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Yoongi isn’t even inside yet, and he already has regrets.
Major ones.
To be fair, he already had regrets from the very moment Seokjin suggested to go out and he somehow let himself be convinced to join—damn his friends for being way too good at pulling puppy dog eyes, and damn himself for how soft his heart is—but the regret is growing exponentially now that they’re actually here.
They’re here, and they’re queueing out in the cold, and Yoongi can already hear the bass from inside, and ugh, he really hates this shit. Hates it so much that he really, really can’t understand why people genuinely enjoy going here, why they go out for fun instead of only under force from their friends.
Stinky, sweaty bodies dancing on an even stinkier, stickier floor, music that’s plain awful ninety-nine percent of the time and is always too loud, bartenders who you have to yell at so loudly to be heard that it hurts your throat, only to get drinks that are in no way worth their price…
Let it be clear that clubs are not Yoongi’s thing.
At all.
Which of course he continuously makes known as they stand here, freezing their asses off while the queue in front of them slowly diminishes.
He says it to Namjoon, to Seokjin, to Hoseok, raises his voice loudly enough to address all three of them at the same time, yammers and grumbles and pleads to go home anyway; it’s just that his friends have learned years ago that he’s all bark and no bite, and they just laugh when he complains about his freezing balls for the nth time, Hoseok throwing his arm around him and squeezing him against his side.
"Aigoo, look at our grumpy little hyung with his grumpy little eyes and his grumpy little nose—”
“Grumpy noses are not a thing,” Yoongi grumpily protests, pouting, but Seokjin is already pinching his cheek, cooing, and Namjoon is no help at all either, looking on as if he’s some proud dad watching his kids bond.
It’s awful, but he also loves them all to death, and so Yoongi endures, until they finally, finally reach the door and get waved inside.
They’ve barely entered the foyer when Hoseok is already rounding on him, pointing at him sternly, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Yes, hyung, I know you think it stinks inside clubs, but the solution to that is alcohol, remember, not complaining to us constantly. If you still smell the sweaty bodies, you haven’t taken enough shots. That’s the guideline tonight. Come on!”
Hoseok cackles as he pulls them all towards the wardrobe, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, obediently following after.
It’s true that he has a very sensitive nose, and it’s also true that he complains a lot about smells, but it’s not like alcohol is magically going to solve anything, no matter how often and loudly Hoseok announces that it will.
Sticky bodies will still stink and noisy music will still be noisy; there’s no escaping it.
For some reason, the universe has apparently decided Yoongi needs to hear and smell every single thing there is to hear and smell, and they’ll all just have to deal with it—Yoongi with the annoyance of it, his friends with his complaining.
Because it’s not like he’s making it up.
While countless people have told Yoongi that he’s just too sensitive about stuff, that he’s obsessed with smells and sounds and should just learn to focus on other things, should just ‘let it go’, he really does hear and smell a lot more than others do.
Ever since he was young, he could hear whispered conversations in other rooms that no one else could pick up, could smell what the neighbours were eating for breakfast, could even tell where his friends had been that day, or, regrettably, if they’d gotten up to anything sexual.
His affliction is real, and so Yoongi already scrunches his nose, completely convinced that he’s going to be hit with a horrendous amalgamation of body odours and perfumes and urine, only to freeze, his eyes going wide.
It doesn’t smell bad.
Or rather, it does, exactly just like usual, but it also smells like something good.
Like something delicious, something sweet and sunny and homey and pure, and Yoongi’s heart speeds up, his chest suddenly feeling funny.
It’s like something deep inside his body is suddenly awakening, making him forget all about his friends and where they are, and he startles when Seokjin touches his shoulder, so much that Seokjin raises his eyebrows at him.
“You good, Yoongi-ssi? Come on, it’s your turn to hand over your jacket…”
It’s in a haze that Yoongi hands over his jacket to the clerk, his face automatically staying turned towards the big doors at the end of the foyer where the scent is stronger.
What could it be?
It’s a scent incomparable to anything he has ever smelled before, so that makes it unlikely that it’s a person, perfume or air-freshener, but Yoongi can’t think of anything else it could be, and—
Again, he’s startled from his thoughts by a touch, Seokjin suddenly looking a lot more worried than he had before.
“Seriously, are you okay? You’re acting strange as fuck…”
The rest of his friends are looking at him too now, all with their tokens for their jackets still in hand, and Yoongi forces himself out of his daze, shaking his head to clear it.
“No, I’m okay. It’s just… Something smells nice. It’s confusing.”
That has Namjoon looking around himself with eyebrows raised in surprise, as if trying to find the source of the scent he can’t even smell himself.
“Something smells nice? That’s a first…”
Seokjin and Hoseok are already starting to make jokes, giggling about how the world must be ending for Yoongi to say something like that in a club of all things, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, sighing deeply.
“Yes, yes, I get it, so funny. Let’s go inside, yeah?”
Just like always, Yoongi winces when they enter the heavy doors, the music suddenly so loud that it hurts his ears a bit.
Normally, he’d be vowing to himself that he’ll really never let himself be convinced to go clubbing again, but this time he doesn’t even really mind the discomfort: he’s way too focussed on the mysterious scent, much more potent here.
Maybe it is a person after all. Or someone who is carrying something really delicious around, because the scent is there in certain places and not in others.
It’s fascinating like not much else has been in Yoongi’s life, and it takes all his willpower to not go running around like a lunatic, trying to find the source of the scent.
Instead, he follows his friends to the bar and then to a booth in one of the corners furthest away from the dancefloor, all of them always trying to be mindful of Yoongi’s sensitive ears, despite how Yoongi knows that Hoseok must be dying to head to the dancefloor.
They all take care of each other like that, and it warms Yoongi’s heart.
Today, Yoongi wouldn’t mind if his friends just went dancing, though. It would give him the space to go after the scent, or who knows, he would perhaps even join them there to check if he could smell the scent there too.
In the end, it’s Namjoon who makes the decision for him, clearly noticing how distracted Yoongi still is as they sit and chat in their corner.
“You can just go after it, you know that, right?”
When Yoongi turns to look at him in confusion, Namjoon gives him a little smile, shrugging his shoulders.
“We all know you really do smell things most people don’t, and this scent is clearly something very interesting to you. So why not follow it? It might lead to nothing, but it might also lead you somewhere you are meant to be...”
Taking a sip of his beer, Namjoon laughs, once again shrugging, but now more pronounced.
“Maybe I’m just talking out of my ass, but well, you’ll never know if you don’t try, right?”
Seokjin and Hoseok must have been listening in, because Seokjin directly pipes up, “Yes, set forth, Yoongi-ssi, and conquer!”
“You never know,” Hoseok adds, “it might just be your soulmate out there! Or... I don’t know, something else important! Follow your nose, hyung!”
Before Yoongi knows it, both Hoseok and Seokjin are banging their fists on the table rhythmically as they chant “Follow your nose, follow your nose,” and he sighs deeply, rolling his eyes, not allowing them to see his secret amusement at their support.
“Fine. I guess I’ll just... I don’t know, go to the bar or something. Just for a bit. Just in case.”
He leaves under loud cheering, and he rolls his eyes once more for good measure as he makes his way to the quieter part of the bar, even though he has to admit to himself that he’s pretty excited.
The chance is small, but someone really could be out there, smelling like that, and his friends were right that he needs to at least check it out, or else he’ll just be thinking about this for weeks to come, full of regret that he didn’t at least try to find some answers.
It feels awkward as hell to be standing by the bar by himself, though, and Yoongi finds himself ordering a whiskey, just to have something to do with his hands.
What is he doing here anyways? It’s not like the owner of the scent will just come find him here, right? If he really wants to know what it is, he should probably roam around, try to follow his nose, but that feels even more awkward than standing at the bar by himself, and—
Yoongi’s thoughts cut off abruptly, his face whipping over to the side.
The scent.
It’s here, and—
And it’s apparently attached to the most gorgeous guy Yoongi has ever seen.
It almost feels like an out-of-body experience watching the stranger approach through the mass of partying people, the crowd parting for him as if he’s an angel.
Which he might truly be with his golden, half-long hair, plump lips, sultry eyes, sun-kissed shoulders peeking through a white mesh shirt...
Yoongi only remembers to breathe when the world starts spinning, sucking in a breath just as the stranger comes up next to him, leaning one elbow on the bar as he throws him a mischievous smile.
“Hi, fancy seeing you here...”
Somehow, his voice manages to be both melodic in an innocent, pure way and seductive as hell, and Yoongi almost forgets to breathe again, his heart working overtime.
He knows he should say something now, should be smooth, but all he can do is stare, feeling so drawn to this random stranger that he barely knows how to keep standing instead of melting to a puddle at the guy’s feet.
Luckily, his wide-eyed gaze must be amusing, because the angel giggles, one hand moving to cover his mouth.
“You look like you’ve just seen an angel descend. Not that I’m not flattered by the stunned-into-silence thing, but I hope you do actually speak?”
As he speaks, the angel’s scent somehow grows even sweeter, more enticing, and Yoongi has the insane urge to lick him, to taste his skin to see if it tastes as good as it smells.
He’s clearly losing it, and he clears his throat, desperately trying to get himself together.
“You—“ he starts, only to be forced to clear his throat again when it comes out squeaky. “You might as well have. Descended from the heavens, I mean. Your—Your scent, it’s—I smelled you as soon as I entered the club, couldn’t concentrate on anything else—“
Suddenly realising that that was probably the most awkward, freaky thing he could have said, Yoongi winces.
“I mean—Not in a bad way, I—“
The angel just laughs again, waving his worries away.
“Hey, I don’t blame you. I just got out of heat, so...”
The angel shrugs, smiling cutely while Yoongi wracks his brain. He seems to have said heat…? That would be ridiculous, though, but Yoongi can’t think of any other word that it could have been.
Maybe he meant he just got out of the heat? And that his scent is intense because he’s been sweating?
Yoongi has no idea, and he’s still trying desperately to make sense of things when the angel speaks up again, his smile turning flirty.
“In any case, I smelled you pretty quickly after you came in too, so it’s not like you’re the only one. You smell lovely. Hadn’t expected to come across an alpha tonight...”
Just like that, Yoongi is lost again.
Alpha? Him?
Yoongi knows that some guys call themselves ‘alpha males’ online, but those are buff, masculine guys with superiority complexes, not small, pale, awkward dudes like himself, so—?
The angel is still looking at him full of expectation, though, so Yoongi chuckles awkwardly, one hand automatically rising to scratch at the side of his neck.
“Ah, I, uh, I don’t know about that...”
The angel just smiles wider, completely unbothered.
“Close enough for me.”
This conversation is very quickly growing very confusing, even if Yoongi sincerely wonders if that’s due to the topics the angel raises or because Yoongi is barely functioning due to his presence, and he quickly casts a look around, hoping to find some help.
Which is when he remembers they’re standing at the bar.
“Would you, uh, would you like me to buy you a drink?”
The angel smiles coquettishly, making Yoongi’s heart do something very unhealthy.
“First tell me your name.”
“Yoongi.”
It comes out as a croak, and Yoongi once again clears his throat, speaking up louder this time.
“Min Yoongi. And you?”
“Park Jimin. Pleased to meet you.”
He says it like he means it, which means that somehow Yoongi hasn’t scared him off yet with his awkwardness, and Yoongi vows to do better with conversation from now on, desperate to keep Jimin by his side for as long as possible.
He just needs to stop drooling over Jimin’s, well, everything, and be cool somehow, be attractive—
“Won’t your friends mind if you stay away for longer, though?” Jimin says, nodding at the booth behind them and effectively pulling Yoongi out of his own mind.
He says it playfully, as if he knows very well that Yoongi will do anything to stay by his side and definitely isn’t thinking about his friends at all, and Yoongi therefore only throws a fleeting glance back at his friends, wincing when he sees them all looking at them, big grins on their faces.
When they see Yoongi looking, they wave and put up their thumbs, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, cheeks prickling with heat.
“Which friends? I’ve never seen those people before...”
That has Jimin laughing, a tinkling, wonderful sound that Yoongi wants to store in his brain and replay over and over, and he can’t help but stare, just taking in this beautiful, wonderful being.
“So,” Jimin says once the last giggle has faded, “does that mean you’re buying me a drink? Or we could of course share the one you already have; I don’t mind...”
Small, elegant fingers move to loosely cover Yoongi’s hand where he’s holding his glass of whiskey, and Yoongi’s brain glitches, sparks lying through his veins from all the points of contact, eyes glued to the sight of Jimin’s fingers over his own.
He only looks up when Jimin laughs again, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and coyness in his eyes as he playfully pulls back his hand.
“Oh no, was that too much for you to handle? I’d almost think you’d never met anyone, you know, like me before. Or are you this flustered around any flirting man?”
Jimin shoots a quick glance at a few people who are standing within earshot now as he says the ‘you know’, as if they’re sharing a little secret about Jimin’s real identity, but Yoongi has no idea what he might mean, focussing on the one thing he does know.
“I’m very sure there’s no one like you. Your scent, your lips, your laugh, your everything; I have no idea why the hell you’re even talking to me...”
Jimin’s scent thickens as if he’s pleased, though that really shouldn’t be possible to pick up, and he does indeed seem very giddy as he steps a little closer, laying one hand on Yoongi’s chest.
“Well, luckily I do know very well why I’m talking to you. See, not only are you hot as hell, but you’re also surprisingly cute for someone who looks like you, and... well, we both know you have something that no one else here can give me...”
Jimin’s gaze flicks down to Yoongi’s crotch as he says the last bit, and Yoongi feels like he’s about to explode from the sheer heat travelling through his body.
Sure, he’s still confused as fuck about what Jimin seems to be hinting at all the time, but that really doesn’t matter in the face of Jimin apparently wanting him, wanting to have sex with him, and Yoongi doesn’t dare to look down, pretty sure he’s sporting a massive boner, right there for everyone to see.
By now, his face feels like it’s on fire, his mental state switching quickly between being more flustered than he has ever been, being more horny than he can remember ever being, and being really flattered and proud that Jimin is talking to him at all, wants him at all.
All those feelings continue to make it very difficult to respond to things like a normal human would instead of just gaping at Jimin, and Jimin laughs at him once more, cheekily grabbing his whiskey and swirling it in the glass as he pulls it closer to himself.
“Or maybe I should just drink this by myself, and we should head to the dancefloor? Wouldn’t want the alcohol to get in the way of anything you might want to do to me tonight...”
Without waiting for an answer, Jimin slowly brings the glass to his lips, keeping eye contact as he slowly drains it, and if Yoongi hadn’t been fully hard yet, he’d definitely be so now, the sight of Jimin licking his lips more sensual than anything has any right to be.
God, how Yoongi wants to kiss those lips. Wants to taste the whiskey right off Jimin’s tongue, wants to kiss him breathless, undress him, worship him all over—
Jimin steps closer to him, inhaling deeply as if smelling something delicious, pupils blown wide in a way that only makes Yoongi’s self-control diminish further.
“Shall we, alpha?”
The dancefloor is packed, the music is loud and awful, but Yoongi doesn’t even notice any of it, purely focussed on Jimin.
Jimin had led him here by the hand, pulling him behind him, and Yoongi had almost stumbled over his own feet at the sight of the most perfect, perky, muscular ass he’s ever seen, expertly exhibited in skin-tight jeans.
Whenever Yoongi had managed to look away from Jimin’s ass for a second, he’d gotten hypnotised by the hints of moon tattoos under Jimin’s white, mesh shirt, and god, Yoongi really doesn’t know how he came to deserve any of this.
He has never, ever come across anyone even close to Jimin in terms of sensual beauty and allure, and combined with how Jimin only seems to start smelling better with every passing second, it's enough to render Yoongi’s capacity for coherent thought almost completely useless.
All he can think of is getting his lips on Jimin’s, squeezing that deliciously slim waist of his, tasting him all over—
All of a sudden, Jimin turns to him, apparently having found a spot that he liked, and Yoongi has never been particularly brave or assertive, but now he can’t help himself: before he knows it, his hands are on Jimin’s waist, the warmth of his skin through the mesh shirt sending shivers down Yoongi’s spine.
“You smell so fucking good. How am I even expected to—“
Before he can finish his sentence, Yoongi’s lips have automatically found the side of Jimin’s neck, a deep groan leaving him at the intensity of his intoxicating scent there.
It feels too good to be real.
It’s almost like someone drugged him or he’s in a fever dream with the way his body responds to Jimin’s scent, his self-control barely existent, his mouth watering, something deep within him urging him to mark, bite, claim.
None of this is normal, some part of Yoongi is aware of that, but the other part just wants, wants so badly that it takes over everything, and Yoongi doesn’t even know how they somehow end up at a wall, Yoongi pinning Jimin’s body against it, his face still in Jimin’s neck.
“This—“ Jimin croaks, sounding out of it now too, “This is not dancing—“
“Fuck dancing.”
Yoongi’s voice comes out differently than he’s used to, so low that it’s almost a growl, and he’s startled into worry for a second, until Jimin laughs breathily, nudging Yoongi’s face away from his neck so that he can lean their foreheads together, his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders.
“Yeah, fair enough. Fuck dancing; let’s do this instead...”
With that, Jimin leans in, his lips meeting Yoongi’s.
It’s fire.
It’s pure, raging fire, all through Yoongi’s veins, through his lungs, his heart, his mind, leaving no thoughts behind.
It’s just his body against Jimin’s, his tongue in Jimin’s mouth, Jimin’s hands in his hair, tugging as he lets out these delicious little sounds of pleasure, pulling Yoongi closer, rocking their groins together.
Yoongi never knew anything could feel this good, could feel this right, like he’s finally right where he’s meant to be after a lifetime of searching for something unnameable.
Apparently, what he needed is Jimin, his teasing words, his dizzying scent, his heavenly body, and Yoongi would gladly just stay here forever, locked in a tight embrace, kissing until they’re dizzy, touching wherever they can reach.
It’s just that they’re in a club, which he had completely forgotten until Jimin breaks away from the kiss, panting as he leans his forehead against Yoongi’s again.
“We can’t—Not here. Want more, want your knot. Want you to fuck me until I can’t think, want—“
A sharp inhale, and then Jimin’s eyes open, dazzling and dazed and pretty as can be.
“Do you live close by?”
There was something about a knot, something Yoongi can’t possibly have heard correctly, but he doesn’t dwell on it, having far more important things on his mind.
Things like getting Jimin to his house right now.
It’s in a daze that they make their way off the dance floor, Yoongi quickly pulling Jimin along to his friends to tell them they’re off—of course leading to more whooping and wolf-whistling—and then impatiently queuing to get their jackets.
It’s almost impossible to keep his hands off Jimin, and Yoongi resorts to hugging Jimin from behind as they wait, nuzzling into his neck, breathing in his scent, until Jimin is giggling breathlessly, swatting him away.
“Patience, alpha.”
Again that word, that word that really doesn’t fit him, but honestly Jimin could call him whatever he wanted by now, and Yoongi would still want to fuck him. He could call him any letter of the Greek alphabet for all Yoongi cares; as long as he gets to have him naked in his bed, preferably right now.
Luckily, Yoongi actually does live close by, only two blocks down the road, and they barely even talk as they go, both walking quickly, hands intertwined, hearts racing.
Because as much as Yoongi is embarrassingly gone for Jimin, he knows Jimin is feeling the same way: Yoongi can hear his rapid heartbeat, can smell the eagerness in his scent, can hear the way he’s breathing shallowly and quickly—they’re on exactly the same page, which only makes this more exciting.
By the time they reach his apartment, Yoongi is about to burst from anticipation, and he doesn’t even wait until the door is properly closed behind them to push Jimin against it, making him laugh.
“Eager, are we?”
Despite his teasing tone, his hands are already pulling Yoongi closer by his waist, his pupils wide, and Yoongi therefore just presses their foreheads together, sending him a smirk.
“Hm, and so are you. I can smell it...”
It’s only after he’s said it that he realises how creepy that must sound to someone who doesn’t have the same sensitive nose as he does, but Jimin just giggles breathlessly, not seeming bothered at all.
“Hm, gonna do something about it then? Or are you just going to talk?”
He says it so tauntingly that Yoongi lets out a growl-like sound, and then they’re kissing, hands guiding each other’s faces closer, hips pressed as close as they can.
Yoongi has never had this kind of chemistry with someone before, has never felt quite this desperate for them, ever, and he barely remembers to breathe as he kisses Jimin harder, deeper, pouring his everything into it.
He wants everything with this boy.
Wants to kiss him, fuck him, lick him, taste him everywhere. Wants to merge their bodies so that they’re one, locked together forever, indiscernible from one another—
There’s a sudden burst of Jimin’s scent in the air, something so sweet and delicious that Yoongi lets out an involuntary rumble, and he drops to his knees before he knows it, pressing his nose to the bulge in Jimin’s pants as he inhales deeply, almost drooling.
God, he’s going insane.
There’s no way someone should be able to smell this good, feel so good, and Yoongi knows he should remove Jimin’s jeans if he wants to actually get where he wants to be, but he doesn’t even have the brain capacity left to remember how to open his buttons, and—
There’s a whine from above him, fingers twisting in his hair.
“Bed. Want it in bed. Want—“
He doesn’t have to plead further, because Yoongi is already getting up, locking his arms under Jimin’s perfect ass and lifting him up, earning him a shocked little squeal, small hands grabbing onto his shoulders for stability.
“Yoongi—“
With how small Yoongi’s apartment is, he has carried Jimin to his bed within seconds, laying him down gently, hastily flipping on his bedside lamp so he can properly take in how gorgeous Jimin looks spread out over his dark sheets.
“Like that?”
Jimin’s pupils are so wide that there’s barely any brown of his irises left to be seen, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. He already looks so ruined, his cheeks red, his lips puffy, and Yoongi can barely believe that he’s real.
“Yeah, like that.”
Jimin says it softly, almost reverently, and this time when their lips meet it’s softer, so soft that it feels like coming home, like they’ve been doing this forever.
And suddenly Yoongi desperately wishes that was true. Wishes that he had known Jimin forever, that this wasn’t his bed but theirs.
That his sheets would always smell like Jimin’s delicious scent, that each morning would start with Jimin soft and warm under the blankets, eyes closed as he cuddled up to Yoongi, making soft contented noises as Yoongi would caress his beautiful body.
Yoongi would make sure the bed was always soft and clean for him, would buy him pretty pillows and soft blankets and all he could possibly want, to make sure Jimin would never want to leave their little safe haven.
He’d be Yoongi’s own personal angel-boy; his to keep, his to love.
His.
It’s such a deep, primal wish that a low growl tears from Yoongi’s throat, and all of a sudden kissing isn’t enough anymore. He needs Jimin naked, needs to find out where that delicious scent is coming from, other than from his neck; needs to make Jimin feel so good that he’ll never think of anyone else ever again.
Luckily, Jimin seems all too willing, whimpering and digging his nails into Yoongi’s shoulders when Yoongi latches on to his neck, sucking hard even as his hand works on pulling Jimin’s mesh shirt up.
There’s the slightly scary urge to bite, to sink his teeth into the creamy skin of Jimin’s neck, but luckily Yoongi’s last shreds of self-control remind him that that will definitely be the last straw for Jimin, and he does his best to just enjoy marking him up instead, something deep inside of him delighting in the way Jimin’s skin blooms red under his mouth.
It’s a shame that he needs to release Jimin’s neck from between his lips to pull his shirt off, but it’s worth it, because all of a sudden Yoongi has miles of smooth, unblemished skin to explore, warm to the touch and more perfect than anything Yoongi has ever touched before, making his eyes go wide as he takes it all in.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. How are you even this beautiful?”
Yoongi knows he sounds dazed, unable to keep his cool and pretend to not be completely gone for Jimin, but he can’t even care: Jimin is here, in his bed, so apparently he likes being praised and worshipped like this.
It’s difficult to even know where to go: Yoongi wants to touch Jimin everywhere, kiss every inch of him, and he feels a little frantic as he licks and sucks and kisses his way over Jimin’s chest, teasing his nipples, dipping his tongue into his navel, relishing in his every little sound of pleasure, every twitch of Jimin’s stomach muscles.
And all the while, Yoongi keeps his eyes open, needing to see Jimin’s tanned skin under his hands, the way he bites his lip in pleasure.
He’s gorgeous.
He’s aethereal in a way that Yoongi honestly hadn’t known was even possible, and he surges up to kiss him on his lips again, desperate to make this experience as good for Jimin as it is for him, to please him properly.
“What do you want? I’ll do anything you want me to; just tell me—“
Before he can even properly finish his sentence, Jimin is capturing his lips again, hips rocking up to meet his, hands around his shoulders to hold him tight, desperate and needy in a way that drives Yoongi only wilder.
“Want you to fuck me. I want—“
Another kiss, one that Jimin whines softly into, and then, “want your mouth on me. Your tongue. Want you to taste me, stretch me, fuck me. I washed before; I’m clean, I promise. I just need—“
Just the mental image of all that Jimin is proposing makes Yoongi groan, eyes closing as he leans his forehead against Jimin’s.
Fuck, he wants all of that too.
Desperately.
In fact, tasting Jimin down there sounds like the best thing Yoongi can imagine right now, and he takes one deep, shaky breath to try to collect himself before he opens his eyes, looking down into Jimin’s.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
It feels like an honour to carefully strip Jimin of his tight jeans, undoing the button, unzipping the zipper, slowly pulling the tight material over his ass and down his legs.
He’s only wearing tight white briefs under it, his scent only more intense now that one layer of clothing is gone, and Yoongi groans as he unabashedly buries his face in Jimin’s crotch, inhaling deeply.
It’s like there’s a special, even more delicious version of Jimin’s scent here, which would be crazy, but Yoongi can’t ignore his nose, can’t ignore this desperate desire to get closer, to taste.
The way Jimin whimpers, burying his hands in Yoongi’s hair and pressing him against his crotch, makes giving in to his urges only easier, and within seconds Jimin’s underwear joins his jeans on the floor, Yoongi’s face now meeting soft, fragrant skin.
Jimin is relatively small but pretty as can be, his hard-on resting flat on his neatly trimmed pubes, one prominent vein at the underside leading to a red, swollen glans, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time licking straight over it, delighting in the way Jimin’s hips buck up, a broken moan leaving him.
He tastes so good.
Yoongi has no idea how he tastes this good, but he does, and it’s easy to lose himself in licking and sucking him, not only his shaft but the soft skin around it too, his pretty inner thighs, the vee of his hips.
All the while, the scent is still there, tempting, taunting, just out of reach... Until realization finally hits Yoongi, and he easily flips Jimin over, licking right over his hole.
Fuck.
Yoongi has no idea what kind of lube Jimin used when cleaning himself earlier, but it tastes like his scent but then even more intense, unfiltered, raw, and Yoongi’s eyes roll back in his skull as he licks over his hole again, and again.
Yoongi has never been particularly partial to eating someone out, but this is different in every single way, and he finds himself licking at Jimin’s hole like he’s starving, his hands automatically kneading the globes of Jimin’s ass, pulling them apart to have better access.
It’s heaven.
It sounds ridiculous, but it really is, and Yoongi would die a happy man if he could just stay here forever, tongue breaching Jimin’s hole, making him spasm and moan, releasing more of that intoxicating taste—
It’s only when Jimin is whimpering almost non-stop, his body jerking in Yoongi’s hold as if he’s close to orgasm, that two small hands appear on Yoongi’s, squeezing.
“No, I’m gonna—Want to come on your cock. Please—“
By now, Yoongi is pretty sure all his brain cells have collectively shut off, and he feels like he’s running on pure instinct as he licks over Jimin’s abused hole one more time before sitting up to his knees, rushing out of the clothes he’d forgotten he was still even wearing.
All the while, Jimin just lies there, looking like a fucking feast, urging him on by wiggling his ass, whispering an impatient “Come on!”. Yoongi’s hand is around his own cock as soon as he has his underwear pulled down, stroking it while his free hand presses fingers into Jimin’s hole, just to test it one last time.
Jimin takes him easily, his entrance glistening with lube and spit.
“Yeah. Fuck, yeah. God—“
Yoongi is already shuffling closer, lining himself up, but once again Jimin stops him, rolling his hips to his side a bit to deny Yoongi access.
“Condom. We need—I could still get—“
He makes a good point, and if Yoongi had more brain capacity left, he’d feel guilty for almost having entered him raw without checking, his usual carefulness completely out of the window.
Now, he just fumbles to open his bedside drawer, clumsy as he feels around for a condom, managing to almost drop it in his haste.
Now that Jimin wants him inside of him, Yoongi can’t think of anything else, desperate to enter him right now, and his hands shake as he rolls the condom down his shaft, almost too impatient to actually make it work.
He gets it done, though, and that’s good too, because Jimin is already pulling him closer with a hand cupped around the back of his neck, lying ready and needy for him on his back.
“Come on, need to feel you—“
As Yoongi half-falls on top of him, clumsy and uncoordinated, Jimin’s hand already finds his cock, pumping it, and Yoongi can only groan, barely managing to keep functioning under the weight of his lust.
“Fuck, I’ll come—Stop—“ he manages to croak, and luckily Jimin lets go of his cock, legs wrapping around Yoongi’s waist instead, pulling him in.
And then Jimin’s lips find his again, desperate and messy, and Yoongi kisses back feverishly as he properly settles himself on top of Jimin, one hand next to Jimin’s face to hold his weight, the other cupping Jimin’s cheek, keeping their lips connected.
They’re rutting against each other now, bodies seeking each other out as if they’re already fucking, and Yoongi only needs to push Jimin’s knees up before his cock is catching on his rim, once, twice—
They both moan when Yoongi slides in, the slide so smooth and wet that he easily bottoms out, and it’s all Yoongi can do not to orgasm on the spot, his blood roaring in his ears, his whole body tingling.
Jimin is hot and tight and perfect around him, as if he was made specifically for him, and Yoongi doesn’t know how to cope, doesn’t know how to function, barely knows how to even breathe.
He’s perfect.
He’s absolutely perfect, and Yoongi knows he lacks all finesse when he kisses Jimin deeply, pressing in even deeper, as deep as he can possibly go.
Jimin just moans breathily, pulling him closer, whining into his mouth, clearly loving it, and something within Yoongi snaps.
He pulls almost all the way out, only to push back in as deep as he can, the full force of his muscles behind it, and Jimin gasps brokenly, only for his breath to be stolen again by the next snap of Yoongi’s hips.
Yoongi’s gut is burning now, the fire spreading further through his veins with every movement, and he knows he’s being rough, but his hips just keep driving forward, deeper, harder.
Sex has never felt like this, has never been even close to this level of all-consuming need, and Yoongi can only hold Jimin tight, groan into his neck, and thrust into his warm, willing body.
Jimin is babbling now, broken please’s and alpha’s falling from his lips in between gasps and moans, and Yoongi only barely remembers to move one hand to Jimin’s cock, giving him the stimulation he must need, his own orgasm approaching like a freight train, fast and inescapable.
His fist messily closes around Jimin’s cock, just squeezing it as he thrusts again, hard, and just like that, Jimin’s body is convulsing, Jimin’s nails digging into Yoongi’s shoulders, the scent of come filling the air as his muscles pulse around Yoongi’s cock.
He also grows a lot tighter under the force of his orgasm, and Yoongi gasps and shudders as he approaches his peak too, the squeeze almost too tight but so incredibly, incredibly good—
With one last, hard thrust, he somehow slips fully inside Jimin’s impossibly tight body again, and then he’s coming.
He’s coming like never before, his vision going white, his muscles shaking, his core pulsing, and he can only cling on to Jimin, desperate little sounds leaving him on every exhale, pleasure shooting through his veins again, and again, and again.
It’s almost like he just keeps coming, like with every twitch of his body he unloads inside of Jimin again, but that’s impossible. Orgasms don’t last that long, and men don’t have that much sperm, but still...
Still Yoongi feels like this is a completely different experience than normal, and he shudders and shudders as he lies on Jimin’s chest, unable to even keep his weight off Jimin a little.
Luckily, Jimin is holding him so tightly that it seems that he only likes it, his nose buried in Yoongi’s hair as his breathing slowly settles, a strange but soothing, soft rumbling noise leaving him, and god, Yoongi is sure sex will never be this good again.
This must be as good as things can possibly get, and Yoongi doesn’t want it to end, desperate to cling to this moment for as long as he possibly can.
It’s just that he really is growing a little worried that he’s squashing Jimin now that he’s slowly regaining the capacity to think, and so he shifts just a little, trying to get one elbow on the mattress to lift himself up—
Which is when he realises something’s wrong.
Something is very wrong, because he’s stuck.
He is moving, but his dick isn’t, stuck in the vice-like grip of Jimin’s body, and Yoongi’s eyes grow wide.
What the fuck?
The haze of his orgasm is quickly clearing now, making him realise that it also feels different than usual, that he literally feels stuck inside of Jimin, and he lifts himself up a little with some difficulty, sending a perplexed look down, trying to pull his hips back again.
It doesn’t do anything but cause Jimin to whine, clinging onto him tighter, and Yoongi’s heart rate is starting to steadily rise as he looks up at Jimin instead, who still clearly doesn’t notice anything’s wrong, eyes almost fully closed, a dazed, soft expression on his face.
“Uh, Jimin? We’re stuck, it seems? I don’t know how, but—?”
It sounds ridiculous to even vocalise, and Yoongi is sure Jimin will be taken aback too, only to be surprised by Jimin’s complete lack of surprise, because he just hums, trying to pull Yoongi closer again.
“Yeah, ‘s nice. So long ago...”
He’s clearly still enjoying the afterglow, almost sounding high, and Yoongi can’t help but try to pull back again, increasingly worried despite Jimin’s lack of reaction.
That just gets him a hurt sound from Jimin, his thighs tightening around Yoongi’s waist to keep him in place.
“Hurts.”
Yoongi is starting to believe this must be the craziest situation he’s ever been in.
He’s stuck on god knows what inside Jimin’s ass, and all Jimin does is whine if he moves, as if he wants to be stuck.
“Jimin,” Yoongi therefore tries, more urgent now, “we’re literally stuck. I don’t—This isn’t good, seriously—“
That gets Jimin to properly open his eyes, pouting a little.
“Of course it’s good. You’re supposed to be stuck. It’s your knot...”
“My what?!”
The whole evening, Yoongi has let weird things that Jimin said slide, convinced he’d misheard, but he’s absolutely sure right now that Jimin just said knot, and that’s ridiculous—
“Your knot,” Jimin just repeats, “obviously?”
He’s starting to look a little worried now too, but it seems for completely different reasons, and Yoongi is starting to really want to get away from him a little, if just so that they don’t have to have this really bizarre conversation with Yoongi literally still inside of him.
“Jimin, you know I’m not a dog, right? Humans don’t have knots.”
All of a sudden, all traces of calm and peace leave Jimin’s face, his eyes going very serious.
“No, but you’re an alpha. Partially, at least. And they have knots.”
The words hit Yoongi like a slap to the face, his blood going cold.
That word again, but now said as something serious. As something that would explain why they’re stuck.
It’s complete madness, and Yoongi feels cold sweat start to collect on his nape as he realises: Jimin is crazy. He’s either crazy, or he’s on drugs, or he drugged Yoongi, and fuck, he needs to get out of here.
Literally out of here, because he’s still stuck, and Yoongi can’t help it: he tries once more to pull out, despite the way Jimin’s legs still hold him in place.
It just leads Jimin to hiss, though, locking his legs tighter.
“Hey, stop it, seriously, that hurts! It’ll only be a few minutes more; just wait!”
Sure, he doesn’t want to hurt Jimin, but he also needs to get out, and Yoongi glares down at him.
“Right, and I’m supposed to trust you. What the fuck did you do? What—“
“What did I do?!” Jimin interrupts before Yoongi can finish, “I didn’t do anything! It’s your knot. It’s—“
Jimin breaks off only to shake his head in bewilderment, looking like he would very much like to be apart from Yoongi by now too.
“How can you not know? You’re an alpha! I mean, partially, but still! And I literally called you that in the club already, and—and we spoke about this, about all of this, and you—?”
Just then, Yoongi feels the pressure around his dick decrease, as if something deflated a little, and he pulls out as quickly as he can, pushing Jimin’s legs apart to get out from in between them and jumping off the bed.
With the condom still on, it’s difficult to see if his dick still looks normal, but it only takes a second to pull it off, Yoongi taking a second to look disbelievingly at the ridiculous amount of come inside of it before he ties a quick knot in it and tosses it in the direction of his bin.
And he almost can’t believe his eyes, but there it is.
Slightly wrinkled skin at the base of his cock, that part still looking a bit thicker and redder than the rest, and Yoongi is sure he looks like he has just seen a ghost when he looks up at Jimin, who’s still on the bed, knees pulled up now, eyes wide as he looks at Yoongi.
“What did you do?!”
Yoongi looks down at his dick again, confirming that it really does look different, before glaring at Jimin again.
“Did you drug me? I mean, I can’t—I must be hallucinating. I don’t have a knot. I’m not a—whatever you call it—alpha. I’m not. I’m—“
The room is heavy with their scents, smelling all wrong and miserable and hurt now, and Yoongi strides over to his window, throwing it wide open and standing right in front of it, needing desperately to clear his mind somehow.
And all the while, Jimin just sits on his bed, looking small and vulnerable, his arms wrapped around his pulled-up knees.
“I really don’t understand,” he croaks, “I thought you knew. I genuinely thought you knew; I called you alpha, I mentioned your knot, I—“
Jimin throws a lost look around himself, only now seeming to realise that he’s still naked on Yoongi’s bed, and Yoongi watches on as he shudders through an inhale, pulling the blanket around himself to cover himself up.
The sight of him looks all wrong, not at all as if he’s some evil person who fed Yoongi drugs, but at the same time nothing makes sense, and it’s terrifying, and Yoongi doesn’t even think before he speaks.
“I think you should go.”
Just like that, Jimin’s shocked eyes meet his.
“What?”
He sounds like he genuinely can’t believe the request, something that also feels wrong, but Yoongi pushes the feelings of wrongness away, crossing his arms.
“You should go. I need to think, and breathe, and—and I can’t trust you right now, and you need to go.”
It hurts to say it as much as it seems to hurt Jimin to hear it, and Yoongi looks away as Jimin gets out of bed, grabbing his stuff.
“I—“ he still starts, sounding watery, “I didn’t drug you. I’d never drug you, or anyone. I just—I thought you knew—“
He breaks off in what sounds suspiciously like a sob, and Yoongi feels nauseous from distress as he quickly grabs his discarded underwear too, rushing to pull it up his legs.
This is such a mess.
It’s a disaster, really, and Yoongi doesn’t know the right course of action, doesn’t know whether to trust his head, telling him that something fucked up is going on and Jimin can’t be trusted, or his gut, telling him that Jimin is trustworthy and innocent and sad and desperately needs soothing.
It leaves him frozen as Jimin hastily pulls on the rest of his clothing, wiping his tears as he goes, until finally he’s fully clothed and meets Yoongi’s eyes again, looking small and defeated, arms wrapped around himself.
“I’ll go; I just... I feel like if you really don’t know, someone needs to explain it to you, and you clearly don’t know any other Weres, and...”
More tears trail down Jimin’s cheeks, making him raise his face up to the ceiling, dabbing at his cheeks with a broken “Fuck”, and the sight breaks Yoongi’s heart.
Evil people don’t cry when you see through their schemes and send them off.
They don’t look this hurt, don’t smell so sad, and—
“Look,” Jimin interrupts his thoughts, “I’ll just... I’ll just write my number down, okay? And you can—I don’t know, if you want to, you can reach out—“
“Wait.”
Yoongi speaks up before he realises it, cheeks heating up when Jimin looks at him again.
“I...”
It’s difficult to find the words when he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, let alone what he wants, and Yoongi winces when he hears what comes out of his own mouth.
“Why are you crying?”
That has Jimin stilling, eyes going cold.
“Why am I crying, are you kidding me? You—You knotted me, which is a really, really fucking vulnerable thing to let someone do to you, and then you rejected me, accused me of drugging you, sent me home—“
Another tear trails down Jimin’s cheek, and he wipes at it angrily, as if it’s all the fault of his own tears.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
Yoongi of course doesn’t know Jimin at all, but he gets the feeling he doesn’t normally swear, at least not like this, and somehow that’s the thing that makes him snap out of it.
“I’m sorry.”
He says it softly, but he means it, more than he even anticipated he would.
“I’m really sorry. I just—This all feels completely insane to me, and—and fuck, I apparently knotted you, which doesn’t make any sense, and... and I know I took it out on you, which isn’t fair, and...”
As he talks, Yoongi automatically steps closer to Jimin, close enough that they’re right in front of each other by the time he finishes.
“I’m sorry.”
He looks Jimin straight in the eyes as he says it, trying to convey how much he means it with all he has, and he’s relieved when Jimin huffs, once again wiping at his face.
“Well, you should be. I literally called you alpha, I said all this stuff to you in the club; you should have at least said you didn’t get it. Like—“
Jimin shakes his head, and Yoongi very much hears the unspoken how is this my fault, which, you know, fair. He had just ignored all the weird stuff Jimin said, letting his dick guide him instead, when he really, really should have asked for clarification.
“You’re absolutely right,” he therefore says, throwing Jimin a small smile, “but in my defence, you have no idea how good you smelled and looked; I’m honestly surprised I didn’t just collapse to the floor, drooling and desperate...”
That has Jimin huffing out a small laugh, something that very much feels like victory, making Yoongi breathe just the littlest bit easier.
“Yeah, okay, I did just come out of heat, and you have apparently never met another Were before, so...”
He says it like that’s enough explanation, and Yoongi finally dares to ask, “Were?”
Jimin twists his lips, looking like he knows very well that Yoongi won’t like hearing this.
“Yeah. Uh, short for werewolf...”
For the nth time in the last fifteen minutes, Yoongi freezes, eyes growing wide.
“Werewolf.”
“Yeah...”
Jimin winces like he’s really sorry he needed to confirm it, and Yoongi sighs deeply, burying his face in his hands for a moment.
Of course, werewolves, why the fuck not. It’s one more bizarre thing on top of an already immense pile of bizarre things—because yes, Yoongi clocked Jimin’s repeated use of the word ‘heat’—and Yoongi can’t even properly process it all anymore, his brain feeling like it has reached its capacity and then some.
It makes him throw Jimin a long look, weighing his options.
He could still send Jimin home, but at the same time, he needs more answers, and Jimin still smells sad, and...
“Okay. Fine. Werewolves, heats, alphas, ruts; sure. I believe you. I guess. Just—“
He swallows hard, so tired of how he’s been battling himself these past twenty minutes. He has really tried to be rational about everything, to hold on to what he had thought was true, but clearly that wasn’t the right path.
Not that he’s sure what the right path is, but maybe it starts with just giving in to what his gut has been telling him all this time instead of actively fighting it every step of the way. And his gut is telling him that Jimin has been hurt and needs to be soothed, and—
“Can I hug you?”
It comes as a bit of surprise to Yoongi himself that he asks it, and Jimin’s eyes go wide, clearly not having expected that either.
It feels right, though, and it seems like it feels right to Jimin too, because he goes a little pink in the cheeks, his scent losing just a little of its bitterness.
“Oh. Uh... sure. Okay.”
One step forward, and then Yoongi is oh-so-carefully pulling Jimin into his arms, Jimin himself only more careful as he lifts his arms to hug Yoongi back around his waist.
It feels fragile, a little awkward even, but it also feels like he’s finally doing something right, and Yoongi slowly lets out a deep breath, the tension in his body finally abating a bit.
As if he’s repeating Yoongi, Jimin lets out a deep breath too, and then he just melts, a little whimper leaving him as his arms tighten.
It’s like he’s finally allowing himself to be as vulnerable and hurt as he was actually feeling, and Yoongi’s throat grows a little tight as he whispers against the side of Jimin’s face, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such an idiot, and didn’t just ask. You didn’t deserve any of that...”
There’s another sharp whimper, one that seems to signal tears, and Yoongi doesn’t even think: he just rubs his nose over the side of Jimin’s neck, softly, reassuringly.
“It’s okay now; you’re okay...”
Just like that, Jimin tilts his head to the side.
“Please...”
And Yoongi should find it strange, should question what the fuck this means, but all he does is lean in, letting his instincts guide him as he holds Jimin close as he rubs his nose and lips over his neck again, a little firmer now.
It feels wonderful.
It feels like this one, strange action is making sure they’re okay again, and Yoongi hums lowly in his throat as he keeps at it, slowly covering Jimin’s distressed scent with his own and basking in how it slowly starts smelling softer and warmer again.
They’re finally both calming down, and with it comes a deep fatigue, one that doesn’t seem so strange given the absolute panic of the past half hour or so.
Still, Yoongi obediently noses across the other side of Jimin’s neck too when Jimin tilts his head that way, and lets Jimin repeat the strange process on his neck too, small fingers gripping his shoulders, soft, satisfied sounds leaving Jimin’s throat, until everything feels soft and floaty and safe.
Yoongi hardly knows how to even form words by now anymore, about to fall asleep right on his feet, but still he tries.
“Stay?”
When Jimin just hums questioningly, still clinging to him, Yoongi caresses soothingly down his back.
“Stay for the night, and we’ll talk tomorrow? I can... I can give you some soft clothes to sleep in, and I have a spare toothbrush, and...”
Before Yoongi can finish, Jimin finally pulls back from their embrace, eyes still puffy, cheeks red, looking like the cutest, loveliest thing.
“Are you sure?”
His eyes are barely opened, signalling that he’s just as knackered as Yoongi himself is, and Yoongi can’t help himself: he leans in again, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Jimin’s face as he soothingly rubs his upper arms.
“I’m sure. If you want to?”
Jimin’s cheeks are properly red now, and if Yoongi can trust his gut feeling, it seems like his scent signals that he’s feeling shy but pleased.
“I, uhm... Okay. Yes, please.”
That’s how Yoongi finds himself quickly changing the sheets, grabbing some soft pillows and a fleece blanket from his couch too, just in case.
He’s still not sure what the fuck he’s even doing as he arranges the items on Jimin’s side of the bed, doesn’t know for sure if he’s really not drugged, but he’s also too tired to fight his instincts anymore, so he just goes for it, deciding he’ll properly try to wrap his head around things tomorrow.
And he must have done well, because when Jimin emerges from the bathroom, looking fresh and soft and cute as can be in Yoongi’s black sweats and shirt, his eyes grow wide, his scent growing sweeter.
“The pillows, the fleece—those are for me?”
Yoongi can only blush, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“Yeah. If—If you want them. I just thought—“
He frowns.
“I honestly don’t know what I thought. My brain is fried.”
That gets him a little giggle, and then Jimin is squeezing his hand.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
And when Yoongi finishes up in the bathroom himself, finding Jimin rolled up in his sheets once he gets back, smelling soft and sleepy, he can’t help but agree: it is perfect. He still has no idea what really happened tonight, nor what will happen tomorrow, but right now things feel right, and that’s all that matters.
Especially when after a bit of shyness they end up curled up together, Jimin’s body small and soft and warm in Yoongi’s arms, as if he was always meant to belong here.
And as he slowly drifts asleep, Yoongi finds that he can’t even care about potential werewolf stuff anymore.
Because he’d gladly be a partial werewolf, whatever that may be, if it means getting to hold Jimin like this.
Yoongi wakes up feeling all languid and warm, the most wonderful scent wafting from somewhere right in front of him.
It’s almost like it’s calling to him, beckoning him closer, and Yoongi goes gladly, eyes not even opened yet, mind still fuzzy and slow.
What he finds is a soft, warm body, one smelling like home, and Yoongi doesn’t even question things: he just nuzzles as close as he can, nose finding a soft neck, arms wrapping around a slim waist to pull their bodies against each other.
There’s no sexual intent behind it, none at all, but Yoongi’s morning wood does slot perfectly between two globes of a very lovely ass, and Yoongi automatically grinds his hips softly, groaning at how good it feels—
The body in front of him suddenly moves, the blanket getting displaced a little, and the cold air creeping in has Yoongi waking up properly, eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to get used to the morning light.
“Uh, Yoongi-ssi?”
It’s said hesitantly as can be, and formally as can be, and just like that it all comes back to Yoongi. The club, the amazing scent, Jimin—And then... Knots? Werewolves?
His memories of late last night feel so outlandish that it seems like they can’t possibly be true, and Yoongi quickly sits up, looking over at Jimin.
And yes, there he is, still looking like an absolute angel, blond hair mussed, lips puffy, eyes small with sleep, sitting next to him, looking right at him, a little sheepish.
He also smells uncomfortable, something Yoongi is by now almost unsurprised to pick up without difficulty, and Yoongi winces.
“Hi. Uh, sorry about that...”
His voice always sounds twice as low as usual when he has just woken up, making Yoongi only wince more.
“Are you—I mean, did you sleep okay?”
When Jimin answers with a shy affirmative, Yoongi twists his lips for a moment, doubting, before deciding he really just needs to know.
“Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but I either had a really weird dream, or... werewolves?”
Now, it’s Jimin’s turn to wince, letting the silence sit for a long moment before he softly says, “Yeah, werewolves. I’m sorry...”
Right.
Of course this couldn’t just be a normal morning with a super hot fling in his bed (okay, to be fair, that wouldn’t be a normal morning anyway); apparently it’s time to unpack the really weird shit that happened last night instead.
It honestly sounds very unappealing, but Yoongi can also see that it’s rather inevitable, and so he lets out a big sigh.
“Okay, I’m going to need coffee for this. You too?”
Yoongi busies himself with the coffee press while Jimin is in the bathroom, trying to calmly walk through everything that happened yesterday in his mind.
It’s just that none of it is anything to be calm about, which makes it rather difficult, and by the time Jimin emerges Yoongi is so wired up that he feels like he might as well have already drunk half a litre of coffee.
It makes him happy that he still has something to do with his hands, whipping up some milk and locating two teaspoons. Not that he normally drinks milk in his coffee, but it’s a good excuse for staying busy, and—
Yoongi sighs, knowing it’s time to face the music.
Jimin has by now seated himself at the tiny bar of Yoongi’s small, open kitchen, and Yoongi sets a steaming coffee in front of him, leaning against the other side of the bar with his own coffee in hand.
“Okay. So. Werewolves. I really need some sort of explanation on that.”
“Right.”
Jimin looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, looking down at his coffee as he slowly stirs it.
“So, you—“ he starts, casting a glance up at Yoongi, only to quickly look back down again. “You really don’t know anything?”
Yoongi huffs.
“If by that you mean that until yesterday I believed werewolves were a fairy tale, while you’re trying to tell me they live amongst us and I actually also am partially one, then no, I don’t know anything. Please, please don’t tell me I might start turning into a wolf every full moon, because I might scream.”
That has Jimin huffing in amusement, looking a little less tense.
“No, no turning into wolves, I promise. There are stories that once, long ago, Weres could do that, and every now and then there’s someone claiming that they can shift their nails into claws and so on, but I’ve never personally seen it, and don’t really believe it. It’s more like we’re humans, but then a little different. A little special.”
He makes it sound surprisingly cute, and Yoongi smiles despite himself, raising his eyebrows.
“Okay, so no sudden howling at the moon that I have to be worried about?”
“No, no howling, no shifting, I promise,” Jimin replies cheekily, and Yoongi can breathe a little easier, only realising now that he’d been genuinely worried.
“Okay. Good. So... So you’re saying that I’m part werewolf. How would that work? Why would that work?”
Jimin bites his lip for a long moment, clearly weighing his options, until he lets out a big sigh.
“Well, humans and werewolves can... mingle and have kids together, which would produce mixed kids. And depending on how much werewolf blood you have, those kids will have more or less werewolf traits. There’s no easy way to say this, I’m afraid, but you’re half werewolf as far as I can smell, which means... Well, that obviously one of your parents must be one. Do you... Are you in contact with both of them?”
Jimin asks it very carefully, and Yoongi understands why. If what all that Jimin has been saying is true, then the logical conclusion would be that one of his parents has been lying to him, or has been absent in some way.
Which unfortunately is actually true, and a feeling of dread settles in Yoongi’s stomach, one hand automatically rising to scratch awkwardly at his ear.
“Oh, my, uh... I’ve never known my dad. I’m the result of a one-night stand, and my mother never found him again...”
A painful silence falls, the tinkle of Jimin needlessly stirring his coffee the only sound in the room, until Yoongi breaks it, needing to say this.
“Doesn’t mean I’m half werewolf, though.”
Finally, Jimin looks up at him again, immediately making Yoongi feel the urge to look away instead. This whole thing feels surprisingly invasive, and it makes Yoongi feel a little defensive, no matter how hard he’s trying to stay calm and rational.
“No, it doesn’t,” Jimin confirms. “However...”
A long pause, and then, “Did you ever notice you were a little different, growing up? Having a keener sense of smell, superior hearing, being a little faster, a little stronger, that sort of stuff?”
Just like that, the dread in Yoongi’s stomach doubles. He supposes some part of him had still really hoped this was all some weird, far too long joke, or that Jimin is really just crazy, or, well, anything but for him to be some sort of half-fairy tale creature.
He must take too long answering for Jimin’s comfort, because he speaks up again.
“I’m not sure because you’re not fully Were, but... Well, maybe since around your sixteenth birthday, you’ve started having weird bouts of, how do I say this, horniness? Like, as if you’re a little ill, a little dizzy and feverish, but you’re really horny too? Probably coinciding with feeling a little aggressive, a little angry? Does that at all sound familiar?”
Jimin looks sincerely apologetic for even asking, but Yoongi isn’t really paying attention to him, too busy freaking out a bit.
He still remembers the first time it happened: the intense grumpiness, standoffishness, restlessness... And yes, feeling ill and horny at the same time. What a joy that had been.
Yoongi had first written it off as a one-time, really strange flu, but when it happened again the year after, and then again...
Yoongi isn’t quite sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed that Jimin seems to know what it is, and he swallows hard, buying himself time by taking a long sip of his coffee.
“Suppose that I did... That’s a werewolf thing, then?”
Jimin quickly takes a sip of his drink too, as if he’d forgotten that it was actually an option to drink it instead of only playing with his teaspoon. Or maybe he was also looking for an excuse to think a bit longer instead of speaking, because he takes another slow sip before he finally reluctantly speaks up.
“I mean, yeah. It’s complicated.”
When Yoongi just looks at him, raising his eyebrows, Jimin pouts.
“Okay, you already thought I was crazy; you’re really going to think I’m crazy now. But...”
A deep breath, as if he’s steeling himself, and then Jimin nods.
“Okay. Here we go. For werewolves, their sex doesn’t matter when it comes to reproduction.”
Jimin winces, as if not liking that way of putting it.
“Well, it kind of does, but... I called you an alpha, remember?”
When Jimin looks at him as if to confirm, Yoongi scoffs. “Uh, yeah, kind of difficult to forget that one given how last night ended...”
“Right.”
Jimin sighs again, looking so uncomfortable that Yoongi is actually starting to grow curious. Sure, this all sounds like complete insanity, but Jimin is making such a big fuss out of it that he’s actually growing rather invested in finding out all the crazy details now.
He’s just about to tell Jimin to spit it out when Jimin speaks up of his own accord, cheeks a little red, scent growing more uncomfortable by the moment.
“So, whether you’re male or female doesn’t matter for Weres. What matters is if you’re an alpha or an omega. You’re an alpha; if you were pure Were, you’d go through a rut every half year, which is a short period of time during which you’re most fertile. I’m an omega; I have the same, but we call them ‘heats’. It’s when I can get pregnant.”
Yoongi can only stare at him, sincerely wondering if he just hallucinated part of what Jimin said.
Because it had sounded like he’d said pregnant, but—but—
Jimin must notice his gobsmacked expression, because he winces.
“Yeah, I told you: you were going to think I was crazy. But whether you think that or not, it’s true. I can introduce you to other Weres, and they’d tell you the same—“
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi interrupts. “Pregnant?! That’s—You’re kidding me. You’re fucking kidding me. You’re a man. You can’t—”
Jimin’s expression hardens along with his scent.
“I’m not. I may look like one, but I’m an omega. There’s a difference. Didn’t you notice something different about me during sex?”
It’s asked as a taunt, and Yoongi momentarily forgets his disbelief in favour of trying to guess what Jimin might mean.
He had looked like a man, with all the parts of a man, so—
“Like, for instance,” Jimin says, a little harshly, “that I self-lubricate? Or, I don’t know, that I don’t have balls?”
Just like that, Yoongi is left frozen again, eyes wide, mouth open.
No, that’s—that’s not true. He would have noticed if Jimin hadn’t had balls, he would have—
Would he?
He remembers Jimin’s cock clearly, can remember his ass, but—
No balls.
What the fuck.
There’s a sarcastic huff from Jimin.
“Seriously? You didn’t even notice? I don’t have balls, because I don’t make sperm, because I’m an omega, and we don’t impregnate; we’re built to receive.”
Yoongi feels like it's about time to sit down, and he stumbles around the bar, slumping gracelessly onto the bar stool next to Jimin.
This is too much.
It’s all absolutely ridiculous, and there’s no way that it’s true, except... Well, Yoongi has always been different, and he has gone through these weird bouts of illness—ruts, what the fuck—and Jimin apparently doesn’t have balls, and—
“Wait.”
It comes out all croaky, and Yoongi clears his throat, mind racing.
“Wait. Self-lubricate? You—That—What I tasted, that—“
“Was me, yes,” Jimin says. “Not any type of lube; just me, being horny, slicking up.”
Yoongi can’t help it: he leans both elbows on the counter, pressing his palms to his eyes, and stays there for a long, long time.
He’s apparently half werewolf, with ruts, and a knot, and Jimin can get pregnant, and—
Yoongi’s eyes grow wide, his hands lowering so that he can stare at Jimin in shock.
“You could have gotten pregnant if we hadn’t used a condom?”
Jimin’s cup is empty by now, his fingers twirling it around on the table until they suddenly stop when he looks over at Yoongi, seeming fully serious.
“I mean, yes, I might have. I’m not in heat but I did just get out of it, so the chances wouldn’t have been huge, but—“
Jimin shrugs, as if this is in any way a normal thing, and Yoongi’s throat is suddenly dry, forcing him to swallow hard.
Jimin can get pregnant. Without condom, Yoongi’s seed could have been taking root right now, and in nine months they’d have a child—or rather, a baby werewolf, and—
Yoongi can’t help it: he pictures Jimin’s belly growing round, his skin taking on this certain shine, like Seokjin’s sister when she was pregnant, and—
There’s an amused huff next to him, making Yoongi’s gaze jump to Jimin’s.
“I can smell you, you know that, right? I can smell you like the idea of it, that it turns you on...”
It may be stupid, but Yoongi hadn’t actually thought of that. He’d been aware that he can smell Jimin’s emotions far better than he has ever been able to smell other people’s inner states, but at no point did he realise that the same must count for Jimin, and that he might even be better at it given that he’s apparently a full werewolf, and Yoongi is only a half-blood.
It makes Yoongi wonder what kind of embarrassing things Jimin has smelled on him, but he doesn’t get much time to stress out about it, because Jimin is leaning a little closer, smirking.
“Does it turn you on, knowing you could knock me up?”
Just by Jimin saying it, Yoongi is imagining it again, and his cheeks go warm, his groin tingling.
“Stop it.”
“Why?”
Jimin is still leaning towards him, eyes sparkling dangerously, his scent doing something Yoongi can’t quite pinpoint.
“Sure, this whole thing might be a shock to you, but there are perks to being who we are. We’re faster, stronger, have better senses... And two men can also have kids together if they want. Biologically, no surrogate mother necessary, nothing. Kinda cool, don’t you think?”
And Yoongi is still very much doubting whether this is all true, but he has to admit: yeah, that’s kinda cool. He has always had a preference for men over women, and he has always known that a consequence of that would be to probably not have kids, but...
But well, if what Jimin is saying is true, then that might not be a problem anymore.
He could be with another werewolf—an omega, Jimin said?—and they could actually get pregnant just like that. They could live through the experience of going through a pregnancy, making a new, tiny life together, and Yoongi can’t deny it sounds interesting.
He also keeps thinking about Jimin not having balls, and the self-lubrication thing, and how that might all work, and it’s definitely making his scent do things that he’d rather Jimin didn't know. It makes Yoongi feel decidedly overheated all of a sudden, fighting the urge to take off his sweater.
But Jimin knows anyway, because he’s smirking again, looking almost proud.
“I knew it. Not such a terrible thing anyway, huh, being a Were?”
When Yoongi shrugs, still blushing, Jimin chuckles.
“You know what’s also nice?”
He asks it like a taunt, his scent growing a little spicy, and Yoongi narrows his eyes, not trusting this.
“What?”
“Knotting someone when you actually know you have a knot. Really makes the experience a lot better, you know? The whole not-freaking-out thing, actually getting to enjoy it... Just saying.”
He shrugs cutely, not managing to look innocent at all, and Yoongi can’t help but huff in amusement, shaking his head.
“Seriously? You’re going there now?”
Another shrug. “I mean, why not? You’re clearly over the worst of the shock, and, well, might be nice to experience the positive sides of it, you know? Plus, yesterday ended horribly, so I didn’t get to enjoy it properly either. I feel like I deserve to get knotted and actually get proper aftercare afterwards instead of someone panicking and threatening to kick me out of the house. Just saying.”
Jimin has his arms crossed now, a bratty little pout on his face, and Yoongi should deny him, obviously. He has barely had the time to wrap his head around any of this, doesn’t even know for sure if he really believes it, but...
But Jimin is smelling a little sweeter and spicier now in a way that has Yoongi’s blood rush through his veins, and he’s still hot as fuck, and sex with him had been magical up until Yoongi freaked out, and...
“What,” Yoongi asks, still aiming for casual but pretty sure that he’s failing miserably, “right now?”
Jimin smiles like he already knows he’s won.
“I mean, I don’t have any other plans right now; do you?”
When Yoongi fails to find an answer, just staring at him, blushing, Jimin stands up, gently taking Yoongi’s hand in his.
“Come on, alpha, let’s do it properly this time...”
It’s a little awkward arriving at Yoongi’s bed together, not kissing or anything yet, just walking over as if going on a stroll.
Yoongi wants it, of course he does, but he also doesn’t really know how to switch to a sexy mode out of nowhere, and he’s glad when Jimin takes the reins, smiling softly at him.
“Here, just sit in the middle.”
When Yoongi obeys, heart in his throat as he crawls to the middle of the bed and sits down, Jimin follows, still soft and gentle as he sits down on Yoongi’s lap, hands curling loosely over Yoongi’s shoulders.
“Okay. Now, let’s just...”
When Jimin leans in, Yoongi thinks he’s going for a kiss, but instead Jimin just hugs him, nuzzling into his neck, and something inside of Yoongi relaxes a little, his hands coming to rest gently on the small of Jimin’s back.
It’s nice, just hugging.
There’d been a lot of stress again this morning, a lot of crazy revelations, and just being soft like this together is exactly what Yoongi hadn’t realised he’d needed.
It only gets better when Jimin softly rubs his lips over his neck, and Yoongi breathes out deeply, his head automatically tilting to the side.
“What is this, then?” he asks softly. “Also a werewolf thing, I assume?”
Jimin just hums, continuing to spread his scent over Yoongi’s neck.
“Yeah. ‘S called scenting, and it’s something we do to calm down and reassure each other and feel connected. It’s one of my favourite things...”
And Yoongi has to admit that he gets that.
He really does feel himself relax further with every soft brush of Jimin’s lips and nose over the side of his neck, feels himself melting into the mattress, all his tensed-up muscles slowly relaxing, and it feels great to just close his eyes, breathing in Jimin’s wonderful scent and enjoying the moment.
Soon, the urge emerges to scent Jimin back, though, and Yoongi threads his fingers through Jimin’s hair to guide his head to the side, rumbling softly as he nuzzles against the wonderfully soft skin of Jimin’s neck.
Jimin really is wonderful in every way, so soft and sexy and sweet-smelling, and it’s no wonder Yoongi slowly feels himself hardening, his hands holding Jimin a little tighter, squeezing his waist before dropping to his ass, kneading the muscles.
And from then onwards, it’s easy.
It’s easy for their lips to find each other, first softly, and then firmer, hands cupping each other’s faces, guiding each other closer.
It feels natural to take their sweaters off, and then their shirts, and then the rest of their clothing.
And it feels exciting like nothing else to properly explore Jimin’s body this time, not feeling as dazed as he did yesterday and actually understanding that he’s not dealing with a man, but with an omega.
Which makes it so, so much better.
Yesterday, Yoongi genuinely thought things couldn’t get better than this, but to have Jimin in the daylight, looking like an angel on his sheets, to taste him and feel him and know what it all means, makes it all so much more special.
And when Yoongi finally slides inside, both of them gasping and clinging on to each other under the intensity of the sensations, he can actually feel the difference.
He can feel the way the sensations are heightened due to Jimin’s slick, can feel the pressure in his groin that signals that he’s definitely going to come a lot, can feel exactly where his knot will be forming, the whole area feeling sensitive and a little swollen already.
When he finally does come, after kissing Jimin breathless, bending his body so that he was hitting his prostate on every thrust, jerking him off as he went, it feels like the highest euphoria to feel Jimin shudder through his orgasm at the same time, their bodies pulsing as Yoongi locks inside of him.
It’s all softness as they come down from their high.
It’s gentle kisses, soothing caresses, shared little contented sounds.
It’s perfect.
And as they cuddle in the afterglow, sated and languid and a little giggly, Yoongi thinks to himself that he wouldn’t change a thing.
Sure, nothing since the club went as expected, but with Jimin in his arms like this and with so much more to explore about himself in the future, so many exciting things to learn, Yoongi wouldn’t have it any other way.