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Lil' Meow Meow

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Hey, Chim, you free?

 

The lecture hall Jimin is in bustles with life as soon as class ended, and he huffs out a laugh into his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear when he hears Taehyung’s enthusiastic voice. He shoves his books into his bag and zips it close carefully before he transfers the phone to his hand, and hitches his bag over his shoulder as he stands up from his seat. He leaves the large lecture hall along with his classmates, dodging shoulders with practiced ease.

 

“Yeah, I am. How’d you know? Does being in love give you sixth sense?” he teases, giggling under his breath when Taehyung whines loudly over the phone. Kim Taehyung’s been his best friend since high school, a constant in his life. He’ll always be thankful how the beta had coaxed him out of his shell back then, back when all the kids didn’t talk to him for being the son of famous designer Park Jiyoon.

 

He hears Taehyung prattling over the phone, and he tunes back in as he nods goodbye at some of the people he knows before turning to where the art department is. Taehyung is definitely there.

 

Shut up! You’re just jealous I have a boyfriend and your petty omega ass doesn’t,” Taehyung huffs, mumbling sulkily and making Jimin laugh despite the blush blooming across his cheeks at the jab, “so anyway, you’re really free?

 

“Next class got cancelled, my professor called in sick,” Jimin answers, rounding the corner to see the art building where Taehyung is, “what’s up? Don’t you have your free hand class next? You’ve skipped enough periods this semester, young man.”

 

You’re like, two months older, don’t call me that,” Taehyung laughs, and as Jimin crosses the quad, he sees Taehyung’s head of bright red hair bobbing happily in an open corridor of the building, “sit in in my free hand class, Hoseokie-hyungie can’t sit in today and I’m lonely.

 

Jimin hums an affirmative as he hangs up, hearing Taehyung’s indignant squawk at the abrupt way the call ended. He skips into the corridor, beaming at his tall best friend before latching on to his arm. Taehyung mumbles a complaint, but drags Jimin into a large loft-like classroom, anyway.

 

There are about twenty easel benches laid out sporadically in the room leaving a space in the center, and Jimin lets Taehyung pull him to one right near the windows where the sunlight streams in just right. The bench is a tight fit for two people, but Taehyung insists on them sharing the seat so they shift around a bit to find a comfortable position. They eventually get comfortable, and they talk in hushed whispers as the rest of the class trickles in.

 

Unlike in his own classes for his business degree, the students of the creative arts are a colourful bunch. Jimin thinks he’s probably stereotyping (which isn’t entirely a good habit) but this particular bunch of students are extra colorful and expressive. He likes it, he decides, especially after his monotonous classes of peers dressed in smart casual clothes. It’s different, and he likes seeing the various forms of self expression.

 

Some, like Taehyung, have bright coloured hair—there’s someone with a purple bob cut, a peach mohawk, and even an aquamarine bun. Some are dressed in clashing but, weirdly enough, stylish clothes ensemble. It’s cute, and Jimin finds himself creepily smiling at the variety—until he sees the last guy walk in.

 

He’s wearing dark colours, which makes him stand out like an odd splash of monotone amidst the bright colours in the room. His bleached blond hair is tucked under a black beanie, and his body frame is hidden by a dark green camouflage coat. He’s normal enough, for lack of a better term, but Jimin sees the ink crawling on the backs of his hands, and he supposes that perhaps this guy has a more permanent but quiet way of expressing himself. Jimin finds him interesting just as much as the rest of the class.

 

He’s got a rather flat messenger bag hanging across his broad chest, and he quietly takes a seat on a bench two or three seats away from Jimin and Taehyung. Jimin watches as the guy sets up his own canvas, and Jimin nearly yelps when Taehyung elbows him on the rib.

 

“Dude, you’re drooling,” Taehyung chuckles, ducking his head when Jimin mimes to bite him on the shoulder.

 

“Was not, you ass,” Jimin mumbles, shifting around a bit to face away from the guy. In all honesty, he supposes he had been staring, but there was just something oddly mesmerizing about the way the man moved—quiet and graceful, like a cat. After always being around Taehyung and Hoseok, who are always loud and horsing around, it’s not his fault he’s taken by a mysterious guy.

 

“I wanted company, okay, don’t make my instructor kick me out because you jumped one of my classmates,” he whispered teasingly, and Jimin finally bites him on the shoulder much to Taehyung’s disgust and chagrin.

 

The instructor walks in then, and Jimin eventually forgets about the teasing as he gets to experience Taehyung’s art class. It’s not the first time he’s sat in on Taehyung’s classes, but it’s the first time with this particular one. He’s mesmerized by how focused everyone is after the instructor tells them that it’s a free session of sorts; they get to decide what to sketch for the remaining three hours.

 

Jimin peeks over Taehyung’s shoulder in awe as his best friend sets his sight on a couple lounging outside the classroom window, leaning on a tree and looking peaceful and serene. Taehyung leaves light, languid strokes on his canvas, mouth pursed in concentration, and Jimin hums softly as he rests his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder, his soft beta strawberry scent soothing the smaller omega completely.

 

The room fills with the soft sounds of pencil scratching on paper, and it lulls Jimin deeper into a sleepy state of mind. He shakes his head, sitting up straight and looking around to shake himself awake. There’s a nice, inspiring hum of energy vibrating in the air, and Jimin smiles to himself at how serious everyone is. They’re all focused on their canvases, and he takes in each one of them until he glances again at the guy from earlier—and Jimin jolts in surprise.

 

The guy is staring at him rather intently, but there’s a faraway look in his dark fox-like eyes. His gaze, Jimin eventually notices, flits back and forth between his canvas and Jimin, and that’s when he also notices the guy’s hand making quick strokes with his pencil.

 

Oh, Jimin thinks, blush blooming in his cheeks as he fidgets awkwardly, thumbs twiddling as a wave of shyness comes over him, is he drawing me?

 

It’s a flattering thought, especially after seeing Taehyung choose the sweet picture of the couple lounging outside together. He shrugs, deciding to not mind it and let the guy do as he wants. It’s just a picture, and if he managed to inspire a person, who was he to refuse that honour? So he sits there, reminding himself to at least look pretty so the man’s sketch comes out just as prettily.

 

With his mind buzzing alight with thoughts of the man’s intent gaze, and the warm happy feeling bubbling in his gut, the three hours passes Jimin unfairly quickly. The instructor softly lets them know, and the students all eventually stand up to gather their things, filing out of the room after keeping their canvases to themselves for further changes.

 

Jimin stretches his back, moaning under his breath as he subtly turns around to find the man. He’s already gone, though, and Jimin internally bemoans the fact that he might never see that sketch of himself ever, finished or otherwise.

 

 

 

You sure you can’t come?

 

Jimin feels a little bad, more so when he hears a whine in Taehyung’s voice over the speakers, but he really can’t. He pulls on the sheer collared long sleeved top that his mother had laid out for him to wear, and he grimaces at how exposed he feels.

 

“You know it’s my hyung’s birthday dinner today, and I already promised my mom I’d go—it’ll break her if I bail, she even coordinated an outfit for me,” he muses, tucking in his shirt in a pair of high waisted slacks that accentuated his slim waist. Trust his designer mother to always make him look pretty—not that he’s complaining.

 

Oh, okay,” Taehyung relents, sounding defeated but amused at the same time, “I mean, you’ll still see my new tattoo, anyway—I’m getting a sun and a moon, by the way.

 

“I pray that your grandma doesn’t skin you alive when she sees them,” Jimin laughs, stepping into his walk-in closet to choose a pair of shoes.

 

Dude, she chose the design, only way she’ll skin me alive is if I backed out now,” Taehyung says, snickering before he bids Jimin a quick goodbye after Hoseok’s voice in the background announces that they’re at the tattoo place.

 

Jimin shakes his head in amusement, finishing his preparation and picking his phone up from its mounted charger on his dresser. He heads out of his room, meeting his mom at the downstairs common area of their huge house. Really, as much as Jimin loves the luxuries of his life, their house really is too big for himself and his parents. His hyung doesn’t even stay with them now that he’s engaged to a beta he met at work.

 

“Jiminnie, baby, you ready to go?” his mom asks, standing up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear after fixing his dad’s tie.

 

Jimin nods, and the three of them all file out of the house, slipping into their chauffeur driven car and settling down comfortably as they go on a twenty minute drive to the place his hyung had reserved for his dinner party.

 

The place is, of course, another one of the grand five star restaurants his family frequents for meals and small gatherings. They’re there plenty enough that the receptionist already knows them, and she leads them amiably to a secluded event room in the back. It’s a big room, easily housing around fifty people, with a mini podium at the front where he can see his older brother idly standing and talking in a low voice to all his friends and guests.

 

They quietly sit at their designated table, and Jimin makes himself as small as possible when some guests smile at them in acknowledgment. He loves attention, craves the occasional praises, but it makes him a tad shy and uncomfortable when it comes from people he barely knows. He smiles sheepishly, tucking his hands between his thighs as he looks around.

 

Lining the walls are the restaurant’s servers, most of them around his age, and they begin moving to distribute food and drinks when all the guests are seated. They’re part timers, Jimin thinks, and they’re all wearing black waiter caps and black aprons that wrap around their legs neatly. Jimin is about to stare back at his empty soup bowl and wait for his food, when a shock of bleached blond hair catches his gaze. He sits up straight, feeling like an electric current has just run down his spine, and his eyes widen in silent surprise when his own brown eyes meet an equally surprised pair of dark, fox-like eyes.

 

It’s the tattooed guy from Taehyung’s class, and Jimin kind of forgets how to breathe when he sees the sleeves of his white buttoned shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing the pretty ink swirling and dotting his skin like a beautiful piece of abstract art. Jimin’s mouth drops open, and he quickly tears his gaze away when a familiar warmth blooms across his cheeks.

 

“Sweetie, you okay? You’re very red,” his mom comments softly, small dainty hand reaching up to brush his fringe away from his eyes, “hold on, baby, let mommy get you some water, yeah?”

 

“No, mom—”

 

But he’s too late, his mom’s already raising her hand up daintily like a queen, and god—the guy from Taehyung’s class moves quickly, bowing his head slightly and approaching their table with the grace of a shadow, a shy yet impish small smile on his handsome face. Now that he’s close, Jimin can tell as much, and oh god, he’s an alpha.

 

“Yes, Miss Park, can I help you with anything?”

 

Jimin’s throat parches dry when he hears the guy’s voice. It’s deep, perhaps not as deep as Taehyung’s, but deep enough to make Jimin swallow thickly. There’s a slight lisp to his words, a gentle rasp and lazy drawl that makes him very pleasant to listen to. His mom must think the same because she smiles in surprise, her own cheeks turning a tad pink at the way Art Guy looks at her and Jimin attentively.

 

“Oh, yes, please, dear, would you be an angel and get my baby boy Jiminnie some water? Cold, please, he looks very hot,” she muses worriedly, her hand reaching out to Jimin again to brush his bangs back gently.

 

“Mom,” Jimin tries again, cheeks flaming hot as he tries to not make eye contact with his schoolmate after his own mother had just so blatantly babied him and called him baby boy, gosh.

 

“Certainly, ma’am, your son looks hot, indeed,” his voice sounds just a bit deeper, and Jimin doesn’t fail in catching on to the teasing undertone, “I’ll be right back.”

 

Art Guy moves away from their table with a tip of his head forward, and a smile, and Jimin watches helplessly as he walks away with practiced ease. When he can’t see him anymore, Jimin turns back to his mom who has a sheepish yet teasing grin on her face. The party’s well underway, and Jimin didn’t even notice that some of the other servers had already served them their food. His dad is busy talking to one of his uncles, so he and his mom are left in their own little bubble.

 

“Mom, I love it when you baby me, I really do—but not in front of strangers,” Jimin whines quietly, cheeks heating up again as he puffs them up in embarrassment.

 

“Aww, baby, you’re just fun to tease,” she coos, pinching his cheek and laughing, “I mean, I really was worried and I thought you were going down with something—but then I saw that boy, goodness, he’s fine, isn’t he? An alpha, too, hmm—”

 

Mom!” Jimin shrieks under his breath, groaning when he sees Art Guy back in the room, tray and glasses in his, well, big and seemingly strong hands.

 

Jimin throws a pointed glare at his mom, cheeks still puffed up in embarrassment as Art Guy sidles up close to the two of them, carefully placing down their flutes of water with practiced ease. He’s got a very unfairly charming smile on his face, and really, Jimin thinks the way his veins are straining in his arm and the way his lean muscles ripple slightly under his skin should be illegal. It’s not good for Jimin, he just wants to eat in peace.

 

“Thank you, young man,” Jimin’s mom says, her eyes twinkling with mischief, and Jimin’s barely sucked in a breath before she’s already plowing on, lips moving at a speed that a flustered Jimin can’t quite compete with, “what’s your name, if I may ask? My family and I are regulars here, and I must say, I’d remember a dashing and charming young man like you, but I’m drawing a blank.”

 

“You’re too kind, ma’am, your generous words are wasted on me. I’m just a part timer here,” Art Guy says, bowing his head as a slight pink tints his pale skin, “but my name’s Min Yoongi. It’s a pleasure to meet and serve you both.”

 

His mom positively beams, patting Art Guy—Min Yoongi, Jimin’s mind excitedly supplies—on the arm. “The pleasure is ours, dear, thank you. Now go on, we don’t want to keep you away from your other tasks.”

 

Yoongi tips his head forward, eyes glancing briefly at Jimin, his lips quirking upwards, before he turns around and moves back to check on the other tables. Jimin swears he can smell the soft undertones of mint, and musky pine.

 

Jimin releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in, and his mom laughs in that similar breathless way he does, the sounds soft and tinkling like his, too. She waves her hand dismissively, turning to her plate and starting her dinner, completely ignoring Jimin’s inner dilemma. Taehyung’s definitely going to have a field day when he hears all about this.

 

 

 

 

Taehyung does, in fact, have a field day when Jimin tells him all about that awkward dinner party a few days later.

 

They’ve both been busy with school tasks, but once they’d sat down for some best friend time, Jimin didn’t miss the chance. He lamented about his embarrassing mother, how he’s practically always on edge now when he’s at school because he has to remain vigilant about a certain blond artist. Taehyung just laughs at it all, big hand clapping down on Jimin’s shoulder in amusement.

 

“You need to relax your pretty ass, Jiminnie,” Taehyung wheezes, cheeks red from giggling too much, “man, I love your mom—but really, I think you’ll be fine! Yoongi-hyung’s kind of a shy guy, if I’m correct.”

 

“Shy? All that was missing from him when I saw him at the restaurant was a wink and a gross pick up line, Taetae,” Jimin whispered, cheeks flushing at the memory of Yoongi’s scent and charming smile. He huffs, ignoring the way his heart races. “He’s greasy, is what he is.”

 

“And you love it, I know you,” Taehyung says easily, grinning at Jimin when the omega could only whine in useless denial.

 

“I do not,” Jimin mumbles to deaf ears, watching as Taehyung leans back and sprawls himself on his apartment floor.

 

There’s a momentary silence before Taehyung suddenly sits up, mouth twisted into an excited boxy grin. Jimin’s a bit alarmed, but he lets the other manhandle him to the bed, anyway. His best friend is positively brimming with excitement, and Jimin’s had enough years of practice to know that an excited Taehyung was an unstoppable Taehyung.

 

“Okay, okay, enough about your crush—”

 

“He is not m—”

 

“—I have bigger news!”

 

Jimin squints at him, folding his legs and tucking his feet underneath them. He watches as Taehyung pulls out his phone, madly scrolling for something. He practically squeaks when he finds it, crowding into Jimin’s space and showing him the screen.

 

“Look what I saw at the tattoo place! It’s you!”

 

Jimin takes the phone from Taehyung’s hand, pulling it  back to a good enough distance, and his eyes widen when he sees the photo. It’s a snapshot of a piece of paper stuck on a rather grimy wall. The paper itself is still fairly new, still pristine white and free of any creases or dirt spots. In the middle of it, done in gentle but scratchy pencil strokes, is Jimin himself.

 

“Namjoonie-hyung, the guy who did my tattoos, by the way, told me it’s a sketch done by his best friend, the other owner of the place,” Taehyung continues, swaying where he sits as he looks at his phone screen, too, “he wasn’t there at the time, though, hyung said he had some part time job thing, or something.”

 

A flush settles on Jimin’s cheeks, his face warming up as he recognizes the clothes he’s wearing in the sketch, the way he’s sitting on a very familiar easel bench, and the way he’s seemingly posing in a delicate manner. It’s the day he first saw Art Guy—Min Yoongi. It’s Min Yoongi’s sketch, and he can’t believe that that Min Yoongi really went and put up his sketch of Jimin in his tattoo place. Granted, it’s a way to showcase his skills, but still.

 

Jimin licks his lips, zooming in on the photo and staring for a few more moments before he gives it back to Taehyung. He swallows thickly, fiddling with his sweater paws, before he pokes Taehyung on the thigh. “Taetae, c-can you bring me to that place?”

 

Taehyung gasps, eyes sparkling. “You’re gonna get inked? Want to match with me?”

 

Jimin shakes his head vehemently, the blush on his cheeks refusing to fade as he nervously tucks his brown hair behind his ear. “N-no! I just, uhm, want to see the sketch for myself, and maybe pay my compliments to the artist?”

 

Taehyung nods, seemingly oblivious to Jimin’s inner turmoil.

 

 

 

 

(Contrary to Jimin’s beliefs, Taehyung isn’t actually in the dark. He’d seen the sketch himself, had recognized the artist’s watermark after seeing and gushing over it countless times in class, and when he had been about to tell Jimin about it, the small omega proceeded to rant about his mom and Min Yoongi at the restaurant instead, beating him to telling a story first.

 

Taehyung knows Jimin like the back of his hand, and it really doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jimin—his lovable, sweet, needy, and praise-seeking omega best friend—would get easily swept off his little feet by Yoongi’s actions.

 

Taehyung can tell, and he’s now a beta on a cupid mission.)

 

 

 

 

It’s two days later when they find themselves in the tattoo shop. Taehyung’s standing by the small front desk talking excitedly with a tall dimpled man, while Jimin waits on one of the available folding chairs, his small hands folded on his lap, back straight and cheeks flushed. He can hear Taehyung snickering at him from across the small room, and he pouts his lips and turns up his nose the other way daintily.

 

He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but he is. He pulls the sleeves of his knit sweater over his small fingers, tuning out Taehyung’s deep voice, as he lets his gaze wander around the place. It’s a humble little shop, with one wall dedicated to pictures of tattoos the artists have done. He can see the sketch of himself clearly, the paper in question tacked close to the center. There’s a small scribbled myg at the bottom, and he feels his face grow warmer as the fleeting image of Yoongi smiling at him flashes through his mind.

 

Before he can do anything about it, the door leading to the room where Taehyung said “the magic happens” opens with a soft sound, and Jimin straightens up in his seat. A tall guy with the broadest set of shoulders Jimin has ever seen steps out, followed by Yoongi who’s wearing a beanie, black ripped jeans, and a loose white muscle tank - exposing his full left sleeve and the beautiful monarch butterfly on the back of his hand as he takes off his black latex gloves..

 

“Oh,” Jimin softly says—more like whimpers, to be honest—and the tall unknown guy’s gaze settles on him.

 

A flash of recognition dawns on his face, and with a gorgeous smile, he turns to Yoongi. “Yoongi-yah, look, it’s the cutie in your—”

 

“Alright, Jin-hyung, you can go now,” Yoongi cuts him off loudly, hands curling around Jin-hyung’s shoulders and pushing him towards the door.

 

Taehyung and Namjoon are snickering from where they stand, hands over their mouths as they watch Jimin squirm in his seat. Jin-hyung looks confused for a moment, before understanding dawns on his face and a teasing grin takes over. He doesn’t say anything, just grins impishly and lets Yoongi push him close to the counter.

 

Jimin fidgets in his seat, unsure if he should just stand up, get all this thanking business over with, and proceed to brain bleach himself so he can just forget about Yoongi’s inked arms, his smile, his face, and his (delicious) scent. He just wants to sleep after all this is over, really. Jimin’s about to psyche himself up to stand and yell at Yoongi about how flattered he is about the sketch, but Namjoon beats him to it.

 

“Hey, hyung, it’s your muse,” he starts cheekily, mortification dawning on Jimin in waves, “says he came here to thank you.”

 

Yoongi groans loudly (and god, it really shouldn’t have come off as that attractive to Jimin, but it did), a subtle shade of pink blooming on his cheeks, and he flips Namjoon off. “He’s not—god, fuck off,” he mumbles, ignoring the way the three other boys erupt into obnoxious laughter. He turns to Jimin at that moment, cheeks still pink, and he gestures with his hand towards the door.

 

“Let’s talk in private without these fuckers,” Yoongi says quietly, eyes boring into Jimin’s.

 

Jimin can’t help but let out a soft and rather embarrassing squeak, nodding his head and trailing after the tattoo artist despite Taehyung’s loud booming laughter. He closes the door behind him, and he looks around at Yoongi’s workstation.

 

There’s a black tattoo chair in the center next to a brightly lit lamp, and in the corner sits a small desk with a stack of thick clear files (where Jimin supposes Yoongi keeps his work samples for future clients to look at, and possibly choose from). Folding his hands together, Jimin watches as Yoongi saunters towards the said desk, placing his gloves on top of it and pulling out a foldable chair and patting the backrest.

 

“Here,” he says, glancing at Jimin before he leans against his desk.

 

Jimin squirms from where he stands, completely ignoring the chair due to his nervousness, before he licks his lips and speaks, eyes casting downwards at how shy he suddenly feels. “Uhm, I actually really don’t know what I’m doing here, but—uh, thank you for the beautiful sketch. I-I just wanted to say that I think you’re really good, and it’s an honor that I was your model? M-muse? I don’t know the term—”

 

“You’re rambling, Jimin-ssi,” Yoongi says, his smile audible in his voice, and it makes Jimin look up at him, “relax, I’m honored that I got the chance to draw you—but I’m also sorry for doing it without permission.”

 

“Oh, no! It’s really okay, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin waves his hands dismissively, but halts as he cocks his head to the side, “wait, you know my name?”

 

Yoongi’s cheeks grow a darker pink, and he raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Your mother, she, uh—she called you Jiminnie when you were at the restaurant. I just figured.”

 

“Oh, god, yeah, that,” Jimin groaned, covering his face briefly with his sweater-covered hands and smiling sheepishly as he pulls them down from his face, “my mom’s embarrassing, sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi waves his hand, slipping his hands into his pockets as an awkward silence covers them. Jimin clears his throat, unsure what to do now that he’d said his piece, but Yoongi breaks the silence with an awkward cough, “hey, uh, actually—your mother left a really huge tip for me, and I feel awful about it because I really didn’t do anything special, so, uhm,” he clear his throat, gesturing to the tattoo chair in the room, “if you want, I can ink you—free of charge.”

 

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I’m not really planning on getting a tattoo,” Jimin answers shyly, twisting his hands together, “I mean, it’s permanent, so if I’m getting one, I at least want my first time to be super special, you know?”

 

Yoongi hums, a fond smile on his face. “Yeah, I know,” he says quietly, unconsciously touching the butterfly tattoo on his hand before he looks to the side and grabs a marker off his desk, “how about I just give you a taste?”

 

“E-excuse me?” Jimin asks, eyes widening as he rubs his arm nervously.

 

Yoongi seems to have caught on to his thinking, because he chuckles breathlessly before  he waves the marker in his hand. “Tattoo previews, if you will, with washable ink. Just so you know how it’ll look like on your skin if you ever decide to go through with it.”

 

Jimin can feel his cheeks growing warmer than ever, and he’s long given up on the idea of pretending he’s not a blushing, flustered mess. He nods his head shyly, stepping closer only to halt in his steps and gasp softly. “But aren’t you busy?”

 

“Not really, no,” Yoongi waves his free hand dismissively, walking to the little stool next to the tattoo chair and patting the seat of it for Jimin, “I’ll make time for you, Jimin-ssi.”

 

Jimin pretends that the words don’t make his heart erupt into a frenzied marathon in his chest, and he swallows thickly before sitting down on the chair. He tries to ignore the fact that he’s really close to Yoongi, but that train of thought leads him to his realization of just how handsome the alpha is. His musky, minty scent is stronger up close, and it makes Jimin want to purr, but he reels it in. He folds his hands over his lap, licking his lips nervously and training his eyes on the toes of his baby blue sneakers.

 

“You have anything you want to see on your skin?” Yoongi asks, nudging his chair closer and leaning close to Jimin. He uncaps the marker with his teeth, Jimin finding it so unnecessary yet stupidly attractive. “And where?”

 

“N-no, not really,” Jimin breathes out, eyelids fluttering as Yoongi gives him a small smile.

 

“Alright,” Yoongi starts, biting his lip and tilting his head to the side in thought, “how about we do it on your ankle? Right where your friend had it done?”

 

“Okay,” Jimin nods, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth gently as his fingers squeeze the hem of his sweater, “you’re the artist between the two of us, you decide what’s pretty.”

 

Yoongi’s eyes flick up to his face, that same fond smile curving his lips up ever so subtly, before he nods wordlessly. He reaches down carefully, fingers moving close to Jimin’s leg before he stops. “May I?”

 

Jimin stutters, heart thudding in his chest, and he nods. He watches with baited breath as Yoongi wraps his fingers around his slim ankle, lifting up his leg and resting it over the alpha’s own lap. Jimin gasps softly at the touch, cheeks flushing red and a whine threatening to escape his throat when Yoongi’s smile widens in amusement. Fuck, he hopes his scent isn’t going wild all over the place, god . He watches as the alpha adjusts his leg so he’s comfortable, before he carefully folds Jimin’s pant leg up, long bony fingers working carefully with the fabric.

 

It’s really not supposed to look and feel so suggestive, but somehow, it does. Jimin’s eyes focus on the way Yoongi’s pale skin contrasts nicely against his own, and the featherlight brushes of his fingertips sends tingles up his spine. He bites his lip, adamant on not embarrassing himself any further. When his ankle is finally exposed just enough, Yoongi places his free hand on top of Jimin’s clothed knee, the other hovering the marker over his skin.

 

“Ready?” he asks, voice quiet and deep.

 

Jimin nods, not trusting his voice enough as the warmth of Yoongi’s lap seeps through from where his leg is resting on it. Yoongi tightens his fingers on Jimin’s knee just a bit, before he begins drawing soft lines on Jimin’s skin.

 

The sensation is ticklish, and Jimin lets out a soft airy giggle as the ink feels cold and funny on his ankle. Yoongi smiles at the sound, but his hand remains constantly moving, eyes focused on the art he’s making. Jimin begins to relax, but his heart jumpstarts wildly when Yoongi moves down his free hand to close over the bare skin just above his ankle, his hand warm and big on Jimin.

 

It’s a quiet affair, Yoongi stopping every now and then to scrutinize his work before he resumes. His hand never leaves Jimin’s skin, fingertips brushing soft strokes on the underside of Jimin’s leg occasionally (much to Jimin’s embarrassment—he’s pretty sure his scent spikes every time the pads of the alpha’s fingertips press against him). Time passes quickly, Jimin not realizing that it’s nearly been half an hour already. His gaze is trained on the side of Yoongi’s face, internally admiring how handsome the alpha is when Yoongi suddenly sits back, content smile on his face.

 

He looks at Jimin, smiling brightly as he lifts his free hand from Jimin and taps the omega’s knee. “All done, Jimin-ssi.”

 

Jimin blinks at him before he pulls his leg up to his chest, twisting to the side a bit to see his ankle. He gasps in awe, eyes taking in the intricate swirls of ink on his skin. It’s a bouquet, he thinks, the petals blooming prettily on his skin. Curving around his ankle are soft light lines of vines and leaves, and right near the bottom of the flowers is a short but clear cursive of myg.

 

“You like it?” Yoongi asks, capping the marker and visibly gauging Jimin’s reaction, “I figured that it’d suit you—pretty flowers for the pretty baby boy.” Jimin squeaks loudly, his face seemingly erupting into flames as Yoongi laughs breathlessly. The tattoo artist holds up his hands in defense, grinning at Jimin teasingly. “Sorry, I just remembered your mother called you that. Didn’t mean it in a bad way, don’t worry.”

 

Jimin huffs, glancing back at down the drawing on his ankle. It really is pretty, and he moves to touch it when Yoongi’s hand shoots out quickly, long fingers wrapping around his slim wrist. Jimin looks at him, eyes wide, and Yoongi quickly lets go.

 

“Sorry, I just—it’s still wet,” Yoongi says, clearing his throat before standing up. He deposits the marker on his desk, back turned to Jimin as he drums his fingers on the surface before he visibly nods as if deciding something internally.

 

Jimin keeps his pant leg folded up, adamant on keeping the pretty flowers on his skin for as long as he can. With a shy gaze, he watches as Yoongi rummages around his desk, picking up the marker again after he finds a small piece of paper. He hurriedly writes something on it, and Jimin blinks as he notices the tips of the alpha’s ears turning a bright pink.

 

Yoongi turns around, eyebrows furrowed slightly, his cheeks pink, yet he keeps his gaze fixed on Jimin’s eyes intently. He doesn’t break eye contact as he steps closer and offers the paper to Jimin. “Uhm—my number, in case you finally decide to get that tattoo.”

 

“O-oh,” Jimin stammers, small hands fumbling to get the paper from Yoongi’s hand. Their fingers brush against each other briefly, and Jimin feels a jolt run up his spine as there’s an obvious spike in the musky mint scent lingering in the air.

 

“I have a client in like, ten minutes, I think, but,” Yoongi starts, hesitating, before he rubs his neck nervously and shrugs his shoulders, “f-feel free to text me anytime.”

 

Jimin nods his head, biting his lip to prevent the giddy smile from showing on his face. With careful movements, he pockets the paper like a fragile piece of treasure, and he glances up at Yoongi through his eyelashes with a shy smile. “T-thank you, the flowers are really pretty.”

 

Yoongi visibly preens at the compliment, chest puffing out subtly. “Anything for the pretty baby boy.”

 

Jimin finally whines, reaching out to swat at Yoongi’s arm lightly. He’s surprised at his own reaction, but Yoongi takes it in stride. There’s a smile blooming on his face, and Jimin fleetingly thinks that he looks like a smug little kitty. “Stop iiiit.”

 

“Alright, I will,” Yoongi finally relents, stepping closer to open the door for Jimin. He places a tentative hand on the small of Jimin’s back, gently guiding him out and ignoring Taehyung’s loud whistle from the lobby.

 

“Thank you again, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin says, stepping out and looking up at Yoongi earnestly, “I really appreciate this—I’ll think about that tattoo, but I’m definitely paying, okay?”

 

Yoongi smiles at him, eyes crinkling as he hums softly. The sound is close to rumbling, making Jimin purr softly in his throat. He clears his throat when he realizes what he’s doing, the blush on his cheeks never seeming to fade away. “We’ll see about that, and please, call me hyung.”

 

Jimin smiles, quickly biting his lower lip because he feels too giddy, too happy. He clears his throat, nodding his head and ignoring Taehyung whining at him to hurry up. “Okay, Yoongi-hyung.”

 

Taehyung finally moves, tugging Jimin away from Yoongi and making Jimin whine softly. Yoongi leans on the doorframe to his workstation, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the omega and beta leave the lobby.

 

Before Jimin is fully out the door, he catches Yoongi throw a wink at him, and a quiet, “see you around, pretty,” echoing in the small lobby of the tattoo place. Jimin can’t help but smile, feeling the weight of the paper in his pocket. Taehyung teases him all the way to where Jimin’s chauffeured car is waiting, but he just pushes his best friend away to hide the smile on his own face.

 

 

 

 

It’s been days, and Jimin hates to say it, even to himself, but he really can’t forget about Yoongi.

 

He’s brave enough to admit that he’s got a small puppy crush on the alpha—he’s attractive, he seems nice, and he looks reliable and strong, too. Jimin’s mother calls him baby boy for a reason, and he isn’t scared to admit to anyone about his craving for attention. He likes being praised, and being cared for and babied. He lives for it, so to meet an alpha who can seemingly do that, seem like he’s grounded and content in life, who exudes a certain kind of silent strength, and who knows what he wants, is something of a miracle for Jimin. Yoongi is a definite catch, and Jimin knows this.

 

He curls up further under his sheets, and pouts when he remembers the piece of paper tucked away into a pocket in his journal planner. He wants to text the alpha, but he’s sure Yoongi had given him the number under the pretense of a tattoo appointment, so Jimin really can’t bring himself to use it to flirt, or whatever.

 

He whines into his pillows as he realizes the chance he’s squandering because of his own shyness, and then another whine rips out of him as he remembers the feeling of having Yoongi smile at him, of having the alpha’s warm hands touch his skin—and oh, dear, he knows that warm sensation in his lower gut. Yoongi really is a catch, and Jimin’s own body seems to know it, too.

 

For a moment, he tries to ignore it, tries hard to ignore the obvious need that his own body is asking for. He desperately thinks of things to make the heat in his abdomen subside, thinks about Taehyung and Hoseok, and how gross they are sometimes. He focuses on the crickets chirping outside in their garden, thinks about his own mother who’s probably still awake at the moment, finishing up her designs for the fashion show that season. His mother, who’s probably drawing right now with pencils, with markers—oh, markers.

 

His thought process jolts right back to Yoongi with his big hand holding a marker, his fingertips running smooth lines on the underside of Jimin’s bare leg, and Jimin whines again as he presses his thighs together. He feels himself getting wet at the mere thought of the tattoo artist, slick gradually leaking out of his hole as his cock twitches in his pants. The wet feeling makes him shudder, the bottom of his underwear definitely starting to get soaked through. Blood rushes up to his cheeks in embarrassment—he can’t believe he’s doing this, that he’s about to get off to an innocent memory of an acquaintance—but he pushes it all down shamefully in the name of his own needs. He moves slowly, shifting around to lie on his back with his knees bent and legs spread wide.

 

He’s no stranger to pleasuring himself, has done a lot of things especially when he’s in the throes of his heats, but now that he has an actual person in mind (who actually knows him personally), it’s different. It feels more intimate and personal, and his face burns hotter than usual when he lets his fingers trail across his chest. His silk pajamas add a gentle kind of friction against his skin, and he breathes out when his fingers finally reach the hem of his top. He snakes one hand underneath the silky pink fabric, biting his lip when the cold tips of his fingers shock his heated skin, while his other hand plays with the waistband of his shorts.

 

“A-ah,” he mewls out, eyes screwing shut when he remembers Yoongi’s hand—big, warm, slightly calloused, and a beautiful contrast against his own skin. Jimin runs his fingers on his right nipple, gasping when the sensation sends a tingle down his spine, his hole fluttering around another gush of slick. He takes his hardening nub between two fingers, pinches slightly, and twists it firmly. He lets out a breathy moan, chest rising and falling with how much he’s gasping.

 

While his right hand focuses on his nipple, he manages to shimmy down his shorts with his left hand, the garment bunching up snugly under his bent knees. His small cock stands proudly between his legs, flushed and pink and curving slightly to the right. The head is glistening with precum, and with every twist of his nipple, it twitches in response. He’s aware that his sheets are probably ruined at this point with how much slick he’s leaking, but his mind’s starting to get hazy with the small amounts of pleasure he’s giving himself that he just doesn’t care anymore.

 

He lets go of his nipple with a whine, and he quickly gets on his knees, crawling across his bed to reach his bedside table. He pulls out the bottom drawer where he keeps his personal toys, and picks out a baby pink dildo. It’s average in size, but he likes it for the wide inflated base it has that doubles as a plug, and a knot imitation. He scoots back to the center, remaining on his knees as he holds the toy in his hand. It’s a satisfying weight on his palm, and he trails his fingers down the imitation veins with a lick of his lips. Taking a deep breath, he positions it near his ass, before he slides it right between his cheeks to get it nice and wet with his slick. The smooth surface of the toy brushes against his fluttering hole, and the head catches on the rim slightly causing a mewl to escape his lips.

 

Jimin knows his face is super flushed from the pleasure and exertion, his arms and thighs shaking from all the work he’s doing by himself, and his blond locks are sticking to his forehead with sweat. He’s so embarrassed at how sensitive he is when it usually takes him a while to get this worked up—and it was all because of the image of Yoongi’s hands alone.

 

Min Yoongi, the attractive alpha that Jimin can’t stop thinking about. How it would be like to lie completely bare beneath him, vulnerable for the alpha, his legs hooked around Yoongi’s hips. How it would feel like to have the alpha’s big hands run up and down his thick thighs, squeezing firmly before spreading them wider. How it would feel like to run his own hands down the alpha’s biceps—he remembers the image of lean muscles rippling underneath his inked skin, remembers how they shifted with every move of his arm—and fuck, Jimin just knows Yoongi would have a big cock, and a huge knot that can fill Jimin in all the right ways.

 

Jimin puts a pause on his imagination as he pushes the dildo into his wet hole, a stuttered moan ripping through him as he feels the cold toy stretch and fill him up—not completely satisfying, but just enough. His mind jumps right back into thoughts filled with Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. He’s completely lost in his fantasy, leaning over to support himself on one hand while he keeps on pushing the dildo inside to the hilt, letting it rest as it bottoms out inside him. He can feel his rim straining around the inflated base, feel a slight burn around him as he clenches wetly around the fake cock.

 

The toy is pressing deliciously against his walls, and he feels so dirty when he remembers that he didn’t even bother taking off his clothes—his shorts have slid down from his knees and bunched around his ankles from all the squirming he was doing, and his silk shirt is sticking to his skin uncomfortably with his sweat. He shifts his legs, and a whimper escapes his lips when his ass clenches at the movement and causes the toy to inch deeper into him. It’s not enough, it’s not warm, and there’s no firm and heavy weight pressing on his back—he wants someone to fuck him hard, wants Yoongi to fill him up, feel his broad chest pressing against his back, feel his hips grind against the swell of his ass. He wants Yoongi’s hand to engulf his own while his other hand tweaks with Jimin’s sensitive nipples.

 

“H-hyung,” he moans out, voice soft and broken, and he reaches back to pull the toy out and push it back inside.

 

It’s really not enough, and he can feel tears brimming his eyes because he wants more, but he can’t get it. He bites his lip, letting his chest fall to the bed, his cheek squished against his sheets. He fucks himself with his toy at a slow and deep pace, eyes shut tight as he lets his imagination go wild. Lets it imagine Yoongi hovering above him, pouty lips brushing against the lobe of his ear as he whispers dirty things to Jimin, telling him how good he’s taking his alpha’s cock, how tight and warm he feels, how pretty of an omega he is.

 

Jimin moves the toy slightly to a different angle, and he keens when he hits his own prostate with the blunt head of the toy. He lifts himself up on one elbow, his right arm hurting from the angle but he doesn’t care. He turns up his pace, fucks himself roughly and sharply with his toy, presses it deep into him until he can feel the inflated base pressing his rim. His thighs are shaking from the way the toy is ramming into his prostate, and he shifts his hips back to meet every thrust. There’s a tight coiling sensation growing in his abdomen, and he keens out breathy moans every time he fucks back.

 

He suddenly remembers Yoongi’s words from that day in the tattoo shop, when Yoongi called him a pretty baby boy. The memory makes his arm stutter, and he thrusts in harder and rougher. With a broken gasp of “h-hyungie”, he comes untouched, thick ribbons of white spurting onto his sheets.

 

His body spasms and convulses with the aftershock of his orgasm, and he presses the toy deeper, grinds it against his prostate. He feels his tears finally falling from his eyes as he fucks himself through his orgasm. When he can’t help but whine from the overstimulation, he lets himself fall to his side, chest heaving from how worn out he is. The toy is still lodged in him, and he makes no move to pull it out, likes feeling full and stuffed.

 

It’s only as he’s coming down from his high that he realizes the things he imagined while he masturbated, the images his mind conjured, and the flush on his face grows darker with shame. Too overwhelmed from the embarrassment and his orgasm, he doesn’t even bother to clean his sheets. He shifts around on the bed tiredly, getting under the sheets and curling into a ball. He can’t believe he just got off to a man he barely knows, but he can’t deny that it was one of the best orgasms he’s had—and considering that he gets up to pretty wild things during his heats, that’s saying something.

 

 

 

 

Jimin’s not sure if some higher being is punishing him for getting off (twice—okay, thrice ) to imaginary scenarios with a certain tattooed alpha, but if they’ve somehow missed each other a lot on campus before, it was definitely not the case anymore. Jimin literally sees Yoongi everywhere now, and while it would’ve been nice on any other occasion, even possibly made Jimin happy because he does have a big puppy crush on the alpha—right now, no, it does not make him happy.

 

He’s mortified.

 

All he can think about is the two (three) times he got off to the image of the tattooed alpha. His sheets got ruined the first two times, so he ended up fingering himself to two orgasms in the shower. Every time he sees Yoongi, his body flushes with shame and his heart races in his chest, and it’s like his body’s developed a Pavlovian effect now because just the sight of Yoongi’s damn beanie makes him feel hot—and it’s autumn, damn.

 

Jimin is also embarrassed because all those times he’d seen Yoongi, the alpha had seen him, too, and all Jimin could do was squeak and run to save himself from further embarrassment. If his mother ever learned about how he’s acting, he’d definitely get a lecture.

 

As it was, Jimin’s mortified and embarrassed. He feels guilty, he feels dirty, and he can’t even tell Taehyung because it’s too personal. He wants to apologize to Yoongi—how he’d even go about that, he’s not sure—but he feels burdened with the shame building on his shoulders. He legitimately wants to be close to the alpha, but he doesn’t know how.

 

The bell for the next period rings, and he glumly stands up from his hiding corner in the library. He spots a shock of blond hair tucked under a thick blue beanie, and when Yoongi looks up, Jimin ducks his head down and practically sprints out of the library in his rush to escape.

 

 

 

 

It’s nearly a week later (after adding one more guilty orgasm to his growing list of things I regret) that Jimin sees Yoongi again. He’s waiting for his iced latte at his favorite coffee place when the alpha surprises him and catches him completely off guard.

 

In his defense, he’s barely awake as it is, and he has his earphones stuck in his ears. It’s really not his fault that he startles wildly when someone taps his shoulder out of nowhere. He whips around so quickly that he accidentally throws his latte at whoever it is, and—of course, it’s none other than Min Yoongi. It seems that whatever higher being is up there has finally had enough of Jimin’s own bullshit.

 

“Oh, my God,” Jimin breathes out, eyes wide as he stares at the alpha.

 

The white shirt he has underneath his open coat is stained a soft brown from Jimin’s latte, and it’s really not the time for Jimin to gawk but the fabric is drenched and it’s sticking wetly to the gentle slopes and lines of Yoongi’s chest. Focus, Jimin, you thirsty idiot, he reminds himself quickly, and with a heavy heart (and dry throat), he tears his gaze away from the alpha’s shirt and up to his face.

 

Surprisingly, he’s not angry. He just looks surprised, and confused. “I’m—sorry, Jimin-ssi, I didn’t mean to surprise you, or anything?”

 

“Oh, n-no,” Jimin starts, fumbling with his fingers before he remembers his manners and leans over the counter, asking hurriedly for napkins before looking back at Yoongi, “I just—it’s not your fault, Yoongi-ssi.”

 

The barista comes back with a handful of napkins, and she eyes Yoongi pitifully before she goes back to her post. Jimin quickly takes the napkins, and before the alpha can protest (and before he himself can chicken out), he pushes him towards one of the free chairs. Grabbing a handful of the napkins, he kneels down in front of Yoongi and presses the napkins against his shirt.

 

Yoongi visibly grows tense, and Jimin realizes the situation he's unconsciously put himself in. He’s kneeling between the alpha’s legs, one hand curled on the inside of his right thigh, and he’s leaning close as he presses the napkins firmly on the alpha’s chest (it’s firm, fuck). Jimin swallows thickly, and the momentary pause in his movements is apparently enough for Yoongi to come back to his senses.

 

The alpha reaches a hand down, wrapping his fingers around Jimin’s wrist to stop him from his task. Jimin looks up at him, aware of the soft pink blush definitely dusting his cheeks at the moment.

 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a shirt,” Yoongi says, his tone gentle and sweet.

 

Jimin blushes even more, but he nods his head and pulls back his hands. He moves to stand up awkwardly, but a gasp leaves his lips when Yoongi helps him up. The alpha reaches over, his face nearly pressing against Jimin’s stomach, and he pulls up a chair for him. He’s completely nonchalant about the state of his latte-soaked shirt, and it makes Jimin extra nervous for some reason. He bites his lip as he sits down, hands folded neatly on his lap as he tries to ignore the fact that he and Yoongi are close enough that their knees are touching. He hopes his body won’t pull another Pavlov on him.

 

“So, uh, I’m sorry,” Yoongi suddenly says, and Jimin can’t help his head from shooting up in surprise.

 

“Huh?”

 

“For whatever I did to offend you—I don’t know what it is, but I’m still sorry, anyway,” the alpha continues, his voice a soft rumble in the din of the cafe, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if that’s what I did.”

 

“What?” Jimin mutters, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he really takes in Yoongi’s face at that moment. There’s a guilty expression on his face, hints of sadness and disappointment accompanying it, and Jimin discovers he doesn’t like it. Not one bit. “What do you mean? I’m not—you didn’t do anything, though?”

 

Yoongi’s face shifts, and this time there’s only confusion, and maybe a bit of hopefulness in his eyes. It’s cute, Jimin notes, how the alpha is easy to read. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and Jimin finds it endearing.

 

“I didn’t? I just—you, uh, never texted, earlier you didn’t call me hyung, you threw that latte at me, and, well—you’ve been avoiding me for the past few days. I know we’re not close, or anything, but—” Yoongi trails off, breathing deeply before he clears his throat and looks down at his hands, his cheeks coloring a soft pink, “but I guess I just misread the whole thing at the tattoo shop.”

 

Jimin’s mouth gapes, and his face flushes in shame. He waves his hands around in apology, before covering his face and groaning. “N-no! God, oh my gosh, y-you didn’t—I’m sorry, I was just being dumb, and the latte was an accident! It wasn’t you, you didn’t m-misread anything from that day. It is what it is,” Jimin pauses, swallowing thickly before peeking between his fingers, “h-hyung.”

 

Yoongi’s eyes light up, and the corner of his lips twitch in a barely there smile. “Oh. That’s a relief. I—I really like you, so that’s a relief.”

 

“You—what?” Jimin squeaks as he sits up straight, voice muffled by his hands as he watches Yoongi lean back into his seat with a soft, content smile. The apprehension and nervousness from earlier is gone, and Jimin is again seeing the confident artist he first saw and talked to.

 

Yoongi gives him a smile, and really, he should look stupid with that thick blue bottle cap looking beanie and a coffee stain on his shirt, but he still looks good. He looks confident and sure of himself again, and Jimin likes the light in his eyes. “You heard me. Now, that doesn’t mean I’ll let you off the hook with the whole latte thing, though.”

 

Jimin licks his lips in anticipation, and the smile the alpha is giving him makes him smile, too. He feels giddy, and there’s a nice kind of warmth settling in his tummy. “It was an accident, though, you can’t blame me for it! Plus, you surprised me, so it’s really not my fault.”

 

“How about,” Yoongi starts, smacking his lips as he leans over and rests an elbow on the table, “how about you go out with me? As payment. All I demand is company.”

 

Jimin gawks at him, stares incredulously at the cheeky grin on Yoongi’s face—and he can’t help but giggle. He nearly doubles over, small hands covering his mouth as he lets out squeaky peals of laughter. Yoongi watches him with a fond smile, eyes crinkling up slightly.

 

Jimin is breathless by the time he can speak again, and he’s smiling at Yoongi. The alpha is still very attractive, but after a few exchanged words, Jimin doesn’t feel that high-strung anymore. With a shy smile and a small nod, he agrees, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Okay, hyung, let’s go out.”

 

Yoongi’s small smile turns into a gorgeous gummy one, and Jimin’s breath hitches when he sees it. “Alright, pretty. Let’s go, then.”

 

“Wait, what—right now?”

 

Yoongi stands up, gently taking his small hand in his, before he drags the omega up and out with him. Jimin squeezes his hand softly, and the alpha squeezes back. He can’t help but smile happily, butterflies erupting in his stomach at the turn of events that day.

 

 

 

 

Yoongi takes him to the movie theater three blocks away from the coffee place. It’s the small kind of theater which shows indie films, the obscure kinds which you either fall in love with, or completely abhor.

 

Jimin’s hand is still enclosed in Yoongi’s, and Jimin can feel himself flushing with embarrassment because his hand is probably growing sweaty. The only time they’ve let go of each other was when they passed by a small boutique, and Jimin demanded (cutely) that he wants to buy the alpha a shirt because he still feels guilty about the huge ugly stain on the front. Yoongi had tried to put up a small fight about it, but when Jimin pulled out what his mother had so endearingly named, “the Pouty Baby Card,” Yoongi visibly deflated and let him have his way.

 

Now, though, they’re standing in line at the concession stall, Yoongi keeping Jimin close to his side, his fingers wrapped around Jimin’s small ones. Jimin bites his lip to stop himself from smiling widely, but he can’t help it along with the pleased hum that rumbles in his throat when Yoongi pulls him closer, close enough that Jimin’s cheek rubs against the alpha’s shoulder.

 

“You think we should share one popcorn bucket?” Yoongi asks, voice low and quiet so only Jimin will hear.

 

Jimin blushes, completely aware that they’re on a literal impromptu date—he’s not dumb, he knows it’s Yoongi’s intention—after all, the alpha hasn’t been subtle at all about his feelings. Jimin nods, sidling up closer to Yoongi and pressing his nose against him. He smells nice, it’s that same musky mint and pine scent he’s been dreaming of ever since that day at the tattoo shop, but it’s stronger now that he’s so close to the source, and he feels safe and content. “Y-yeah, we should.”

 

“Alright, pretty,” Yoongi answers, slipping his hand free at the same time. Jimin tenses at the lack of contact, but he nearly preens when he feels Yoongi’s arm curl around his waist, quick and gentle.

 

Jimin has to physically stop himself from pressing his face on the crook of Yoongi’s neck, and he clears his throat as he settles on just holding on to the hem of the alpha’s coat. They’re still far from the counter, third or fourth in line, and he licks his lips nervously before he speaks.

 

“So, uhm, hyung? W-will you tell me about yourself?” his voice is small, shy and unsure, but Yoongi gives him a firm gentle squeeze before humming.

 

“I’m a senior at our university, in case you didn’t know,” he starts, and Jimin hums when he feels the alpha’s cheek pressing against the top of his head, “I have the same degree as your friend—the tall one? And the tattoo shop was my mentor’s before he left it in my care. Joon helps me with it—as okay as I am with handling financial and business stuff, Joon’s got patience.”

 

“That’s so cool, though, hyung!” Jimin turns to face him, blushing deeper when he sees that their faces are so close, but he doesn’t move away, eyes bright and wide, “you’ve got your life in order, meanwhile I still rely on my mom’s driver to take me to and from school.”

 

Yoongi smiles softly, ushering them forward when the line moves. “That’s fine, pretty, you deserve to be pampered like that.”

 

“O-oh,” Jimin mutters, cheeks flaming and words failing him. Yoongi chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, and Jimin puffs his cheeks in embarrassment.

 

“But, what about you? All I know is that your mother calls you baby boy—rightfully so, I think—and that you want your first tattoo to be meaningful,” Yoongi says teasingly, smiling at the giggle Jimin lets out.

 

“I’m taking business,” Jimin starts, fiddling with the button Yoongi’s coat, “I’m not as creative as my mom—she’s a fashion designer, you know?—and I want to help her and the family business, so I’m doing the second best I can do.”

 

“That’s just as cool, Jimin-ah, don’t be hard on yourself,” Yoongi comments, pulling him closer to his side.

 

“Thank you,” Jimin murmurs shyly, sliding impossibly closer to Yoongi.

 

Yoongi hums, rubbing his cheek against Jimin’s temple again as they move further up the line. They’re second now, and Jimin’s about to point out the flavors that he likes when Yoongi excuses himself to go the bathroom real quick. Jimin smiles, nodding and letting him go. The alpha is visibly in a rush to do his business quickly, and Jimin giggles at him.

 

He stands in line quietly, looking at the menu and perusing the flavors when there’s a sudden spike in the scent coming from behind him. It smells like coffee, but it’s not as appealing as it should’ve been. He scrunches his nose, turning around when he hears a commotion down the line.

 

It’s a man around Yoongi’s age, maybe older, and he’s got his eyes on Jimin. When their gazes meet, Jimin actually shudders, and he watches with confusion when the alpha begins to cut the line. Protests fall from the other customers, but they fall on deaf ears as the alpha makes a beeline for Jimin. Jimin presses his lips together—he knows what’s going to happen, and this won’t be his first time putting someone in their place.

 

The alpha’s scent is reeking up the area, his desire and intent obvious to everyone. Jimin scrunches his nose in contempt, pulling his jacket close, but before he can even open his mouth to let out some choice words, and before the alpha can even begin to posture himself, there’s an arm snaking around Jimin’s waist, and a musky minty pine scent wrapping around him.

 

Jimin feels himself relaxing, and the annoyance he felt building up in him settles into a calm feeling.

 

“Hey, baby,” Yoongi says, nosing at his temple, and Jimin mewls softly both at the pet name and display of affection.

 

The unnamed alpha stutters in his steps as he sees Yoongi all over Jimin, and a beta standing in the line behind the alpha with the coffee scent clicks her tongue in annoyance before physically reclaiming her spot that the other had rudely taken. The alpha shrinks back, visibly annoyed, but he doesn’t start a scene. Everything’s back to normal, and Jimin curls into Yoongi.

 

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers, letting Yoongi turn them back around to face the counter.

 

Yoongi hums in response, but he inches away a bit from Jimin. “No problem—and sorry about the name and everything—”

 

“No!” Jimin squeaks, face flushing when he realizes that his voice is too loud and that the people around them are giving him weird looks. He clears his throat, looking down at where his hands are clutching on to Yoongi’s coat. “I-I mean, no, it’s okay, hyung. I could have told him off myself, but it’s nice that you did. A-and the name and everything was—I l-liked it. Don’t worry.”

 

Yoongi’s quiet for a bit, before he laughs breathlessly. His scent spikes just a tiny bit, and Jimin discreetly takes a lungful. “Got it, princess.”

 

Jimin smiles, finally pressing his face on Yoongi’s neck and purring in delight. He can feel Yoongi’s chest puffing slightly, and he giggles at how alpha the movement is.

 

“So—cheese flavor?” Yoongi says, a smile in his voice, and Jimin laughs.

 

“Yup, I like it cheesy.”

 

“Got it.”

 

 

 

 

The movie was dumb as far as Jimin knew, and he’d spent more time trying to keep himself from blushing whenever Yoongi played with his fingers more than he tried to comprehend the movie. He still had fun, and if he’s being honest, it’s the most fun he’s had in a while. His chest feels light and his limbs are all tingly from all the touches Yoongi gave him.

 

There’s a shy and giddy smile on his face as they step out of the movie theater, and by this point, the weight of Yoongi’s arm around his waist is familiar and comforting. It makes Jimin’s heart race, but he likes it. Likes how the alpha runs warmer than his own body does, likes the solid warmth pressing against his side.

 

“Well,” Yoongi starts, huffing as he rolls his eyes, “that movie was dumb.”

 

Jimin laughs, nearly doubling over into Yoongi’s hold. He smiles, straightening up and shrugging his shoulders. There’s a sudden burst of confidence, and he grins cheekily at the alpha. “I don’t know, I think I kind of like it.”

 

Yoongi makes an incredulous face, looking at Jimin like he just grew another head. “Are you serious? I think I’m going to have to think about asking you out again.”

 

Jimin’s heart stutters at Yoongi’s straightforwardness, but he whines, swatting at Yoongi’s shoulder playfully. “Shut up, hyung, it was okay! Especially that part when someone just wouldn’t stop holding my hand and playing with my fingers.”

 

Yoongi sputters, his ears turning pink, but he clears his throat and rolls his eyes, a shy smile on his face that he tries hard not to show. He pulls Jimin closer to his side as they start walking towards the bus stop, and he shrugs his shoulders. “You liked that part in the movie?”

 

Jimin bites his lip, looking away as the burst of confidence from earlier suddenly leaves him. “Y-yeah, I guess.”

 

“Good,” the alpha simply says, and he sounds satisfied and smug. They walk for a bit more before Yoongi turns to look at Jimin. “It’s getting late, pretty. I’ll take you home, is that alright?”

 

Jimin waves his hands dismissively, not wanting the alpha to go out of his way. As much as the thought entices him and makes his insides all gooey and warm, he doesn’t want to impose when he can literally just pull out his phone and call for his driver. He says as much, but Yoongi presses his lips into a thin line before they jut out into a small pout. “I insist—I’d like to walk you home, what kind of date would this be if I didn’t do as much?”

 

Jimin opens and closes his mouth, his heart feeling so full already. He ends up closing them in the end, blushing to his roots as he nods his head shyly. Yoongi grins, pulling away from him and taking Jimin’s hand in his. He leads Jimin to the bus stop, their fingers intertwined much to Jimin’s joy.

 

“Oh, but, uh—you can say no, okay? If you’d rather have your driver pick you up, I can respect that. Our date ends the way you want it to end, pretty,” Yoongi suddenly says, looking at Jimin intently with a reassuring smile.

 

Jimin blinks at him, his mouth hanging open in surprise. He can’t believe it, can’t believe how considerate and untraditional Yoongi is as an alpha. It’s refreshing, and it makes his puppy crush just a little bit bigger than it originally had been. He closes his mouth, smiling and completely overwhelmed by his adoration for the elder.

 

He leans up, pressing a quick kiss on the alpha’s cheek. “I’d like it if you walk me home, Yoongi-hyung.”

 

Yoongi’s eyes are wide, and the apples of his cheeks are tinted a soft pink, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes Jimin feel warmer and happier than ever. Yoongi nods wordlessly, and he gently squeezes Jimin’s hand before continuing in leading them to the bus stop.

 

It’s probably too early, but Jimin thinks this could be the start of something he’d really, really like.

 

 

 

 

After their impromptu date, Jimin has (thankfully) stopped getting off to Yoongi. It’s kind of like meeting your hero—you drop all the expectations, and you begin to see them as a person. That’s not to say that Jimin has stopped thirsting over the alpha, though. If anything, his imagination’s taken a wilder turn as of late, but he doesn’t act on them anymore. It feels like a standstill—like he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something good that will happen eventually. He doesn’t feel like using his toys or fingers, anymore. He’s just—waiting for something. Something much bigger, and nicer, hopefully.

 

Besides, it’s not like he has any more free time to dedicate to pleasuring himself like he used to, anyway. His free time now is divided either into studying, hanging out with Taehyung, chilling with his mom, or into the newest addition to his schedule: going on little dates with Yoongi.

 

As much as he loves his friends and family, time spent with Yoongi is by far his new favorite thing.

 

They don’t go on extravagant dinners or pretentious museum dates unlike what Jimin’s past arranged blind dates sometimes did. Dates with Yoongi are humble and sweet, like the alpha himself. They spend time with each other mostly in parks, libraries, or small obscure cafes that Jimin discovers from food blogs. In each date, Yoongi never fails on being a charming gentleman, a funny hyung, and a caring alpha. He knows that Jimin is rich—everyone who has access to the internet knows he’s the youngest son of nationally acclaimed designer Park Jiyoon—but every time they go out, he always insists on paying. Jimin’s paid for his own share a lot of times, of course, he’s an omega who can carry his own weight—but the times the alpha has treated him still outweighs those. He can’t say that he isn’t charmed—because he is. He really, really is.

 

He can even go so far as to say that what he feels for the alpha isn’t just a simple puppy crush anymore.

 

Jimin waves goodbye at Yoongi as the alpha drops him off at home. He watches as the older boy walks away from their porch with his hands in his coat pockets, blond hair tucked into his beanie exposing his forehead. The alpha looks good as always, and Jimin can’t help but stare at him until he’s out of sight. When Yoongi is gone, Jimin sighs dreamily, leaning on their door as he presses his small hand on his chest.

 

Their date was sweet like usual, and, as always, Yoongi had brought a marker with him. Ever since they started going out on their little dates, the alpha had always made it a point to bring a writing tool so that he could draw little somethings on Jimin’s skin. Sometimes, they were little cute versions of Jimin. Sometimes, they were flowers, but most of the time, they were words intricately woven with artful strokes of lines and swirls—and those were Jimin’s favorites, because the words were always something sweet. A cheesy compliment, a pickup line, or a simple sentence of what Yoongi likes about him.

 

Whatever it was that the alpha left on his skin, it was always something pretty, and Jimin liked to look at it and read it over and over until his heart felt like it was going to burst, until his cheeks were so pink from how loved he feels.

 

He looks down at the back of his hand where Yoongi had decided to leave something, and his breath hitches when he sees the simple words scrawled in the middle of what seems to be a cloudy sunrise.

 

I hope this makes you smile, my pretty angel.

 

Jimin whines loudly, completely overwhelmed. He likes Yoongi. Dear lord, he really likes Yoongi. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say because he’s just so full of warm, happy, precious feelings. His heart feels so light—is that even possible?!—and he can’t help how warm and tingly his face grows.

 

He must have been a little too loud because suddenly, the door is opening, and Jimin barely stops himself from falling back flat on his ass on their entry way. His mother is standing under the doorway, a confused expression on her face as she looks at Jimin, who looks like he’s just run a marathon with how flushed his face is and how hard his chest is heaving.

 

“Baby—are you alright, sweetie? I heard someone out here, and I thought—” his mom stops all of a sudden, eyes zoning in on the fake tattoo on the back of his hand. She stills for a bit, seemingly calculating something, before a relieved smile spreads on her face. There’s a knowing glint in her eyes, and she smiles softly at Jimin. “It’s that boy who’s been taking you out a lot lately, huh?”

 

Jimin bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too widely, but he nods, anyway, before he steps into the house and melts into his mom’s arms. “Hm, him.”

 

“He’s sweet,” his mom says softly, closing the door behind him with a soft click, and she’s right, he is. Yoongi’s brought his mom enough flowers and cookies every time he picks Jimin up for their dates, and he won’t be surprised if his own mother is already charmed by the alpha.

 

“He is,” Jimin confirms anyway, burying his face on the crook of her neck. He feels so happy, and he just wants his mom to know that.

 

“And you really like him, don’t you,” she says, and it’s not a question. She knows already, and Jimin loves his mom for it.

 

“I think so, mommy,” he whispers, and he holds his breath for a bit before nuzzling closer, “I think I really, really like him.”

 

“I’m happy for you, baby,” she coos, hugging him tightly and gently swaying him. Jimin hums, completely content and happy.

 

 

 

 

Taehyung hosts a sleepover at his place around a week after Jimin’s realization. Jimin is invited, of course, but so is Hoseok. Jimin likes Hoseok enough, but he doesn’t want to be a third wheel—god, not again. They’ve had way too many sleepovers where Jimin had to physically extract himself from the couch because Taehyung and Hoseok couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

 

So he invites Yoongi. Rather shyly, because he’s still giddy about admitting to his mother that he likes an actual person, that he has a real breathing person whom he wants to become something more than a friend. Yoongi, of course, accepts the invitation—not that anyone expected a refusal, anyway.

 

The meeting place is Taehyung’s one bedroom apartment, and Jimin is already there before everyone else. Taehyung teases him about Yoongi all morning until Hoseok arrives around noon, and after that, the beta-beta couple team up to make Jimin as flustered as they can.

 

“You guys are mean,” Jimin whines, throwing a pillow at Taehyung’s face, “s-stop talking about his knot, oh my god!”

 

“It’s not like you haven’t thought about it,” Taehyung says defensively, grabbing the pillow and positioning it as a makeshift shield for his next words, “I specifically remember you telling me all your gross fantasie—”

 

The doorbell rings, and with a kick to Taehyung’s shin, Jimin runs to the door to open it. He knows it’s Yoongi, he’s the only one they’re waiting for now, but it still makes his heart jump in his throat when he opens the door and sees the alpha standing under the doorway, a backpack slung over one shoulder and a plastic bag of chips and beer cans in one hand.

 

“Yoongi-hyung! You made it!” Jimin chirps, sliding forward to hug the alpha.

 

Yoongi actually purrs, his chest rumbling softly before he wraps his free hand around Jimin’s shoulders. “Hey, Jiminnie.”

 

Jimin presses his face to the crook of Yoongi’s neck for a bit longer before stepping back. He knows he’s blushing, but Yoongi’s told him enough times that he likes seeing his pink cheeks so Jimin doesn’t hide anymore. “I’m so happy you’re here, Taetae and Hoseokie-hyung are bullying me.”

 

Yoongi almost laughs, but he schools it down to a sympathizing expression. Jimin knows it’s all playful, and he’s happy that Yoongi is humoring him. “Aww, is that so? We can’t have that now, can we, pretty?”

 

Jimin smiles shyly, before he takes the plastic bag from Yoongi’s hands and gestures for him to proceed to the living room where their friends are. Yoongi walks further into the unit, and Jimin psyches himself up and prepares for an eventful night.

 

 

 

 

The night was, in fact, uneventful.

 

Taehyung and Hoseok were surprisingly tame, just cuddled up together on the couch like peas in a pod as they perused the new releases on Netflix. Jimin had curled up by himself on the sleeping bags on the floor at first, but Yoongi (thankfully) had been bold enough to actually pull him to sit between his legs so that Jimin was resting against the alpha’s chest. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and Jimin can confidently say that it was, by far, his best Netflix experience.

 

It’s on their fourth movie that Jimin yawns, and Taehyung pauses the movie at the sound. “Chim, you can use my room, I’ll camp out here with Hoseokie-hyung.”

 

“Are you sure?” Jimin sits up straight, aware of Yoongi’s hands resting on his hips, but he’s too sleepy to be embarrassed by it.

 

“Yup, we’re still going to watch some more movies,” Taehyung is leaning back on Hoseok again, and if Jimin had been more awake, he would have seen the mischievous glints in the couple’s eyes, “oh, and Yoongi-hyung, you can use my room, too.”

 

Jimin’s eyes widen, and he snaps his head around to glare at his traitor of a best friend, but before he can curse the beta’s entire family tree, Yoongi is already moving behind him to stand up. He holds a hand out to Jimin while looking at Taehyung. “Okay, thanks, man,” he mumbles sleepily, reaching down to take Jimin’s hand and glancing at him, “you good to go, pretty?”

 

Jimin sputters for a bit before he resigns himself to his fate with one last weak glare at a smug Taehyung. He reaches up, feels his heart clench as Yoongi’s fingers wrap around his. He really is sleepy, though, so when Yoongi helps him up, he can’t help but lean on the alpha a bit. He yawns, pressing his face on Yoongi’s shoulder, and it makes the alpha laugh softly. He leads them to the bedroom, and the door closes behind them just as the sound of the movie on Netflix resumes.

 

“You can go ahead, doll,” Yoongi says, pushing him towards the bathroom gently.

 

Jimin nods, blinking sleepily. He didn’t bring any stuff with him seeing as he sleeps over at Taehyung’s frequently enough that he’s got his own stuff in there already, so he just waltzes right in. He brushes his teeth and washes his face at an acceptable speed, and he changes into the only set of pajamas he has in Taehyung’s apartment—a pair of pastel yellow silk shorts that barely reach the middle of his thighs, and a huge sweater that Taehyung had cut slits and holes through (Jimin had eaten the beta’s last popsicle last summer, and in retaliation, Taehyung had gone wild with a pair of scissors).

 

He’s sleepily rubbing his eyes with his fist when he steps out of the bathroom, stopping in the middle of the bedroom to yawn loudly. He’s aware of Yoongi sitting on the bed, probably waiting for him to finish with the bathroom, but when he brings his hand down and actually opens his eyes to look at Yoongi, he freezes.

 

There are ears—fluffy ears.

 

Yoongi’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his hoodie and baggy jeans long gone in exchange for a flimsy white tee shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. He’s hunched over as he scrolls on his phone, the neckline of his shirt too wide that Jimin is getting an eyeful of his collarbones (damn), and he looks so good but—

 

Jimin can’t focus because his beanie isn’t on his head, his blond hair is tousled and messed up in a nice way, and—ears. Fluffy cat ears are sitting on the top of his head. Oh, my God.

 

“Ears—”

 

Yoongi’s cat ears twitch, and he glances up at Jimin. He smiles softly, before he pats the spot on the bed next to him. “You can take the bed, Jiminnie. I’ll get the sleeping bag outside.”

 

Jimin’s mouth is agape, and he can’t stop staring at Yoongi’s fucking cat ears. They’re fluffy, and nearly the same shade as the alpha’s hair. It’s the first time that Jimin realizes that he’s never actually seen Yoongi without a beanie, and he’s suddenly thrown for a loop as he is violently reminded of all the things he’s learned about hybrids.

 

As much as it pains him to admit it, he’s never given much thought on them—until now.

 

Having grown up with a silver spoon, everything’s been handed to him on an equally silver platter. The ugly things in life has always been muted, dull in comparison to how utterly perfect his life is. Good friends, accepting family, perfect education, a secure future—he really does have it all now that he thinks about it. He’s every bit of the word sheltered, but he’s not completely ignorant and stupid, of course. He knows the gist of what’s happening in the world, muted as they may be when the news reaches him, but he’s aware to a certain extent about hybrids.

 

He can’t remember when it all started—maybe when his grandparents were still young, he’s not sure—but hybrids just started becoming a thing at one point in the past. Someone messed around in a lab with genetics, maybe, and then hybrids came to be. They took the whole world by storm, and as new things tended to become, they turned into a momentary objectified fad among people. Overall, though, it was ugly, and nobody ever really talks about the sketchy side of history.

 

Unfortunately, though, the hybrids eventually dwindled in number due to how people treated them, and they went into hiding as a last attempt at self preservation. The masses calmed down in a matter of time, most of the hybrids stayed in hiding, but some of them refused to be tied down by the sins of their enemies’ fathers. It’s rare, but some of the more courageous (stupid? Progressive?) individuals learned to coexist with the race that once viewed them as objects, playthings. Foolish, perhaps, but they adapted, and soon enough, hybrids mated with humans, and the rest was history. Of course there are still the occasional bigots, and some hybrids keep their identities hidden in an attempt at self preservation.

 

That’s as much as Jimin knows, though. One class session in his freshman year was dedicated to the history of hybrids, saying how rare they are nowadays since their genetics are considerably weaker, and that was about it; a sad attempt in erasing past stupidity and ugly behaviour, but he hadn’t been entirely bothered by it seeing as he didn’t really know a hybrid personally, and he’s pretty sure he’s never seen one in his university despite how much it boasts of its diverse populace—at least, until he met Min Yoongi.

 

So Jimin can’t help it when he feels a sad frown settle on his face, and he closes the distance between him and Yoongi. He doesn’t even get flustered or shy about the fact that he’s between Yoongi’s spread legs.

 

“Jiminnie?” Yoongi asks, putting his phone down beside him as he looks up at Jimin.

 

“You don’t have to hide from me, hyung,” he whispers, cupping the alpha’s face and tilting it up so that their eyes would meet, “I won’t look at you any differently, I hope you know that.”

 

Yoongi’s face scrunches in confusion, his cat ears twitching at how soft Jimin’s voice is, and Jimin can see the exact moment when understanding dawns on the alpha’s face. A happy smile stretches his lips, and he reaches up to hold Jimin’s wrists in his hands.

 

“Are you talking about me being a hybrid?” he asks softly, rubbing his fingertips on the inside of Jimin’s wrists.

 

“Mhm.”

 

“I wasn’t hiding, pretty,” he says, sliding his hands up Jimin’s arms before tentatively settling them on his hips. Jimin lets him, loves the warmth radiating from his palms, and Yoongi continues. “I apologize if you felt like I was keeping it a secret from you. I really wasn’t, it’s just—back in high school, I didn’t like people staring at my ears, so I learned to hide them from plain sight until it just became a habit, I guess. Now, I really don’t give a fuck if they know I’m a hybrid or not. Joon knows, and Taehyung and Hoseok made a huge fuss about it, too, when they saw me take my beanie off one time. So, really—I wasn’t hiding it. Not from you.”

 

Jimin looks at him intently, his hands now perched on Yoongi’s shoulder. He’s expecting to find uncertainty in Yoongi’s eyes, a sign that maybe the alpha is lying or is uncomfortable, but all he sees is warmth, adoration, and trust. Jimin feels a heavy weight leave his chest. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yep, I’m sure,” Yoongi assures him, pulling him closer, “it’s really not you—I trust you, Jiminnie, I would’ve told you sooner if it hadn’t slipped hyung’s mind.”

 

Jimin smiles shyly, before he lets his gaze flick up to Yoongi’s ears again. He giggles softly, looking at Yoongi with a cheeky smile on his face. “Kitty.”

 

Yoongi rolls his eyes, scoffing in amusement. He taps his lap, looking at Jimin expectantly. Maybe it’s because Jimin is just so sleepy, or maybe it’s because he feels so content and happy and warm. He doesn’t know what made him lose his shyness in that moment, but he doesn’t even hesitate on settling on Yoongi’s lap, his legs spread wide and straddling the alpha. He rests his hands daintily near Yoongi’s collarbones, and he preens at the pure adoring look the alpha is giving him.

 

Jimin smiles sleepily, leaning in and wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s neck, nuzzling against him. He pushes himself closer, their chests pressing together, and he can’t help how he hums in delight. “My little meow meow hyungie,” he whispers, tone teasing and cheeky, and he revels in the way Yoongi’s chest rumbles when he laughs.

 

“Did I hear that right? Your hyungie, pretty?”

 

Jimin whines softly, nodding his head and hugging the alpha tighter. “I-I mean, if that’s okay?”

 

Yoongi tilts his head so that his lips brush against the shell of Jimin’s ear, making him shudder and close his thighs around Yoongi’s waist. The alpha’s hands are resting on the small of his back, and Jimin likes it so much, likes how he’s surrounded by Yoongi, and his strong arms, and his big hands, and his musky minty scent. He likes it so, so much.

 

“I’d love that, Jiminnie,” Yoongi whispers, and Jimin nods his head, satisfied.

 

He stays on Yoongi’s lap for God knows how long. At the back of his mind and as he drifts off to sleep, he’s aware of his ass pressing against Yoongi’s crotch, how their chests are pressing together so closely, how Yoongi’s lips are still touching the shell of his ear. He can feel Yoongi’s fingers rubbing circles against his back, his fingertips sometimes touching his bare skin through the slits Taehyung had cut through the shirt. He’s aware that their current situation is the closest they’ve come to whatever his thirsty imagination would sometimes conjure, but right now, he’s too sleepy to even feel shy about it, let alone think of it. Right now, it just makes him feel warm and protected.

 

He wriggles a bit, whining at Yoongi. “Sleep, hyungie, m’tired,” he mumbles into Yoongi’s skin. The alpha nods, and Jimin clings tightly as Yoongi scoots back to the middle of the bed, laying them both down on their sides. Jimin squirms impossibly closer to him, unwilling to be away from the alpha, and he sighs in content when Yoongi presses him against his chest, Jimin’s head tucked under the alpha’s chin.

 

“G’night, kitty,” Jimin giggles sleepily, eyes heavy as he presses his curled fists against Yoongi’s chest.

 

Yoongi laughs breathlessly, and he leans in to press a kiss on Jimin’s forehead. “Night, baby.”

 

 

 

 

There’s a loud annoying sound of a camera shutter going off, and Jimin grumbles in his sleep before he turns his head away from the flash of light. He squirms closer to his source of warmth, to that something rumbling deeply. For a moment, he’s content. Everything is still, and quiet. He nearly drifts back to sleep, until another shutter goes off—and then the events of the previous night come flooding back into his memories.

 

Sleepover. Taehyung. Fucking traitor. Yoongi in the bedroom. Cat ears. Sitting on his lap. Jimin saying the most embarrassing things—oh, god.

 

Jimin sits up wildly, eyes flying open in shock. Taehyung and Hoseok are standing in the room with their phones out, devious grins on their faces. Their hairs are sticking out in odd directions and there are pillow creases on their faces, and usually, Jimin would laugh at how dumb they look, but now is not the time.

 

“Aww, look at the new boyfriends!” Taehyung coos, turning his phone around and showing Jimin the photo he took of the two of them.

 

It’s cute, really. In the photo, Yoongi’s practically curled around him, his arms caging Jimin in protectively. Jimin is curled up into a tight ball, and he looks so small. He’d probably ask Taehyung for the photo later, but he’s too overwhelmed with the sudden influx of memories from last night. God, he’d acted out of line, staked claim on Yoongi during his sleep-induced idiocy, and—god, he’s just so embarrassed.

 

He swats at Taehyung’s hand, the beta squawking in protest when he manages to save his phone at the last minute. “Shut up, Taehyung, he’s not my boyfriend,” he grumbles, cheeks heating up at his words. He wants it, though; for the alpha to be his boyfriend, but he can’t just decide that on his own.

 

“He’s not? It certainly doesn’t look that way to us,” Hoseok counters, wiggling his eyebrows as he folds his arms across his chest.

 

“He’s not, okay?! W-we’re just friends,” Jimin mumbles, and even he feels dumb saying that. What he and Yoongi share is definitely not friendship—he knows this, and yet he can’t bring himself to speak into existence the hopefulness he feels. He doesn’t want to assume, doesn’t want to speak for Yoongi, doesn’t want to ruin whatever they’ve built. He’s being dumb, and he knows it, but he feels like he doesn’t really have any other choice.

 

Taehyung’s eyes widen, and the teasing glint in his eyes are gone. Jimin opens his mouth to say something, but he feels a gentle hand pushing him to the side. He looks to his right, and his words fail him as he sees Yoongi sitting up and pushing past him to slide out of the bed.

 

Yoongi moves off, standing up before pushing past the beta-beta couple to get his bag from where it’s slumped next to the door. He hitches it up over his shoulder, and he turns to the other three boys to nod his head. “Hey, I’m leaving first, I just remembered I had something to do.”

 

“Hyung, it’s seven thirty in the morning,” Hoseok says, one eyebrow cocked up in confusion.

 

Yoongi just hums in response, and he moves to leave the room until he halts all of a sudden. Without glancing at Jimin, he turns to Hoseok and Taehyung. “And stop teasing Jimin, you’re making him uncomfortable.”

 

Taehyung is speechless (for the first time), and even Hoseok doesn’t have anything to say. Jimin just sits on the bed, a sense of dread filling him as he watches Yoongi avoid and ignore him completely. Yoongi nods his head again, his shoulders slumped in dejection, and they watch as he finally leaves the room. They’re all quiet, and the silence is only broken by the front door opening and closing.

 

“What,” Taehyung starts, licking his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, “what the fuck? What just happened?”

 

Jimin bites his lip, his heart clenching at how sad Yoongi sounded. Last night, he’d fleetingly thought he’d wake up to Yoongi kissing his forehead, or to the alpha lovingly watching him sleep, but that’s not what happened. What happened was weird, and—

 

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung suddenly says, eyes widening as he looks at Jimin, “dude, go follow hyung! When you said that you were just friends, he was waking up and I saw him look so sad—oh, my god, Jimin! He’s misunderstanding shit! Go follow him!”

 

“Wha—”

 

Taehyung pulls him up easily, gripping him by the shoulders and steering him towards the door. He opens it before pushing Jimin out, throwing his sneakers at him and making shoo-ing motions with his hand. “Go, go, he’s probably not far yet!”

 

“I don’t—”

 

Taehyung groans, leaning on the door and looking at Jimin like he’s the dumbest person ever—which is what he actually feels like at that moment. Taehyung rolls his eyes. “He thinks you don’t like him, and he’s probably super confused why you’ve been flirting with him, and  probably sad, too, because he thinks you played him. So, go!”

 

Jimin gasps, and he quickly drops his shoes on the floor. He shoves his feet inside messily, and ignores Taehyung’s loud cheers as he runs after Yoongi. He likes Yoongi so, so much, and he can’t let dumb misunderstandings and assumptions ruin whatever thing he could have with the only alpha he likes.

 

 

 

 

He sees Yoongi waiting at a bus stop scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing his hoodie now, and Jimin is briefly reminded that he’s only wearing his tattered sleep shirt and pastel yellow silk shorts. He’s cold, and he wants to go back to the warmth of Taehyung’s apartment, but only if Yoongi’s coming back with him.

 

“Hyung,” he calls out, and he watches as Yoongi’s cat ears twitch in his direction. The alpha glances up, and his face is guarded much like how it was when Jimin first saw him in that art class. It hurts, because he feels like they’re strangers again.

 

He closes the distance between them, glad that there aren’t any people around to watch him and Yoongi. Yoongi’s expression shifts to concern for a fleeting moment when he takes in Jimin’s underdressed state, but it schools back down to indifference just as quickly.

 

“Hyung,” Jimin says again, breathless from his run. He fiddles with his fingers, unsure how to start. He knows that the two of them have always known their feelings for each other, but Jimin never imagined he’d confess like this, and he never even dreamed of confessing after mistakenly making his crush think that he was just playing him.

 

Jimin isn’t sure how to do this. He has seen all those dramas with elaborate confession speeches and grand gestures and stuff, but he doesn’t have any of those, doesn’t even have the confidence, so he just sighs dejectedly. He looks at Yoongi, lips jutting out into an involuntary pout.

 

“Yoongi-hyung, I like you,” he breathes out, desperately simple yet hopeful.

 

Yoongi’s ears twitch again, and his eyes widen. His mouth drops open, and his hand almost shoots out to touch Jimin but he reels it in. “What? But—I heard you, you said—”

 

“I just didn’t want to assume,” Jimin cut him off, voice high pitched in worry, and he clears his throat and rubs his bare thighs together. It’s cold and he’s upset, he wants a warm hug. “I-I didn’t want to assume or speak for you, because I didn’t want to mess up what we have.”

 

“Jimin,” Yoongi trails off, voice soft and full of wonder.

 

“I-I meant it, what I said last night,” Jimin whispers, covering his face with his hands, “I want you to be my hyungie. My little meow meow hyungie, my Yoongi-hyung, a-and only mine.”

 

He can’t look at Yoongi, he’s too embarrassed, but then he feels fingers circling around his wrists, feels Yoongi prying them away from his face. When their gazes meet, Yoongi circles one arm around his waist, cups his face with his other hand, and presses their lips together.

 

Jimin’s breath hitches, and he feels relief flood his whole entirety when Yoongi pulls him closer by the waist. His lips are soft and warm, and they’re moving languidly against his own. Jimin can feel his own toes curling at the sensation, and he can’t help but whine when Yoongi sucks lightly on his bottom lip. Jimin pushes for more, but the alpha only pulls away. Jimin mewls at the loss of contact, so Yoongi plants a peck on his lips, and another, and then another, until he’s reduced to a blushing, whining mess in the alpha’s arms. When Yoongi lets him go, they’re both red in the face. The alpha takes off his hoodie to slip it on Jimin himself, and Jimin doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that he’s taking deep lungfuls of Yoongi’s scent when he pulls the collar up to his face.

 

Yoongi picks up his bag from the waiting bench, and he slips his fingers with Jimin’s. “Let’s go back, baby.”

 

Jimin smiles so wide at the pet name, and he squeezes the alpha’s hands in response.

 

 

 

 

(“So, I can call you boyfriend now, right, hyungie?” Jimin asks when they stop a few feet away from Taehyung’s door.

 

“If I can call you baby,” Yoongi teases, grinning when Jimin swats at his shoulder shyly.

 

“I want you to call me that,” Jimin mumbles anyway, holding Yoongi’s hand and swaying it gently from side to side.

 

Yoongi smiles softly, his ears twitching subtly. “Then I’m yours, baby,” Yoongi says, leaning in to kiss him again.

 

From behind Taehyung’s door, a chorus of gagging sounds erupts, and Jimin laughs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss just to spite his friends—but mainly for himself, really.)

 

 

 

 

It’s been nearly two months, and Jimin is sure he’s never been happier in his life.

 

Yoongi’s been the best boyfriend so far—not that Jimin had a lot to go by on seeing as Yoongi is his first—but he just knows that no one can top Yoongi. Not when the alpha is so caring and gentle with him, always making sure he’s comfortable and safe. Not when Yoongi is so funny and witty, always making him laugh until he doubles over and Yoongi has to physically help him up. Not when Yoongi isn’t afraid to be straightforward and honest, always complimenting and praising Jimin until he’s reduced to a stuttering, blushing, flustered mess.

 

Jimin likes him. A lot. He really, really does, and it really has been the best two months of his life so far, but—

 

He squirms uncomfortably in his seat, pushing his palm down discreetly against his crotch as he tries to tune out the sounds from the crime film playing on his television. Taehyung is sitting next to him, bowl of popcorn sitting between his legs as the two of them tune in to the film. The scene is of the main character and his love interest, and it’s getting heated, kisses exchanged and slivers of skin exposed. Wet gasps and breathy moans filter from the speakers, and Jimin squirms in his seat again.

 

He can’t help that he’s a tiny bit affected by the scene, seeing as he hasn’t really had any satisfying alone times lately. He rubs his thighs together, hoping that his best friend wouldn’t notice, but soon the beta’s palm is smacking hard against Jimin’s right thigh, and Jimin can’t help but yelp in actual pain.

 

“Dude!” Taehyung squawks, affronted gasp leaving his lips as he turns to Jimin incredulously, “seriously?! I’m here, man, don’t rub one out!”

 

“I-I wasn’t!” Jimin denies, cheeks flushing as he looks down at his lap. He’s not fully hard, but anyone can see the half chub through his silk shorts.

 

Taehyung groans, scooting away and pushing his feet against Jimin’s thigh for good measure. “God, you’re nasty. I thought at least by now Yoongi-hyung would’ve dicked it out of you already,” he mutters, snickering to himself and leaning back against the couch.

 

Jimin doesn’t answer, just puffs his cheeks at Taehyung’s words. He pulls his knees up, hugging them to his chest and retaining the sulky pout on his face. He can feel Taehyung’s eyes on the side of his face, can practically hear the figurative click from Taehyung’s mind when understanding dawns on the beta.

 

“Oh, my God,” he breathes out, sitting up and staring at Jimin, “you guys haven’t—”

 

“No, we haven’t,” Jimin whines, cutting him off and hugging his knees tighter, “don’t rub it in!”

 

“As long as you don’t rub one out right here,” Taehyung quips, ducking when Jimin reaches out to knock him upside the head, “no, but seriously, I can’t believe you guys haven’t dicked down yet. You, Jimin? Damn, you may be a virgin but I sure as hell know that you’re nasty.”

 

“I know, okay?!” Embarrassment colors Jimin’s face a bright pink, but he’s thankful for it and Taehyung’s teasing—at least he isn’t half-hard anymore. God knows how many times he’d had to get off by himself, and honestly, he really thought he’d share those things with Yoongi by now, but here he still is, and he whines again when he thinks of his boyfriend. “He’s too much of a gentleman, Taetae. He won’t take it to the next level no matter what I do.”

 

“No matter what you do?” Taehyung repeats, cocking an eyebrow at Jimin. There’s a small smirk on his face, and Jimin eyes it suspiciously.

 

“Y-yeah, no matter what I do,” Jimin answers, shrugging his shoulders. He pulls down his legs, folding them underneath him before toying with the hem of his shorts. “I mean, we’ve done some things, but like. We’ve never actually touched each other. Just made out, and stuff.”

 

“I think,” Taehyung starts, holding up a finger in the air and pointing at Jimin absently, “that you haven’t tried everything yet.”

 

“What do you mean?” Jimin’s leaning close to Taehyung now, highly interested. Admittedly, for someone as smart and creative as Taehyung, his ideas are always split cleanly between making it, or breaking it. Jimin’s witnessed too many of his ideas go south, but he’s desperate. Maybe this time, Taehyung would actually have a great suggestion.

 

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows conspiratorially, and he gestures for Jimin to come closer. He whispers into his ear, his breath tickling Jimin initially, but then Jimin hears his best friend’s idea, and a blush heats up his cheeks quickly. He bites down the complaints bubbling up his throat, fingers still twiddling with the hem of his silk shorts. Taehyung leans back again, smug grin adorning his face.

 

Jimin swallows thickly, cheeks on fire, before he nods his head. This just might work.

 

 

 

 

Jimin’s breathless when he steps off the roller coaster, and his cheeks are hurting from how much he’s laughing and smiling. There’s an arm curling around his waist leading him away, but he knows it’s Yoongi; can tell by the soft minty pine scent surrounding him.

 

It’s their—Jimin’s lost count, but they’re on a date, and contrary to their usual cafe or park dates, Yoongi had taken him to an amusement park. It’s a small one with a handful of rides and admittedly not one of the most famous parks, but Jimin can tell that Yoongi chose it specifically for that reason. There aren’t many children around, the patrons are mostly couples like them, and it’s not crowded; they can talk peacefully without having to yell over the usual amusement park din, Jimin can skip around freely without bumping into people, and the lines for each ride are reasonable.

 

Basically, he’s enjoying it a lot, and when they step away from the vicinity of the roller coaster, he practically jumps into Yoongi’s arms, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s neck and planting a loud smooch on his lips. Yoongi laughs in surprise, big hands settling comfortably on the curve of Jimin’s hips.

 

“Thank you for this, hyung,” Jimin whispers, lips brushing against the alpha’s lips, and the sensation sends a pleasant tingle down his spine. He bends his arms up, just enough so that his fingers reach Yoongi’s fluffy cat ears. They twitch under his touch, and he can’t help but giggle. “You should do this look more often, you look good.”

 

“What look? Whipped boyfriend look?” Yoongi pecks him on the lips, and god, Jimin’s heart feels so full.

 

“Yeah, that,” Jimin laughs, flicking the cat ears gently, “but no, I meant this whole no-beanie look. You look more handsome, hyung.”

 

A faint shade of pink blooms on Yoongi’s cheeks, and Jimin smiles. Yoongi leans forward, nuzzling Jimin’s neck and also to hide the shy gummy smile on his face. He’s purring softly, the sound and soft tremors rumbling from within his chest. It makes Jimin feel warm, that Yoongi likes him enough to purr because of him. He tilts his head to the side, letting his lips brush against the shell of the alpha’s ear in a sort of feathery kiss. He blushes when his lips meet the cold metal of Yoongi’s helix piercings.

 

The alpha stays wrapped around him for a bit, and Jimin doesn’t even mind the looks they’re getting. When Yoongi leans back, he looks happy and content, sleepy even. He unwraps his arms from around Jimin, and links their hands together.

 

“It’s getting late, baby, you good to go?” he asked, looking around at all the rides in the park.

 

“Mhmm, let’s go, hyung-ah, I’m kind of tired, too,” Jimin says, following along when Yoongi begins leading the way back to the main gate.

 

For a moment, Jimin feels calm. It’s a good date; he can’t even choose which is his favorite date so far, but today is definitely one of the more amazing ones. For a moment, all he feels is happiness—until he remembers what’s waiting at home, and what he’s planned for the actual last leg of their date.

 

His palms start becoming sweaty, and his face heats up at the prospect of what he’ll do, and how he’ll do it. God, maybe Taehyung wasn’t right after all. He’s only pulled out of his anxious thoughts when Yoongi squeezes his hand gently. He turns to the bus stop, but Jimin pulls him to a sudden stop. Yoongi looks at him curiously.

 

“Let’s take a cab, it’s faster,” Jimin says simply, and Yoongi doesn’t question him.

 

The cab arrives quickly, and Yoongi lets him go in first. The ride itself is quiet, Yoongi talking occasionally with the driver while playing with Jimin’s fingers. Yoongi definitely noticed that Jimin’s feeling nervous, but he’s thankful that the alpha doesn’t pry. He can’t exactly tell him why. At least, not yet.

 

They arrive at the Parks in a matter of minutes. Jimin’s biting his lip in anticipation. Yoongi’s quiet as they walk to the front door, and when they reach it, he takes both of Jimin’s hand in his and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles.

 

“Baby, are you okay?” he asks, soft and worried, and Jimin’s heart melts. Yoongi is too perfect.

 

Jimin nods, blushing when Yoongi presses another kiss. Jimin inhales deeply, and before Yoongi can let go and begin saying goodbye, Jimin intertwines their fingers together. “Yoongi-hyung, want to come inside?”

 

Yoongi blinks, but he nods, anyway. Jimin leads the way, thankful that the house is quiet and empty. His dad is on some work trip with Jimin’s older brother, and his mother is staying at a hotel near her fashion show venue for the rest of the weekend. Jimin and Yoongi basically have the place to themselves.

 

“Drink?” Jimin asks as he moves to turn to the kitchen, looking over his shoulder to see Yoongi looking around appreciatively at the interior of their house.

 

“I’m good, babe.”

 

Jimin steers them up the stairs and into his room. He’d cleaned up earlier that day, removed his clothes hanging from his chair, and even fluffed up his pillows and sheets. He lets go of Yoongi’s hand, and he gestures to the bed.

 

“Make yourself at home, hyung, I’m just going to go change out of these jeans,” he says lightly, but inside, he’s screaming. This is it, there is no going back.

 

Yoongi does as he’s told, sitting on the edge of the bed much like how he did during the time Jimin discovered about his hybrid nature, except now he’s not in ratty sleepwear. He’s wearing a plain white shirt that stretches nicely over his shoulders and chest, and a pair of dark jeans that hug him in all the right places.

 

Jimin practically scurries into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and eyeing the folded pile of clothes on the sink counter warily. He blushes wildly as he hears Taehyung’s voice and words come flooding back into him:

 

You need to seduce him, you big baby—wear that white sweater that’s kind of thin and doesn’t leave anything to the imagination, it makes you look super cute, and also wear those silk pajama shorts that are worth more than both my limbs combined. And then, just—prance around, act cute, and make sure you show off your fucking thighs and ass, okay?

 

Jimin shakes his head, before nodding determinedly. Taehyung’s right; he needs to make the move this time, Yoongi’s too much of a traditional gentleman to initiate anything.

 

With quick hands, he removes the minimal makeup he has on his face, lets his eyes trail over his rosy cheeks and messy hair after he rinses with water. He shyly slips into the clothes waiting for him, and he looks at his reflection in the mirror.

 

His body is swimming in the huge white knit sweater Taehyung made him wear. It’s kind of thin, and with enough light, the silhouette of his body is visible through the fabric. It ends just shy of the hem of his pink silk shorts, which are also super short that his ass is practically spilling out. White thigh highs hug his legs, wide lace trim reaching just above his knees, and wrapped prettily around his neck is a pastel yellow collar with a golden star pendant. He licks his lips, and he takes a deep breath to ground himself, before facing the door and turning the knob.

 

He sees Yoongi sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back with his weight supported on one arm while his other scrolled through his phone. His legs are spread wide, and Jimin wants nothing more than maybe to sit on his lap and hide his face in his neck. Gosh, he feels so shy, but he forces himself to walk in, closing the door behind him and clearing his throat.

 

“Are you busy tomorrow, hyung?” he says nonchalantly, stepping closer and halting his steps just as the alpha looks up from his phone.

 

Jimin wants to laugh at Yoongi’s expression, at the way his eyes just widen so much and how his lips part in blatant shock. He wants to laugh when Yoongi nearly drops his phone, but he feels so warm and embarrassed that all he can do is bite his lip and fiddle with his sweater paws. Yoongi gulps visibly and audibly.

 

“O-oh,” Yoongi breathes out, eyes flitting down before he forcefully tears his gaze away from Jimin’s legs, “fuck, baby—uh, no? No, hyung’s not busy t-tomorrow…”

 

“G-good,” Jimin says softly, swallowing thickly before he closes the distance between them. He brings his legs up over Yoongi’s, quickly straddling him and placing his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. “S-stay over?”

 

Yoongi drops his phone, then. The tips of his ears are red, and his hands are hovering just above Jimin’s hips like he’s not sure if he can touch him or not. They may have made out a lot, but they’ve never gone past wet kisses and minimal grinding. Jimin’s shorts are riding up so much that the whole of his thighs are exposed and the fabric is bunching at his groin. He’s never been this bare in front of Yoongi, but he can’t say that he doesn’t like the feeling. If anything, it makes him feel prettier, makes his spine tingle when he sees his alpha lick his lips.

 

With shaky hands, he wraps his fingers around Yoongi’s hands and gently maneuvers them to rest on the dip between his hips and thighs. “Y-you can touch, hyung.”

 

“Baby, what are you doing,” he breathes out, voice suddenly lower and rougher, and Jimin nearly whines in response when Yoongi’s fingers dig firmly into his skin.

 

“You know what I’m doing,” he whispers, a bit petulant and sulky, as he looks down at his lap and pouts.

 

Yoongi inhales sharply, before he’s suddenly surging forward and kissing Jimin. Jimin gasps when he feels Yoongi’s hands slide up to the small of his back and pull him closer, before he whimpers and reciprocates the kiss. It’s wet, a bit desperate, and he tightens his thighs around the alpha’s waist when he feels him lick across the seam of his lips. Jimin parts them quickly, and he moans when Yoongi licks right in.

 

Jimin can feel his face practically on fire, can feel Yoongi’s fingertips burn against his skin. He’s sitting right on the alpha’s dick, can just imagine how big it is and how his knot would feel, so he really can’t help it when a gush of slick leaks from his clenching hole when Yoongi sucks on his tongue sharply. The alpha seems to know what just happened, because there’s a low growl rumbling in his throat before he pulls away and starts kissing and sucking all over the expanse of Jimin’s neck. Their scents are mingling in the air, a delicious and heady mix of baby powder and the subtle scent of mint. Yoongi nips at the skin right below his ear, licking on the abused spot before sucking a mark onto it. Jimin mewls and bucks his hips forward at the sensation, but Yoongi’s hands squeeze him in response before he pulls away.

 

“A fucking collar, I swear,” his voice is breathless and raspy, words slurred together from how worked up he is as he stares at Jimin’s neck. He leans back in, his lips brushing against Jimin’s skin, and he presses a kiss on him before he clears his throat, “Are you sure about this, princess?”

 

Jimin tries to buck forward again, whines when his alpha’s hands stop him. He pulls away, eyes dazed and lidded, and he nods. “I’m sure, I—I really want you,” he bites his lip, forcing himself to make eye contact with the older man, “need you so bad.”

 

Yoongi’s cat ears twitch wildly, and he inhales sharply before he nods. His pupils are blown and dilated, lips red from their kiss, and his chest is heaving from how hard he’s breathing. He slides his hands down the small of Jimin’s back, halting momentarily before he continues sliding them all the way down to the swell of Jimin’s ass.

 

Jimin gasps when he feels them, moans in awe at how big Yoongi’s hands are, at how they nearly cover his cheeks. Yoongi looks pleased, chest puffing out slightly. He kneads Jimin’s ass through his shorts gently, eyes trained on Jimin’s face. “Alright, baby, I got you.”

 

He leans forward to kiss Jimin, their kiss somehow soft and gentler than what the situation calls for. Jimin hums as Yoongi leads the kiss, their lips moving together in sync. It’s soft, wet, and warm, and Jimin loves it. He can’t even feel shy about how wet he is, or how he’s probably soaked through his underwear by now. He loves it all, loves Yoongi’s hands roaming all over his sensitive body.

 

Yoongi breaks the kiss to snake his hand under Jimin’s sweater, looking up at him questioningly when he grips the hemline. When Jimin nods his head and lifts his arms up shyly, Yoongi smiles softly before sliding the sweater up, slipping it up and over Jimin’s head. “Good boy,” he says, tossing the sweater aside carelessly and placing his hands all over Jimin again.

 

Jimin bites back a moan. Yoongi’s fingers trailing hot lines all over his skin. He feels so delicate under Yoongi’s gaze, the alpha’s hands close to wrapping around his whole waist. It’s one of the things that Jimin likes about the two of them, how they’re nearly the same height and yet, Yoongi still seems to be physically bigger. Maybe it’s the alpha and omega hormones at work, but he really likes it, likes how Yoongi can wrap around him so perfectly.

 

Yoongi holds him by the hips, and he squeezes gently before breaking the kiss and manhandling Jimin to place him over one thigh. “I want you to ride me, babydoll, can you do that for me?”

 

Jimin whimpers an affirmative, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s neck and tightening his legs around the alpha’s right thigh. He’s gotten off lots of time to rubbing against things, riding his pillows (and even some of his stuffed toys—the unnamed ones, really). He’s done this plenty of times, but never with anyone watching, and most certainly never under the watchful gaze of his literal boyfriend and wet dream, the man who can practically unravel him with just a simple kiss.

 

He bucks his hips forward gently, gasps when he feels the friction of his underwear rubbing against his leaking cock, feels the warm pressure of Yoongi’s thigh against him. Yoongi leans in, pressing soft kisses on his chest, his neck, everywhere he can reach. His hands are splayed over Jimin’s ass cheeks, guiding him in his movement.

 

“That’s it, baby boy, ride hyung’s thigh,” he whispers, sucking a mark on Jimin’s chest and licking it to soothe the mark, “such a good boy.”

 

“Hyung, w-want more,” he whines, throwing his head back and gripping Yoongi’s shoulder tightly. His hips move in a stuttered figure eight, and he thrusts sharply when Yoongi starts kissing all the way down to his chest.

 

He’s practically lying back now and rutting against the alpha’s front, Yoongi holding his weight up with hands on the small of his back. Jimin’s front is rubbing against Yoongi’s stomach with stilted movements, and he moans loudly when the alpha closes his mouth over one of his nipples.

 

“Y-Yoon—oh, my God,” Jimin squeaks, his eyelids fluttering close as he feels Yoongi’s tongue swirl around his hard nub, wet and hot. The alpha sucks lightly, and Jimin keens at the sensation, toes curling and thighs clamping around Yoongi’s thigh. It makes him buck his hips up some more, grind his hard cock on Yoongi’s firm stomach. “M-more, please, hyung…”

 

Yoongi hums around him, pulling away only to dive right back in and suck harder. He presses his mouth in an open kiss around the pink nub, laving his tongue all over and digging his fingers harder onto Jimin’s skin. Jimin lets out a broken moan, high pitched and breathy. Yoongi’s mouth is hot and wet, he can feel the alpha’s tongue swirling all over his nipple, feel his teeth rub against his skin. Jimin’s nails are digging into Yoongi’s shoulders, and god, he feels so sensitive just from a few kisses and touches. He feels so hot, like his skin is on fire, and every touch on him makes him whimper, makes slick leak out of his clenching hole.

 

Yoongi pulls away and straightens Jimin up, sniffing at the air and groaning against his chest, hot breath fanning out all across the omega’s heated skin. “Fuck, princess, you smell good,” he murmurs, taking in Jimin’s blissed out expression.

 

Jimin parts his lips to respond, but Yoongi’s hands suddenly come down to his ass to help him move his hips. A cry of pleasure rips through him as his cock gets rubbed faster, his underwear turning slippery from all the slick he’s leaking. He’s pretty sure his shorts are ruined at the bottom already, and that Yoongi’s jeans must have a wet patch by now.

 

“H-hyung, more, please, oh God,” Jimin is practically keening now, toes curling as he feels heat exploding in his lower abdomen. He feels incredibly hot, the silk fabric of his shorts sticking to his thighs, and he’s so sensitive. Yoongi lets one of his hands run up along Jimin’s side, thumb brushing over his other nipple. He flicks it in time with Jimin’s movements, and Jimin positively keens, doubling over and letting Yoongi move him. His limbs are shaking—why is he so tired and affected already?—and all he can do is breathe out sharp moans as the friction builds up against his cock. Yoongi doesn’t stop rubbing his nipple, just keeps on twisting and flicking it in time with the stuttering of Jimin’s hips.

 

“I-I’m—c-come, h-hyung, I’m going to—”

 

Yoongi releases his pink nub, sliding his hand down to grip Jimin’s hips. He guides Jimin along, making him grind harder and deeper. He starts rubbing Jimin’s ass with one hand, kneading and massaging, and before Jimin can process what’s happening—too lost in the pleasurable sensations making him tremble—Yoongi’s hand comes down on his ass in a firm slap, and he comes with a shrill moan.

 

“A-ah!” Jimin throws his head back, convulsing wildly on Yoongi’s lap as he feels his cock spurt out ropes of cum inside his underwear, his hips bucking forward as he rides it out. Yoongi’s rubbing him where he’d spanked his ass, and he’s whispering sweet words to Jimin, making him keen softly.

 

“My baby did a good job,” he says, leaning in to kiss Jimin’s lips sweetly, “came so well for hyung, didn’t you, princess?”

 

Jimin nods, dazed and completely blissed out. His hips are still stuttering with stilted movements, his thighs quaking from coming untouched, until he looks down sleepily and realizes he’s still hard. He frowns, finally noticing that his body is really, really hot. Relief only floods his system when Yoongi touches him, and that’s when it hits him.

 

“Hyung, I’m—I think, I think I’m in heat,” he whispers, mouth dry from how hard he’d been gasping a few moments prior, “or at least—a phantom heat, I don’t know, my cycle’s soon but I guess...I guess you being here triggered it.”

 

“You—”

 

Jimin flutters his eyelashes slowly, looking down at his lap and squirming slightly at the gross wet feeling in his underwear. He’s covered in slick and come, and he feels so dirty, gosh. “Hyung, w-will you, uhm, take care of me?”

 

Yoongi gulps audibly, his ears twitching softly. It’s cute, Jimin thinks, and he smiles when he sees it. “You want me? To take care of your heat?”

 

Phantom heat,” Jimin corrects, breathing harshly when he smells Yoongi’s minty scent and his own cock twitches in response, “it’s not a heat, just—it’s my body preparing me for the actual thing.”

 

Yoongi blinks, like he’s taking in the information piece by piece. “I mean, are you sure? I don’t—baby, I want you to be sure about this, don’t rush things—”

 

“Hyung, shut up,” Jimin whines, straightening up and fisting Yoongi’s white shirt, “I wore these things today for you, and only for you.” He scoots closer, gasping when his cock rubs against his underwear, but he ignores the pleasure running up his spine and presses his bare chest against Yoongi’s clothed one. “I’m very sure, and I—M-Minnie wants hyungie’s cock, please?”

 

Yoongi groans into his neck, fingers clenching in restraint. “I’ll ask you one last time, baby—are you sure?” His voice is a ragged rasp at this point, and it makes Jimin’s cock twitch in his soaking underwear.

 

“I’m sure, I’ve been so sure about this since we started dating,” he admits after he pulls away to look at his boyfriend, blushing when Yoongi’s expression shifts to one of amusement and fondness, “I-I want my first time to be with you, Yoongi-hyung.”

 

The soft expression on Yoongi’s face shifts, pupils dilated and nostrils flaring as he takes in Jimin’s scent, his words, his vulnerability. “Fuck, baby, you can’t just—don’t just say things like that, god.”

 

Jimin giggles despite the situation, pressing his thighs tighter around Yoongi and hooking his ankles together just shy of his boyfriend’s lower back. He reaches out, cupping his alpha’s face and making cooing sounds at the elder. “Aww, my little meow meow hyungie is flustered, my cute kitty hyung-ah is so cute!”

 

Yoongi suddenly growls at that, gripping Jimin’s hips firmly and pulling him closer. He squeaks softly in surprise when the alpha moves to manhandle him on to the bed, big hands slipping down to the underside of his thighs and lifting him up easily as if he weighed nothing. Jimin blushes as he realizes how turned on he is from that simple action, but he bites back a whimper as Yoongi rests him on the bed, hovering over him with a glint in his eyes. Jimin licks his lips, his thighs still hooked around Yoongi’s waist.

 

“I’ll show you who’s the cute kitty here,” Yoongi says, smirking when Jimin’s eyes widen a fraction.

 

Before Jimin can say anything, Yoongi’s already pressing his lips against his neck, teeth and tongue working wonders on the sensitive spot on Jimin’s neck. The alpha presses their bodies down together, and Jimin gasps in surprise when he feels Yoongi’s cock pressing against him through his jeans.

 

“Your skin is so soft, and you smell so good,” Yoongi murmurs into his skin, lips trailing down Jimin’s torso. He purposely ignores Jimin’s nipples, pressing a sweet kiss next to each of the pink nubs before continuing down his chest. He wraps his hands around Jimin’s thighs, spreading them wider to accommodate him as his lips near the waistband of Jimin’s pink silk shorts.

 

“Dirty baby,” he teases, reaching up and palming Jimin through his shorts, “coming in your underwear so much, such a dirty princess, what’s hyung going to do with you, huh?”

 

Jimin squirms, mind reeling at how Yoongi’s one hand encompasses his whole cock. He knows he’s small, but damn, it turns him on so much that Yoongi is bigger in so many ways. “H-hyung, stop teasing, it hurts,” he whispers, thighs trembling from Yoongi’s ministrations.

 

Yoongi halts his movements, looking up at Jimin with concern floating in his brown eyes. “Good hurt, or bad hurt? Tell me if you want to stop, Jimin,” he says quickly, and Jimin smiles at him.

 

“Good hurt,” he says shyly, wiggling his ass and making his cock press against Yoongi’s palm, “and I’ll tell you to stop if I want to. Safeword is...kitty.”

 

“Kitty?”

 

Jimin grins, his heart feeling so full. He loves this, loves how he can just switch between playful and sexy with Yoongi without it feeling awkward. He watches as Yoongi laughs breathlessly, hand leaving Jimin’s cock and rubbing against his inner thigh. “You are such a brat.”

 

Jimin sticks his tongue out, laughing when Yoongi rolls his eyes before pressing another kiss on his stomach. Yoongi is so close to where Jimin wants him to be, but Yoongi just pulls away, letting Jimin’s legs spread wide on the bed. He reaches for the waistband of his shorts, fingers hooking over it.

 

“May I, baby?”

 

Jimin bites his lips, cheeks flushing with the realization that Yoongi will soon see him naked, see his drenched underwear. He nods, lifting his hips a bit when Yoongi begins to pull down the garment. A sharp exhale leaves Yoongi’s lips.

 

“You’re—panties? Jimin, you’re going to be the death of me,” he whispers, voice strained as he looks down at Jimin’s choice of underwear. It’s one of Jimin’s favorites, actually—a pair of baby blue striped panties with a little bow at the front. It’s soaked through now, though, the front stained with white and the back and center drenched with his slick.

 

“Y-yeah, I went all out today,” Jimin mumbles, pressing his hands on his face to hide.

 

Yoongi reaches up to pull his hands away, clicking his tongue with a disapproving frown on his face. “I told you before not to hide, Min-ah, you’re beautiful, hyung wants to see you, okay?”

 

Jimin nods, and he watches as Yoongi pulls down his shorts completely. He does the same for the panties, leaving his thigh highs on, and Jimin whimpers when his cock springs free from the confines of his underwear. His small cock is flushed pink, head glistening with precome and the shaft still stained with his previous orgasm. Even his groin and balls are a mess, he feels so dirty and yet, he can’t help but feel pretty and wanted at the same time when Yoongi’s looking at him so intently, his eyes full of desire and want.

 

“Look at you,” Yoongi whispers, looking at Jimin’s cock, before he licks his lips and wraps his hand around it, “such a small baby, you’re so dainty, love.”

 

Jimin moans at the words and at the sensation coming from his cock. Yoongi’s big hands are stroking him gently, before the alpha grabs a pillow and puts it under Jimin’s hips for support. Yoongi shifts back until he reaches the edge of the bed, kneeling on the floor with Jimin’s thighs resting on his shoulders. Jimin can’t help but whine, squirming where he lies because Yoongi is so close to his hole and cock, so close to where he wants the alpha to be. No one’s ever been that close before, so he feels shy. He scoots away on reflex, but Yoongi grounds him by his hips, head turning to press kisses all over the soft flesh of Jimin’s inner thigh.

 

“S’okay, baby, I got you, relax—fuck, you’re so pretty, smell good, too, and so, so wet,” he whispers, trailing his kisses higher and higher until his cheek is practically pressing against Jimin’s cock, “I’ll take care of you, and make you feel good, yeah?”

 

“O-okay, I trust you,” Jimin says, managing to relax his thighs on Yoongi’s shoulder.

 

Yoongi presses a kiss on the head of Jimin’s cock, before he places his hands on the back of Jimin’s thighs. He pushes them up until Jimin’s knees are bent, his hole on full display. Jimin can feel the air hitting his hole, makes him clench and unclench around nothing. Knowing that Yoongi is kneeling between his legs makes his cock twitch in anticipation, and for more slick to gush out. He’s about to say something to make himself feel less embarrassed, but then he feels something wet and hot press against his entrance.

 

Jimin positively keens, back arching as Yoongi presses his face between his cheeks. Jimin looks down, can see the top of Yoongi’s head and his cat ears between his legs, bobbing continuously. Yoongi licks between his cheeks again, runs his tongue all over Jimin’s pink hole. The action makes more slick leak out, and Jimin moans, high and soft.

 

“You taste so good, baby boy,” he murmurs, diving back in and kissing Jimin’s fluttering hole.

 

“H-hyung, please,” Jimin begs, and he’s not even sure what he’s begging for but he wants something. It feels so good, Yoongi’s face down there, his tongue laving slow languid strokes on his hole. He wants more, wants Yoongi to wreck him completely.

 

The sounds Yoongi is making are lewd, making Jimin blush harder than ever. He’s slurping so loudly, trying to get as much slick as he can but Jimin’s body is so high-strung from his phantom heat, knows that there’s an alpha ready to knot him. His body is producing more slick with each wet sound from Yoongi’s mouth, the alpha’s hands are splayed on his ass to spread him open.

 

Everything is so wet, so loud, and so warm, and Jimin’s eyes are brimming with tears from all the sensations he’s feeling. He reaches down, short fingers reaching for Yoongi. He manages to hold on to his hair, fingers curling around the blond strands. He’s not sure what he wants to do, but he accidentally pulls on Yoongi’s hair when the alpha sucks particularly hard on his hole—and fuck, it feels so good. Even when he’s using his toys, he’s never felt this good before, so when Yoongi sucks again and lets his tongue finally prod at Jimin’s hole to fuck him open in quick strokes, Jimin isn’t that surprised when he comes with a cry, his keens loud and needy in his room. His body trembles violently as his cock twitches with his second orgasm, his thighs pressing around Yoongi’s head tightly.

 

Yoongi pulls away when Jimin tugs on his hair from the overstimulation, and the omega moans at the state of Yoongi’s face and hair. The lower half of his face is glistening with Jimin’s slick, and his hair is standing up in weird directions from when Jimin had pulled on him.

 

“Damn,” Yoongi breathes out, voice deep as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. He gets on the bed again and leans over, kneeling between Jimin’s spread legs and surging forward to kiss him on the lips.

 

Jimin can taste himself on Yoongi’s tongue, can taste the sweet undertones of his scent, of vanilla and baby powder, and he’s so turned on by it that he’s leaking slick again. Yoongi presses one hand on Jimin’s stomach, fingers swirling in the mess of cum, sweat, and slick on Jimin’s soft stomach. “Baby did so good, but you’re still hard. Greedy little princess,” he growls, and Jimin moans into the kiss, bucking his hips up because yes, he’s greedy, he wants more, wants his alpha to pump him full of cum, full of his seed—Yoongi’s been holding it in for so long, and he can only imagine how much the alpha will come, how big his knot will be.

 

“Fuck me, alpha,” Jimin whispers, voice beginning to sound hoarse, “w-want your cum, fuck me full, please, M-Minnie needs it.”

 

Yoongi hums, nosing at his jaw and gently pressing Jimin’s cum all over his stomach. It should be gross, but Jimin likes it, likes how he’s practically wet all over. He reaches up his hands, curling his fingers into Yoongi’s shirt—and oh, Yoongi’s still fully clothed, while he himself is wearing nothing aside from his collar and thigh highs, one of them having slipped down to his ankle from all the squirming he was doing earlier. It shouldn’t turn him on so much, but it does. It makes him blush harder, if that’s possible.

 

Jimin slides his hands down to the hem of Yoongi’s shirt, and Yoongi leans back a bit to let him take it off of him. Jimin plops back down, watching as the alpha leans back over him. It’s the first time he’s seeing Yoongi this bare, and he’s very pleased by what he sees, a blissful hum escaping his lips.

 

“Like what you see, kitten,” Yoongi teases, but he sounds just as breathless as Jimin, and it makes Jimin happy that he’s not the only one affected by what they’re doing.

 

“Very,” Jimin whispers, letting his hands roam all along Yoongi’s skin. He lets his fingers trail across Yoongi’s lean abdomen, lets his fingers brush across his prominent happy trail, before running them up to his shoulders. It’s the first time he’s seeing all of Yoongi’s tattoos completely, and they’re gorgeous. The sleeve on his left arm extends all the way to his chest and shoulder, making his pale skin stand out even more. When he moves, his lean muscles shift beneath his skin. Jimin tears his eyes away from his broad chest and shoulders to meet Yoongi’s gaze. “I like what I see.”

 

Yoongi grins, cupping his face and kissing him sweetly. Jimin sighs, kissing back just as softly. After his second orgasm, he doesn’t feel as hot, anymore. There’s still the need to be fucked, the phantom desire to be bred with pups (puppy cats?), but he can feel the heat subsiding. He just wants Yoongi to fill him up now, make him feel full and complete.

 

Yoongi keeps on kissing him, their lips making soft smacking sounds against each other. The sound makes Jimin feel giddy, and he doesn’t think much of the hand on his stomach which is now trailing down, ignoring his flushed hard cock. Jimin spreads his legs wider absently, and he nips at Yoongi’s lip when he feels a finger prod at his hole. He feels the pad of Yoongi’s fingertip rubbing gently against his fluttering hole, feels it slowly enter him, the glide smooth and easy with how much slick he’s leaking.

 

“So wet, doll, so filthy just for hyung,” Yoongi pulls back a fraction, his nose rubbing against Jimin’s cheek, “this is only for me, right, Minnie?”

 

“Mhm, o-only for you,” he says, biting his lip when Yoongi slowly slips his finger in, “o-oh.”

 

“You good, baby?” Yoongi asks, not stopping in his attempt. He slides his finger in slowly to the knuckle, the slick making everything so much easier. Jimin is relaxed beneath him, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed red.

 

“Yeah, I’m good, just—I’m used to my fingers a-and toys, but hyung is so much better,” he whispers, blushing when he hears himself, but he doesn’t take it back. Just looks at Yoongi intently, their gazes never breaking.

 

“Don’t worry, love, hyung will always do this for you if you want me to,” he says, winking when Jimin giggles loudly.

 

His giggles are cut short when Yoongi starts to slide his finger out. Jimin parts his lips with a moan as he feels Yoongi’s finger fucking slowly into him, feels his own walls clenching on the digit. He arches his back with a yelp when Yoongi curls his finger, and the alpha grins at him. His thighs are trembling where they rest on the bed, and he bends them up to give Yoongi better access.

 

Yoongi kisses him again, one hand by Jimin’s head supporting his weight, while he continues to stretch Jimin open. One finger becomes two, and then three—Jimin’s moaning breathily by the second finger, and by the third, he’s a writhing crying mess on the bed. His thighs are trembling, toes curling against the sheets as he begs for more.

 

Yoongi pulls out slowly, making Jimin whine at the empty feeling. His cock is leaking precum again, little pools of translucent white dotting his abdomen. Yoongi moves to lift him up, carrying him easily and moving to the center of the bed with a whining Jimin on his lap.

 

“Baby boy, can you ride hyung?” Yoongi asks, hands sliding up Jimin’s sides gently.

 

Jimin blinks, before nodding his head frantically. He licks his lips, reaching down to work Yoongi’s jeans open. He feels so bad for his boyfriend’s clothes, Jimin’s slick and cum stains littered all over the front. He flushes at how much fluid he’s releasing, but with his head still swimming in a sex haze, he just can’t focus too much on the embarrassment. All he wants is to get something in him, something big and thick and heavy.

 

He finally manages to unzip Yoongi’s jeans, and the alpha slides away to completely remove it. Jimin gasps softly when he looks at Yoongi, when he sees the slim white tail peeking out from a hole behind his boxer shorts. It’s waving around slowly as Yoongi hops out of his jeans, and when he manages to pull them off, the tip of his tail twitches cutely. Jimin smiles dopily at the image.

 

Yoongi eventually comes back to Jimin who doesn’t see the tail as a topic of importance at the moment, and just lets himself fall easily back on the alpha’s lap. He looks down, eyeing Yoongi’s bulge through his boxers with hungry eyes. He licks his lips, sees the huge patch of precum on the front of his grey boxers.

 

Wordlessly, Jimin reaches forward to pull the alpha’s cock out of the confines of his boxers. Yoongi gasps as the cold air hits him, and Jimin swallows thickly because Yoongi is big. None of his toys are this big and veiny and thick, and god, it’s so flushed and hard—he wonders momentarily if it would even fit inside him.

 

“Baby?” Yoongi asks, his voice pulling Jimin out of his thoughts.

 

“It’s just—it’s so big, especially c-compared to mine,” Jimin whispers softly, before he looks up. His cheeks flush a pretty pink, before he shakes his head and smiles. He places his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders, kneeling over his lap and his cock. Jimin knows the alpha is big, and will probably be hard to take, but he is anything but a loser who doesn’t try. He’ll fit that cock in him even if it’s the last thing he does. With one shaky hand, he reaches for the slick all over his ass and thighs, gathering enough on his palm before he tentatively touches the head of Yoongi’s cock.

 

The alpha lets out a guttural groan, relief visibly flooding him as he finally gets touched for the first time that day. Jimin ignores the slick gushing slowly out of him as he strokes his alpha’s cock with his slick covered hand. When it’s all wet and glistening with the mix of his own slick and Yoongi’s precum, he straightens up again. He doesn’t wipe his hand when he places it back on Yoongi’s shoulder, knows the other wouldn’t mind and would probably even like it, like the idea of Jimin’s slick all over him.

 

“I’m ready,” Jimin says softly, looking at Yoongi shyly. He clenches his fingers on Yoongi’s shoulders, feels his own heart beating fast in his chest.

 

Yoongi pecks him on the cheek as he takes hold of the base of his cock, positioning it beneath Jimin’s fluttering hole. With a deep inhale, Jimin sinks down, letting out a breathy moan when the head of Yoongi’s cock pops into his hole. He moves slowly, stopping every now and then to help himself get used to the stretch. Sharp moans leave his lips as he slowly bottoms out, his ass resting on Yoongi’s thighs.

 

This is the fullest he’s ever felt, and Jimin decides he absolutely loves the feeling. His toys can’t compare, and his imagination pales in comparison to the real thing. He can feel Yoongi filling him up so well, stretching his walls deliciously. Their bare sweaty chests are pressed together, and Jimin feels like he’s just run up and down the stairs three times with how hard he’s breathing.

 

“So full,” he whimpers, moaning when Yoongi shifts beneath him, “hyungie, s-so good…”

 

Yoongi grunts, hands wrapping around Jimin’s waist tightly. Jimin sits for a while, just getting used to the sensation, and he kisses Yoongi on the lips sweetly for waiting for him. He can only imagine how hard it is for the alpha to not just thrust into him. When he feels the burning need for more, the desire for that sweet friction and tingling pleasure to run down his spine and make his toes curl, he lifts himself up slowly, shakily.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Jimin breathes out, feeling Yoongi’s cock slide out of him. It’s wet and slick, gliding out of him smoothly and making his knees tremble with desire. Yoongi groans loudly, leaning over and pressing his face on Jimin’s chest. His lips press soft kisses all over, murmuring praises for Jimin.

 

Jimin pulls out until his hole is left clenching the head, and in a much faster pace than he did earlier, he fucks himself down on Yoongi’s cock with one fluid movement. A breath leaves him, and Yoongi mutters out a strained, “oh, fuck, shit, baby, so tight ”. It’s good, it’s really good, and Jimin knows he’s going to get addicted to this feeling, to the sensation of pleasure burning his insides and making him feel dazed and blissed out.

 

“B-big,” Jimin manages to choke out as he pulls up again, only to sink down in a swift move. Yoongi hisses, fingers digging into his ass cheeks, guiding Jimin along as he sets a slow but gradually quickening pace.

 

Jimin’s moans punch out of him with each bounce that he does, the volume and pitch rising the quicker he moves, and Yoongi grunts into his neck, his fingers digging hard into Jimin’s skin. He trails them down his thighs, Jimin’s voice hitching a pitch higher when the alpha’s blunt nails scratch lightly on the soft underside of his thighs. The room is filled with loud pants and moans, Jimin’s bouncing soon turning into him grinding smooth figure eights on Yoongi’s cock and causing it to shift angle inside. Jimin keens when he feels the head rub against his prostate, and he practically sobs as Yoongi suddenly thrusts up into him.

 

“A-ah, hyung, oh, God, Yoongi—I’m, oh—m-more,” Jimin begs, fingers curling around Yoongi’s shoulders, nails pressing crescent marks on the alpha’s skin.

 

Yoongi groans, thrusting up before he’s suddenly fucking into Jimin’s tight and wet hole with hard and fast strokes. Jimin cries out, his limbs going weak as he lets Yoongi do the work, lets the alpha fuck into him against his prostate. “B-baby,” Yoongi grunts, one arm wrapping around Jimin’s waist and the other gripping his thigh firmly, “fuck, baby, so good, hyung’s coming, fuck…!”

 

“C-come inside me,” Jimin whimpers, clenching his hole around Yoongi.

 

Yoongi moans out Jimin’s name, voice guttural and raw, before he’s coming with a violent shake of his body. Jimin feels something warm filling him up, and he whines at the feeling, whimpers as Yoongi keeps pistoning into him. Yoongi quickly leans over, laying Jimin down on the bed gently. He’s riding out his orgasm, cum still shooting out of him in sporadic spurts—and there’s a lot. Jimin doesn’t feel him softening anytime soon, even when he’s thrusting shallowly as if taking a breather. If anything, he feels Yoongi somehow get bigger.

 

“Fuck, Jimin, it’s your phantom heat,” Yoongi rasps out brokenly, groaning when Jimin clenches around him, “it’s affecting me, too.”

 

“Then use me,” Jimin whispers, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s torso and clutching around his shoulder blades, “w-want more of hyung’s cum, p-please—ah!”

 

He yelps sharply when Yoongi thrusts hard into him without warning, hips slapping against Jimin’s ass. The sounds are louder and wetter with how much slick there is. He’s fucking into Jimin hard and fast, so much so that Jimin is getting jerked up the bed. Jimin holds on to his boyfriend tighter, finally letting himself moan loud and clear. Tears are running down his cheeks, and he can’t help the way he digs his nails down Yoongi’s back at one particular thrust.

 

“Harder, hyung, f-faster—fuck, oh, God, there,” Jimin cries out, Yoongi shifting his hips and ramming his cock against Jimin’s prostate. Somehow, he begins to fuck harder and faster, and Jimin is reduced to a blubbering, pleading mess. He’s not sure what he’s asking for, but he’s so delirious with pleasure that he just keeps on moaning, his voice raw and broken while his nails scratch Yoongi’s back again and again with each thrust in his tight hole.

 

When Yoongi suddenly grinds into him deeply, the head of his cock pressing into Jimin’s abused prostate, he screams, his third orgasm hitting him hard and without warning. He shakes beneath Yoongi, eyes rolling back as his cock spurts out the last few ropes of his cum weakly.

 

“You’re so fucking tight, Min, so gorgeous, fuck,” Yoongi rasps out, leaning down to wrap one arm around Jimin’s waist as he fucks into him roughly. Jimin whines beneath him, limbs weak and spent. He lies there as Yoongi uses him, and he keens from the overstimulation, but he doesn’t tell the alpha to stop, wants him to continue ramming into his clenching hole because it’s just so good, it’s too much yet it’s also not enough.

 

“W-want your knot, hyung-ah, want your p-pups,” he whispers weakly, voice hoarse from how much he’s moaned and screamed.

 

“Yeah? You want daddy’s pups, princess? Fuck, Minnie—” he grunts with each of his thrust, skin slapping against skin. He rams into Jimin once, twice, and then Jimin feels it, feels the alpha’s knot expanding inside. He starts squirming, the stretch a little bit too much for his overstimulated hole.

 

“H-hurts—hyung, s’too big—”

 

“Shh, baby, don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself,” Yoongi says, gripping Jimin’s hips to keep him in place.

 

Jimin whines loudly, his ass stretching around Yoongi’s knot. It’s big, and he feels full to the brim. Yoongi presses kisses on his forehead to soothe him, whispering praises and compliments. When his knot stops swelling, Yoongi grinds into him experimentally. Jimin moans from the pain and pleasure, his hole clenching around Yoongi and then the alpha’s coming again, Jimin’s name falling from his lips in a drawn out moan.

 

His hips stutter in movement as he grinds out his orgasm, and Jimin gasps softly when he feels more of Yoongi’s cum filling him, so much so that his stomach swells just a tiny but noticeable bit. There’s a low humming in his throat, a happy and content feeling settling in his guts when he thinks of the fact that Yoongi bred him well. Logically, he knows he won’t get pregnant yet—it’s not his actual heat, and with Yoongi not in rut, the chances are practically zero, but he still feels happy that Yoongi didn’t disappoint. Yoongi took care of him just as he said he would, and this makes the omega in Jimin preen.

 

Yoongi maneuvers them until they’re on their sides, spooning. He’s so tired and fucked out, he doesn’t even care about his ruined sheets. He’s drifting in and out of sleep, and right before he passes out, he feels Yoongi’s hand pressing on the swell of his stomach, feels the alpha’s lips on his nape. He’s whispering sweet words, loving compliments that make Jimin’s heart swell, too. He hears Yoongi promise to clean him up when his knot goes down, but for now, they’re stuck together, and Jimin’s completely fine with that. Just as he’s drifting off to sleep, Yoongi presses a soft peck on his shoulder.

 

“Love you, baby,” Yoongi whispers, and Jimin sighs in content.

 

 

 

 

Jimin wakes up sore, and alone in bed. His sheets are new, he’s wearing clean clothes, and his body is free of any bodily fluid; sweat, cum, or otherwise. He sits up, wincing at the dull ache on his lower back, and blushing when he can’t even feel his legs. He grins shyly after a while, knowing that Yoongi really did just fuck him too well. He looks around, and he pouts when he finds that he’s alone in the room, too.

 

“Yoongi-hyung?” he calls out, blushing harder when his voice comes out hoarse and raw. Taehyung’s going to have so much fun teasing him.

 

He hears footsteps outside his room, and he watches as the door opens slowly. Yoongi’s in one of Jimin’s shirt and sweatpants carrying a tray of food with him, before he smiles sheepishly when he finds Jimin awake. His tail peeks out from behind him as it swishes slowly in the air, and his ears twitch cutely on top of his head, before it turns to Jimin when he lets out a shy giggle.

 

“Hey, princess,” Yoongi greets, careful with his tray as he sets it in front of Jimin, “you slept through the night, thought I’d make you breakfast.”

 

“Thank you, hyung,” smiling when he sees cat shaped pancakes on his plate. He looks up at Yoongi in amusement, who’s smiling dreamily at him. “Kitty pancakes?”

 

“You love cats, don’t you? Just eat it, brat,” Yoongi laughs, crawling on the bed and settling himself behind Jimin. He places his hands on his lower back, pressing his thumbs onto Jimin’s lower back, and massaging him.

 

Jimin moans, leaning back and resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. They’re quiet, just basking in each other’s presence while Jimin absently feeds himself and Yoongi pieces of the pancake. The alpha’s tail wraps around his arm gently at some point, and it makes Jimin smile giddily. Yoongi continues with his massage, presses his thumbs at a particular spot which makes Jimin moan loudly.

 

“Jimin, please,” Yoongi says, exasperated. He stops his movements, and Jimin whines cutely.

 

“What?”

 

“Stop making those sounds,” Yoongi says, pressing his lips together when Jimin only laughs in response.

 

“Aww, is little meow meow hyungie getting affected? You fucked me hard enough yesterday, and you’re still raring to go?” Jimin fakes an affronted gasp, turning to face Yoongi and cupping his cheek gently, “my insatiable little kitty, what are we going to do with you?”

 

Yoongi rolls his eyes, smiling in amusement before he curls himself around Jimin, hugging him to his chest and kissing him full on the lips. Jimin sighs into the kiss, can’t help the smile that breaks it. He giggles softly, looking at Yoongi lovingly.

 

“Hey,” Yoongi starts, suddenly looking nervous. He tightens his arms around Jimin’s waist, and Jimin hums for him to go on. “I know I said don’t rush, but, uhm—”

 

“I love you, hyung,” Jimin says, surprised at how sure he feels. He smiles wider, eyes crinkling and cheeks bunching up.

 

Yoongi’s mouth parts in shock, before he whines petulantly. “Ah, hey, I was going to say it first,” he complains, pouting when Jimin only laughs harder. Jimin hugs him, feeling so happy and content and warm. He watches as Yoongi sighs loudly, looking at him in exasperation before the alpha cups his face, nosing at his cheek and kissing the tip of his nose.

 

“I love you, too, baby,” he whispers, and Jimin smiles.

 

It’s been two months, but Jimin is sure he’s never been happier in his life. It’s been two months, yet he knows that it’s just going get happier from now on as long as he has his hyung, his own little kitty hyung.

 

 

 

 

 

(On their first anniversary, Jimin seeks Namjoon’s help for a simple gift for his hyung.

 

Later that day, when Yoongi lifts Jimin’s shirt to kiss him all over, he sees it, sees his baby’s small but precious gift for him sitting right there on his hip: a small outline of a cat no bigger than his thumb, sporting a grumpy but cute expression. Jimin’s waiting patiently for his reaction, before Yoongi surges up to kiss him, hard and desperate and so full of love.

 

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” the hybrid whispers, and Jimin smiles into the kiss, pulling Yoongi closer to his body.

 

“I love you, too,” Jimin says, soft and loving.

 

It’s been a year, and they’ve never been happier with their life together, but they do know that it’s only going to become more so from that point on.)

 

 

✧✧✧