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Jimin stared blankly at his reflection as he slowly combed through his long, long, white hair, his tall fox ears standing upright to listen for any wails from the baby down the hall. He caught nothing but the shuffle of socked feet and the rustle of a well-ironed shirt, his husband stepping into view behind him.
Jungkook wrapped his arms around Jimin’s midsection and hooked his chin over the hybrid’s shoulder, meeting his eyes through the pristine hotel mirror.
“My aunt used to say that wearing all black to a wedding causes bad luck,” Jungkook whispered, gaze roving over Jimin’s formal outfit—a blouse loose at the top and cinched at his waist, the sleeves puffy, and a pair of form-fitting slacks. The monochrome was accessorized with emeralds; Jungkook adored the color on Jimin.
“Yeah?” Jimin rasped in return, still absently combing.
Jungkook hummed, then kissed Jimin’s neck. “They could use a little misfortune.”
Jimin finally lowered his arm and set the hairbrush atop the counter, twirling around in the human’s hold to look him straight-on. “Your brother doesn’t deserve that,” Jimin lightly chided, now fidgeting with Jungkook’s lapels to occupy himself.
“He asked me why you don’t wear a collar—“
“A year ago.”
“I don’t care,” Jungkook stated, firmly holding Jimin’s gaze. “It’s not okay. It was never okay.”
Jimin smoothed his palms over his husband’s shoulders. “You said this is the last time, right?”
A curt nod on Jungkook’s part. “They don’t deserve to be in Mina’s life beyond this. Not yours. Not mine. Not until they can respect my family.”
Jimin smiled faintly, wishing he could muster more, but he was just so very tired.
He supported Jungkook’s difficult decision to even attend his brother’s wedding. They could offer a proper goodbye without the hassle of arranging a separate meeting.
And Jungkook was right—Mina deserved to grow up without the judgement and disdain of her grandparents, without the aloof bias of her uncle.
“You sure you wanna go with me?” Jungkook asked for the second time that morning.
“Yes,” Jimin swiftly replied. Then, quieter: “Yes. I don’t want them to think I’m scared of them. And maybe, I don’t know, they’ll see us and get some sense of what they’re missing.”
Jungkook smiled fully and leaned in to kiss Jimin’s temple. “Mm. Mina is pretty fantastic.”
Following that cue, Mina began to weakly wail from the bedroom, and Jungkook immediately detached himself from Jimin to tend to her. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured, disappearing into the hall. “I’ve got her.”
Jimin reached for his wedding ring sitting snug on his left hand—a delicate silver band studded with diamonds and emeralds—and spun it around his finger. He leaned back against the counter and took a very deep breath.
It would be a terribly long day. He told himself he was really here to support Jungkook, but that little, angry voice simmering in the back of his head said otherwise.
He’d make a show of his contentment, if only for some sense of revenge.
○ ♦ ○
Jungkook’s mother claimed Jimin had defiled her son—sunk his claws into the man and made him selfish, needy, a traitor to his own. Just like Jimin. And there was probably some semblance of truth in that sentiment.
Before Jimin, Jungkook strove for honor. He followed the path his parents had mapped out for him, happy to raise their family name to higher acclaim.
Jungkook was polite. He grew his hair out to his nape, but kept it tied back during board meetings to avoid startling elder clients. He lived in a small, clean apartment. He visited his family home every other weekend. He invested in his father’s company, listened to his mother’s advice. Yes, he had some tattoos, but he covered them in public. Hit the gym but didn’t flaunt it. He was gentle, even during sex.
Jungkook often spoiled his friends with expensive dinners. Jimin supposed he was unlucky to find the hybrid’s restaurant—unlucky enough to have Jimin as his server. And on a bad night, too.
The building was busy, they were understaffed, and Jimin had broken up with his emotionally abusive boyfriend a week prior.
So, maybe the hybrid had a shot of vodka in the back of the kitchen to ease the stress and muddle the noise of the dining room. He was experienced, could easily hold his own. But Jimin stumbled near Jungkook’s table, and before he could catch hit footing, he spilled half a glass of water in Jungkook’s lap when approaching the party to greet them.
As horror settled upon Jimin (the rich type was rarely forgiving), Jungkook simply stared up at Jimin in awe. He caught first sight of the hybrid and fell hard. The clatter of glass as Jimin hurried to stand the cup upright and frantically search for napkins signaled the end for the young Jeon.
One could even call it a curse, if they were to consider it from the Jeon family’s angle.
The dumbstruck man had the gall to apologize to Jimin. Jimin .
The hybrid was utterly speechless, simply dropping cloth after cloth onto Jungkook’s lap until he could muster enough syllables to reply, “That’s my line,” along with his own string of rapid apologies.
Fuck, he was definitely getting fired.
But Jungkook waved it off, understood the space was busy and crowded. He laughed and even helped Jimin clean the mess until he managed to garner a tiny smile from the hybrid.
And at the end of the night, he left his personal phone number on the bill for Jimin, plus a generous tip.
Their initial dates were spent at coffee houses and little diners, many places Jimin wouldn’t even think to explore, mainly due to his lack of budget. He typically rode buses everywhere, but amidst the sudden downpour of rain during their third date, Jungkook (while visibly nervous) asked if he could drive Jimin home.
Jimin considered himself a decent judge of character, and he figured it’d be a safe enough quick trip. And if the man tried anything against his will, Jimin kept pepper spray on his keychain.
They dashed through the rain into the restaurant’s parking lot, Jungkook attempting to hold part of his coat over Jimin’s head.
They hopped into the lavish car, and Jimin shook droplets off his tall ears. Jungkook mimicked him, his hair soaked compared to Jimin’s, and the pair chuckled.
During the drive, Jimin built up the nerve to grasp Jungkook’s hand while it laid idle on the center console. The latter swiftly responded, flipping his palm upright to twine their fingers.
They hit peak traffic. Despite the car’s heat running, Jimin’s body was wracked with shivers.
Jungkook eventually pulled into a gas station parking area, and upon noting Jimin’s confused expression, he unbuckled and opened his arms. “You… you’re cold, right?” The younger stammered, the tips of his ears red.
Jimin meekly nodded, waiting another moment before lithely crawling over the center console into Jungkook’s lap, the human tucking Jimin into his large coat.
Jimin’s heart beat faster, and when he rested his cheek against Jungkook’s chest, he could hear the latter’s heart thudding at a more rapid pace.
They stayed knit together for a span of minutes, the radio playing softly in the background.
“Do you like it when people touch your ears?” Jungkook whispered.
Jimin had been tracing the veins along the back of Jungkook’s hand. He paused. “Mhm.”
So, Jungkook tentatively reached up to stroke Jimin’s ear, feeling the fine, silky fur under the pads of his fingers.
It felt good—really good—but touching a hybrid’s ears was intimate. Jimin trusted Jungkook, though, and he appreciated how gently he approached this.
Jimin heaved a great sigh and shut his eyes. Shockingly, he managed to drift off into a short nap, Jungkook only rousing him once the traffic beyond them had thinned.
That car held a multitude of special memories. They ordered takeout in it often. They used it to transport tons of boxes when Jimin moved in with Jungkook. Jimin almost gave birth in the passenger seat on their drive to the hospital.
Before much of that, though, the two drove home from a restaurant on the far side of town, and Jimin spent much of that time distracting the driver.
He grazed his nails along Jungkook’s thigh, up his side, twirling a lock of the latter’s hair. He kissed Jungkook’s neck, laughing when the man hit the brakes abruptly for a stoplight.
When Jimin applied pressured to Jungkook’s inner thigh, Jungkook promptly pulled over and ordered Jimin to hop into the back.
Jimin, flushed from a bit of alcohol, simply stared at Jungkook for a solid five seconds, unaccustomed to that firm tone. It lit a fire in his belly.
Jimin kicked off his high heels and started crawling, his fluffy white tail swishing behind him, very aware that his nice dress was bunching along his waist and showing a good portion of his ass. He kind of hoped Jungkook would smack it, but he made it to the back without a wandering touch.
Jungkook took his sweet time unbuckling, opening his door, and moving toward the rear of the car. Once he settled in, he watched Jimin for a few counts, observing his red, worn lips and mussed hair.
“What, now you’re shy?” Jungkook asked, voice low and rough.
Jimin propped his legs up, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his chin on his knees. “Depends. Are you actually mad?”
Jungkook huffed and ruffled his pretty dark hair.
Jimin watched his wavy locks tumble back down and his boyfriend’s bicep flex as he lowered it. Jimin’s mouth watered.
“No,” Jungkook said slowly. He scooted closer and grasped Jimin’s knees, prying them apart. “I’m fucking horny. Whose fault is that?”
Jimin swallowed. “Mine,” he replied, raspy.
Jungkook fixated on the peek of black, lacy underwear between Jimin’s legs. “You really expected to get fucked tonight, huh.”
“Don’t tease me,” Jimin grumbled, his entire body heating.
Jungkook snuck a hand between Jimin’s thighs, feeling the soft skin, the flex of his muscles beneath. He brushed against Jimin’s clothed erection, and the hybrid hissed, laying back, his nape resting against the door.
Teasing. Jungkook had a knack for it, Jimin learned. And it only grew worse the longer they were together. Jimin’s brattiness seemed to rub off on his boyfriend.
Jungkook ground the heel of his hand into Jimin’s twitching dick, knowing just how sensitive the hybrid was.
Jimin flinched. “Don’t do this. Just fuck me.”
“Why would I? You weren’t being very nice to me a minute ago.”
Jimin glared at Jungkook from under his lashes, but his resolve crumbled when he felt Jungkook’s fingers trail further down, parting his cheeks and moving aside the thin fabric of his panties.
Jungkook circled his wet rim, and Jimin released a stuttered breath. He reached for something to latch onto, gripping the top of the seat and waiting painfully long for Jungkook to push past his rim. Just a fingertip, though—far from enough to satisfy him.
“How’re you so wet already?” Jungkook said, hushed, as if to himself. He swiped up a glob of slick, then raised his sticky fingers. He fixed his attention on Jimin again. “Open.”
Jimin parted his lips, too entranced to protest. He laid pliant as Jungkook pressed his two slick-covered fingers into his mouth. On instinct, Jimin began to suck, meeting Jungkook’s hooded gaze as he did so.
A rush of cars passed them on the highway, and for a second, Jimin forgot these windows were blacked out. A thrill of embarrassment and excitement ran through him, and he shivered.
Then, Jungkook lowered his head, and any of Jimin’s inhibitions were thrown out.
Jimin swore that eating him out was Jungkook’s favorite pastime. He performed the task with fervor. Some nights they were together, that’s all they did: Jimin laid weak-limbed on Jungkook’s large bed as the younger coaxed him through orgasm after orgasm.
Jungkook grasped Jimin by the meat of his thighs and pressed them back against the hybrid’s chest. Jimin held them up for Jungkook; his boyfriend didn’t even need to ask.
The human lapped at Jimin’s rim a few times, savoring the flavor of his slick, before pressing his tongue past the tight ring of muscles.
Jimin groaned as Jungkook licked into him, deeper and deeper. He hooked one leg over Jungkook’s shoulder so he could dig his fingers into the man’s hair and tug.
“Fuck,” he gasped as Jungkook found his prostate.
He lapped at the sweet spot, unforgiving, slick leaking down his chin.
Precum began to stain Jimin’s lacy underwear, but he knew better than to reach down and relieve himself. Jungkook would likely just swat his hand away.
For minutes, Jungkook licked into him and sucked on his rim. He eventually snuck in a couple fingers to really apply pressure, indulging in Jimin’s shudders and whimpers above him.
“Kook—Kookie,” Jimin whined, digging his heels into Jungkook’s back. “I’m…” Jimin lost his breath from another lingering hit to his prostate. Jungkook made it last, and Jimin swore he sat on the peak of an orgasm for ten minutes, wailing and crying all the way while Jungkook got his fill.
Jungkook began to knead Jimin’s round ass, pinching Jimin when he squirmed too much.
The prick of pain was what really pushed Jimin over the edge. His rim was sore, he felt so full and warm inside, and Jungkook rubbed against his prostate again and again and—
“Ah!” Jimin shrieked, voice hoarse, as tingles erupted throughout his body, a white light exploding behind his eyelids.
Jungkook continued to lap at his walls into the realm of oversensitivity, only letting up once Jimin was too weak to grasp onto him any longer. Jungkook sat up and leaned in, kissing Jimin open-mouthed, sucking on his tongue, sharing the sweet flavor of Jimin’s own slick.
Jimin moaned, eyelids drooping. His whole body felt so, so heavy. “Your turn?” He mumbled when Jungkook pulled away an inch to kiss down Jimin’s jugular, eventually nipping at his collarbone.
“No,” Jungkook replied, wiping off his chin. “That can wait ‘til we get home.”
Date after date, Jungkook paid for each one, and Jimin didn’t quite understand what the human wanted out of him. Sure, Jimin could be charismatic, and he was obviously bred to be easy on the eyes. Not much of that explained how terribly enamored Jungkook grew.
It took Jimin a few months to pinpoint it.
Jimin was rescued from a breeding facility when he was still a toddler and promptly thrown into the foster system. He didn’t know permanence, and in turn, he learned to take anything in stride. He did what he wanted—whether that involved food, hobbies, traveling, or sex.
One could say Jungkook was raised the polar opposite. His family was wealthy due to his father’s firm, and his mother maintained a tight, unwavering smile as she entertained countless guests.
Jungkook played multiple sports and took violin lessons for many years. He admitted to Jimin that he and his brother never really… played. They did activities, but it was all to “enrich” them, to produce well-groomed sons their family could utilize.
Jungkook earned the business degree his parents wanted, along with a computer science minor. The tech part of his startup was Jungkook’s own idea. Figuring out a way to earn investments and make a profit was all his father’s input.
Jungkook wasn’t allowed to simply date people and bring them home. No, that process was rigorous and too difficult on said potential partner. Hell, Jimin had been with the former for over two years before he spoke a word to either of the man’s parents. They likely would’ve kept it that way if Jimin wasn’t pregnant.
Jungkook tried to play diplomat, really. Of course he wanted his family’s approval toward his partner. Yet, none of that persistence could change the obvious fact that Jimin was a hybrid.
“Dirty blood,” the upper class would call it. A glorified pet. Jungkook’s brother addressed Jimin as such before he understood the arrangement. Even then, he wasn’t convinced enough to apologize.
After that horrendous attempt at a family dinner, Jungkook received a voicemail from his father on the house landline after blocking the contact on his cell.
Jimin shouldn’t have listened to it. He almost wanted to hide it from his boyfriend when the message ended, the pit in his gut a forewarning of Jungkook’s inevitable rage. But they didn’t keep secrets, and Jungkook deserved to know what his parents truly thought of the hybrid.
Jimin coaxed his boyfriend over once the latter exited his home office, Jimin’s knuckles already white from gripping the edge of the kitchen counter.
As they listened together, Jungkook’s complexion paled and a tic formed in his jaw.
“I regret not teaching you this sooner, Jungkook,” the elder Jeon sighed over the receiver. “Could’ve saved us a lot of trouble, but… ah, well. Affairs with hybrids are fine. Everyone’s had their fair share. But you don’t date them, you don’t… you certainly don’t knock them up.” Another heavy exhale. “Listen, Eomma and I aren’t actually mad. We can resolve this quickly. Just—just talk to me. It’ll be fine.”
Jungkook very well could’ve taken his father’s advice. He had plenty of reason to. He was set to inherit half a fortune. But Jimin’s boyfriend did have a hint of a rebellious streak. And, well, a whole lot of love for his new family.
Instead of following up with his father, Jungkook married Jimin a mere month later. The couple sent a “Newly Married!” postcard to the family and refused to communicate with them further.
Imagine Jimin’s shock when Jungkook actually considered accepting his brother’s wedding invitation after Mina was born. Of course, they discussed it heavily, and still they ended up right here, dressed to the nines and pulling up to the venue—at a yacht club, for fuck’s sake.
The breeze carried the scent of salt, and seagulls cawed from a distance, a few scattered throughout the gated parking area. Jimin could already feel a whisper of sea spray on his cheeks just a moment after opening his door.
Jimin took his sweet time unbuckling Mina from her car seat, allowing her to wake slowly as he cradled her, hoping the sunlight wouldn’t be too harsh.
He shimmied down the rumpled skirt of her dark green dress, then brushed his fingers against her short black fox ears to soothe her.
Subduing a frown, Jimin cupped a palm over her eyes to protect from the harsh noon light, and he retreated to the passenger seat, perching halfway on it. Jimin unbuttoned his blouse, wincing as the fabric brushed against his sore nipples, and created a wide enough opening for Mina to comfortably nurse.
He glanced at the rearview mirror to spot Jungkook retrieving the diaper bag from the trunk, double checking they had everything they needed.
Jimin resisted jostling his leg from nerves. He could do this. He could look Jungkook’s mother in the eye and not permit her to tear him down. He was a good parent, Jimin reminded himself. Jungkook, too. Every healthy family has to start from scratch somewhere.
He was so scared when he found out he was pregnant. As soon as the at-home test came up positive, Jimin hid it in his dresser, panicking over the possibility that Jungkook would find it in the trash once he returned home from work.
Jimin paced throughout the house, considering his options. Although hybrid abortion was permitted in the past with explicit consent from their owner, that law was eradicated decades ago along with the legality of keeping hybrids as pets. But he could find someone to help him, right? Soon. Who knew how long he’d even been pregnant.
When he heard the front door creak open, Jimin uttered a string of curses and tried to casually settle himself on the living room couch. This looked normal, right? And Jungkook wasn’t a hybrid—he couldn’t smell the distress radiating off Jimin in waves.
Jimin buried his nose in his phone, pretending to be occupied, only lifting his head once Jungkook planted a kiss on his cheek.
“How was school today?” His boyfriend asked, settling beside him.
Jimin had quit his serving job many months ago so he could enroll in an online college. He’d wanted to work toward an accounting degree for a long while, and Jungkook finally made that possible.
“Fine. I finished my lessons early,” Jimin answered. He did complete some homework in the morning before the nausea overtook him. “I saw I got a ninety-five on my last exam.
Jungkook grinned and pulled Jimin into his lap for a tight embrace. He kissed the top of the hybrid’s head a couple times. “Of course you did. You’re ridiculously smart.”
Jimin flicked his tail and nuzzled under Jungkook’s chin. “Thanks,” he murmured. “And how was work?”
“Eh, normal. Joon-hyung’s back in town, though. I hate having to do those video calls when he’s overseas.”
“Good,” Jimin said, tracing the JM tattooed on Jungkook’s finger.
Jungkook hugged him tighter, resting an arm over Jimin’s stomach. When he unconsciously added pressure, Jimin flinched away.
Jimin’s eyes widened as he realized how strange the sudden movement must’ve seemed.
Sure enough, Jungkook asked, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” Jimin hurried to remedy, sitting up and grasping Jungkook’s hand. He couldn’t meet his boyfriend’s searching gaze.
“Jimin,” Jungkook said, quiet now. “What’s wrong?”
The hybrid worried his lower lip. “I, um… fuck. Please don’t be mad,” Jimin whispered, clutching Jungkook’s hand as an anchor.
Jungkook tilted Jimin’s chin up, then cupped his cheek. “Look at me.”
The hybrid flattened his ears, but obeyed.
“Baby,” Jungkook continued to coax.
Jimin nodded.
The human furrowed his brows. “Huh?”
Jimin sighed and tugged Jungkook’s palm away from his face, placing it over his stomach instead.
Jungkook held Jimin’s gaze, his confusion slowly, so slowly, morphing into an innocent surprise. “What?” He exhaled. “Why would I be mad? That—that’s great.”
Jimin fully recoiled, stumbling to his feet. “Jungkook, we… what if it looks like me? We can’t keep it.”
Jungkook processed Jimin’s response for a long while before offense marred his features. He belatedly followed after Jimin, looming over him. “I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he argued. “It’s our baby. It should look like you.”
“You think it’s right to bring another hybrid into the world, after the shit I grew up with?” Jimin retaliated, although his voice was admittedly weak. He rested a hand on Jungkook’s chest. “People aren’t kind—“
“But we’d love that baby,” Jungkook interrupted, hurt lacing his tone. “Right? I know I would.” He paused, raking his gaze over Jimin, placing his hand over the hybrid’s and clutching desperately. “Do you really not want it?”
Jimin wanted to cower. He felt the immense urge to curl into himself and cover his stomach, but he forced himself to hold firm. “Well, I…”
“You didn’t think about it,” Jungkook filled in. He exhaled through his nose, then pulled Jimin into the warmth of his body. “Please, think about it. I have the money. I’ll take care of you both, I swear.”
Jimin curled his fingers into the human’s shirt and shut his watering eyes. “I don’t even know how to be a parent. I never had one.”
“And mine were shit,” Jungkook softly sympathized. “But I know we can do better.”
Jungkook was right, of course; he often was.
As Jimin watched his belly grow in the coming weeks, he found he couldn’t hate the life inside him. Even after the fiasco with the Jeon family, Jimin could actually admit he loved this baby.
When the subject of doctors’ visits was brought up, however, Jimin was struck with a new sort of fear. Maybe he and Jungkook were being naive. If Jimin received an ultrasound, and it turned out their baby was visibly a hybrid after all, would Jungkook still hold firm to his past claims?
Jimin thought he knew Jungkook well enough to guess the answer, but he’d made wrong judgements in the past.
Every last doubt of his was eradicated, though, when Jungkook finally convinced Jimin to visit an OB after he started truly showing.
They found out he was at the start of his second trimester. During that ultrasound, the technician also pointed out two key details: the beginning of a tail, plus a pair of tiny fox ears.
Jimin subdued his own reaction in lieu of observing his partner’s.
And thankfully, Jungkook was nothing short of elated. He grasped Jimin’s hand and eagerly pointed at the screen. “Oh my god, they’re so cute. You see, baby? Look at those little ears!”
Jungkook’s grin was so bright, Jimin found it contagious. He echoed the human’s smile and nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured. “They’re amazing.”
Worse men would see those animal features and recoil. They’d understand the weight of their actions, believing they’d helped create a lesser being. He’d heard of plenty of hybrids that were abandoned after falling pregnant, tragically realizing in the aftermath that they really had been nothing more than an exotic plaything.
But Jungkook was no worse man. He was kind; he loved them.
Jimin wanted to care for their baby with the same intensity that Jungkook did from the start.
Jimin was relaxing in the bath amidst the soothing scent of lavender when he felt the baby kick for the first time. He absently rubbed the swell of his belly, his eyes shut and water lapping at his chin. Then, movement.
Jimin gasped and straightened, palm laid firmer atop his stomach. “Was that you?”
Again, a gentle flutter.
Jimin released a raspy laugh. “Holy shit. You’re really in there. You’re—“ he stopped, tears suddenly springing to his eyes (when Jungkook entered the bathroom minutes later, Jimin claimed he had simply gotten some soap in them).
Jimin traced up and down his bump, heartbeat stuttering. “I love you,” he admitted for the first time, flushing up to his ears. “Papa loves you.”
Now, holding Mina as she nursed, Jimin thought she looked just as perfect as she did when she was born. She had Jimin’s eyes and Jungkook’s nose. Jimin hoped her smile would someday resemble the human’s, too.
The small family eventually, begrudgingly, left the safety of their car and entered the venue, passing through the extravagant building toward the neatly mowed lawn and umbrella-covered tables outside.
Many guests already milled about, Jungkook greeting people in passing as Jimin followed a step behind, clutching Mina securely.
Jimin recognized almost none of these faces, and the ones he did know were from old photo albums Jungkook showed him.
His husband managed to strike up a conversation with his uncle he hadn’t seen in over five years, his aunt soon joining. When he introduced Jimin to her, she buzzed with excitement.
“You really are gorgeous,” the woman exclaimed.
Jimin quietly thanked her, inclined to flinch over her volume.
“And your hair,” she gasped. “It’s so exotic.”
The corner of Jimin’s mouth twitched. “Well, arctic foxes are from the arctic,” Jimin blandly replied.
Then, the aunt locked her sights on Mina, her big, graying hair flouncing as she stepped forward. “Can I hold her?” She asked, already reaching out for the baby.
A spark of panic lit in Jimin’s chest. He glanced at Jungkook, seeking reassurance that this was okay. Jimin was admittedly over-protective of his daughter.
Jungkook gave him a simple nod, and Jimin exhaled. He carefully passed Mina over.
“Support her head,” Jimin said. “And don’t talk too loud. She’s sensitive to sound.”
The woman only hummed, openly admiring Mina and rocking her. “How old is she, Jungkook-ah?”
“Three months,” Jimin answered, grabbing his husband’s arm for support.
“Y’know, I was out shopping the other day,” she went on, “and I saw the cutest hybrid toddler. What was it, dear?” She turned to her spouse.
“A bear cub, I think,” Jungkook’s uncle replied, typing something on his phone.
“Right,” she exclaimed.
Mina raised her balled fists and whimpered over the sudden noise.
Jimin bit into his cheek. Don’t snatch her away, he told himself. That’s not polite.
“Oh, but they all just resemble puppies, don’t they?” The woman chuckled.
Jimin’s heart sank, and a second of silence spanned between them, the air heavy with Jimin’s dread. He snapped, lurching forward and plucking Mina right out of the woman’s arms, turning on his heel and marching away.
He vaguely heard Jungkook’s uproar behind him: “Do not call my daughter a goddamn puppy.”
Jungkook was a nice, patient man. But much of that went out the window when the safety and dignity of his family was involved.
Jimin took deep breaths and hurried toward a covered table on the outskirts of the venue’s lawn, plopping down in the shade and cuddling Mina close. Luckily, she hadn’t begun to cry.
Jungkook eventually caught up to them after chewing his aunt out, and he knelt in front of Jimin, touching his knee. “I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have brought her.”
Jimin shook his head. “You couldn’t have known she’d say that.”
“I’m still sorry it happened,” Jungkook said firmly, his jaw clenched. “Look, we can go inside and just wait for the ceremony to start—“
“No, you should mingle,” Jimin insisted, brushing the heel of his hand under a watering eye. “We’ll just stay here. The cool wind is nice, and the fresh air is good for Mina.”
Jungkook pursed his lips. A lock of hair fell loose from his neatly combed-back style, curling against his forehead. “You sure?”
Jimin tucked the stray lock behind his ear, then absently stroked his husband’s cheek. “Yes, my love. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Jungkook mumbled, leaning into Jimin’s touch and kissing his palm. “I’ll bring you back a drink.”
Jungkook departed, and Jimin fixed his attention over his shoulder toward the docks, Mina now comfortably tucked against him and drifting into another nap.
A line of yachts bobbed on the water, a couple attendants messing with ropes and chattering between themselves. A large wave passed through, hitting the edge of the wooden boardwalks, splashing onto the surface.
“You got room for a third?” A deep voice spoke from beside Jimin.
The hybrid whipped his gaze around, his posture relaxing when he recognized Taehyung: Jungkook’s childhood friend, and the only person from his past who truly respected Jimin and their relationship.
“Tae,” Jimin greeted, smiling from ear to ear. “Sit down. We didn’t know if you’d be coming.”
“I made it,” he shrugged, taking the seat across from Jimin. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” Jimin replied, eyeing Taehyung in turn. The man wore a blue crushed velvet suit, perhaps a bit warm for mid spring. “You look a little too nice for an outdoor wedding.”
“Hey, I try to be the best-dressed wherever I go,” he shrugged. “How’s my favorite girl?”
“Sleepy, as always,” Jimin snickered. “I’d let you hold her, but honestly, it’s best if we don’t wake her for now.”
“Fair.” Taehyung relaxed into his seat. “Is Kookie stressed yet?”
Jimin clucked his tongue. “You already know that answer.”
“This should be a celebration,” Taehyung reasoned. “No more extended Jeon family. Just us four for the rest of time.”
Jimin rolled his eyes. “Tae, you can’t third-wheel forever.”
“I’ll leave you guys alone when I meet the man of my dreams,” Taehyung stated, crossing his arms. “Let me take my time. I’m still young and hot.”
Jimin snorted. He brushed his fingers through Mina’s wispy black hair.
Jungkook soon returned with drinks, and Taehyung started up some gossip about guests the two recognized from their old private school.
For a moment, Jimin allowed himself to just laugh along.
○ ♦ ○
Mina began to fuss when the wedding ceremony started, so Jimin stood away from the lawn seating and close to the main building, watching from afar.
Jungkook sat next to Taehyung, the two quiet and stiff compared to the rest of the guests.
When they finally filed inside for the reception, the three picked a table far away from the groom and bride’s.
Luckily, they had only spotted Jungkook’s parents during the ceremony. There was no attempt at communication from or toward them.
Dinner passed smoothly, Jimin indulged in half a glass of wine, and the overhead chandelier wasn’t too harsh on their eyes.
Jimin quickly noticed that the wait staff was almost entirely comprised of hybrids, and their table’s waiter seemed initially shocked to see one of their own in attendance. Jimin might have even caught a pitying glance sent his way from said waiter.
As they wrapped up eating, a groomsman stood and began the toasts. He clanged his champagne glass with a knife, and Mina immediately began to sniffle and wail.
Taehyung offered to bring her into the other room to distance her from the noise, and Jimin gratefully passed her over.
Jimin scooted his chair closer to Jungkook’s so they could clasp hands while the guests of honor spoke.
Halfway through the best man’s speech, Jungkook leaned in to whisper against the shell of Jimin’s ear. “I don’t know why he’s got so much to say about true love and commitment. He’s in the middle of his second divorce.”
Jimin swiftly clamped a hand over his mouth to subdue his giggle. He nudged Jungkook’s ankle with his foot. “That’s just mean,” Jimin responded in a hush, no heart to his tone.
Jungkook shrugged. “I’ve known him since middle school. He’s an ass.”
Jimin zoned out for the rest of the speech, roving his line of sight over the poised and wealthy crowd. He felt Jungkook’s palm on his thigh, rubbing back and forth, squeezing above his knee.
Jimin’s eyes locked onto Jungkook’s mother. She met his gaze, then her attention skirted down to her son’s obvious groping. Her neutral expression instantly soured.
A hint of pride settled in Jimin’s gut. Jungkook was his, Jimin thought. His alone.
When his husband’s touch skirted up again, Jimin grasped his hand and looked toward him. He arched a brow, waited a second, and locked their fingers together.
“There’s a single-stall bathroom down the hall,” Jimin said casually, relaxing into his seat.
Jungkook grasped his hip, fingers digging into Jimin’s soft fat. “Yeah?” Suddenly, he felt Jungkook’s breath light against his neck. “Wanna accompany me?”
Jimin’s breath hitched, and he pictured Jungkook’s mother’s venomous expression. Jimin hummed, making a show of thinking it over. “Sure,” he drawled.
They stood together, hands locked, with no attempt at appearing subtle as they walked toward the hall and found the unoccupied bathroom. Jimin heard the lock click behind them before he was pressed against the door, Jungkook latching onto his neck and leaving a smatter of wet kisses.
“We should at least make it quick,” Jimin said, tangling his fingers in his husband’s hair.
“Mhm,” Jungkook grumbled, entirely more focused on the hickey he was forming on Jimin’s shoulder. He lifted Jimin’s leg and hooked it over his hip, crowding in closer. “You smell so good.”
“You picked out this perfume,” Jimin giggled, scratching Jungkook’s scalp just the way he liked.
Jungkook suddenly grabbed Jimin’s ass and hoisted him up, the hybrid wrapping his legs around the former’s waist with mild panic.
“How many times do I have to tell you to warn me?” Jimin groaned, much more satisfied when he was set on the lip of the sink.
“But you like when I carry you,” Jungkook pouted, settling between Jimin’s spread legs.
Jimin rolled his eyes, then kissed the pout right off Jungkook’s lips. He titled his head to deepen it, Jungkook swiping his tongue against the roof of Jimin’s mouth before biting down on his plush lower lip.
Jimin gripped his strong shoulders and pulled him closer. He felt Jungkook’s clothed, hard cock pressed against his own, and he uttered a quiet moan. He ground down to add some friction, Jungkook responding in kind.
“Wait,” Jungkook rasped, pulling away. “Turn around.”
Jimin pursed his lips, annoyed by the interruption, but listened anyway. He hopped off the sink, spun around, and rested his elbows on the porcelain. “Better?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook breathed, admiring Jimin’s ass through his tight pants. He wrapped his arms around the hybrid, his clothed cock pressed against him again.
Jimin sighed and rutted back.
Jungkook reached down to unbutton Jimin’s pants, shimmying them down his wide hips until his ass was bare to the chilled air. Jungkook gave each cheek a single slap to watch them jiggle, biting his lip as he watched with reverence.
“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no,” Jimin stated. “I am not letting you sit here and eat me out for a half hour.”
“Five minutes?” Jungkook countered, hopeful.
“It will absolutely not be five minutes.”
Jungkook grumbled something to himself, but caved, nevertheless. He swiped a couple fingers through Jimin’s slick, then pressed right inside, startling the hybrid.
Jimin leaned heavier into the edge of the sink, a protest on his tongue. But Jungkook wasted no time in hitting Jimin’s prostate, and the latter lost his words to a drawn-out moan. He couldn’t focus on much else other than the firm pressure against his walls and the slight stretch to his rim.
But Jimin wanted more, and his husband was happy to oblige, unzipping his own slacks with his free hand. “Need help?” Jimin breathlessly teased, noting Jungkook’s lack of urgency.
“With what?” Jungkook retorted, followed by a harsh thrust to Jimin’s sweet spot.
Jimin fell forward and grasped the sink hard. He had little time to recover, feeling Jungkook’s cockhead against his entrance, swiping through his gathered slick for extra lubrication.
“It’s been a little while. You gonna be okay?” Jungkook asked with zero sincerity.
“Don’t be a dick.”
Jungkook pressed in a couple inches, listening to Jimin’s high-pitched whine, and paused. He snuck an arm up and curled his long fingers into Jimin’s silky hair. He grasped tight and tugged his head back, hovering over Jimin to meet his already watering eyes. “I thought you liked it when I’m mean?” He murmured, entirely too amused with himself.
Jimin simply glared at him.
“Aw, baby,” Jungkook whined with that awfully fake tone he only ever used with Jimin. “Don’t give me that look.”
He thrust in another inch, and Jimin shut his eyes.
Jungkook lowered himself, brushing his lips against Jimin’s ear. “You feel the stretch yet?”
“You’re barely in,” Jimin grunted.
Bad response.
In one smooth motion, Jungkook pressed in all the way, reaching deep inside Jimin and knocking the air out of him. And then, back out to the tip. A harsh thrust, back and forth without mercy. Jungkook brushed Jimin’s prostate, yet avoided hitting it, chasing his own pleasure instead.
Jimin whimpered, still adjusting to the stretch, and ducked his head. “Please,” he whined, feeling full, but knowing Jungkook was refusing to indulge him precisely where he wanted.
“What was that?” Jungkook mocked.
At Jimin’s lack of response, the younger grasped Jimin’s chin and forced him to look up, facing him through their reflection. “Use your words, baby. What d’you want?”
Jimin clenched around Jungkook, listening to the slap of skin as Jungkook buried himself deep upon each rapid thrust.
“Please—my—I need you. Please.”
Jungkook snorted and licked the edge of Jimin’s sensitive ear. He began to suck on it, still avoiding Jimin’s prostate. “Not coherent enough, but at least you’re cute,” he mused, only slightly breathless.
Jungkook took pity on Jimin and finally re-angled his hips, driving into his prostate thrust after thrust.
Jimin’s jaw fell slack, his tongue lolling out. He scrambled for better purchase and ended up throwing an arm back to wrap behind Jungkook’s neck. “Fuck,” he warbled, bodily jostled as he was fucked. “S-so good, Kookie.”
Jimin felt a gush of slick slide out of him, trailing down his inner thigh. As much as Jungkook liked to mock him for it, there was an abundance of truth to his words: Jimin got incredibly wet when aroused.
Jimin was admittedly very vocal, a string of grunts and moans leaving his red, parted lips as he was repeatedly impaled on his husband’s thick cock. He didn’t consider the implications of his volume until a knock resounded at the door.
Jimin cried out as Jungkook buried his cock in Jimin’s wet heat and stilled. He blushed at the involuntary noise, and Jungkook merely stuck his fingers in Jimin’s mouth to muffle him.
Jungkook, seemingly unperturbed, started up his pace again, these thrusts harder than the previous. Jimin swore his ass would be bruised by morning.
Another knock.
“Occupied,” Jungkook calmly stated, his hips unfaltering.
Jimin whimpered, and Jungkook kissed his temple. “Suck,” he commanded.
So, Jimin wrapped his lips fully around Jungkook’s fingers and suckled to quiet himself.
The guest outside seemed to have already left, but Jimin was still wracked with embarrassment, ashamed of how much the encounter had turned him on. He shut his eyes, a couple tears slipping down his cheeks, and let Jungkook continue to fuck him against the cold porcelain of the sink.
Jimin’s legs started to shake as he neared his orgasm, and he clenched tighter around Jungkook’s cock.
“It’s okay, baby,” Jungkook crooned. “You can cum.”
Jimin moaned around Jungkook’s fingers and shuddered, the younger hitting his sweet spot mercilessly until Jimin unraveled. Jimin sank into Jungkook’s broad chest as he came, his body seizing up, his limbs overtaken by that nice, fuzzy sensation.
As Jimin clamped down on Jungkook’s cock, the latter’s pace grew erratic and rough. He held onto Jimin’s waist and snapped his hips a few more times before biting Jimin’s shoulder and releasing deep inside the hybrid’s heat.
They spent a short while catching their breath, Jungkook leaving sweet kisses along any expanse of Jimin’s skin he could find.
Jimin groaned when Jungkook eventually pulled out, feeling empty, cold, and downright gross. He spared a glance at the mess between his legs. “Great,” he grumbled.
Jungkook laughed and reached for the paper towels. “I love you.”
“Yeah,” Jimin frowned, reaching behind himself to plug up his hole before he leaked cum everywhere. “Love you, too.”
After a hasty cleanup, they exchanged one last lingering kiss and unlatched the door.
Jimin continued to straighten his shirt as they emerged from the hall, and Jungkook brushed his fingers through the back of Jimin’s hair to smooth it out. Jimin knew there was still a flush high on his cheeks. They didn’t even make an attempt at re-tying Jungkook’s tussled hair.
They returned to their seats, the toasts now over and wedding cake cut. Slices on glinting white plates waited for them, Taehyung at their table, as well.
He narrowed his eyes at the couple, Mina awake but calm in his arms. “Have fun?” He asked, his tone annoyed, but a glint of mirth remaining in his expression.
“In the bathroom?” Jimin played innocent. He held his arms out for Mina. “It’s probably about time for her to be fed.”
“Uh huh,” Taehyung drawled. He dug his fork into his untouched slice of cake.
Jimin unbuttoned his top halfway and lined Mina up with his chest, his daughter easily latching on. As she nursed, Jimin searched the crowd and found Jungkook’s mother once more. He thought he’d felt her attention boring into him.
Jimin tilted his chin up and held her gaze until she faltered and finally looked away.
Hm, Jimin mused to himself. Victory tasted bittersweet.
○ ♦ ○
They didn’t stay to dance. Jungkook offered a solemn congratulations to his brother, along with a curt hug and a shake of his hand, gathered his spouse and child, and left.
Taehyung met them back at their hotel room, and the three adults shared some more drinks and stories in the comfort of a private space.
Mina slept soundly in her travel crib, Jimin leaning over the edge every so often to check her breathing and simply touch her.
Jungkook mentioned how close they were to the beach—they could hear the waves from their room.
“You guys can go take a walk tonight. It’s not too cold,” Taehyung suggested, sipping his beer.
Jungkook perked up. “You’re okay watching Mina for a little while?”
“Like she’s so high maintenance,” Taehyung chuckled. “Yeah, of course. Go have some quiet time.”
So, they did just that.
The moon wasn’t particularly bright, but the breeze was faint, and the crashing waves made for some peaceful white noise.
The couple stepped out of their shoes and twined hands, strolling along the damp sand.
Jungkook eventually slung his arm around Jimin’s waist, kissing his head. “I couldn’t have made it through today without you. Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin replied, clutching his husband’s shirt and resting his cheek against his shoulder. “I’m your partner. Whatever you do… we handle it together.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook murmured. “I just—god—I wish my family had come around, as ridiculous as it sounds. They had months to consider, to ask to be in Mina’s life. But they never even tried. I wish I had more family to give her, a better family.”
“But she has us, right?” Jimin countered, stopping in his tracks, holding Jungkook at bay, too. He met his husband’s big, brown eyes—open and kind, as always. “She has all the love she could ever need.”
Jungkook sniffed, and he hastily wiped at his eyes. “Yeah, she does,” he agreed, calmed by the sentiment he had shared with Jimin all those months ago, when their own little family was just barely formed. “She’s got us.”
He pulled Jimin in and held his hips gently.
Jimin raised himself up and grasped Jungkook’s nape. He kissed him deeply, their lips tasting of white wine and sea salt.