Work Text:
Snow in Susukino never stays white for long.
Jeongguk watches it melt into a slurry of neon colors. Pink from the hostess bars, blue from the pachinko halls, red from the late-night ramen stalls, all bleeding together on the street outside his office window. He rests both tattooed hands on the metal railing and leans forward, letting the cold seep into his skin.
Below him the district is alive as it always is, hungry, and glittering, and lawless.
His kingdom.
Yet all Jeongguk can think about tonight (or any other night, truth be told) is the one person who doesn’t belong in any kingdom but has been surviving in the cracks of it anyway.
Park Jimin.
Omega. Soft smile, hard life. Works at Higanbana, one of the higher-end soaplands in the district. Walks home alone every night no matter the weather because he hates owing anyone anything. Jeongguk had sworn, a long time ago, that he would never lay a hand on the omega until he could offer him something better than the underbelly of Sapporo.
Tonight, though… the restraint is killing him. Because Jimin had stopped by earlier. He just walked into the Horangs’ building like he wasn’t the most dangerous thing in the whole damn place only to hand Jeongguk a small paper bag and say, “It’s cold today. I thought maybe you didn’t eat yet.” A simple bento from the 7-Eleven downstairs, cheap and warm, given with that soft tilt of his head that makes Jeongguk’s chest go hot and tight.
Jeongguk shouldn’t have kept the chopsticks. He shouldn’t have kept the empty container either. But they are sitting on his desk like some kind of shrine.
He drags a hand through his hair and exhales a cloud of breath into the freezing air.
“You’re the only alpha I know who gets flustered over someone who literally bathes strangers for a living.” His lieutenant, Namjoon, had told him earlier.
Jeongguk didn’t bother punching him for that one. Instead, he just said, “That’s why I’m going to court him properly.”
Properly. The word tastes strange in his mouth, like something too clean for him. He doesn’t belong to Jimin’s world, but he wants to try anyway.
Jeongguk straightens, pulling his coat on. It’s almost time for Jimin’s shift to end. He won’t pick him up, since he promised the omega he would never force protection on him, but he’ll walk the long way home, the detour that happens to pass Higanbana’s doorway.
Just to check if the street is safe. Just to see him, from a proper distance.
Just to make sure no asshole tries to follow his omega home.
Jeongguk descends the stairs, boots heavy on the metal steps, the noise swallowed by the roar of Susukino’s nightlife.
He doesn’t expect anything new tonight.
He doesn’t expect Higanbana’s neon sign to flicker violently as he approaches.
He doesn’t expect the two drunk businessmen stumbling out yelling about a “pretty little omega with too much attitude.”
He doesn’t expect the scent that suddenly hits his senses—
Sweet. Nervous.
Jimin.
And he definitely doesn’t expect to hear, right outside the building:
“Don’t fucking touch me. I said no.”
Jeongguk freezes for half a second.
Then he moves.
Fast.
One moment, he’s at the corner, watching the drunk men waving their arms around each other. The next, he’s between an alpha and Jimin like a solid, unmoving cold fury wrapped in black leather.
The man, a red-faced salaryman with an expensive coat and cheap scent, stumbles back at the sudden wall of muscle now in front of him.
“The hell—who are you?”
Jeongguk doesn’t answer him; all he can focus on is Jimin, standing half a step away from them, shoulders tight and lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes widen the second he recognizes Jeongguk, panic flickering across his scent like sparks.
Not fear of Jeongguk. Fear of what Jeongguk might do.
“Jeongguk,” Jimin whispers. “Don’t—”
That quiet, pleading tone almost undoes him, his alpha instincts surging like claws scraping down his spine, demanding he pull Jimin behind him, tuck him into his chest, and snarl at anyone who dares breathe in his omega’s direction. But he keeps his hands at his sides when Jimin takes a few steps and gets behind him, as if to protect himself from what’s about to happen. Jeongguk doesn’t touch the omega, not even a brush of fingers.
Not even when every cell in his body screams at him to.
Instead, he plants his boots on the slick pavement and looks down at the man who tried to grab Jimin’s wrist.
“Apologize.”
He knows his voice is low and dangerous in a way that doesn’t need volume. The man blinks, confused, then scoffs.
“For what? I paid for a full course. He cut it short. I deserve—”
Jeongguk leans in, and the man’s voice breaks off. He doesn’t raise a hand or snarls.
He just looks down at him.
“Apologize,” he repeats, slower this time. “And walk away.”
Another man who Jeongguk hasn’t noticed until now tugs at the salaryman’s sleeve, whispering hurriedly, “Dude, that’s Jeon Jeongguk—Horang’s Jeongguk—let’s go, let’s go—”
But the first man shoves him away. “I don’t care if he’s the fucking mayor. The omega owes me—”
Jeongguk doesn’t physically move, but the air around him does, something heavy and animalistic rolling off him like smoke. Not a full alpha flare, but the edge of one, controlled enough to make the drunk’s knees buckle a little.
Jimin inhales sharply behind him, and Jeongguk feels it like a pulse against his back. He forces himself to take one small step sideways, subtly blocking the man’s view of the omega entirely.
“No one,” Jeongguk softly says, “owes you a thing.”
The man swallows, his bravado slipping. Then—coward that he is—he spits at Jeongguk’s feet.
“Fine. Whatever. Keep your little toy.”
Behind him, he can see how Jimin stiffens at that word.
Toy.
He doesn’t break the man’s wrist or slam his head into the wall. He doesn’t even grab his collar. Instead, he takes a deep breath and tilts his head.
“Apologize to him and you walk away with all your teeth.”
The man falters, finally seeing the truth in Jeongguk’s eyes. Violence held on a leash, the leash fraying.
“I—” He glances over Jeongguk’s shoulder at Jimin. “S-sorry.”
Jimin bows politely—because he is Jimin, gentle even in this kind of situation—and says nothing.
“Now disappear.”
The two men stumble off into the night, muttering curses they don’t dare say loudly.
Only when they are gone, when their scents fade into the background, does Jeongguk let out the breath he’s been holding.
He doesn’t turn around, not while his instincts are still pacing, still clawing, still begging him.
Check him. Touch him. Make sure he’s safe. Pull him in. Breathe him in.
His voice, when it comes, is rough around the edges.
“You okay?”
There’s a moment of silence. Then, a soft shuffle of boots on snow.
“Jeongguk,” Jimin quietly says. “Why are you here?”
“I was nearby.”
Jimin’s scent shifts, warm and embarrassed and a little flustered. “Thank you for… for stepping in. But you don’t have to watch over me.”
Jeongguk finally turns.
Jimin stands under the pink glow of the soapland sign, breath puffing out in little clouds, cheeks flushed from cold and adrenaline, a scarf hung loosely around his neck, his hair damp—fresh from his last bath session.
Perfect and fragile. Dangerous to Jeongguk in ways bullets could never be.
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to.”
Jimin’s eyes drop to the ground. “But you promised not to interfere with my work.”
“I didn’t interfere,” Jeongguk replies. “I prevented an assault.”
At the word “assault,” Jimin’s scent wobbles, and he hugs his arms around himself.
Jeongguk’s hands twitch at his sides. He wants—God, he wants it so badly—just to put his coat around him. Pull him close. Make him feel warm and safe. Tell him he’ll never let anyone hurt him again.
But that would break the vow, so he swallows the instinct and says instead, “Are you heading home?”
Jimin hesitates. Then nods. “Yeah.”
“Walk with me?” Jeongguk offers.
Jimin looks up, eyes big and soft, something unreadable flickering there.
“Okay,” he whispers.
They fall into step beside each other, only a few inches apart, Jeongguk keeping his hands in his pockets, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint.
“Jeongguk?” Jimin murmurs after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t… you held back. You didn’t hurt him.”
Jeongguk glances at the omega. Jimin’s cheeks are pink, but his eyes—his eyes are shining with something like relief.
“I could’ve,” Jeongguk shrugs. “I really wanted to.”
“Why didn’t you?”
The alpha looks back toward the street, snow swirling around them.
“Because if I lost control,” he quietly says, “I might’ve touched you.”
Silence. Then, Jimin’s scent blooms around them like honey melting in heat.
“…and that would be bad?” Jimin asks.
Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t trust himself to look at the omega now.
“Yes,” he says, low. “Because when I touch you… it’s not going to be because I lost control. It’s going to be because you asked.”
Jimin stops walking, staring at him with his mouth parted and eyes wide, his scent fluttering wildly in the cold air.
“Then don’t make me wait for so long.”
݁.˚🫧˚.• ݁‧
10 Years ago
Susukino had always been loud, but that night was louder than most. The gang was still small back then, just a handful of fighters, a crumbling building, and Jeongguk at twenty-one trying to act older than he was. He’d only recently come up from the south, still smelling like train stations and cheap cigarettes instead of the cold asphalt of Sapporo.
He wasn’t a king yet, just a prince with blood on his knuckles.
They’d just finished shaking down a payday-lending office that owed them money when Namjoon, still just a reckless alpha with a sharp tongue, elbowed Jeongguk and pointed down the street.
“Hey. Someone’s getting cornered.”
Jeongguk would’ve ignored it. He had places to be, territory to carve, and men to manage. There was no profit in heroics.
But he caught a scent on the wind.
Soft and clean, not perfumed like the hostesses or blown out with synthetic suppressants. Not cloying like the ones who worked the alleys and wore too much makeup to hide too many bruises. This one smelled… young. A little frightened but stubbornly holding themselves together.
Jeongguk didn’t think; his body just moved in that direction.
“Joon. Stay back.”
“Like hell.”
“Stay. Back.”
The tone made Namjoon stop.
Jeongguk turned the corner and saw three men crowding someone against the wall—a small figure in a pale jacket, hands balled at his sides like he couldn’t decide whether to fight or cry.
“Come on,” one of the men was saying. “Just one drink. You’re new here, right? Let us welcome you properly.”
“Let go,” the omega said, voice tight. “I said I’m fine.”
Jeongguk didn’t hear the words as much as he heard the strain beneath the. There was an edge of panic, the effort to hold back an instinctive scent flare. He stepped into the alley.
“That’s enough.”
Three heads turned. The biggest man scowled. “Mind your business, punk.”
Jeongguk didn’t blink. “He said no.”
The one holding the omega’s wrist puffed up. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Nobody,” Jeongguk said. Which was true then. He wasn’t anybody yet. “But you’re going to let him go.”
The tension snapped like ice. A shove, then a curse. The scrape of boots on concrete. Jeongguk didn’t bother with a warning, moving fast and direct—two hits, a knee, and the man holding the omega dropped, gasping. The other two lunged; Jeongguk sent one into the wall and the other into the snow.
Then silence, aside from the drip of melting icicles and the whistle of wind between neon signs.
Jeongguk exhaled and turned around to check if the omega was alright, and that’s when he saw him clearly for the first time.
Wide-eyed. Flushed cheeks from the cold. Dark hair falling into soft eyes that didn’t quite match the grit of the district around him. He smelled like fizzy citrus and raw determination and the moment Jeongguk looked at him—really looked—something in his chest went hot and unbearably tender.
“Are you hurt?” Jeongguk asked.
The omega shook his head, hesitated… then bowed slightly. “Thank you.”
His voice, so soft and melodic, hit Jeongguk like a punch in the ribs.
“Nobody’s supposed to walk this district alone at night,” Jeongguk said, softer now.
“I can take care of myself,” the omega murmured.
Jeongguk almost smiled. Almost.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I said you shouldn’t.”
The omega looked up at him then, and Jeongguk felt the shift—an instinctive, fragile flicker of trust. It was subtle, but Jeongguk caught it. And it scared him a little.
“Do you live nearby?” Jeongguk asked.
The omega nodded.
“I’ll walk you.”
Most omegas in the district avoided alphas like him, but the omega turned, tugging his jacket tighter, and simply said, “…okay.”
They walked in silence for a while, snow falling in lazy flakes. Jeongguk kept three full steps behind him, careful not to crowd.
“Jimin,” the omega finally said without turning around. “My name is Jimin.”
Jeongguk blinked.
He hadn’t asked. But he had wanted to know.
“Jeon Jeongguk,” he said.
“Is that your pack name?” Jimin asked.
“I don’t have a pack.”
“Are you starting one?”
Jeongguk huffed a mirthless laugh. “Maybe.”
Jimin stopped walking.
Jeongguk froze, thrown by the sudden halt.
The omega turned around, cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes shining with something between curiosity and danger.
“Then… be careful,” Jimin said softly. “This district eats people whole.”
Jeongguk swallowed.
And there—that was the exact second his vow formed.
Watching this omega with stubborn courage and glass-fragile innocence standing in the middle of Susukino like he hadn’t learned yet how cruel it could be. Jeongguk knew if he touched him, if he let himself want him—
He’d ruin him.
“I won’t hurt you,” Jeongguk said suddenly.
Jimin blinked, taken aback. “I didn’t say you would.”
“You’re not… you don’t understand. I’m not—” Jeongguk exhaled. “I’m not someone you should trust.”
Jimin tilted his head. “You helped me.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Well, it means enough to me. I think you’re a kind alpha.”
Jeongguk swore something inside him cracked.
Right then, he made the decision to never touch this omega, not until he became someone who deserved to, someone who could give Jimin safety and not just protection.
So he stepped back.
“Take care,” Jeongguk said, forcing the words out. “And… don’t come to this district unless you have to.”
Something soft passed through Jimin’s scent. Sadness, maybe. Or disappointment.
“Goodnight, Jeongguk,” Jimin whispered.
“Goodnight.”
Jimin walked up the stairs to his building, Jeongguk standing in the snow until the door closed behind him. He noticed the small tiger graffiti on the wall.
Horang.
Namjoon’s voice finally echoed from the street. “Hey! You alive? That took forever!”
Jeongguk didn’t answer right away, still staring at the door, at the faintest trace of Jimin’s scent lingering in the air. At the warmth still coiling in his chest.
Then he whispered to himself, “Not until I’m good enough.”
And from that night on, he never touched Jimin. Not when he became a leader.
Not when Jimin started working in Higanbana. Not even when every instinct in him begged to claim, scent, and hold.
Because Jeongguk remembered the fragile bravery in Jimin’s eyes that night and vowed to himself:
One day. But only when Jimin asks.
݁.˚🫧˚.• ݁‧
Jeongguk hates being cornered.
Not physically—he’s won worse fights than the one he’s had today—but strategically. In the past few months, the Ryumura have been pressing closer to his pack’s borders, snatching at their territory and probing for weakness. Today, they pushed harder than usual.
He left the warehouse with blood on his gloves, a new cut across his jaw, and the Ryumura’s lieutenant promising they’ll “be back for what’s theirs.” Whatever that means. Probably just some bullshit.
Jeongguk wipes the blood off, tosses the gloves into a drain, and tries to let the cold wind of Susukino clear his head.
But he’s tired. Twitchy. Way too close to snapping.
He needs somewhere quiet to think.
No… He needs someone. And of course his feet take him exactly where he’s not supposed to go.
Higanbana.
The front of the soapland glows in soft pink, always inviting, always dangerous. A place for alphas who want to forget. A place Jeongguk avoids because he doesn’t want to forget—he wants something he doesn’t dare take.
But tonight, he’s cracked open, and he doesn’t trust himself to stay away.
He steps inside, the warm air and jasmine scent hitting him right in the face, the soft murmur of running water behind the sliding doors relaxing his muscles already.
A hostess bows, eyes widening slightly in recognition.
“Ah—Jeon-sama. Welcome.”
He rarely comes, so his presence sends a ripple of quiet tension through the lobby. Everyone knows who he is. Higanbana is under his territory and protection. He’s kept the police away for half a decade now. But the workers, all the omegas who he’s been protecting from this cruel world, know what it means when someone like Jeon Jeongguk comes here with that kind of look in his eyes.
“I want an appointment,” he says, voice barely a whisper.
“Of course, alpha. With whom?” The hostess asks gently, a sweetness in her scent that makes Jeongguk feel a bit nauseous.
He doesn’t answer immediately. He could lie, say he doesn’t care who. Pretend he’s not here for one specific reason. But the cut on his jaw throbs, and his instincts burn. His anger sits in his bones like acid.
He needs calm. Warmth. The only omega who quiets the violence in him.
“Jimin.”
The hostess blinks. “I—I see. He’s finishing with a client now. His next availability is—”
“Now,” Jeongguk cuts her. It’s not loud, but it’s absolute.
She bows stiffly. “We… can make that work. Please wait in room 7.”
Jeongguk follows her through the hallway, steam curling from private rooms. Soft moans, laughter, intimate sounds he usually blocks out on instinct.
Tonight, they scrape over his nerves.
Room 7 smells faintly of shampoo and fresh towels as Jeongguk takes a seat on the edge of the padded bench, elbows on his knees and hands clasped so tightly the veins strain against his skin.
His pulse won’t slow.
He hears footsteps before the door slides open, and then… Jimin enters, his hair tied loosely back, wearing a soft robe cinched at the waist. His skin glows from the heat of the baths, his scent—warm citrus and honey—hitting the alpha like a tidal wave.
“Welcome, master—” When their eyes meet, Jimin freezes. “...Jeongguk?”
The door clicks shut behind the omega, leaving them alone in the closed space. No distractions.
“I asked for you.”
Jimin steps forward, worry flickering immediately across his features.
“You are hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
Jimin raises a hand instinctively, about to touch the cut on Jeongguk’s jaw, but the alpha flinches back so sharply it startles them both.
“Don’t,” Jeongguk says. Not because he doesn’t want it, but because he wants it too much; he knows he won’t be able to control himself.
Jimin’s hand hovers in midair. “Why are you here?”
Jeongguk drags a hand across his mouth, not knowing how to say it without sounding pathetic.
“I had an encounter with the Ryumura today. I’m… not calm.”
The omega’s scent softens with concern. “Did you come here to rest?”
“No.”
“Then…?”
Shutting his eyes, Jeongguk tries to come up with a lie. Because he could pretend he came here because he wanted a bath or a massage like any other client.
But he can’t lie to Jimin.
So when he opens his eyes again, the truth just slips out.
“I came because I don’t want to do something stupid.”
“Stupid like…?”
“Like go back there and start a war. Or punch every wall in my building. Or lose control. Break everything I’ve built in the past decade. Break the vow I made to you.”
“Jeongguk… you asked for my services,” he says so softly it makes Jeongguk’s alpha go insane. “Do you want me to wash you?”
Wash you.
The words hit a place in Jeongguk he’s kept locked up for years.
Does he want it? Yes. God, yes. To be touched by Jimin’s hands, to have warm water run over him, to let tension melt under Jimin’s soft voice and gentle touch—
But that’s not why he asked for him.
“No,” Jeongguk quietly answers.
Jimin blinks and tilts his head, confused.
Jeongguk looks up at him, eyes dark and tired and a little defeated. “I want your company. Just… you. Sitting here. Talking to me. Making me feel like I’m not going to tear someone apart.”
Jimin stares at him, stunned. No scent of fear, just a slow bloom of warmth. Softness. Something that makes Jeongguk’s chest ache.
“You could have called me,” Jimin whispers.
“And you could have said no.” Jeongguk’s voice drops to a rasp. “But here… you’re allowed to stay with me. Even if it’s just for an hour.”
Jimin moves closer again, slower this time, carefully.
“Jeongguk,” he murmurs, “I don’t need the job to stay with you.”
Jeongguk inhales sharply. The sentence hits him right at the center of every restraint he’s ever built.
“You’re working. I don’t want to get in your way.”
“You’re not.” Jimin kneels in front of where Jeongguk is sitting. “Tell me what happened today.”
Jeongguk stares down at the omega for a long second, then lets the breath he’s been holding collapse out of him.
“They threatened to take my southern block. They said I was getting soft.”
Jimin looks up at him with quiet certainty.
“You’re not soft,” Jimin pouts. “You’re super careful of our safety.”
Jeongguk laughs bitterly. “Same thing, in my world.”
“No,” Jimin says firmly. “If you were soft, you would’ve let those men grab me that night. You wouldn’t care about our…” he hesitates, staring at the floor. “My wellbeing. What you are is an stubborn alpha. Look at how anxious you are right now, and you won’t even let me touch you.”
Jeongguk’s chest tightens painfully.
“Do you still want me to? After what I did today?” Jeongguk asks, voice barely a whisper. “My hands are covered in blood.”
Jimin’s eyes are warm, pupils dilating just slightly. “I want you to touch me when you want to. Not when you’re angry or hurt. And not because you’re punishing yourself.”
Jeongguk swallows, throat tight.
“That’s why I came,” Jeongguk finally admits. “But if I touch you tonight… it won’t be gentle.”
Jimin’s breath stutters but not in fear. In want.
“And if I say I don’t mind?” Jimin whispers.
Jeongguk’s eyes snap to his, instincts surging like a tidal wave.
“Don’t tempt me, Jimin,” he says, voice rough. “I’m holding on by a thread.”
Jimin smiles. “Let me sit with you.”
Jeongguk exhales and nods once. The omega shifts, settling beside him on the padded bench. For the first time all night, Jeongguk feels something inside him loosen. Peace, mostly. He feels peaceful, his alpha happy that the omega is so close. Close but not touching. Warm but not overwhelming.
He closes his eyes when fingertips touch his arm, then slide up to his shoulder… then to his jaw. He inhales sharply, tensing when Jimin presses close to him. The scent of citrus and honey invades his senses like a storm, and he has to hold himself in place before he does something stupid.
Soft lips press under his jaw, right beside the cut.
“Jimin—”
“Let me wash you, alpha.”
Jeongguk’s breath stutters, Jimin’s lips lingering for a heartbeat too long under his jaw, warm against the edge of the cut, careful not to touch anything raw. It’s barely a kiss—more a blessing, a promise, a question he doesn’t voice.
“Jimin—”
“You need me, don’t you?” Jimin whispers against his ear. “Then let me take care of you.”
Jimin’s warmth disappears way too fast, leaving the alpha confused for a beat. He opens his eyes, following the omega’s movements—he’s doing that thing he always does when he’s nervous, moving lightly around the room, small fingers brushing over the lacquered counter, setting out towels, and turning on the faucet to let the water warm. The steam curls around his silhouette, softening the scene before his eyes and calming his alpha.
Everything about Jimin softens Jeongguk, even when he wishes it wouldn’t.
“You should undress, alpha.”
His jacket comes off with a grunt, heavier tonight than it usually is. Standing, he rolls the stiffness out of his shoulders. At that, Jimin steps behind him carefully, as if approaching something dangerous.
“Lean forward,” the omega murmurs.
Jeongguk does. A towel is draped around his shoulders, Jimin’s touch featherlight. Goosebumps cover the alpha’s arms as Jimin’s hands round his waist, touching his naked skin and his abs, sliding down to his belt. He unbuckles it, opens the button, and slides the zipper down. Jimin’s bare chest presses to his back, his soft hair tickling Jeongguk.
Once he’s fully naked, Jimin guides him to the wooden bath. The room feels tighter once Jeongguk sits on the small wooden stool completely bare, tattoos shifting with every breath. The steam rises between them like a curtain as Jimin kneels right in front of the alpha.
The omega doesn’t speak; he removes the towel from Jeongguk’s shoulders and dips a bowl into the warm water and lets it pour down Jeongguk’s neck. The alpha sighs deep and hoarsely, like the water is touching something inside him he keeps locked away.
“You’re wound tight,” Jimin murmurs.
Jeongguk’s eyes flick up at him through wet strands of hair. “You’re making it better, omega. Keep going.”
At that, Jimin’s cheeks warm up. He looks down, focusing on the slope of Jeongguk’s shoulder, the basin trembling slightly in his hands.
He gathers soap onto a soft cloth and begins to work it over Jeongguk’s skin—slow, careful strokes along his arms, his collarbone, the plane of his chest. Every pass is professional in shape and sinful in intention, as if his hands can’t stop themselves. They move with the memory of how badly Jeongguk wanted this years ago, before either of them knew how complicated it would become.
Jeongguk’s breath catches when Jimin traces over a bruise forming near his ribs.
“Who did that?” Jimin asks, voice tightening.
“No one important.”
“That isn’t—”
“Omega.”
The single word stops him, a warning and a plea at once.
Jimin’s fingers soften. He rinses the cloth—brushing Jeongguk’s thigh as he reaches for the faucet—a tiny accidental touch that feels like lightning.
Jeongguk’s jaw flexes.
“Careful, omega,” he mutters.
“I am.”
He scoops water again and drizzles it down Jeongguk’s chest, watching it trail over muscle and ink. Jeongguk leans forward slightly, a silent offering, exposing more of himself with the smallest tilt of his head in a gesture so intimate it makes the omega look away.
“You can relax, you know,” Jimin whispers.
“I can’t.” Jeongguk’s voice is almost a growl but soft around the edges. “Not around you.”
Jimin’s hands move slower now as he drags the cloth over Jeongguk’s abdomen, the air thickening every time the space between skin and fabric narrows.
When he reaches the dip of Jeongguk’s hip, Jeongguk inhales sharply and closes a hand around Jimin’s wrist. It’s not hard or dominant. Begging. Stopping him before he loses himself.
He realizes suddenly this is the first time he touches the omega. He freezes. If Jimin tugs his wrist back, then he won’t forgive himself. He looks up at the omega, scent darkening with strain.
“Alpha—”
I made a promise. I can’t break it. Not like this.
His grip around Jimin’s wrist loosens, but the omega doesn’t move away. He can feel his pulse fluttering fast under the touch. Jimin’s skin is so soft, so fragile. The omega lifts the cloth again, gentler this time, cleansing Jeongguk’s hip. He continues washing him slowly, reverently.
“Just relax,” Jimin murmurs.
As if it’s easy with Jimin kneeling between his knees, scent warm and rich, filling the room until Jeongguk’s instincts feel drunk on it.
Citrus. Honey. Sweetness with a sharp, bright undertone.
It’s everything his alpha wants but never takes.
He tries to breathe normally. He fails.
Jimin dips the cloth back into the water, wrings it out with small, graceful hands, and brings it to Jeongguk’s chest in slow circles, gentle enough to soothe, intimate enough to unravel.
Jeongguk closes his eyes again.
Peace settles over him like a warm blanket, a contentment that sits in his bones, radiating outward from every point where Jimin is close.
My omega is near. Safe.
His alpha purrs inside him, satisfied in a way Jeongguk rarely lets it be.
Jimin leans in again, breath brushing over Jeongguk’s collarbone as he rinses away the suds. His thigh presses against Jeongguk’s knee for balance, and Jeongguk has to clutch the stool to keep himself grounded.
“Jimin…” he warns—or tries to.
But Jimin just hums a soft, sweet vibration that sinks straight into Jeongguk’s chest and melts something there.
“You’re so tense,” Jimin whispers. He drags the cloth lower, down the firm line of Jeongguk’s abdomen. “Let me loosen you up. Let me help.”
Jeongguk forces himself not to react but reacts anyway. His breath shudders out of him. His shoulders relax without permission. His thighs part slightly, instinctively, because the omega scent tells him to open, to surrender, to be cared for. Jimin notices, of course.
He always notices.
He glances up, eyes dark and soft and shimmering with something unspoken. Not lust, not quite. Something gentler. Something dangerous in its gentleness.
“There you go,” Jimin murmurs. “Just breathe.”
Jeongguk does. Slow, reluctant breaths that tremble every time Jimin moves his hands.
Jimin gets closer, kneeling between Jeongguk’s legs, the cloth long forgotten. He lifts his bare palm.
Skin on skin.
Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath. “Jimin—”
“Shh.” Jimin’s thumb strokes just under the bruised edge of his ribcage. “It’s okay. I’m not doing anything you don’t want.”
That’s the problem. Jeongguk wants everything.
But he stays still, muscles relaxing under Jimin’s touch instead of tightening. His alpha settles, rumbling with low, animal contentment.
“You feel better already,” the omega says softly.
Jeongguk opens his eyes and meets Jimin’s gaze. “I feel…” His voice cracks, so he clears his throat. “Peaceful.”
Jimin’s expression softens further, impossibly gentle.
“Good.” He cups Jeongguk’s cheek, thumb brushing the faint stubble. “You deserve that.”
His forehead rests against Jeongguk’s. Close, warm, his scent wrapping around him like a slow-burning fire.
“Let me finish taking care of you,” Jimin whispers. “Let me make you feel good…”
Jeongguk quietly nods.
Reaching his hand up, Jimin gently brushes along Jeongguk’s jawline with his fingers. Jeongguk leans into the touch, closing his eyes at the feeling. He’s hungry with need; he needs the omega so badly it takes everything in him to stay still and let Jimin do whatever he wants to.
“Fuck.”
He has to suppress a moan when Jimin reaches down, his fingers curling around Jeongguk’s length.
All rational thought abandons him; the way Jimin slowly moves his hand up and down his sensitive cock, thumb swiping over the head, has Jeongguk bucking into his touch. With an appreciative hum, Jimin speeds up and watches how Jeongguk comes undone under his touch.
“That’s it, alpha.” Jimin looks into his eyes, probably seeing the want in Jeongguk, moving even faster now. “Will you come for me?”
Jeongguk shudders and grips Jimin’s wrist tight enough to bruise as he guides the omega, the water around them splashing at the rhythm of their movement. Taking control of the situation seems to snap Jimin out of whatever headspace he was in. He looks even more wrecked than Jeongguk, his cheeks flushed as he whines, hiding his face on Jeongguk’s shoulder. He lets Jeongguk use his hand to jerk himself off, his cock throbbing underwater.
His eyes dark with desire at the sight of Jimin. Of his omega, so pliant and good. How he wanted to take care of the alpha but ended up being used like this. The way his scent sweetens tells Jeongguk this is exactly what Jimin wants.
He’s going mad crazy.
Jimin gasps when Jeongguk pushes his free hand through his soft hair, petting him like a kitty as he moves his hips, thrusting into Jimin’s hand with abandon. His vision goes white, the intensity of his orgasm nearly blacking him out.
The water around them has long gone cold, but the fire inside Jeongguk keeps them both warm enough as he comes down from his high, Jimin sitting on his lap, his hand still wrapped around his softening cock.
“Good?” He asks the omega with a caress on his lower back.
Jimin nods. “I should be asking you that.”
“I’m more than good. Thank you.” He wants to kiss Jimin, wants to wrap him in his arms forever and never let him go. “Do you want me to…?”
“No.” The refusal makes Jeongguk stiffen. “I mean, I want to. But I’m afraid if you do, I won’t want to stop.”
Jimin looks at him with a sheepish smile on his face, so different from how he looked minutes ago.
“I’m glad I helped,” Jimin continues. “But, yeah. Maybe… next time.”
Next time.
Jeongguk doesn’t know if he deserves a next time. He’s broken the vow.
݁.˚🫧˚.• ݁‧
Jimin has always hated how sound carries in this building. Not the running water and muffled laughter through shoji screens. Those are normal, safe somehow. It’s the whispers he hates. He hears them before he even finishes tying the ribbon of his apron, drifting down the hallway like leaves caught in a draft.
“Did you hear? He asked for Jimin.”
“No way—the Jeon Jeongguk?”
“Our head alpha? That Jeongguk?”
“Why are you calling him head alpha? Are we living in the forest or something?”
“I mean… He is the one protecting our soapland…”
“Anyways—Girls, I heard he was, like, in heat the whole time he was with Jimin—”
“He was not in heat, idiot. Alpha’s don’t—”
“Well, whatever. Rut, whatever it was, Jimin-chan took care of him so well, it seems.”
They giggle, and Jimin inhales slowly through his nose, trying to hold his scent in check. He steps forward, shoulders straight, chin lifted in polite neutrality. As soon as he enters the room, the whispers stop and six pairs of eyes swivel toward him. It’s not unkind attention, but it’s attention he doesn’t know how to hold. Jimin offers them a small smile, bowing slightly.
“Good morning.”
A chorus of “Good morning, Jimin-chan,” follows, sweeter than usual.
He walks to his station to sort towels, and the moment he turns around, the whispers start again, quieter this time, and yet he feels the weight of them against his back.
Because, of course, he is the talk of the week.
How could he not? Jeongguk asking for him has done something to his coworkers’ perception. It’s not bad or jealous, but there’s something akin to awe, or maybe caution, as if Jimin suddenly stepped into a new rank none of them fully understands.
He hates it, to be honest. Hates that he notices the eyes on him, that he cares about it. He likes his work and his coworkers, so it would hurt him deeply if suddenly everyone started treating him differently.
He also hates that part of him that warms at the thought of everyone knowing Jeongguk has somehow claimed him, which is ridiculous.
Jimin folds another towel, fingers fidgeting. It has nothing to do with being claimed. Jeongguk didn’t even do anything claim-like. He was respectful like he always is, controlled even when his scent thickened with want, even when his breath shook under Jimin’s hands.
Yet still, he stayed gentle the whole time. He kept whatever silly vow he made in his head. And Jimin… Jimin keeps replaying that in his head.
Too many times.
God, he’s fucked. Why is Jeongguk such a silly alpha? They’ve known each other for so long; Jimin should be tired of this weird dance they’ve been doing around each other. But he likes it, basking in the attention like a sunbathing kitty.
My silly alpha.
He will make Jeongguk finally jump and fuck him like he’s wanted for so long.
Jimin takes the midday shift today, starting with laundry, then sweeping the hallway. He greets his clients with the same warm smile he’s been practicing since he was eighteen. The rooms smell like the usual mix of soap and incense, not unpleasant or overwhelming for his omega senses, but a reminder of what he does, what his body provides, and what he’s good at.
At the entrance, he bows to a new client and escorts him to a private suite. The alpha smiles too wide, so Jimin decides to keep a polite distance.
“Would you like a drink before we start?” Jimin asks, voice soft and measured.
“Oh, sweetheart, I only want you—”
Jimin steps back immediately. He has handled tons of alphas like this one, way too eager. He’s not some cheap whore he can touch; the soapland has rules everyone has to follow for both the client’s and the omega’s pleasure.
“Water, tea, or nothing at all?” He asks again.
The man blinks, embarrassed. “Tea. Tea is fine.”
Jimin nods and prepares the tea calmly, just like always. He learned a long time ago that he can’t control how he’s seen, but he can control how he responds. He can set the boundaries. He’s safe here.
The client leaves satisfied (he even apologizes and leaves Jimin a nice tip). The omega washes the room down, resets the towels and sheets, and opens the window to let the winter air clear the scent.
It’s routine. Stability. Survival.
During his break, Jimin sits near the back entrance, letting the cold breeze kiss the edge of his cheeks. It helps clear his mind and reset him.
This is the part of the day he likes best—the quiet five minutes where he doesn’t have to smile, doesn’t have to control his scent, doesn’t have to be perfect.
He curls his fingers around a can of cold coffee, the cheap kind from the vending machine outside the staff entrance. It’s bitter and too sweet at once, but he loves it anyway.
His mind begins to drift as he takes a sip. To Jeongguk, obviously. To the way the alpha breathed under him, to the tension slowly melting out of him like thawing ice, to the gentle way his fingers reverently slid through Jimin’s hair. As if touching Jimin was a privilege.
No alpha has ever touched Jimin like that or looked at him like Jeongguk does.
Jimin presses the can against his cheek to cool the warmth rising in it. He shouldn’t think about Jeongguk during work. Or after. Well, maybe after he can. He could even pay the alpha a visit, since he hasn’t come to see him since that day. Maybe prepare a nice lunch for him instead of a cheap bento. He’s sure the alpha would appreciate it.
݁.˚🫧˚.• ݁‧
Jimin wasn’t born here. Most people know that, but only in passing—just another foreign omega working in Susukino, one among many.
Nobody knows how he ended up here.
They don’t know he arrived in Japan at sixteen with a single backpack and half the words he needed to survive, or that a broker met him at the port because he was promised a hotel job.
He lasted two weeks; the work was exhausting, the minimum wage wasn’t enough to pay rent, and life was unkind to him in every sense. He had to sleep in a cramped dorm with ten other migrant omegas until he couldn’t take it anymore.
A soapland wasn’t his first choice. It wasn’t even a choice, but it was the only place that took him in without asking for papers, without judging his accent, without caring he had no family, no degree, no pack, no alpha to vouch for him.
This job saved him, even if it also trapped him. He was good at the work, grew comfortable with it, and was skilled even. Clients liked him, coworkers admired him, and the owner trusted him.
It wasn’t glamorous, but it was something, a place where he could survive. And then Jeongguk happened. He remembered the alpha that saved him when he came to Susukino; of course he did.
Jeongguk had changed and become a respected alpha in the area—he was everyone’s boss at the end of the day.
That was five years ago. Jeongguk also remembered Jimin, it seemed. Because the first thing he said to Jimin was, “I’m good enough to court you now.” Jimin almost laughed, thinking it was a joke, but the seriousness in Jeongguk’s eyes made him stop.
He was dead serious about it. His scent had been clean and respectful, not claiming Jimin like some sort of animal or prize. No, his gaze was soft, his voice low but sure, as if the omega were something precious and small.
That was the first time an alpha came to him asking for nothing but company. It broke every rule and rewrote something inside Jimin.
Jeongguk was back into his life after that night they met a long time ago. Older, harder around the edges, more powerful, and yet still looking at Jimin with so much longing it gave him butterflies.
Jimin was the talk of the soapland that week but Jeongguk… Jeongguk was the talk of his heart, and that’s the part that scares Jimin most.
݁.˚🫧˚.• ݁‧
When two weeks pass with no sight of Jeongguk, Jimin starts to worry.
It could be nothing, he tries to convince himself. He’s just busy with his job, taking care of his kingdom and his people. Word travels fast in Susukino (too fast, sometimes), so he’s sure the alpha is dealing with his alpha things and that’s it.
I didn’t scare him. I didn’t force him to touch me because I was feeling like a bitch in heat. He still likes me. He needed care. It’s okay.
He repeats those words in his head every day, but his body doesn’t listen to logic—a part of him needs to see the alpha, to feel his presence, his scent.
On Saturday, he slips into the small staff kitchen, the one tucked behind the long red hallway, and begins unpacking the things he got from the convenience store. His shift starts later today, but he came early for a reason. No one even questions it; Jimin stays longer than necessary all the time. It’s easier than going home sometimes, easier than sitting with the quiet of his one-room apartment that smells like humidity.
He sets out his ingredients, hands moving on instinct: rice still warm from the store’s cooker, glossy cherry tomatoes, a cheap industrial tamagoyaki, and sliced marinated pork belly, his lips curling softly as he reaches for the seasoning.
He didn’t even realize he was humming.
That annoys him a little. Omegas are transparent in ways he hates sometimes—emotion leaking into their scents and into the way they move. He’s always tried to be careful about it, especially at the soapland. Today, it seems he can’t contain himself. He’s a bit antsy, but his omega is purring contentedly at the thought of preparing a homemade lunch for their alpha.
He places the pork belly into the pan, letting it sear with a satisfying hiss, the smell rising quickly. Jimin pauses to let himself enjoy it for a brief moment.
For years, he made meals only for himself. Something quick and cheap, barely seasoned and thrown together in his tiny apartment before he fell into bed. But this… this is different. He’s taking his time, thinking about the flavor, the presentation, and what Jeongguk might like.
Jeongguk, who came into his life like a half-untamed storm, violent and gentle in alternating breaths. The alpha who claimed half of Susukino without blinking but refused to lay a single finger on Jimin all these years. Who treated him like he is his—
He doesn’t let himself finish the thought. He doesn’t want to.
“Stupid omega hormones.”
He turns the pork, trying to ignore the warm blooming inside his chest.
Maybe he shouldn’t have even entertained Jeongguk five years ago when he came to court Jimin—whatever that means. He guessed the alpha was just old-fashioned, but truth be told, he’s done nothing really. At least not like Jimin supposed.
Where are his flowers? His expensive chocolates? His dates?
No, the only thing Jeongguk did was to secretly follow Jimin home and let him be. He’s never shown any sign of jealousy towards Jimin’s work (I mean, he touches other alphas for a living) or tried to claim him as his property.
It confuses Jimin and his omega a lot. And two weeks ago, something changed. Maybe Jimin shouldn’t have let it happen. He definitely shouldn’t be making meals for a man like Jeon Jeongguk. But he really likes the alpha; sue him. And when he touched him, Jeongguk just melted under his hands like he’d been waiting all his life for it.
Maybe he had.
Jimin swallows, placing the finished pork into the lacquered lunchbox he saves for special occasions. He adds the tamagoyaki, the vegetables, and a little cut fruit he sliced into heart shapes because he’s embarrassing like that.
He takes a breath. Then another.
The air smells like homemade cooking and honey-citrus—the warm, steady note of his happy scent.
When he lifts the bento, his heart begins to beat way too fast.
“Just a thank you,” he whispers to the empty room. “A way to show I appreciate his… trust.”
But even he doesn’t believe that, not when his fingers tremble like jelly. Not when his scent wants to bloom sweet. Not when the thought of Jeongguk opening this bento sends heat curling down his spine.
He closes the lid before his scent betrays him entirely.
The Horangs’ headquarters is louder than usual tonight.
Jimin can hear the bass-heavy music thumping through the wall from the street, young alphas shouting across the courtyard and engines rumbling as bikes pull in. Maybe there’s a party or something. Jeongguk’s gang has always had a certain kind of energy, but tonight it’s charged, electric. Like everyone is bracing for something.
Exactly the sort of night an omega should not walk into alone.
It’s not as if it scares Jimin, though. He simply steps through the gate, his bento carefully tucked in his tote bag.
A few heads turn as he crosses the courtyard. Then a few more. But instead of the leering stares he used to get from strangers, the alphas here straighten up, nodding in greeting.
“Jiminie! Long time no see,” one of the younger alphas calls from the railing above, waving so aggressively he nearly drops his cigarette.
Jimin laughs softly, bowing his head. “I was here a few weeks ago. Did you miss me that much?”
“I didn’t, but Hoseok hyung did!”
“Yah, shut up!” The other alpha, Hoseok, says with an embarrassed voice.
Another alpha jogs up to Jimin, opening the main door with an exaggerated flourish. He smells faintly smoky, a scent that should have been intimidating but instead seems carefully dampened around Jimin.
Respectful.
“Boss is in his office,” the alpha explains. “You want me to take you up?”
“No need,” Jimin says gently, shifting the tote bag when it is about to slip from his shoulder. “I know the way.”
He’s been here enough times, after all. Only under pretexts—dropping off cheap convenience food, a bag of medicine, or a scarf he found at the flea market. But never for the reason he’s here tonight. He plans to stay, after all. Not just drop stuff and run downstairs as if he were just passing by.
He climbs the stairs instead of taking the elevator, passing more gang members. When they see Jimin, they both stop talking mid-sentence and bow respectfully.
“Evening, Jimin-ssi.”
“Good to see you.”
Jimin bows back, heart fluttering. This place—its noise, its warmth, its strange, rough comfort—feels safer than any apartment, safer than any street he’s walked since he was eighteen.
And yet at Jeongguk’s door, he hesitates. He can hear movement inside: a soft thud, followed by a hiss of pain he instantly recognizes—the sharp intake Jeongguk makes when he moves too fast on an old injury.
His chest tightens.
He knocks softly.
There’s a pause.
Then, Jeongguk’s voice, low and steady, “...Come in.”
Jimin enters.
The room is dimly lit, a single lamp casting warm gold over Jeongguk’s broad frame, the alpha sitting on the couch instead of behind the desk, jacket discarded, black tank top clinging to his torso and exposing the edges of fresh bruises.
When he sees Jimin, he stands—maybe a bit too eager—and winces.
“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, stepping forward.
“I’m fine,” the alpha replies, voice gentle. “You… didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“I—” Jimin’s fingers tighten around the strap of his tote bag. “It’s been a while and… I made something. For you.”
Jeongguk’s brows lift. “For me?”
“Yes.” The omega takes the bento box from his bag and holds it out with both hands, cheeks warming. “It’s nothing special, really. But I had a feeling you’ve been busy lately, and I thought… You might not be eating properly.”
Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. Instead, he steps closer, slowly and deliberately, as if giving Jimin a chance to pull back. But the omega doesn’t—he never does around Jeongguk.
The alpha’s hand comes up, hovering near Jimin’s hands as if debating whether to touch him or not.
“You made this?” His voice is lower now, a bit rougher.
“Yes.” Jimin’s heartbeat stutters. “I… wanted to cook for you.”
Jeongguk exhales, his scent shifting to something warmer and heavy.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I’ll treasure it.”
Treasure it. Who talks like that?
Jimin looks away quickly, face heating. “It’s just food—”
“No,” the alpha interrupts him, finally wrapping his fingers around Jimin’s. “It’s you thinking of me.”
The intensity of Jeongguk’s scent is too much for Jimin right now, a spicy undertone that makes his omega go wild.
Behind him, he can hear a group of members pass the door, chatting loudly until they spot them, the hallway falling silent like the entire building knows the atmosphere in the room has changed.
Jeongguk steps aside slightly, guarding Jimin from their view.
“Eat with me? I’ll close the door.”
Jimin nods before he can talk himself out of it. He goes to sit on the couch, only for Jeongguk to appear again—how does he move so fast?—and gently grabs his arm to stop him.
“Wait—” the alpha takes a seat, then pats his thighs. “Sit.”
“W-What?”
“Sit on my lap.”
Jimin’s breath catches, his heart now slamming against his ribs. “Jeongguk… I—”
“You don’t have to,” he adds immediately, soft and careful, the way he always is with Jimin. “But I want you close while we eat. If you’re comfortable. Let me hold you.
No one has held Jimin in years. The hesitation melts out of him before he can stop it. He moves slowly, knees brushing Jeongguk’s leg, then carefully settling across his thighs. Jeongguk’s hands come up instinctively around his waist.
The fucker. Jeongguk’s scent betrays him as soon as Jimin lowers fully into his lap, the warmth of Jeongguk’s body enveloping him instantly—he’s pleased to have the omega here, and Jimin wants to slap him.
But he would be lying if he said he’s not happy right now.
This position is so… Intimate. Somehow it’s even worse than jerking Jeongguk off.
“You fit perfectly,” Jeongguk murmurs, barely audible.
Jimin’s breath shivers, trying to focus on the bento in Jeongguk’s hand, trying to act normal while his pulse trips over itself.
“You should eat.”
“I will.” Jeongguk picks up a piece with the chopsticks. Then he lifts it—not to his own mouth, but to Jimin’s. “Open.”
Jimin’s lips part before he can think. The pork belly touches his tongue, rich and savory. He chews slowly, trying not to make a sound, trying not to show how good it tastes, how good it feels to be fed like this. Jeongguk watches him the whole time with a softened gaze, as if he’s just happy to care for Jimin.
Calm, content. Jimin wants to purr at the sight.
When Jimin swallows, Jeongguk’s hand subtly rises, ghosting near his jaw like he wants to cup it.
“Good?” He asks softly.
Jimin nods. “Mm.”
Jeongguk smiles—barely, just a curve of his mouth, but it warms Jimin more than it should. He takes a bite himself, then feeds Jimin again. And again. They eat like that, slow and quiet, sharing the same meal from the same box while Jimin sits on his lap like he belongs there.
At one point, Jimin shifts just a bit to get comfortable, Jeongguk’s hands instinctively circling his waist, holding him closer.
“Is it okay?” He rumbles against Jimin’s ear. “To touch you like this?”
“It’s more than okay,” Jimin whispers, unable to keep the softness from his voice. Always the gentleman, isn’t he? He feels the alpha’s breath against his nape—slow, controlled, but trembling with something he’s trying hard to tamp down.
“Jimin—” He presses his forehead gently against Jimin’s shoulder. “Thank you. For being here with me.”
“You don’t have to thank me, alpha.”
“I do. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
And Jimin’s heart… Jimin’s heart fucking aches.
The bento sits empty on the low table now, but neither of them moves.
Jeongguk’s hands remain at Jimin’s waist, warm and steady, large palms curving around him like they were made to fit there. He pulls Jimin closer, holding him the way someone holds an answer they’ve waited years for.
Jimin’s heartbeat is a flutter against his ribs, so fast and loud he’s sure Jeongguk can hear it.
“Did you eat enough?” Jeongguk asks quietly after a while.
Jimin can’t manage words; he only nods, and the alpha hums low and pleased, the sound traveling through Jimin’s spine and settling warm and thick in his belly. He knows he shouldn’t stay like this for longer, but his body refuses to move.
When he turns his head a little, just enough to look at Jeongguk, he notices how close their faces are. Far, far too close.
The alpha’s eyes drop to Jimin’s mouth.
Please let me kiss you.
Jimin can’t control his scent, Jeongguk freezing beneath him, as if the smallest movement might break something sacred.
“You smell so sweet.”
Jimin’s cheeks burn. “I know. I’m sorry, I’m trying to stop—”
“Don’t.” A soft growl, barely there, barely controlled. “Don’t hide from me.”
“I’m not hiding.”
Jeongguk inhales, slow and deep, as if his alpha is taking in the scent of something they cherish, the hand at Jimin’s waist trembling once before steadying again.
“Look at me,” Jeongguk asks quietly.
Jimin does.
The moment their eyes meet, everything inside him unravels—the longing, the fear, the years of careful distance. He sees it all mirrored back at him. The restraint. The tenderness. The wanting.
“Jimin…” Jeongguk’s voice breaks just a little. “Tell me to stop.”
Jimin’s breath shakes. “I don’t want you to.”
That’s all it takes.
Jeongguk reaches up, fingers brushing Jimin’s cheek with reverence, like he’s afraid Jimin might disappear if he touches too firmly. His thumb grazes the corner of Jimin’s mouth. Jimin leans into it without thinking, lips parting on a soft, instinctive exhale.
The alpha’s eyes darken.
He leans in agonizingly slowly, giving Jimin every chance to pull back.
But Jimin doesn’t.
When their lips finally meet, it’s not fierce or rushed.
It’s gentle. Devastatingly gentle.
Jeongguk kisses him like he’s memorizing the shape of him, like he’s been holding this back for years and now that he has permission, he refuses to go too fast, refuses to take more than Jimin offers. Jimin melts instantly, hands gripping Jeongguk’s shoulders for balance as warmth floods his entire body. His scent spills sweet and bright, and Jeongguk chokes on a quiet groan, pulling him just a fraction closer.
The kiss deepens, still soft but fuller, slower, the kind of kiss that makes Jimin’s toes curl inside his shoes. Their breaths mix, warm and uneven. Jeongguk tastes faintly of the tamagoyaki, of warmth, of something Jimin should never have allowed himself to want.
When Jimin parts his lips slightly, Jeongguk shudders.
“Jimin,” he whispers against his mouth, voice frayed and breaking, “you have no idea… how long I’ve waited for this.”
Jimin kisses him again because speaking isn’t possible. Because if he lets himself talk, he might confess everything he feels for the alpha. It scares him how easily and how fast he fell for Jeongguk.
Jeongguk’s hands stay respectful—one at Jimin’s waist, one lightly supporting the small of his back—but his body trembles under Jimin’s thighs, every alpha instinct clawing at its leash.
When they finally pull apart, they’re both breathing too fast. Jimin’s forehead rests against Jeongguk’s; Jeongguk’s breath shakes like he’s barely holding himself together.
“Tell me this isn’t a dream,” Jeongguk whispers.
Jimin closes his eyes.
“It isn’t,” he breathes. “I’m here.”
Jeongguk exhales softly and brokenly, brushing the tiniest kiss to Jimin’s jaw.
Jimin has no marks on his skin, and yet he feels claimed as they breathe the same air. Jeongguk’s eyes flicker to his lips once more, hunger in the way he looks at Jimin now, as if he’s struggling to control himself.
“Jimin…” His hands tighten slightly at the omega’s waist. “My Jimin…”
His lips brush just shy of Jimin’s—
And the door slams open, making both of them flinch.
“Boss! We—oh, sorry.”
Jimin nearly falls off Jeongguk’s lap, the alpha grabbing him automatically, holding him steady with both hands as they jerk apart. The gang member stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide like he’s walked in on a sacred ritual instead of… whatever almost happened.
“I, uh—sorry, boss. Didn’t know you were—occupied.”
Jimin’s face goes hot enough to combust.
Jeongguk’s voice comes out low and lethal. “Why. Are. You. Here.”
The alpha in the doorway swallows like he might pass out.
“J-Just a report. The deal downtown? Something’s coming up and—”
“Not now.”
“But it’s—”
“Get out.”
The door shuts so fast it rattles the frame.
Jimin sits very still on Jeongguk’s thighs, pulse racing so violently he feels dizzy. Jeongguk keeps one hand at the small of his back to steady him, the warmth of his palm radiating through the thin fabric of Jimin’s shirt.
“Sorry,” Jeongguk mutters, exhaling hard. “My men have the worst timing.”
Jimin gives a shaky laugh. “I think it might have been… good timing.”
Jeongguk looks at him with an expression that’s half tortured, half fond.
“If he opened that door three seconds later…” Jeongguk murmurs, voice soft but rough-edged, “maybe I wouldn’t have held back.”
Jimin’s breath stutters.
He climbs off Jeongguk’s lap carefully, not trusting himself to stay there without exploding. Jeongguk lets him go reluctantly, hands dropping away slowly, like every point of contact is painful to lose.
“I should go home,” Jimin says.
“Let me walk you.”
Jimin shakes his head. “You’re busy. Your men need you.”
“I won’t send you out there alone at night,” Jeongguk says, already grabbing his jacket and slinging it over one shoulder. “Let’s go, baby.”
Jimin’s stomach flips.
Susukino glows around them when they step out into the cold night air together—neon signs flickering, people shouting, bikes roaring through the streets. But when Jeongguk walks beside him, the chaos feels distant.
“Here,” Jeongguk says quietly, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over Jimin’s shoulders.
“It’s not that cold,” Jimin protests weakly.
“You’re an omega,” Jeongguk replies simply. “You get cold easier.”
Jimin doesn’t argue. Not when the jacket smells like him—warm musk, iron, faint tobacco, something that makes Jimin’s knees feel weak.
They walk in silence for a while, their footsteps echoing softly on the pavement. Jeongguk keeps just close enough that their arms brush every few steps.
Jimin senses it before he hears it: Jeongguk’s instinct tightening.
“Cross to my left,” Jeongguk murmurs.
Jimin obeys immediately, letting Jeongguk take the outside edge of the sidewalk. It’s a common alpha gesture—shielding the omega from cars passing too close, from people staring too long.
It shouldn’t make Jimin’s chest warm, but it does.
“You don’t have to do that,” Jimin says.
“I want to.”
Jimin’s breath curls in the night air as he fiddles nervously with the edge of the jacket sleeve.
“About earlier…” he whispers.
Jeongguk stops walking, turning toward him fully. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day we met. Did I cross a line?”
Jimin’s eyes soften. “You didn’t cross anything.”
“I almost did.”
“Jeongguk,” the omega snorts. “I made you come the other day. Stop treating me like I’m… I don’t know. Pure or innocent. You didn’t cross anything. So please… Keep touching and kissing me.”
They stand there, inches apart, everything between them fragile and burning.
Finally, Jeongguk inhales.
“I’ll walk you the rest of the way,” he says softly.
They walk slowly, almost lazily, as if both of them are trying to stretch the evening just a little longer. The street is dim and quiet, lined with shuttered shops and old vending machines humming in the cold. Jimin keeps his hands tucked in the sleeves of the coat for warmth—until Jeongguk’s fingers brush his.
A small, tentative touch.
Jimin looks up. Jeongguk isn’t even looking at him, just staring ahead with that calm, unreadable expression… but his hand keeps drifting, as though drawn by instinct.
Jimin gives in first.
He slips his smaller hand into Jeongguk’s palm, their fingers interlacing. Warmth floods him instantly, a pulse of comfort that rolls from their joined hands all the way up his spine. Jeongguk’s hand tightens—just barely—but enough for Jimin to feel the weight of it. The claim of it.
They walk like that the entire way, no words shared between them, just the soft crunch of their steps and the steady rhythm of Jeongguk’s thumb stroking the back of Jimin’s hand, slow and reassuring.
Jimin wishes the road would never end.
But sadly, his building appears—small, aging, tucked at the end of an alley. Jeongguk stops with him at the entrance, still not letting go.
“Thank you for today.” Jimin turns to him, breath fogging between them. “For… everything.”
Jeongguk steps closer, towering just enough that Jimin has to tilt his chin up. “I should be thanking you,” he murmurs. “But if I say too much, you’ll get shy.”
Jimin’s cheeks burn. He tries to tug his hand back—
Jeongguk doesn’t let him.
Instead, he pulls him closer by their joined hands, the other settling naturally around Jimin’s waist. He lowers his head, brushing their lips together softly—just a whisper of a kiss, gentle enough that Jimin trembles from how badly he wants more.
They share a breath.
Then Jeongguk’s lips return, firmer this time, warm and deliberate. Jimin melts into him, gripping Jeongguk’s shirt, standing on his toes without even realizing it.
When they break apart, Jimin’s voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t… want to let you go yet.”
Jeongguk closes his eyes for a moment, as if the words hit something deep inside him. He nudges their foreheads together. “Neither do I. But I have things to take care of tonight.”
Jimin swallows, nodding even though disappointment stings his chest. “Will I… see you soon?”
“You will,” Jeongguk’s thumb traces his cheek. “Soon. Very soon.”
Jimin leans in again, kissing him one more time—slow, lingering, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of Jeongguk’s mouth. Jeongguk holds him close through it, a strong arm curled around his waist, steadying him when his knees go weak.
They part only when they have to.
Jeongguk cups the back of Jimin’s head and pulls him in for an embrace, tucking Jimin against his chest. Jimin sinks into it, breathing in the soft mix of cedar, smoke, and something distinctly alpha. Jeongguk presses a quiet kiss to the crown of his head.
As they stand like that, warm in the middle of the cold street, snow begins to fall. Tiny flakes drift down, catching on Jimin’s hair, melting on Jeongguk’s clothes. Jimin pulls back with a soft gasp, watching the snowfall begin to paint the street white.
Jeongguk smiles—an impossibly soft, private smile meant only for the omega.
“Goodnight, Jimin.”
“Goodnight, alpha,” Jimin whispers.
They let go slowly, fingertips parting last.
Jimin watches him walk away, snow settling in his dark hair, shoulders broad and sure.
The moment Jimin closes the door behind him, he presses his back against it and exhales. His heart is still racing, lips tingling. His hands are shaking just a little, as if his body hasn’t caught up with the fact that Jeongguk is no longer right in front of him.
A tiny, helpless laugh escapes him.
He presses both palms against his cheeks; they’re hot enough to burn.
“Oh my god…”
He slides down the door until he’s sitting on the floor, Jeongguk’s coat still on, scarf half hanging off his shoulder. The apartment is small and dim, the only light the soft glow of the lamp he left on. It feels warmer than usual. Or maybe his body hasn’t stopped buzzing yet.
Jimin curls forward, burying his face in his hands as he tries to calm down.
Jeongguk held his hand. Jeongguk kissed him. Jeongguk promised to see him soon.
His omega purrs at the memory—an instinctive, low thrumming under his ribs. Jimin covers his face again, mortified at himself, but also… unable to stop smiling.
He finally drags himself up, kicks off his shoes, and hangs the coat. Then stops. He will add the coat to his nest. Yeah. That feels right. Jimin presses the coat to his nose for half a second.
Just a second.
His knees go weak again.
“Get it together,” he whispers to himself, cheeks burning. “Why are you acting like a virgin, for god’s sake.”
He walks into the kitchenette, pours himself a glass of water, and downs it in one breath. His hands still tremble. His lips still feel swollen. He touches them with the tips of his fingers and shivers.
He can’t stop replaying it—the way Jeongguk tugged him closer by the hand, the warmth of his palm against Jimin’s waist, the softness of his lips in the falling snow.
Jimin sets the glass down, leaning on the counter for support.
His omega is excited in his insides, running in circles and wagging its tail, anticipation building for tomorrow.
He walks to the small futon in the corner, sits, adds the coat to his messy nest of blankets and cushions, and draws his knees up to his chest. He can still smell Jeongguk on him, so he ends up pulling the coat around his shoulders, feeling suddenly small and warm and safe.
The snowfall thickens outside the window, softly coating the street in white. Jimin watches it for a long time, fingers pressed to his lips, heart fluttering like it’s made of wings.
He doesn’t know where this is going. He doesn’t know what Jeongguk’s world will bring into his life.
But tonight—tonight, Jimin lets himself be happy.
And for the first night in years, he falls asleep with a smile, wrapped in the lingering warmth of an alpha who walked him home through the snow.
His happy dreams don’t last for long.
A shrilling ring makes Jimin jolt awake, heart hammering so violently that he sits up way too fast, feeling dizzy. It’s still dark outside—barely dawn. His breath fogs the air, because of course he forgot to turn the heater back on, his omega way too focused on nesting.
The phone keeps ringing on the floor beside his futon.
Something happened; he’s sure of it. An omega’s instinct doesn’t need words to know when something is wrong. He snatches the phone from the floor.
“Hello?” His voice cracks in the quiet of the apartment. “Hello—?”
“Jimin.”
The voice is low, strained, and familiar.
Namjoon—Jeongguk’s lieutenant.
Jimin’s stomach drops.
“What happened?” He whispers. “Is Jeongguk—”
“There was an attack,” Namjoon responds, breath uneven as if he’s been running. “A surprise hit near Susukino. We fought them off, but… Jeongguk came back different.”
Jimin’s hands go cold.
Different.
“How bad is he?” He asks, already standing, forcing his feet into a pair of sneakers and grabbing his coat with trembling hands. He’s even glad he fell asleep wearing yesterday’s clothes.
“I don’t know.”
Jimin goes still.
“Is he—He’s alive, right?” He knows it’s a stupid question—because Namjoon would’ve said it first if he wasn’t—but he asks still.
“Yes. God, yes, he is alive,” Namjoon confirms quickly. “But he’s not talking. He locked himself in and won’t open the door. Won’t let anyone in it. Not even me.”
A breath of relief escapes Jimin, but it’s thin and fragile.
“Is he injured?”
“He’s… Yeah, he probably is. He refused treatment.” A beat. “He kept saying he didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
Jimin freezes, hand hovering over the doorknob. That’s not something Jeongguk says. Ever. He can control himself, so for him to feel so scared of losing control…
“Jimin… we don’t know what to do. We don’t know if he’s okay in the head right now. He’s… you’re the only one he listens to.”
Jimin’s omega instinct kicks in so hard it nearly knocks the breath out of him. The urge to run, to find Jeongguk, to see him with his own eyes—his whole body surges with it.
“Where is he?”
Namjoon seems to hesitate for a second.
“He went home. He’s in his building. But he won’t answer. It’s been hours.”
“And no one checked?”
“We tried.” A tired sigh. “But he… growled at us. Jimin, you know how he is when he’s cornered. We don’t want to escalate things.”
Meaning: they were afraid disturbing him would provoke a full alpha defensive reaction.
“I’m coming.”
“You sure?” Namjoon asks, voice softer now; Jimin can feel the relief in his tone. “We don’t know his state. He may not… he may not be fully himself.”
“I don’t care,” Jimin says quietly. “I’m still coming.”
“Okay. I’ll text you the address. But… be careful. He won’t forgive himself if he hurts you, and you know that.”
The call ends. Jimin stands in the middle of his tiny apartment, phone clutched to his chest, heart pounding so hard it aches. His throat tightens, his eyes sting, and he presses a hand over his mouth.
Jeongguk—his Jeongguk—hurt. Scared. Alone. Pushing everyone away.
A protective instinct rushes through him so fiercely his knees nearly give out. He forces himself to breathe, grabs his scarf, and runs outside.
The cold morning air slams into him the moment he leaves the building, but he barely feels it. Snow crunches under his feet as he sprints through the quiet streets, breath puffing in frantic bursts. The sky is still a murky gray, the sun nowhere near rising, but he doesn’t care.
He runs. His lungs burn, his thighs ache, but he doesn’t slow down. Every instinct inside him is screaming the same thing:
Find him.
Find your alpha.
He needs you.
The streets of Susukino are half-empty at this hour, with only a few drunk salarymen stumbling home, neon signs still glowing faintly in the cold dawn. Jimin weaves between them breathlessly, one hand gripping his scarf to keep it from slipping.
When Namjoon’s text pings in his pocket, he checks it mid-run.
Jeongguk’s apartment is on the top floor, right at the end of the hall. Be careful. The keycode is 1310, in case he doesn’t open.
Jimin doesn’t reply; he simply can’t, his chest is too tight, too full of fear and instinct.
He reaches the building—a nondescript, older complex tucked between two bars—with his heart in his throat. The front door is unlocked, probably from gang members coming and going. Jimin pushes inside and takes the stairs two at a time.
By the third floor he’s gasping.
By the fourth, his hands tremble on the railing.
By the fifth he feels his omega instincts clawing against his ribs, urging him forward, toward the familiar scent lingering faintly in the stairwell—smoke, cedar, and something sharp beneath it, something distressed.
He reaches the top floor and stops.
The hallway is silent.
Too silent.
Jimin’s breath hitches as he walks toward the last door. Jeongguk’s door.
The air outside is thick with alpha pheromones, suffocatingly strong—fear, frustration, pain, and something frayed around the edges.
Jimin presses a hand against his own chest, steadying himself.
He knows Jeongguk’s scent when he’s mad. He knows his scent when he’s territorial. But this—this is different. He lifts a shaky hand and knocks softly.
“Jeongguk…?” No answer. His pulse stutters. He knocks again, a little louder. “Jeongguk, it’s me.”
The hallway stays silent for a beat.
Then—a low, rough sound from the other side of the door. A sound that makes every hair on Jimin’s arms stand up.
Not dangerous or threatening.
Wounded.
Jimin swallows thickly and places his palm against the door, leaning in.
“Gguk… please open the door.”
There’s movement inside, heavy footsteps approaching. But the door remains closed.
“Let me in,” Jimin begs. “Please. You don’t have to talk. Just… let me see you.”
The lock clicks. The door opens only an inch.
Just enough for Jimin to see a sliver of Jeongguk’s face in the dim room behind him—messy hair, shadows under his eyes, dried blood at the corner of his mouth, pupils blown wide in distress.
And then Jeongguk’s voice, barely a rasp:
“Jimin… don’t come in.”
His omega instincts snarl at the words. Jimin steps forward anyway, one hand lifting gently.
“Jeongguk,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I’m already here. I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe. Please—”
“I said don’t!” Jeongguk growls, his voice echoing in the hall. It’s a command that sinks into Jimin’s human brain but not into his omega.
There’s fear there. So he doesn’t back away.
He slips through the door with silent steps, Jeongguk’s eyes widening when he realizes the omega is ignoring his command, his shoulders tensing and scent spiking in panic.
“No—Leave, please…”
But Jimin can’t leave.
He closes the door gently behind him and turns toward the alpha fully.
The apartment is dim, curtains drawn, the faint metallic smell of blood mixing with the chaos of overturned furniture. Jeongguk’s knuckles are raw. His hair is damp with sweat. His whole body shakes as if fighting something inside himself.
“Why are you here?” Jeongguk’s voice drops, rough and shaking. “I told them not to—don’t come near me.”
Jimin’s heart cracks.
“You think that would stop me?” he whispers, taking one small step closer.
Jeongguk flinches backward, hitting the wall as if he’s trying to get as far as possible.
“Stay there,” he warns, scent spiking again. “I mean it, Jimin. I’m… I can’t—”
Jimin ignores the warning and closes the distance in three quick steps.
“Gguk,” he breathes, “you’re scared.”
Jeongguk’s eyes flash, stunned.
“You’re not dangerous,” Jimin continues softly. “You’re hurt.”
Jeongguk’s jaw clenches. He looks like he’s going to push Jimin away—yell, growl, or something. But Jimin doesn’t give him the chance. He reaches out and wraps his arms around Jeongguk’s waist, pulling him close.
The effect is instant.
Jeongguk inhales sharply—like a punch to the lungs—his whole body locking up.
“Jimin—!” His voice breaks. “I said—”
“I’m here,” Jimin whispers into his chest. “I’m not leaving you.”
Jeongguk’s breath stutters. A moment later, all the tension in his body snaps at once, his legs buckling. Jimin goes down with him, the two of them collapsing onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. Jeongguk catches himself on his forearms, caging Jimin beneath him, panting like he’s been drowning.
“Why—why would you—” he chokes out, voice ragged.
Jimin cups the back of his neck, pulling him down until their foreheads touch.
“Because you needed someone,” he whispers. “And I’m not afraid of you.”
Jeongguk’s pupils dilate. His scent surges in desperate waves, body trembling as he buries his face in Jimin’s neck with a low, guttural sound. Not a growl.
A whine.
Jimin feels his heart splinter open as he threads his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair in soothing strokes, his own scent loosening instinctively, wrapping around Jeongguk like a blanket, making the alpha shudder violently. Then, he noses deeper into Jimin’s throat, scenting him with hungry, frantic swipes of his nose. His breath comes hot and uneven against Jimin’s skin.
“Your scent…” Jeongguk gasps, voice shaking. “I need—I need it so bad.”
Jimin holds him closer.
“It’s yours,” he whispers. “You can have it.”
A broken sound tears from Jeongguk’s chest.
He presses his lips to Jimin’s neck—soft at first, just breathing him in. Then more desperate. A kiss. Another. Open-mouthed, shaky. His teeth graze the skin, just barely, a soft bite meant to anchor himself, not to mark.
Jimin’s breath stutters, a quiet noise escaping him as he tilts his head, giving Jeongguk more space. Jeongguk trembles against him, scent calming little by little with every kiss along Jimin’s throat.
“You’re real,” he whispers hoarsely. “I thought—I thought I was losing it.”
Jimin strokes his hair again, gently.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jeongguk lets out a shuddering exhale and presses another kiss to the curve of Jimin’s neck, softer this time, lingering.
The bite that follows is barely there—just teeth brushing skin, a reassurance, a plea for closeness without crossing the line he swore he wouldn’t.
Jimin feels it all the way down to his toes.
Jeongguk’s breathing finally starts to steady, his alpha instincts settling as he stays folded over Jimin for a while. The tension in his muscles shifts, lifting his head to look at Jimin. His pupils are still blown, eyes glassy with exhaustion.
“You shouldn’t be on the floor,” he murmurs. “You’ll get cold.”
Jimin shakes his head. “I’m fine—”
But Jeongguk is already moving, gathering Jimin into his arms with a strength that is careful even in his frayed state, one arm under the omega’s knees, the other around his back. Jimin’s breath catches at the sudden movement, the way Jeongguk holds him like he weighs nothing.
“Jeongguk,” Jimin whispers, hands curling instinctively into the fabric of his shirt.
The alpha doesn’t answer, standing slowly and steadying himself, and walks toward the bedroom. The dim hallway light spills over them, soft and cold, and Jimin notices Jeongguk’s hands trembling where they hold him. He’s clearly not okay but he’s calmer and centered because Jimin is in his arms.
The bedroom is dark, blankets tossed. He lowers Jimin onto the mattress with a gentleness that makes Jimin’s breath hitch, then follows him down, not fully atop him, but close enough that his warmth surrounds Jimin from all sides. His arms bracket around Jimin’s ribs, his forehead dropping to Jimin’s collarbone.
“Just a little more,” Jeongguk’s voice is muffled against Jimin’s skin. “Let me—just a little.”
Jimin lifts a hand and slides it into his hair. “I’m here.”
Jeongguk shudders, then noses into Jimin’s throat again, slower this time, inhaling like he’s trying to replace every breath he lost in the fight. His scent pours over Jimin in desperate waves of cedar and smoke, the faintest metallic note of blood fading under instinctive affection.
Jimin’s omega hums, loosening without his permission, arching his neck slightly, giving access. Jeongguk freezes when he notices. Then a low, grateful sound leaves him, a sound so tender Jimin feels it in his chest.
His lips brush the base of Jimin’s throat, his nose dragging along the curve of skin, slow and reverent. He breathes him in with soft shakes in his exhale. Another kiss.
And another.
“You smell… safe,” he says as if in awe of the omega under him. “Warm. Sweet. “You’re—you’re the only thing that doesn’t hurt right now.”
Jimin’s fingers slip deeper into his hair, stroking. Jeongguk tucks his face deeper into the crook of the omega’s neck, then scents him again, longer this time, a slow, deliberate drag of his nose from collarbone to jaw. A tremor runs through him, like his alpha instincts finally find something to cling to.
He kisses Jimin’s pulse point softly, almost apologetic.
“I don’t know what I’d do,” Jeongguk murmurs against his skin, “if you weren’t here right now.”
Jimin swallows, his heart aching.
“You don’t have to know,” he says gently. “You’re not alone.”
Jeongguk lets out a shaky breath and presses another kiss to Jimin’s throat, this one lingering, dangerously close to a marking bite but holding back with absolute control. Finally, he lifts his head enough to look at Jimin properly.
The bedroom is dim, washed in the pale blue-gray light of snowfall outside the window. It catches in Jeongguk’s eyes, making them look softer than Jimin has ever seen them.
“You came anyway,” Jeongguk murmurs quietly. “Who told you about what happened?”
Jimin’s fingers continue combing through his hair. “Namjoon. He told me you were… you weren’t being yourself. He didn’t want me to come.”
“You should’ve listened to him.”
“And leave you alone like this?” Jimin shakes his head. “Never.”
Something in Jeongguk’s expression crumples at that. “I scared you.”
Jimin hesitates, then nods once. There’s no point in lying to Jeongguk. He was scared, but not of him.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology hits harder than it should. Jimin’s chest aches with it.
“You don’t have to apologize for being hurt,” Jimin whispers.
Jeongguk lets out a faint laugh, rough around the edges. “You always say things like that.”
“What things?”
“Things that make me…” He exhales shakily. “Weak for you.”
Jeongguk opens his eyes again, gaze dropping slowly to Jimin’s mouth.
“Can I kiss you?” Jeongguk asks.
Even now, even like this. He asks. Jimin feels his omega melt completely.
“Yes.”
Jeongguk leans in slowly, giving him time to pull away, but Jimin meets him halfway this time. Their lips touch gently, familiar already in a way that makes Jimin’s heart squeeze painfully. Jeongguk kisses him like he’s exhausted and finding rest for the first time tonight. Slow, lingering presses of his mouth against Jimin’s, each one grounding him further. His breathing steadies little by little with every kiss.
Jimin cups his cheek softly, feeling the roughness of dried blood near his jaw.
“You’re hurt,” he murmurs against his lips.
“I’ll survive.”
“Idiot.”
Jeongguk smiles faintly into the next kiss.
The hand at Jimin’s waist tightens just slightly as Jimin parts his lips with a soft inhale. Jeongguk makes a low sound deep in his chest and kisses him deeper, careful despite the emotion behind it.
Jeongguk pulls back only enough to rest their foreheads together.
“You calm my alpha down,” he admits quietly, almost embarrassed by it. “Just hearing your voice… I could breathe again.”
Jimin’s eyes sting unexpectedly. He brushes their noses together gently. “Then breathe with me.”
Their lips meet again between breaths, softer this time, sleepy and aching with affection. Jimin’s hands slip around Jeongguk’s shoulders, pulling him closer until there’s barely space left between them.
“Alpha,” Jimin softly says between kisses, fingertips brushing through the damp strands of Jeongguk’s hair, “you should take a bath.”
Jeongguk exhales against his mouth, reluctant to let him go already. “Mm.”
“You’re covered in blood,” Jimin continues gently. “And stress. Mostly stress.”
A tired laugh escapes Jeongguk.
“You make it sound fixable.”
“It is.” Jimin brushes his thumb under Jeongguk’s eye. “Come on.”
Jeongguk stares at him for a moment like he’s trying to understand how someone so soft can completely undo him. Then he nods once and slowly pushes himself upright. Jimin takes his hand immediately, the alpha’s fingers closing around his tightly.
The bathroom is far too luxurious for the building around it—dark stone tiles, a deep soaking tub, warm amber lighting built into the walls. Gang money, probably. But despite the sleekness of it, the room still feels lived in. Jeongguk’s self-care products sit near the sink beside neatly folded towels, a razor resting beside the mirror. Jimin smiles faintly at the domesticity of it.
“You have a nicer bathroom than the soapland,” he says lightly.
Jeongguk leans tiredly against the counter while Jimin starts the water. “That sounds like an insult.”
“It is.”
Jeongguk huffs another laugh, the sound warming Jimin more than the steam beginning to fill the room. He tests the water with his fingertips, adjusting the temperature until it’s perfect and warm enough to soothe aching muscles, not hot enough to overwhelm an alpha already running on unstable instincts.
When he turns back, Jeongguk is watching him quietly. There’s something unbearably intimate about being observed like this.
“What?” Jimin asks softly.
Jeongguk shakes his head once. “Nothing. Just thinking you look like you belong here.”
Jimin’s chest tightens unexpectedly. No one has ever said something like that to him before. He looks away quickly, cheeks warming.
“Get undressed before the water gets cold.”
Jeongguk obeys without teasing for once, movements slower than usual from exhaustion. Jimin politely focuses on folding his discarded clothes instead of staring, though he catches glimpses of bruises spreading dark across Jeongguk’s ribs and shoulders. His expression softens immediately.
“You really fought hard tonight.”
Jeongguk glances at him. “Occupational hazard.”
“Still.”
The alpha steps into the tub with a quiet hiss as the heat hits sore muscles. He sinks down slowly, broad shoulders finally relaxing a fraction beneath the water. Jimin watches him carefully. The tension in Jeongguk’s face eases almost instantly.
“Better?” he asks.
Jeongguk tips his head back against the edge of the tub and closes his eyes. “A little.”
Jimin hesitates only briefly before removing his own clothes and stepping in behind him.
Jeongguk’s eyes open immediately.
“Jimin—”
“You said my scent calms you down,” Jimin says softly, settling into the water behind him. “So let me take care of you properly.”
The alpha goes very still. Then, slowly, he leans back against Jimin’s chest with a low exhale that sounds dangerously close to relief. Jimin reaches for the soap and begins gently washing him, careful hands moving over broad shoulders slick with warm water. Jeongguk practically melts beneath the touch, head bowed slightly while Jimin works the soap into his skin.
Neither of them speaks for a while, the only sounds the water lapping softly against the tub and Jeongguk’s gradually slowing breaths.
Jimin rinses blood from his knuckles first, thumb brushing gently over split skin.
“You should’ve let someone patch this up.”
“I didn’t want anyone near me.”
Jimin tries to focus on washing the soap from Jeongguk’s shoulders, but it’s difficult when the alpha keeps relaxing further into him, warm and heavy and trusting in a way that feels almost sacred. At some point, Jeongguk reaches back blindly until he finds Jimin’s thigh beneath the water, resting his hand there lightly.
Jimin covers Jeongguk’s hand with his own and continues washing him in silence, legs tangled loosely with his beneath the water while he rinses soap from the alpha’s shoulders. Warm water slides over tattooed skin, over bruises and healing cuts, carrying the last traces of blood down the drain.
Every so often, the alpha leans back further into Jimin unconsciously, like his body keeps seeking the omega’s warmth on instinct alone.
“You’re falling asleep,” he murmurs softly, squeezing water through Jeongguk’s damp hair.
Jeongguk hums low in his throat. “Comfortable.”
Jimin smiles faintly. “You’re impossible.”
“Mm.”
He reaches for the cloth again, dragging it gently across Jeongguk’s chest. The alpha inhales sharply at the touch, every nerve in him painfully aware of Jimin tonight. The air smells overwhelmingly of them both now. Warm cedar and honeyed omega sweetness.
Jeongguk turns his head slowly until his lips brush the inside of Jimin’s wrist, a barely there kiss. Another follows, lingering longer this time.
“You smell too good, omega.”
The alpha shifts carefully in the tub until he’s facing him fully now, broad knees pressing against Jimin’s thighs beneath the water. His wet hair clings messily to his forehead, making him look younger somehow.
Dangerously beautiful.
Water laps quietly around them as Jeongguk reaches up, fingertips brushing Jimin’s jaw with heartbreaking gentleness.
“Do you want me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Are you sure? I’m not stopping this time, Jimin.”
“Don’t stop. Please.”
Jeongguk exhales shakily, then he kisses him. Slow at first, Jimin melting immediately under the alpha, his hands sliding to Jeongguk’s shoulders to steady himself. Jeongguk tastes like warm water and exhaustion and something achingly familiar already. His hand slips to the back of Jimin’s neck, thumb stroking slowly beneath damp hair while their mouths move together lazily.
Jimin makes a soft sound against his lips, and the alpha’s control visibly strains for a moment. His scent thickens, fingers tightening where they rest against Jimin’s waist.
Jimin feels warmth coil low in his stomach.
Jeongguk kisses him like he’s starving. Steam clings to their skin, beads of water sliding down Jeongguk’s throat while his hands cradle Jimin’s face with unbearable gentleness. And still, the kiss burns.
Jimin’s back presses against the edge of the tub as Jeongguk leans into him, his broad body surrounding him completely. Water shifts around them with every movement, soft waves lapping against flushed skin.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk breathes against his mouth.
The way he says his name nearly undoes him.
Jimin kisses him back harder, and that seems to snap the last thread of Jeongguk’s restraint. A low sound tears from the alpha’s chest as his hand slides into Jimin’s damp hair, tilting his head just enough to deepen the kiss properly. Their mouths move together slow and heated, every breath shared, every touch deliberate enough to make Jimin dizzy.
Jeongguk tastes every small sound Jimin makes, every shaky inhale, every soft gasp, like he’s memorizing them. The alpha’s scent thickens around them.
Jimin’s fingers clutch at Jeongguk’s shoulders, nails dragging lightly over damp skin. Jeongguk shudders violently at the contact, forehead pressing briefly against Jimin’s as he tries to steady his breathing.
“You’re killing me,” he whispers hoarsely.
The hand in Jimin’s hair tightens just slightly while the other settles at his thigh beneath the water, thumb stroking slow circles against skin. Jimin melts into the touch, heat curling low in his stomach as Jeongguk’s mouth moves from his lips to the corner of his jaw.
Then lower.
A kiss beneath his ear.
Another at the curve of his throat.
Jimin’s head tips back instinctively.
Jeongguk groans quietly at the exposed skin, breathing him in like it’s physically addictive. His lips linger at Jimin’s pulse point while his nose drags slowly along the side of his neck, scenting him again between kisses.
“Alpha…” he whispers shakily.
Jeongguk immediately lifts his head. “What do you want? I’ll give you everything. Just say the word.”
“Just… you. Want you so bad, please.”
“Sit on the edge,” Jeongguk commands, and Jimin obeys without a doubt. “Good. Now open your legs a little. That’s it.”
He stands up, hovering over Jimin in all his naked glory, water and foam dripping down his muscles.
Fuck me.
“Gladly.”
Ah, Jimin said that out loud.
Jeongguk grips his chin and then kisses the omega again. He presses his tongue gently against Jimin’s lips, demanding entrance, so Jimin opens to let him in, exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues. Jimin feels like his brain is going to melt. This is so different from the way Jeongguk was acting just a minute ago. Long gone is the gentle and careful alpha. He’s dominating Jimin’s mouth with a desperation that makes him go all mushy.
“You always wash me,” the alpha says, still grabbing Jimin’s chin. “But what about you?”
He combs back Jimin’s hair with both hands, reaching his hand to the tray with soap and bodywash and taking it as he caresses Jimin’s cheek softly.
Jimin lets out a hiss as cold liquid falls over his chest, sliding slowly down his heated skin. His nipples get hard at the temperature contrast, and he instinctively closes his legs when he feels slick gathering at his entrance.
“Open them up,” Jeongguk says, nudging Jimin’s knees with his own.
As Jimin does as he’s told, two hot hands start to rub the body wash over his chest and front, covering him in bubbles. With one hand, Jeongguk spreads the bubbles, then pinches Jimin’s hardening nipples on his way, making the omega groan sweetly. His other hand spreads the bubbles around his stomach, grazing the slippery skin gently and causing a ticklish feeling to gradually take over Jimin.
“Does it feel good, omega?”
“Mm.” Jimin can only nod as both hands caress his body everywhere but where Jimin wants them the most. It’s a bit annoying, as if Jeongguk is just playing with him (he probably is).
“It… t-ickles…”
“Is it really only that?”
Jeongguk asks as he plants a kiss on Jimin’s neck, then moves both hands to pinch the omega’s nipples. An uncontrollable gasp falls from Jimin’s lips, crisp and uneven. It’s not just ticklish anymore. He’s losing his mind.
Jimin bites his lips, feeling like he’s about to burst already just by being touched like this. He’s a bit embarrassed even.
Jeongguk’s hands slide down and suddenly grabs Jimin’s half-hard cock and covers it in bubbles as well. Thanks to the soap, his movements are smooth as he starts to stroke the omega at a torturous slow pace, a thrill running through his spine. It feels so good, the way Jeongguk rubs at the base, then presses his thumb at the tip.
“Ah—”
“You’re so cute, did you know that?” Jeongguk says, mockingly even. “You fall apart so easily under my touch.”
Jimin feels like he’s slipping into a headspace he doesn’t let himself fall into. While Jeongguk strokes the omega’s cock with one hand, he reaches the other to Jimin’s rim, coating his finger with slick, kneading against his entrance. Without warning, he thrusts one finger in and Jimin cries out and writhes under his hold, kicking his feet and splashing water at the sudden penetration.
To Jimin’s demise—because he wants it so bad—Jeongguk doesn’t push his finger too far, instead playing around the opening as if he were a predator playing around with his prey before feasting. His other hand moves lightly on Jimin’s cock, getting him hard and leaking, but not fast enough for Jimin’s liking. It feels good but also so annoyingly torturous. He needs more, needs Jeongguk so bad it hurts.
At some point, Jimin closes his eyes, his hips moving at the rhythm of Jeongguk’s strokes, seeking more, silently asking the alpha to go in deeper, to give him more. His legs start to shake the longer he moves, his feet sliding on the wet surface. At a particularly harsh tug of his cock, Jimin’s legs give in and he almost falls, if not for Jeongguk’s arms supporting him.
“Stand up, baby. Come here. That’s it, good boy.” Jimin shivers at the words as he does what he’s told. “Now turn around, kneel, and put your hands on the edge.”
As Jimin places his hands on the edge of the bath, Jeongguk lifts his ass up from the bottom of the bath. The water splashes as Jimin ends up in a posture where he’s on all fours, with only his ass raised into the air. This time, Jeongguk presses two fingers into Jimin deeper than he had before, moving it around, stroking slowly and torturously.
Jimin feels how water enters along with each movement. It’s… a strange feeling that only makes him get hotter, the lukewarm water bath mixed with his slick making everything so wet. He stiffens when Jeongguk reaches his prostate, bitting his lip, his legs shaking.
“There?” The alpha’s fingers caress that area, leaving a kiss on Jimin’s shoulder.
“Hm.”
Jeongguk presses again, feeling around Jimin’s walls, touching that bundle of nerves so softly it makes Jimin want more and more, and then pulls his fingers out. Jimin feels so empty he’s about to whine in protest, only for his words to be replaced with a low groan when the head of Jeongguk’s cock presses inside, harder than what he expected and so hot as he enters him. At first, little by little, but then he suddenly pushes into Jimin with such a strong force that Jimin is unable to hold back his moans.
Once he bottoms out, Jeongguk stops moving all of a sudden, letting Jimin get used to the feeling as he leans over his body, pressing kisses on Jimin’s back. He pulls out slightly and presses again with such force it’s hard for Jimin to breathe, thrusting in and out over and over again. Jimin’s thoughts start to get blurred with pleasure.
The alpha grabs Jimin’s hard and neglected cock as he pounds into the omega, Jimin’s head hanging over the edge of the bath, pleasure numbing his lower body.
Jeongguk’s groans and moans become rougher, his cock getting hotter and thicker inside Jimin with each pull. His lips press against Jimin’s nape, the tip of his tongue trailing the omega’s neck from his hairline down to his scent gland.
That feeling makes Jimin tremble, his muscles like jelly as water and slick and precum drip from his body. His body is in too much of a daze; he doesn’t know whether he’s moaning or screaming anymore, tears gathering at his lashes at the roughness of Jeongguk, the feeling of his cock, how gentle his hands are, his tongue and teeth on his scent gland.
It’s too much. And yet not enough.
When Jimin feels he’s about to come, Jeongguk eases up a bit, making Jimin whine when he completely stops moving. He resumes his pace again, letting Jimin feel his length completely as he slowly thrust in and out. Jimin can feel Jeongguk’s tip pressing against his rim every time he slides out, then back, pressing it against his prostate. Jimin feels so stimulated he can’t quite cling to the edge with how hard his hands are shaking.
Each time Jeongguk pounds into Jimin, the omega can feel his slick and the water enter alongside Jeongguk’s cock, the sound so wet and nasty it makes Jimin produce even more slick.
“Too… wet…”
As he says that, it feels like Jeongguk fills him up a little more than he had before. He picks up the brutal pace again, and Jimin is close to his limit again. He’s about to come.
“Alpha—” He turns his head, and Jeongguk meets him in a heated kiss.
Jeongguk takes Jimin’s hands when they slide from the edge and laces their fingers together. In his hazy consciousness, he feels something press against his rim—Jeongguk’s knot.
Jimin feels he’s about to melt. It’s so rare for alphas to knot outside their ruts. Somehow, it makes Jimin feel relieved.
Still holding his hands, Joeongguk nuzzles against Jimin’s jaw with his nose, then looks at Jimin closely. His face looks hot with pleasure, and the way he stares at Jimin as if he’s lost in ecstasy is what drives Jimin to the edge.
“Jimin…”
A wave of pleasure overcomes Jimin. His body is hot, so hot. His heart is so full of love for the alpha that he starts to cry in pleasure, so overwhelmed by everything he’s feeling.
He presses hard against Jeongguk’s body, feeling the way the alpha is moving in his bones. His body shakes and he comes so hard he gets dizzy. He loses all feeling, Jeongguk still pounding into him desperately until he’s coming inside Jimin, his knot locking them together.
Jimin looks at their hands, still laced together, and brings one to his lips, kissing Jeongguk’s knuckles as the alpha leans in on him and kisses his hair. Jimin’s heart clenches.
The heat in the bathroom softens into something quieter, the steam clinging to the tiled walls and drifting lazily above the surface of the water. Jeongguk maneuvers them until he’s sitting in the water with Jimin on his lap, his knot still inside the omega. He presses a few buttons of his fancy bath tub, and the dirty and lukewarm water begins to drain out, being replaced by clean and warm water that Jimin’s body is grateful for.
“We need one of these at our soapland,” he says sleepily, getting comfortable in Jeongguk’s embrace.
Jeongguk doesn’t let go, one arm wrapped loosely around Jimin’s waist under the water, the other hand intertwined with his. Their fingers are still linked, damp and warm, resting against Jimin’s stomach like neither of them remembers how to separate anymore. Every so often, Jimin feels him exhale against the back of his neck—long, grounding breaths, like he’s making sure Jimin is still there.
“Better?” Jimin murmurs softly.
Jeongguk hums, a quiet sound that vibrates through Jimin’s spine. “Yeah. Did that feel good? Was I too rough?”
“It was perfect.”
Jeongguk’s hold tightens. “You’ll be sore tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. I kind of love it.”
For a while, neither of them speaks again. Just water. Warmth. Fingers laced together like a promise neither of them is ready to name out loud. Jimin shifts slightly, leaning his head back until it rests against Jeongguk’s shoulder. He feels Jeongguk immediately adjust to support him better, as if it’s instinct. It makes something inside Jimin ache in a way that feels too full to hold.
“Jeongguk,” he whispers.
“Mm?”
Jimin hesitates. His omega is calm right now, but his chest feels so full it hurts. Like something has been building for a long time and finally found a place to spill over.
“I love you.”
The words fall into the water like something irreversible. Jeongguk goes completely still behind him.
Jimin’s breath catches immediately as he turns his head to look at the alpha. “I didn’t mean—I mean, you don’t have to say it back, I just—”
Jeongguk cuts him off with a kiss.
Slowly at first, his lips brushing Jimin’s temple, then the corner of his jaw, then down to the soft skin beneath his ear, like he needs to feel the shape of the words on Jimin’s skin before he can answer them.
Jimin’s breath stutters.
Jeongguk’s hand tightens in his, still laced together, then pulls him back just enough so their eyes meet.
“I love you too,” Jeongguk says, then leans in again, pressing their foreheads together this time, eyes closing as if the words themselves weigh something heavy off his chest. “I didn’t know how to say it before,” he admits quietly. “Or if I was allowed to.”
Jimin’s fingers squeeze his hand under the water. “You were always allowed.”
Jeongguk lets out a soft, almost broken laugh against his skin. Then he kisses him again like he finally understands he doesn’t have to hold anything back anymore. Jimin melts into him immediately.
The water is cooling again, but neither of them moves.
݁.˚🫧˚.• ݁‧
Snow in Susukino never stays white for long.
From the wide glass window, Jeongguk watches the neon lights flicker awake across the streets below in pinks, reds and blues. The city never really sleeps, but tonight it feels calmer to him.
Their kingdom.
His phone rests on the desk, silent for once. Reports are still there. Names, territories, numbers—his world still runs the same. But it doesn’t feel like it owns him anymore.
Jeongguk leans back in his chair, rolling his shoulders slightly, the faint ache there not unfamiliar to him. His gaze drifts over Susukino again, over the streets he used to patrol like a shadow.
Now he doesn’t just watch it.
The door opens without urgency, no knock needed.
He doesn’t turn around since he already knows who it is, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth before he even speaks.
“You’re late,” he says.
A soft laugh answers him.
“I had omegas to deal with,” Jimin replies.
That finally makes Jeongguk turn.
Jimin stands there in the doorway like he belongs to the space more than the office does. Neatly dressed, hair slightly tousled from the wind outside, a folder tucked under one arm. His scent is sweet but today it carries something else too.
Confidence. Authority.
He looks like someone who has learned how to hold a room without ever raising his voice. Two years have changed him for the better, in Jeongguk’s humble opinion. He didn’t even think Jimin could be more perfect than he was.
Jeongguk’s gaze softens instantly. “Higanbana running you again?”
Jimin steps inside, closing the door behind him with his heel. “They’re not running me. I’m running them.”
Jeongguk hums. “Dangerous.”
“Very,” Jimin agrees, walking closer until he reaches the desk. “My omegas are thriving. I’m proud of them.”
At that, something in Jeongguk’s chest loosens. That had been the shift. Not just them but everything around them. The soapland hadn’t stayed what it was. Under Jimin’s hand, it became something different, safer and quieter and better structured. A place where omegas could choose what they want to do and rest, where no one got pushed past their limits. Where Jimin made rules no one dared break.
Jeongguk had built a kingdom, and Jimin had softened its edges. And somehow, it worked.
Jimin sets the folder down and finally looks at him properly. “You’re staring again.”
“I always stare,” Jeongguk replies.
“Uh, creepy,” Jimin says, but he’s smiling as he says it.
Jeongguk pushes himself up from the chair. In three steps he’s in front of him.
“Come here,” Jeongguk murmurs.
Jimin doesn’t hesitate, stepping into the alpha like it’s the most natural thing in the world, hands settling on Jeongguk’s chest as Jeongguk wraps his arms around his waist. Their bodies fit together perfectly.
Jeongguk exhales into his hair.
“You’re tired,” Jimin notices.
“You’re loud,” Jeongguk counters.
Jimin huffs a laugh against his shoulder. “I missed you too.”
That earns him a pause.
Jeongguk pulls back just enough to look at him. “You were gone for four hours.”
“Long four hours,” Jimin replies seriously.
Jeongguk leans in and kisses him, Jimin melting into it immediately, fingers sliding up into Jeongguk’s hair, pulling him closer like muscle memory. Jeongguk sighs against his mouth, relieved in a way he never used to allow himself to be.
When they separate, they stay close, their foreheads resting together.
Outside, Susukino burns in neon and noise, endless and alive.
Inside this office, it feels like something simpler.
“You really did it,” Jimin murmurs softly, glancing out at the city beyond the glass. “You built all of this.”
Jeongguk’s arms tighten around him slightly.
“I didn’t do it alone.” Jimin looks back at him. “I have a kingdom, but I only started living in it when you came back.”
Jimin’s expression softens with fondness and a little overwhelm.
“You’re so dramatic,” he says.
Jeongguk smiles. “And you still love me.”
When they finally pull apart, Jeongguk turns back toward the window, Jimin still tucked against him, arms wrapped loosely around his waist from behind now. Together, they look out over Susukino. The city doesn’t feel like something to survive anymore, more like something they’ve claimed.
Not with violence.
Not with fear.
But with time.
With care.
With each other.
End.
݁.˚🫧˚.• ݁‧