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He hath given his empire up to a whore

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The letter from the castle is hand delivered to him two hours past daybreak by a messenger of the court.

His father is the one who answers the booming knocks to their door as Jungkook is already out back getting an early start on repairs and several urgent orders they have for new furniture.

When his father shouts for him, the last thing he expects to see is a man wearing a uniform unfamiliar to him, but in the royal colours, brandishing the castle’s intricate crest on his breast.

He stands stiffly, his posture exquisite, in the entryway of their old wooden house. His father appears to be just as puzzled by the man’s presence.

“Are you Jeon Jungkook? Status alpha?” He reads flatly; Jungkook’s name and then his title, just as it was scribed for the castle records on the day of his presentation.

The man shifts uncomfortably, seemingly feeling just as out of place as he looks in full garb and thick shoulder pads in the early morning heat. His attire is much better suited for the cooler temperatures up in the hills where the castle sits. On his forehead are beads of perspiration but the man maintains his dignified deportment even as it trickles down his face.

Yoongi, the only person Jungkook knows personally to have ever visited the castle, had once told him that castle ‘etiquette’ dictated that duty often outranked personal comfort. Jungkook, who was never quick to believe anything out of the elder’s mouth, wondered if this was the reason this man hadn’t moved an inch despite his obvious discomfort, despite the sweat now dripping into his eyes.

It was a bit fascinating to observe up close.

“Yes, that’s me.” His father guides him in closer by his shoulder, stationing Jungkook between himself and the messenger. This relinquishes some of his authority to Jungkook, who, at nineteen ought to already be standing in for his father as the man of his home, a role his father has been trying his best to impress upon him, especially as of late. His father often says he is too meek an alpha. Jungkook maintains that there are simply different kinds of alphas.

“Can you read?” the messenger asks.

Jungkook’s mother is a teacher so he has been taught to read but spends little time doing so. His daily duties do not require him to. Though he can, he is anxious to put an end to this interaction as quickly as possible. By the number of letters still in the man’s satchel, Jungkook thinks it safe to assume the man would rather not stand on his doorstep for all the time it may take Jungkook to decipher the complicated words likely to be written in a letter from someone in the castle.

“No,” he says and puts them both out of their misery. The man dutifully flicks the parchment open and begins to read it himself.

“The King requests assistance from young, able-bodied alphas and betas for major renovation of the castle ahead of the Treaty Meetings to be held this time next year. The contract will span six months, though the offer to extend this contract may arise should there be unanticipated delays. There will be jobs available in a variety of trades and compensation will be double the standard payment for such work. Additional compensation will be given to those who show exemplary work. The King asks for you to consider the offer throughout this week and the next, at the end of which several carriages will meet you in the market square to take you to the castle where you will begin your work. Are there any questions?”

His eyes are very expressive of the fact that he hopes Jungkook will not bother him with trivial questions. So, Jungkook doesn’t.

“No,” he answers plainly. The man gives him the piece of parchment, tips his hat and turns on his heels trotting back to his own carriage with the same meticulous posture. It looks painful, being a nobleman.

His father hits him over the head as soon as he closes the door. “And if the job required someone who could read?”

Rubbing his head, Jungkook sighed, “You go on as though I’ve already accepted the offer.”

“Surely you will?” he says, eying him like Jungkook has just said something crazy. The look on his father’s face makes him chuckle and his laughter earns him another clout. “Jungkook, you may never again get an opportunity like this. Isn’t this the first time the castle will allow common folk into its gates since-”

“Since the former King’s passing,” he nods. “Seems to be.”

“While you’re young and able, you should go put your skills to good use and earn yourself some money. You are of the age now where you will soon marry, don’t you want to put a proper roof over your mate’s head?”

“I would put one over yours and mother’s first,” Jungkook admits, resting himself on an old wooden dining chair he had made years ago, surrounded by the home his father had painstakingly built for them. Wooden, it was vulnerable to the unstable weather patterns that was common to these parts, but it was all they could manage.

Standing above him, his father placed a gentle hand on his head, “You are too kind, too selfless,” he admonishes, but is clearly pleased. “In the future your mate may resent you for such a decision.”

“My mate will be as kind and as selfless as I am,” he vows.  

 His father smiles. “Will you go?”

Jungkook nods.




In the interim, Jungkook learns more about the castle’s offer from conversations he overhears in his village once the news of it has spread around.

The reason they were hiring common folk was due to the poor harvest they had experienced. Trade had suffered because of it and the subsequent income had not met their expectations. They wished to reduce some cost burden by hiring non-professionals, though Jungkook suspected there would be a skilled few in attendance; enough to train the inexperienced. Yoongi, who told Jungkook he hadn’t hesitated when presented the offer, agreed that it wasn’t likely they would leave renovation up to the devices of a hundred plus men with varying levels of experience.

Yoongi is a scribe and much smaller than the average alpha and Jungkook wonders aloud what sort of work he might be tasked to do.

“Nothing laborious, if luck is on my side. I’m not built for that sort of thing,” he huffs.

“Hyung, we’re going to be renovating a castle.”

“I hope I’m put on cleaning duty. Surely a castle under construction would get filthy quickly,” he says. “Besides, you know my real reason for going there.”

To reunite and run away with the sweet omega boy he had fallen deeply in love with when he had been hired to work in the castle before King Woojin’s death. As a scribe, he was often paid handsomely to assist in record keeping and other similar tasks.

According to him, it was a whirlwind romance with secret meetings and stolen kisses under the light of the moon because the omega was soon to be wed. It has been three years since then and the omega has likely wed and mated the nobleman to which he had been promised. Jungkook had not asked for clarification as to what the alpha planned to do once he locates his omega as any mission Yoongi could have had in mind seemed futile in Jungkook’s opinion, but he dare not say as much in the presence of the love-stricken man.

Yoongi wasn’t the only alpha there like himself; with little interest in any sort of manual labour and simply curious to see what was within the castle gates. To marvel at the young beauties said to reside in the gated faction of the hills, to see their new King and his Queen, rumoured to be one of the most beautiful omegas on this side of the world. Jungkook had his doubts of that happening and for their sake hoped that the King’s celebrated wisdom and kindness was not just hearsay.

There were even a few brazen enough to speak of treasonous undertakings; many still of the belief, even two years later and under now his son’s competent leadership, that King Woojin’s passing was an unnatural one, despite the castle’s vehement denial. Many believed that the King had been too young and too healthy to pass away naturally as had been reported.

Jungkook commits those men’s faces to memory and promises himself to stay far away from the likes of them.

His only intention was to work diligently while he was there. In fact, he wouldn’t be disappointed at all if he never saw any member of the royal family in his time there.




His mother cries and cradles his face lovingly in her hands on the day he is set to leave and, as is routine, his father loudly insists that her coddling is the reason Jungkook is as passive and as soft an alpha as he is; though his eyes are wet as well.

His older brother, a beta, comes to see him off in the market square with his mate, now heavily pregnant, in tow. He had declined the castle’s offer, opting to remain with his mate and assist her through the remainder of her pregnancy. He had hoped to forgo any more emotional goodbyes but welcomes the kisses they both place on his forehead, grateful they made the difficult journey into town to see him off.

He will miss them.





The journey is longer than it appears to be from way down in his village. Yoongi was not exaggerating that much at least.

As a child he would look up at the hills and imagine that he could walk up them and arrive at the castle in only a few moments, so clear is its visage. In reality, they depart at daybreak and do not arrive until night has fallen. The path was winding; not a straight upward journey as he had once thought.

They pass through several aristocratic communities during the ascent, each more lavish the higher they got. The air was different, fresher and crisper and the temperature dropped steadily as they ascended. Jungkook is shivering by the time the castle gates finally come into view and he isn’t the only one.

He has no clothing suitable to this type of weather, never having had any need for it in his village. One of the older betas in his carriage informs the nobleman sitting near the carriage driver of this. Just like the meals they had received along their journey had been, the man’s response was similarly surprising.

“After a formal welcome, you will be provided with more appropriate clothing for your use during your stay here. Please bear it a little longer,” the man says politely.

Jungkook, never one to presume, had never formed much of an opinion of royal-folk or noblemen so he finds it pleasantly surprising how kind they have been thus far, especially with the almost three years of contempt between them.




The castle is huge from the outside, towering and beautiful. Jungkook pays close attention to the gorgeous stone detail, the years and years of work that must have originally gone into the now almost eight-hundred-year-old structure. The task of its renovation suddenly seems daunting.

They are led inside by a castle attendant and inside the detailing is even more exquisite. They are guided through a room in which every tall, towering wall was covered in stone carvings that looked to be as old as the building itself.

Once they have arrived in the appropriate place, a spacious hall, they are made to line up; all one hundred and fifty of them. Even the large number of them does little to make the castle appear any smaller.

The man that sweeps into the room next is an omega.

Normally, Jungkook isn’t one to recognise someone’s status so quickly, but then it isn’t usually this obvious.

The man is petite, and his features are soft and delicate. His eyes appear to be a gorgeous shade of brown, nose small and neat, lips pretty and pink, skin creamy and unblemished. His hair is dyed a light almost pale, soft colour, a luxury only very wealthy omegas have come to be known for partaking in. So, the omega is a noble, that much is certain.

His attire is immaculate; a loose satin overlaid tunic with intricate crisscrossing ties across his chest, purely for decoration as the ties do little to hold the fabric together, his chest and collarbones on display beneath them. He wears trousers that appear satin as well, drawing attention to the gentle curves of his body and cuffed with a gorgeous lace detail.

Surely it’s too frigid to be dressed in so little, Jungkook thinks, fighting against the cold himself.

As his eyes trail behind the beautiful figure as he walks, he decides that the omega must just be used to the cold; used to parading around as confidently as he is. He certainly looks it.

His smell, Jungkook notes, as the omega breezes past the group to stand before them, is not overpowering. It is pleasant and crisp and clean smelling, but sweet like he might spend a lot of time lounging in sweet, floral-smelling baths. The alphas near him all appear a bit ruffled by his presence; all-consuming as it is, especially too since an omega noble is probably the last person they had been expecting to see; coveted and treasured as they are. Male omegas, rare as they are, are especially so.

The new King’s consort is an omega male as well and as far as rumours go, he is said to be the most beautiful of all the omegas to have ever been crowned as such. When his name was revealed to the public – Kim Seokjin – there had been nasty claims and rumours regarding his lineage; that he was not of noble blood and as such was unsuited to be their Queen. At the time there had been much public dissatisfaction with their newly crowned Queen alongside the ever-growing suspicion about the former king’s passing. Not long after, there had been a considerable decline in public invitation to the castle. In fact, resultingly the castle had become significantly less forthcoming with information, seemingly just leaving the village people up to their hearsay and idle chatter.

They used secrecy as a means of chastisement against village folk, even going so far as to marry the new King and his Queen with little fanfare and without a single commoner from their village in attendance, as was previously tradition.

There was an almost palpable tension in the air that the omega seemed ignorant to or one he was simply accustomed to. He certainly appeared more comfortable in a room full of alphas and betas than any omega had the right to be.

He had entered flanked by a burly beta male – from the looks of it, a personal guard - who had remained in the doorway. The only other person in the room was the elderly looking beta that had accompanied them on their journey. In the face of one hundred plus alpha and beta men, the three of them together were hardly cavalry, yet the omega didn’t appear at all phased, not even as the room seemed to take a collective breath in an attempt to fill themselves up with his delectable scent, not even as many eyes narrow carnivorously in his direction.

As small as the omega is, his voice when he greets the crowd before him, though melodic and sweet toned, demands their attention and radiates authority.

For a moment Jungkook wonders if he is their Queen. That is until the man introduces himself, eyes piercing and sharp.

“I am Park Jimin, hand of the King.”





The omega does little more than introduce himself, insisting that despite his title, they can simply refer to him by his first name as he “dislikes the formality of it all”. He also apologizes to them for not providing them with more parcels of food for the journey. The castle had not anticipated such a large turn-out, but he expressed hope that the meal awaiting them would make up for it all.

The meal is no feast, likely only remainders from the meals served in the castle that day, but it tastes exquisite and fills him well.

Jungkook sits with Yoongi quietly to one side of the small dining hall, a well-lit, large and aerated room that had taken some time getting to as it seemed to be tucked away and out of sight.

“It’s so that we don’t assault the nobles’ eyes with our destitution and filthy garments,” Yoongi explains to him, ever the cynic. Jungkook doesn’t respond, his attention having been captured by the conversation being had next to him by two other alphas.

Unsurprisingly, it is about Park Jimin and most of it is disgustingly explicit but some is somewhat enlightening.

Jungkook learns as he suspected that the omega’s title as the King’s hand, and as such The King’s most trusted adviser, was not typical of someone of his status.

Omegas that resided within the castle were usually high-born and as such mated and married off to someone of high social standing, in which case they were left at home to raise their young or always closely flanked by their mate or guardian when out in the open. Even the Queen was rarely seen for this very reason. They certainly did not dress the way Park Jimin had; typically being kept veiled within long draping fabrics, their bodies hidden away from prying eyes.

Any other omega lucky enough to be living within castle walls were likely low-born and as such they were usually made concubines to those same powerful men. They are given homes and treated well considering their lineage, but their purpose is typically made clear through the way their clothes would hug their bodies; relentless temptation to those alphas unfortunate enough to not have a few of their own.

Park Jimin seemed to be some perplexing mix of both.

“It appears much has changed since Woojin’s passing,” Yoongi adds.

The largest of the alphas at their table agrees with a nod, “His son must have been anxious to make a few changes around the castle to his liking. King Woojin would be rolling in his grave.”

Yoongi offers, “The pretty thing may just belong to our new King himself.”

“Keep your voice down, hyung,” Jungkook frowned at him.

Another man, a beta, nods and whispers, “The boy is right. Besides, our King is a married man.”

The large alpha reaches over and pats the younger beta’s head, smiling derisively, “That carries very little meaning within these walls. The omega could be one of our King’s concubines.”

This, Yoongi disagrees with, “Nobles keep concubines yes, but Kings rarely do and it’s certainly not common here. Apart from that, a concubine would never be allowed to hold such an astute title and pretty as he may be, he seems far too intelligent to be anyone’s concubine.”

Curious, the beta asks, still speaking in a hushed tone, “So how else do you suppose an omega has come to be our dear King’s hand?”

“Our King is happily married to his Queen, as you have said, so I believe adultery may be more fitting here,” he takes a mouthful of food, makes a face, then swallows and continues. “Likely highborn and actually mated to some unfortunate nobleman but he was given such a privileged title because in addition to spreading his legs for our new King, he must have a brain on him.”

“He does appear well educated in things other than just cocksucking, though I suspect that may be where his expertise lies,” another alpha who had been listening intently joins in with a boisterous cackle.

“I almost don’t blame our righteous King, I too would find it difficult to remain faithful if my Hand looked like him,” the large alpha agreed.

“Hand of the King, mouth of the King, hole of the King; seems he has many roles, in fact,” another chimes in with a bellowing laugh.

Jungkook rises.

“Oh, come on Jeon,” Yoongi calls at his retreating back.

“I’m tired so I’ll be heading in,” he says plainly.




Jungkook is escorted to his room by a castle attendant and once there he finds that he is to share it with the two alphas already settling into their respective beds for the night.

Jungkook recognizes the two from around his village. Wonho, the baker’s boy and Chanyeol, a seasoned craftsman if what his father had once told him was true.

They greet him kindly and he accepts the final empty bed between the two of them.

The room is small and has no windows but there is a small wooden stool and a desk for working. It is warm, but not unpleasantly so, the cold air seeping in through the walls to keep the temperature just right.

His bed is comfortable and after a long day’s journey, Jungkook is soon asleep.




As they had been forewarned, the following day they are awoken at dawn. Breakfast is a hearty loaf of warm buttery bread that they had chosen to eat while trekking across the castle grounds to where they would spend their days working.

While walking, the attendant directing them dictated to them pertinent information related to their stay: they were only to use the routes designated for workers, a formal lunch would be held every day at midday, but the kitchens more often than not had left over food from the day’s meals that they would happily share should workers desire a meal outside of lunch hours, assessments of their works would be carried out every fortnight after which adjustments may be made to their contracts accordingly.

The three are guided to a stone structure at the very centre of the castle, much larger than the buildings at its outskirts. The architecture, Jungkook can identify, seems to be much older than the rest as well. Intricate carving details along the walls and centuries-old sculpting. It leads him to believe that they are probably being led into one of the main areas of the castle.

They are directed along the walls and instructed to always remain close to these walls to get around. What Jungkook observes is that doing so seems always to lead them on a path to the back corridors and secluded passages of the building, along a long, continuous and hidden path; one that puts them close enough to hear the delicate footsteps of nobles on the other side of the walls without they themselves being seen. It is as Yoongi had said, a way to keep them out of the way of noblemen.

As they are guided up a large flight of stairs, Wonho and Chanyeol share a look of excitement, one that Jungkook cannot reciprocate when they turn it on him. Their eyes strain to try to see between the brickwork at those individuals walking just on the other side of the wall. As they walk, it becomes more and more clear that the area is heavily populated with nobles. Each bedchamber they walk past is larger in size than the last, and fewer in number the further they walk, until it appears they have arrived at the deepest extent of the building.

It’s lavish here. Everything polished and marbled and golden, shining brightly. Floors lined with soft, deep maroon carpeting, large exquisite paintings hanging too far up to reach on tall marble walls.

In the final hall they enter, their final stop it seems, there is the faint scent of sweet honey and lavender.

The hall funnels down to a door, a huge monstrosity of a thing, and it occurs to Jungkook once they are assigned their tasks that the large adjoining ‘hall’ in which they are standing, serves as more of a foyer to the rooms that lie past the door than the largeness of it would have you believe.

The three of them are assigned many of the same tasks which range from sanding and polishing the expensive wood works to dusting dirty paintings and sculptures to roofing, joining and trimming frameworks for new fixtures to be added later.

While all three of them will apparently spend their days doing much of the same things, Jungkook is separated from Wonho and Chanyeol who are led beyond the large door, while Jungkook is left in the foyer to begin his duties.

The attendant returns at regular intervals as the day goes by to ask of his needs, personal or related to the job and to observe his progress; whether his skills might be better suited elsewhere. Secluded as the area appears to be, each time the man disappears down the steps, Jungkook is alone once more.

When his day ends at dusk, he is exhausted but pleased with his progress, however minimal.  

Jungkook retraces the path along the walls they had taken that morning and again makes the long trek back to his chambers ahead of Wonho and Chanyeol, who have not yet completed their work for the day. However, the two older men join him only a few minutes later.

Though visibly worn and tired, they appear giddy as they stroll through the door.

Beyond the large gold door, as it turns out, is a beautiful, spacious bedchamber and baths fit only for royalty. Jungkook listens, amused, as the two deduce amongst themselves that the space belongs to Park Jimin himself. Though they had not seen or heard of the man while working that day, they insist that the surroundings smelled heavily of the omega’s sweet scent.

“I’m telling you, the way it smells in there he has to spend much of his time there. They’re his bedchambers,” Wonho says to Jungkook’s now dwindling scepticism.

Omegas scents are distinct; Jimin’s is especially so. Jungkook thinks he too would easily recognise the scent despite having met the man only once. He is all of a sudden very grateful for his placement outside of those doors as he listens to Wonho and Chanyeol speak of the gorgeous man for way too long into the night, considering the gruelling nature of their work and the fact that their days begin at dawn.

As Jungkook’s body gives into his exhaustion, the last thing he hears is Chanyeol say reverently, “I should hope we see him soon. He truly is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.”




Jungkook spends the next morning polishing and varnishing, the smell of it permeating and nauseating all the same. For this reason, he almost believes himself to be imagining it when the sweet smell of lavender fills the hall and all but pierces through the unpleasant odour. Not a moment later does Jimin appear at the top of the staircase. With him are three of his personal guards.

He truly is beautiful, that much is undeniable, and Jungkook wonders how long it will take for the novelty of that fact to wear off; if he will ever get used to seeing the way the teasing dip of the omega’s clothing reveals velvet smooth chest and pretty slender neck. For his sake he hopes he does not have to see the omega for as often as that will surely take.

While Jungkook bows almost immediately at the sight of him, Jimin scarcely acknowledges him with a minute nod in his direction; there is no eye contact. One guard opens those large doors and two of the three disappear with Jimin through them. The last guard remains stationed there when the door closes shut behind him.

As the hours pass, Jungkook began to abandon all hope as it seems as though Wonho and Chanyeol were right in their assumptions, that the grand space belonged to the hand of the King.

By their accounts, those doors opened into a hallway with a two arched passageways, one that led into a truly grand bedchamber and an adjoining sitting room - in which the older alphas presently worked - and the other into lavish baths.

Though the guard had his focus elsewhere, Jungkook found himself anxiously doubling his efforts and choosing to work nearer the staircase which put him at a greater distance from those doors, from that which he hopes to avoid in his time here.

Thankfully, Jimin does not leave his chambers again before Jungkook’s day ends, but admittedly at times it was as if the omega had been standing right beside him, so strong was the scent of him. Jungkook enters his own lodging willing himself to remember to ask Wonho and Chanyeol how they were ever able to power through such a thing.

The two enter together, just as Jungkook has gotten comfortable in his bed. They smell days away from a rut and it is so much in contrast with the scent he had been bathed in all day that he has to pinch his nose shut.

“We apologize,” Chanyeol is quick to say with a grimace and he seems particularly affected, his face flushed a deep red. “We’re heading to the common baths now to cool off, it’s a pseudo rut.”

Though Jungkook has heard of it, he has never actually known anyone to have a false rut. According to his older brother, it was something embarrassing and shameful and so people tended not to mention it at all as it usually stemmed from a lack of control; a sign of immaturity. While the older alpha pair do seem bashful, they also appear almost contented.

“I’m sure you saw him, Jimin came into the rooms today,” Wonho explained, stripping his sweat soiled tunic and rolling it into a tight ball. Chanyeol does the same and the scent in the room suddenly improves significantly.

“He was pleasuring himself,” Wonho’s scent spikes and Jungkook feels his do the same, body involuntarily going hot. “Didn’t so much as look in our direction when he arrived, but as soon as the doors to his chambers closed he was making the most gorgeous sounds.”

“It’s amazing, his guard stood across the room from us, right at his door and didn’t even seem the slightest bit perturbed,” Chanyeol adds in awe.

“Omegas have needs,” Wonho says sagely, and Jungkook can’t help the chuckle that he releases. Of course they have needs. Everyone does. “It’s true! Male omegas are especially sexually needy and Jimin, as busy as he must be, likely hasn’t the time to seek out his mate’s presence should the need arise within him.”

Having only met a male omega twice before, Jungkook can’t dispute the statement, so he remains quiet. However, he wonders silently about the kind of person Jimin would make his mate. With the omega in such high authority, surely no man other than the King himself would suffice; Yoongi’s words replay in his mind.

“It doesn’t appear he needs the company of his mate. It seems he can take ample care of himself,” Chanyeol concludes.

Feeling a heat building low in his stomach, Jungkook attempts to ease the tension, “Please try to keep your own self pleasuring limited to the baths. Both of you.”

Wonho salutes agreeably. Chanyeol appears to still be in a daze.





The days blur together quickly and soon Jungkook has spent one month within the castle walls. His days are fast becoming routine and his work, though slow going, is progressing well according to the elderly castle attendant that now visits only every few days.

Now too, Jungkook sees Jimin more frequently, almost daily, and each day the omega appears more beautiful than the last.

Parading around in his beautiful silks, always with a tempting view of his chest or with a deep slit in the flowy legs of his pants that exposes the milky skin of his pretty thighs.

And most recently, always in the company of different men.

His personal guards never appear to change, but the men that accompany the omega beyond those doors frequently do. Always a nobleman, by the state of his dress and more often than not, an alpha.

Jungkook observes them from wherever he is stationed to work that day; how they walk close to the omega, some even guiding him gently along with a hand on his side. Jimin always smiles brightly at them; he’s charming. Pretty and charming. Jungkook sees them come up the stairs and watches them disappear though the golden doors.

Wonho and Chanyeol then bitterly fill in the salacious details from there. It appears self- pleasure could only appease the omega for so long.

The timing is usually such that Jimin’s suitors, as Jungkook has taken to calling them, arrive in the mid-afternoon and likely depart once Jungkook’s work day is already over because when Jungkook arrives to work early the next morning, he watches as Jimin leaves for his duties and by mid-afternoon the omega appears again, pressed close to another man.

Though there had been one night Jungkook was present to seemingly witness all of Wonho and Chanyeol’s words confirmed.

The doors had swung open and an alpha, not one Jungkook had ever seen before; though they didn’t tend to be, stepped out into the hall. Jimin leaned against the doorframe, his body angled temptingly. With his robes hanging off his naked body, he bat his lashes flirtatiously at the alpha. Jimin had smiled and so too had the alpha, both smelling almost unbearably like one another. Jimin had leaned in first, dusky pebbled nipples on display, and pressed his lips and his front against the alpha. When Jimin finally separated from him the man leaned in a second time. Jimin stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest, had licked his pretty lips, turned on his heels and shut the door loudly behind him.

As usual, Jimin’s guard stood stone-faced and unfazed nearby however the alpha appeared dazed, much like Wonho and Chanyeol would when they returned at night with new tales of Jimin’s prowess, after having to listen to the moans and shouts that came from Jimin’s bedchambers.

That night while alone in the baths, Jungkook had masturbated with the image of Jimin behind his eyes and the memory of his sweet scent, wringing his knot and biting his lips shut against the groans that threatened to spill out.




Some days, Jimin is accompanied not by suitors but by individuals Jungkook assumes he considers friends. Particularly three other omega males, all very beautiful, all nobles as well if their attire is to be believed. Rarely too, Jimin will bring his work home with him in the form of older scribes and as he speaks in his pretty lilting voice, the men arduously note his words onto parchment. They don’t often enter with him, but when they do, they soon return, parchment in hand.

On one occasion, Jimin does not speak, neither does he smile and as he comes into view and sees Jungkook working there. He silences the two young women beside him, both of whom are carrying a mountain of scrolls in their arms. Jimin holds a few more under his arm as well.

In that moment he does not look kind, but he looks more like his position would have him to: stately and cunning and intelligent, eyes cutting with viperlike quickness to and away from Jungkook, lips drawn into a frown.

Though Jungkook tries not to be, he is hopelessly intrigued, as were many of the other workers from his village, many of whom by now had their own personal accounts of Jimin’s promiscuity. The omega is far from careful in his exploits. Then again, he does not appear at all repentant or ashamed by them. In fact, he often appeared to be quite pleased with his numerous conquests.

Many workers would spend their lunch hour discussing the omega; speaking on his deservingness of his role as the King’s hand considering his habits, his lineage that remains a mystery as no one can seem to trace Park to any noble bloodline and the fact of the tremendous freedom Jimin is allowed within the castle.  Though none of these men have any say in such matters, Jungkook finds that he can empathize with their curiosity. Daily, Park Jimin proves himself a difficult man to ignore.




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