembled as he felt the intense heat enveloping him. Jimin let out a high-pitched whimper, the sound both needy and desperate, his head falling forward as his hands clenched the sheets beneath him. The initial stretch was sharp, a fleeting discomfort that made him suck in a shaky breath, and tug harshly on the alpha’s hair, but it wasn’t long before it dissolved into something deeper, something undeniably pleasurable.

Jeongguk moved carefully at first, his instincts warring with his desire to lose himself in the intoxicating feeling. His hands ran soothingly over Jimin’s sides, his thumbs brushing tenderly against his lower back as he murmured breathlessly, “You okay?”

Jimin nodded, his face flushed and eyes shut tightly, focusing on the sensation building inside him. “Yes,” he gasped, his voice trembling but certain. “Please, Jeongguk… keep going.”

Encouraged by Jimin’s words, Jeongguk began to move with a deliberate rhythm, each motion slow and deep. The sound of their breathing intermingled with the faint creak of the bed, filling the intimate space. Jimin’s fingers twisted in the sheets, his body arching as Jeongguk started to move inside him.

“More,” Jimin pleaded, his voice breaking slightly as he pushed back against Jeongguk, urging him to go deeper, harder. His omega instincts flared, a primal need driving him closer to the edge. Jeongguk responded instinctively, his movements becoming bolder, each thrust drawing soft cries from Jimin’s lips.

The heat between them intensified, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Jeongguk’s name spilled from Jimin’s lips like a prayer, and Jeongguk leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the apples of Jimin’s cheeks. “You feel so perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“You’re so big, fuck,” Jimin tilted his head to the side, granting Jeongguk access as he whispered breathlessly, “Don’t stop.” The connection between them deepened with every passing second, a tangle of passion, trust, and need.

“I’m going to bite you now,” Jeongguk murmured, his voice a low, guttural rasp filled with need. His lips brushed against Jimin’s neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down the latter's spine. “Let’s seal the bond, yeah?”

“Please, bite me,” the omega whispered, as he managed a faint nod, his body pliant under Jeongguk’s, his mind hazy with desire. The words barely registered, drowned out by the overwhelming sensations consuming him. Jeongguk’s hips snapped forward, thrusting into him deeper, dragging out a soft, broken moan that spilled from Jimin’s lips like a melody only Jeongguk could hear.

It should have been embarrassing, how utterly exposed he felt. His legs trembled, slick pooling and oozing from him with each thrust. But shame was the furthest thing from his mind. All he could focus on was the intoxicating heat of Jeongguk’s body against his, the way every motion seemed to pull him further into the abyss of pleasure.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin whimpered, his voice trembling with desperation. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, knuckles white from the effort to anchor himself as Jeongguk’s pace quickened, each movement more frenzied than the last.

Jeongguk’s eyes gleamed, feral and hungry, his fangs grazing the delicate skin of Jimin’s neck. “You’re mine,” he growled, his tone tinged with possessiveness. The words made Jimin’s breath hitch, his body arching instinctively as if inviting more.

The room was filled with the sound of their bodies moving together—skin meeting skin, the wet, obscene noises only fueling Jeongguk’s arousal further. His grip tightened on Jimin’s waist, fingers digging into soft flesh as if afraid Jimin might slip away.

Jimin’s senses were on fire, his head spinning, the edge of pain mixing deliciously with the pleasure coursing through him. When Jeongguk finally sank his teeth into his neck, a sharp sting bloomed, making Jimin cry out. The sensation was overwhelming, electric, a spark that seemed to ignite every nerve in his body.

As Jeongguk’s fangs pierced his skin, a warmth spread through him, a strange and powerful connection threading them together. Jimin felt it binding them in ways words could never articulate. The world around them blurred until there was nothing but the two of them—intertwined, consumed, irrevocably bound.

“Perfect,” Jeongguk whispered against Jimin’s skin, licking the small droplets of blood that had trickled down. His voice was softer now, reverent, his hips slowing their pace after coming. “You’re mine forever now, Jimin.”

And as Jimin came, his broken moans turning into cries of pure ecstasy, he couldn’t help but feel the same.

He was his—body, soul, and everything in between.