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written-in-flowers · 7 months ago

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Their Pretty Pet: Sanhwajoong x Fem!reader

Pairing: Incubus!Hongjoong, Incubus!Seonghwa, Incubus!San x Fem!Human!Reader | side pairings: SanHwaJoong

Genre: smut, loads of it MINORS DNI

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Being brought before Lords of Inferno, you expected to be killed on the spot, except the three incubi take an extreme liking to you instead. You are the pet they've been looking for, and you should could yourself lucky.

Tags: Master/Slave relationship, polyamory, mmmxf, foursome sex, triple penetration, oral sex (m. and f. giving/receiving), rough oral sex, vaginal fingering, handjobs, pet names ("pretty" "pet" "whore" "slut" "bitch" "kitten" "darling" and variations/ "master" "my lord") monster fucking, demon fucking, belly bulging, bigdick!ateez, creampies, massive creampies, degradation, slight humiliation, slight dumbification, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, rough sex, bisexual sex, breeding kink, vibrating demon dick, spanking, nipple play, breast play, cum swallowing, deep throating, anal sex.

@pirateeznet

Pretty Lady Masterlist

***

The nerves rattled your bones, and weakened your knees. Your mind told your feet to keep up with Rufus, but your body did not cooperate. Only by the tug of a chain did you finally move. Even with cool nighttime breeze blowing through the courtyard, a cold sweat came over you. You had no business coming up the Black Keep. Sinners like you are meant to be an amusement for the lower demons; you committed sins in your life that earned you a spot in the third level of Hell, Lust. You spent eternity in the brothels of the city of Inferno, being a pleasure slave to anyone with enough coin.

You’d learned high-class demons only pay for well bred slaves or lesser demon forms. The ones trained in the finer arts, who speak multiple languages, can do magic and are skilled in instruments of culture and torture. You only learned the sexual practices your clients and owners taught you.

They won't want you, and the moment they realize what you are, you're dead.

“Stop dawdling, wretch,” Rufus, a large, muscular demon with bright red skin and tall black horns, tugged on your chain harshly. He then growled when you did not move. “Lords do not wait on bottom dwellers like you.”

You said nothing as you forced yourself to move. In your flimsy shift, you could feel every brush of cool air blow past you. It normally did not bother you, but you struggled to breathe through your tight chest. He guided you to the tall wooden doors with their snake shaped knockers. In three loud slams, the door creaked open. On the other side stood a very tall man with black hair parted to the side. He wore a black and white suit and gloves. Round eyes carried a certain haughtiness that you'd grown used to seeing.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Evening, I have come to see The Masters Hongjoong, Seonghwa and San. I have brought a prospective pet for them,” Rufus responded, tugging your chain to bring you closer.

The butler took one look at you, then stood aside. “Very well. Follow me. They are just finishing with another proprietor.”

Rufus didn't like the idea of another slave owner being in the castle. It meant competition, and he hated that. He, as always, took it out on you by roughly pulling on your leash. The butler led you through a hall of black and white marble, surrounded by landscape paintings and other ancient possessions. A candlelit chandelier hung from the high ceiling, bathing the room in a bright golden glow. The carpet liners on the floor felt soft beneath your feet, and the castle was quiet and still. He took you around the staircase into an adjacent hallway, where you saw her.

A succubus and her handler left the room; the handler seething and the succubus in silent tears. From her expensive satin halter dress to her leather sandals to the golden ornaments in her hair, you knew a succubus when you saw one. She had real horns and a real tail. Rufus paid a stylist to braid and glue ram horns into your head; then, he paid a leatherworker to create a realistic tail to seal on your tailbone. The braiding pained your scalp, the glue made you nauseous, and the tail swished uncomfortably. How long did Rufus think this charade would last? Long enough for him to run off with the money, no doubt. You hated thinking of what would happen when your “owners” find out you’re not a demon at all. They’ll tear you apart and send you to the deepest pits where the worst of the worst suffer an eternity of torment.

The thought terrified you.

“Masters,” the butler said when he entered a sitting room, “Another slave owner has arrived with a prospect for you.”

The voices inside the room turned quiet. “Who?” asked a particularly high voice.

The butler turned to Rufus, “Name?”

“Rufus, from the House of Kisses.”

The butler repeated this to his masters. “Bring him in,” the voice finally said.

Rufus brought you into the room. Full of warm light, pricy decorations, and extravagant furniture, you'd never been amongst such opulence before. Three loveseats sat in the middle of the room around a square coffee table. A different man sat on each one. You knew they were incubi by the small curved horns on the crown of their heads. Demons of lust carried this trait, as well as long black tails to match. The petite man with hair the color of fresh cherries spotted you first. He casually drank from a brandy glass as he observed you. His satin black shirt and slacks gave him a trendy look that would kill in the living world.

Beside him in the center on the white couch sat a long-limbed man with black hair reaching his shoulders. Angular features gave him a deadly appearance that matched the glint in his dark eyes. The cream colored shirt he wore was kept together by a matching corset and pants. He didn’t look up at first, since he focused mainly on the book in his lap instead.

The third sat on a couch of dark blue cotton with gold pillows. His big shoulders stretched the blazer he wore, which you noticed covered nothing but his bare chest. Sculpted and tan, he was to die for.

And you just might when they learn the truth.

“Slaver,” the butler addressed Rufus, “May I present Lords Hongjoong,” he gestured to the red haired man, “Seonghwa,” he motioned to the man holding the book, “And San.”

“Well met, my lords.”

“Well, well, well,” Hongjoong said in a bored voice, knocking back the rest of his drink, “Look, Brothers, another slaver coming to waste our time.”

“Oh, no, my lord,” Rufus said, “I promise your time will not be wasted on this one.”

“Why is that?” asked Seonghwa, putting his book aside.

“This one here's a true blood succubus,” he said, already putting on his salesman voice. “Born and bred in the valley, she is a true born demon. She's nothing like the half-breeds and soulless human shells those other charlatans bring before you. See here, my lords?” He roughly pulled you to them by your horn, “These are real succubus horns! And this tail!” He yanked on your long, thin tail, “Is entirely her own. I know some slavers have been sticking on fake parts, but I assure you, my lords, this one's the real thing!”

The three men looked at one another, then back to him. “Bring her closer.”

Rufus pulled you over to them, letting you stand in the warm firelight. Three pairs of eyes stripped off your dress, and peeled back the layers of your skin to your soul. San's thin eyes fell heavy when he saw you fully. Seonghwa held you with intrigue, while Hongjoong looked ready to devour you. You gulped thickly and did not look at any of them directly.

“What can you do?” Hongjoong asked.

“Do, my lord?”

“Yes, do. Can you speak any languages besides the common tongue?”

“No.”

“Can you read and write?”

“Some.”

“Can you sing?”

“No.”

“Dance?”

“No.”

“Do you specialize in any form of magic?”

“No.”

The more he asked, the dumber you felt. You wanted to tell them to look at you. You are not a demon, let alone a succubus.

“Then what can you do?” He asked, laughing softly.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, “Stop being so mean. It's not her fault.” He stood up and walked towards you. Lifting your head by the chin, he said, “The only thing these low born succubi are taught is how to suck cock…isn't that right, pet?”

“Yes,” you squeaked.

“And can you do that?”

“She certainly can, my lord!” Rufus said from behind, “YN is one of my best! She's made men cum in less than two minutes!”

“I was asking her,” the man snapped. “I personally have no interest in slaves who do quick, sloppy work. I like to take my time.” He touched a strand of your hair, feeling the texture and taking in the length. “You'll need good grooming,” he noted flatly. “Luckily, Wooyoung is an expert in his field. He'll make you shine, little pet.”

It happened then, or at least you think it did. A flicker of realization hit Seonghwa as he looked over your face. He gave an audible sniff, his demon senses beginning to tingle. Yet, he said nothing about it, and turned your head to examine you in the light.

“Can she fight?” San asked Rufus.

“Psh, can she fight?” He scoffed comically at the question, “Of course she can! She used to be a pit fighter in-”

“-Can you fight?” He turned to you.

“No.”

“Why would she need to learn how to fight, San?” Hongjoong asked, annoyed. The butler came around to refill his drink. “She won't be doing any of that. She could get badly damaged, and then where would we be, hm?”

“Do you like going to the arena?” San asked, ignoring Hongjoong.

“I've never been there.”

San nodded, then leaned back on his couch and held out his glass. The butler poured more brown liquid for him, and you watched him take a drink.

“Yunho,” Seonghwa left you by the fireplace and went to his couch, “What do you think of her?”

“Master?” Yunho asked, confused.

“Yes, what do you think of her? You'll be around her too. Is she pleasing to look at in your opinion?”

Yunho turned to you, and seemed to be really looking at you now. He scanned over your horns the most. They’re meant to look like his, curled and rolled back from his face. If anyone could spot fake ones, it should be him. You expected him to out you, but he instead said, “Yes. She is lovely.”

The three men appear to take this into account. “Take off your dress,” Hongjoong orders.

“Well, hold on now, my lord,” Rufus begins to say, “We haven't discussed-”

“-I am not paying for something without inspecting it myself,” Hongjoong glared at Rufus. The ghoulish demon falters at this, and you see him back away. Hongjoong turned back to you, “Your dress. Take it off.”

You immediately unclip the back of your dress and let the top half fall over your belt. The sight of your breasts stunned the three men. Their eyes focused on them before you loosened your belt and let the rest of your clothes fall. Seonghwa bit the corner of his lip, trying to control his breathing as his eyes fell between your thighs. This is not the first time customers examine you. You’d grown used to it over the years of being in Hell. You are a toy to be played with. You are not your own anymore. You lost that when you began your life of lust, greed and overindulgence. When presented with the option to continue punishment or serve demons instead, you took servitude over the painful torture. In a way, enslavement was its own breed of torture.

Hongjoong turned in his seat, leaning against the arm rest as he continued gazing at you. San coughed and covered his own interest with a drink, but he still kept his eyes on you.

“Beautiful,” Seonghwa breathed. “Absolutely stunning.”

“You keep her groomed between her thighs but not the rest?” Hongjoong asked Rufus, though he kept his eyes on you.

“That's what they care about the most. My patrons do not have your refined tastes, my lord.”

“Clearly. Come here.”

You walk to him, which brings a smile to Hongjoong's face. “You obey instructions well,” he said, looking back down to your sex. “I like that.”

He gently touched the outside of your thigh, feeling the smooth skin and groping the supple flesh. You took in how his fingers felt on your thigh, the sensation sending shivers throughout your body. Hongjoong ran his hand up and down your thigh before reaching around to your backside. He gave one cheek a tender squeeze, humming his approval.

“Very nice,” he commented, moving his hand between your thighs. You gasped when his fingers brushed your exposed center. “Very, very nice,” he said, rubbing his knuckle lightly along your slit. He chuckled when he heard your whimper. “Do you like that?”

“Yes.”

He licked his thumb while maintaining eye contact, then he dragged it across your lips. A soft whimper escaped your throat as he traced the outer folds one by one; right when you thought he'd finally touch more, he dipped away. Finally, Hongjoong rolled his thumb around your clit, running over it languidly. Once a bit of wetness covered his thumb, Hongjoong tasted it while he gazed up at you.

“Delicious,” he said, going back to rubbing your sex torturously slow. “I could get used to this.”

“Stop hogging,” griped Seonghwa. He took your hand to lead you from Hongjoong's black leather sofa to his pure white one. He took over, and you gasped when two thumbs pushed your lips apart. “The best way to know is to taste it right from the source,” he said, leaning forward.

A single swipe of his tongue made you quiver. You weren’t sure if they enjoyed reactions, so you kept silent and stiff. Seonghwa took both sides and dove right to your center. You felt his tongue gingerly swiping at your damp lips, sliding between to tease your clit as much as possible. Your teeth dug into your bottom in an attempt to restrain your whimpering. However, your shaking knees started giving you away.

“Moan for us, pretty,” Seonghwa ordered, pecking kisses across your thighs. “We want to hear how sweet you sound.”

“Don’t be shy,” San said, palming himself through his pants. “Let it out.”

So you did. The sounds you tried stifling came out as Seonghwa’s tongue rapidly flicked at your clit. You’d been shaking by the time San came up behind you, and pressed your back to his chest. Without a word, he lifted one of your legs to rest it on the edge of the couch, and became a support to keep you upright. With more access to you, Seonghwa angled himself to have your sex completely on his mouth. San’s warm hands cupped both your breasts, and grazed your hard nipples with his thumbs. The light brushes added to the tightening sensation going on in your gut.

“I’ve never seen a shy succubus before,” San said, voice low and deep in your ear. “I thought you all liked being fucked from sun up to sun down. Unless…you’re not really a demon at all?”

“Wha-what?” Rufus exclaimed. “I told you she was, didn’t I?! I assure you, my lord-”

Rufus stopped when San reached to the “tail” you wore and tore it from you in a hard snap. The glue Rufus used ripped at your skin, the pain only distracting you from your pleasure for a brief moment. Seonghwa ceased when San tossed the fake tail onto the couch. Seeing the rubber extension beside him, he looked up to the horns braided into your scalp. It’d taken the stylist hours to fix them on your head, using loads of glue and tight lacing to keep them upright. Seonghwa stood up and tugged on one. You let out a cry, killing any arousal inside you as he lifted it enough to see your hair braided into the holes.

“How dare you,” San scowled from behind you, “Try and fool us, you pathetic little worm.”

“I-I-I…” Rufus struggled for a defense, and went for the only one he could think of, “She’s a human? I-I can’t believe it! The slaver I bought her from said she was a pureblood! I had no idea! I promise you, my lord, if I’d known that she was a human, I would never have dared bring her here!”

“How stupid do you think we are?” San asked, leaving you to face Rufus. “You really thought you could bring a human up here and try passing her off as a trueborn demon? Did you forget that the three of us are demons too?”

“I swear, my lord, I did not know! I am just as surprised as you are!”

A quick slash of silver and a spray of black blood went through the air. Rufus’s large hands clutched at his neck as blood started pouring from the open wound. He collapsed to the ground, gasping and gurgling pathetically as he clung to life. You didn’t know where demons went if they died, and you never asked. When Rufus finally laid dead on the floor, San held out his hand and Yunho produced a white handkerchief. San used it to wipe off the blade before handing both to Yunho.

“Get rid of this filth,” San commanded, “Feed him to Dennis.”

“At once, Master.”

San turned around to you, and all the blood drained from your body. Alone with three incubi who were nearly swindled by your idiot slaver, you knew where they’d turn their anger next. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting a harsh blow any second. The second a pair of hands touched your hips, you jolted and gave a small squeal of fear. Yet, instead of harsh bruises or angry words, you felt warm lips dotting kisses on your thighs. San unbuttoned and removed his jacket, his tanned torso glowing in the fire light, and his dark eyes gleaming with lust. Hongjoong did the same, untucking and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Pl-Plea-se,” you begged, eyes starting to sting, “I-I had nothing to do with it. I was only doing what I was told. I swear, I didn’t want to do it. He made me. I can only do what my owners tell me to do. I promise I’d never-”

“-Relax, pet,” Seonghwa soothed you with more kisses, doing so as he unclipped his corset and tossed it aside. “We’re not angry with you at all.”

“You’re not?”

“Why would we be?” Hongjoong asked, taking San’s place behind you. His warm naked chest slowly rekindled the arousal inside you. Hands sailing up your body to your tits, he grabbed them gently as he spoke in your ear. “We just got a new pet for free. I don’t see that as a reason to be angry, do you?”

“But…But, I’m useless. I’m not a succubus or any other kind of demon. I’m…”

“Fresh,” he said, kissing your neck, “Brand new. You’re like fresh clay, ready to be molded however we want. Why would I want a regular demon who already knows everything over a human that I can shape to my tastes instead?”

“Succubi are boring, in my opinion,” said San, unbuckling his pants as he watched the other two kiss and fondle you. “They all like the same things, cast the same spells, and bore me to tears with their seductive talk. I told my brothers I wanted something new; something I’ve never tried before. We’re incubi, so banging other succubi or incubi can get boring. It’s fine if we’re feeding, but for pleasure…I prefer something a little more interesting.”

“And you’re such a pretty thing too,” Seonghwa added, kissing up your stomach as he stood up. “So soft and warm,” he slashed one of your nipples with his tongue, “And you taste so good.”

“Your pussy tastes like strawberries,” said Hongjoong, who held your breasts for Seonghwa to suck on. “I fear I might grow addicted to it after tonight.”

“I haven’t gotten a taste yet,” San protested, who walked over to the three of you fully nude.

“She is yummy,” he smirked, going back for a second taste with wet fingers. “But, I’d love to see what she can do with these pretty lips.”

He turned you to face him, the other two falling to your sides instead, as he slipped his hand against your wet center. Two fingers teased around the edges of your clit, occasionally brushing up on it before pulling away. The repeated motions made you dizzy, and you knew you’d cum sooner or later. The three of them created this intense arousal that burned like fire. They’d made a knot in your pussy, and only with their fingers and tongue could it be undone. San licked your essence off his fingers, approving of your supposed sweet taste. Hongjoong and Seonghwa continued teasing your nipples; each man took one side to grab and lick while San touched your pussy.

He coated both his fingers in you again before lifting them to your mouth. Instinctively, you opened for him to slide them over your tongue. The three of them groaned when you sucked your juices off his fingers; the act alone made you throb.

“Let’s take our pet somewhere more comfortable,” Seonghwa suggested, reaching between your thighs to rub you. “It’s our first time. We should enjoy her properly.”

“I agree,” said Hongjoong, licking up your neck while his hand joined Seonghwa on your pussy. Each demon took turns rubbing circles around your sensitive clit while San slid his thumb into your mouth next, “Besides, it’s too dark in here. I want to see all of her while I fuck her senselessly.”

They spoke about you as if you weren’t standing there, and you liked it. You’d learned long ago that you’re meant for pleasure. It was so rare a demon gave it back to you that you’d do nothing to ruin your chances. With a click of their fingers, you found yourself standing in a dimly lit room. Not bothered by your surroundings at the moment, you let the three men take you over to a large canopy bed in a corner of the bedroom. It was wide enough to comfortably fit all four of you, with white and pale blue sheets matching the drapes tied to the bedposts. They sat you on the edge of the bed, circling you with their cocks in their hands. They were perfect. Longer and thicker than you’re used to, you knew they’d split you open in the best possible way. You swallowed the saliva building in your mouth seeing them up close now.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

Hongjoong held himself by the shaft as he rubbed his tip on your tongue. The high moans he let out only fueled the flames. You licked up and down his length, tracing the veins pumping blood through it before taking him in your mouth. Humming around the sensitive head, you tasted the thin, salty precum already. Hongjoong let out soft sighs as he watched you work him into your mouth inch by inch. Dark eyes full of lust, you suddenly became his entire world. While you gingerly sucked his cock, you started slowly stroking Seonghwa and San’s in time with it. You enjoyed the feeling of them pulsating in your hands; the muscles twitched whenever your thumb touched the underside, tracing the wrinkles just underneath the head. It reminded you of home for a moment: the big New Year’s office party where you fucked those three interns in the mailroom. They’d been so hot and you’d been so horny, the consequences at the time didn’t bother you. They never did, quite frankly. You were a big shot CEO. You had expensive tastes and an insatiable appetite. You still had that even in Hell where you’re nobody.

“Take it all the way,” Hongjoong groaned, holding your head to push further into your mouth. “I know you can. Sluts like you are experts at taking dicks in your throat. You can do it.”

You coughed and sputtered around him as he sunk towards your throat. His tip brushing against your uvula created a gagging sound that made all three men moan. Your pussy throbbed as you took him in your throat, loving how it blocked your airway entirely and nearly suffocated you. Hongjoong enjoyed this for a few strokes before pulling you off him, strings of spit connecting you both until he fully moved away. Seonghwa turned your head to face him, and laughed when you opened your mouth for him.

“She certainly understands her place already,” he said, holding your hair as he started fucking your mouth. “We don’t need to go through the trouble of breaking her.”

“She’s been broken for quite a while,” groaned San, who guided your hand to spread his precum over his thick cock. “I can tell. She gives into it so easily.”

“She knows what she’s made for,” Hongjoong grinned, keeping your hand still as he pushed into it instead. “Don’t you, slut?” They laughed when you nodded in agreement. “You see, you don’t have to be a demon to be well bred.”

“She’ll certainly be bred after tonight.”

“If only,” San mused somewhat sadly.

So rarely did you get to enjoy good looking demons. The ones who came to the “House of Kisses” were foul-smelling, long-clawed, black-eyed creatures who squealed and grunted through it. They acted more like animals humping their favorite stuffed toy. You hardly ever enjoyed a lover who took their time with you, who tasted delightful and gave you pleasure in return. It was something you'd do anything to keep.

When Seonghwa pulled out, San turned your head to keep your mouth full. You’d initially sucked him firmly, moaning around his cock while sinking down to the base every time. Drool dropped onto your chest as you did so, not daring to break away unless he said so. But then, San held you by the hair as his brothers had done and made his own pace.

“Suck a little softer, pet. I like it more-Oh, yes,” he sighed dreamily, melting in your mouth as you followed his instructions exactly. “Someone really is trying to avoid going back down there, hm?” he joked, head tilting back once you started slowly deep-throating him. “Don't worry, pet,” he soothed you with gentle head pats, “You're not going anywhere.”

This went on for a while: they all took various turns in your mouth, and you sucked according to how they enjoyed it. Hongjoong went rougher, shoving himself in your mouth and guiding you by the neck. Seonghwa kept it steady and breathily gave orders as if you’d never given a blowjob before. San, as you expected, liked it light and soft. You’d learned how to play to a client’s appetites in order to avoid upsetting your owners. If a customer complained enough or you’d disobeyed them somehow, you’d end up back in the winds of lust. You didn’t want to be flung around the air in dizzying circles; the harsh, cold winds freezing your skin while bits of debris or other prisoners crashed into you. It had been madness. They tortured you by making you feel relentless sensations of all kinds. You'd taken part so much in life, your death only made sense.

You shouldn't have snorted all that blow.

“On the bed,” Hongjoong ordered, “It’s our turn now.”

You slid further up the bed until your lower half hung off the edge. San and Seonghwa each propped a leg onto their shoulder, and kept you fully exposed to the three of them. The hunger in their eyes created a whole new arousal for you; your breath hitched when Hongjoong laid a flat, wide lick up your wet lips, ending with a hard suck to your clit. Your needy whine pleased them, and brought on more attention. San laid soft kisses and gentle nips of his teeth down your inner thighs. Your pussy throbbed in Hongjoong’s expert mouth, which caused him to chuckle against it. Seonghwa did the same, licking from knee to the apex of your thighs where he flicked your pussy tenderly.

The pleasure boiled inside you when two fingers slipped between your folds. San rolled his thumb around your clit while Hongjoong and Seonghwa joined together to finger you. Their groans joined yours as you lost yourself in the feeling building in every stroke.

“She has such a pretty pussy,” Seonghwa moaned, pushing his finger into the last knuckle. He and Hongjoong fingered you at different speeds, so neither one left your pussy empty and wanting. “It’s so wet and squeezing my finger nicely. I can’t imagine what it’ll feel when I’m fucking her.”

“I’ll have to be careful,” Hongjoong said, “Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll finish too quickly. It’s been way too long since I had anything good in my bed.”

“I want to feel it too,” pouted San, who took a few licks to your clit before sucking up the juices flooding it. When one of them removed his finger, San replaced it immediately. He hummed his delight at the walls squeezing both his and his brother’s fingers. “How can human pussy be better than demon pussy?” he giggled, “I don’t get it.”

“Have no idea,” Hongjoong shrugged, content watching his brothers finger you together. “I don’t really care either. We have a dumb little toy that we can build however we like.” His brothers broke away as he began kissing from the middle up to your breasts. Cupping them, he gave hard squeezes that made you wriggle in his grasp. “I can make her into whatever I want her to be.” He kissed up your neck to your ear, biting it tenderly. “You’re going to be the obedient, compliant submissive I’ve always wanted.” You moaned when his cock slid up between your folds, rubbing directly on your clit. He giggled at your hips bucking against him, and held them down. You tried moving into him, but his firm grip kept you against the bed. “The pretty bitch that fucks like she’s in constant heat,” he traced your jaw with his fingers, letting his dick settle right over your pussy but not moving. “The perfect slave. My slave.”

“How crass,” scoffed Seonghwa, who shoved his brother off you and took his place. Unlike Hongjoong, Seonghwa gradually grinded into you. Pushing stray hairs from your face, he said, “I prefer a pretty toy over a slave,” he said, cupping your jaw and kissing you deeply. The mixture of your fluids filled your mouth when his tongue rolled around yours. His full lips worked yours open slowly, his tongue sliding over yours before beginning to roll around. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be a lovely doll that sings and plays music and reads to me. You’ll be the picture of innocence in front of others,” he pecked your lips as he kept grinding, “But a filthy slut getting fucked by me every night.”

When he lifted you further up on the bed, as expected, San slid right between you and Seonghwa. “That’s dumb,” he said, feeling up your body to your chest. Sucking on one nipple, he allowed you to grind into him. “Everyone knows what you are,” he changed sides, and rolled his tongue around it. “I can’t marry you, but I can certainly enjoy the benefits of pretending.” He sealed his lips over yours, and you easily opened your mouth to let him explore. “A lovely wife who cooks and cleans for me…Who does whatever she can to please me…make sure I’m content and comfortable. Isn’t that what every man wants? Why can’t I want it?”

“Because you have servants who do all that already,” snorted Seonghwa from beside you.

You turned over to see him and Hongjoong locked in a passionate embrace. Seonghwa watched both you and San through heavy lidded eyes. Hongjoong turned his head from you to kiss him passionately, both of them moaning in each other’s mouths. Something about the sight aroused you more. You gazed down to where they met to see their hands wrapped around one another. Clear droplets fell from the slits to their shafts, where each brother used it to slicken their movements. You kept watching them kiss and touch before something thick pushed inside you slowly.

“Oh fuck…” San breathed, eyes falling shut and head going forward as he carefully filled you.

Being stretched around him distracted you from anything else in the room. You grabbed San’s biceps, nails digging into the hard muscles as the pressure intensified. Once he became fully sheathed inside you, you swore you felt his tip bulge your belly slightly. It was a feeling you could never get enough of. Even with other customers, if they could reach that far into you, you became absolutely weak. Holding you close, he kissed you as he gently fucked into you.

“Perfect,” he moaned against your lips, “Perfect. My little wife is taking my dick so well, and loving it so much. Here,” he took your hand to place on your belly, “Feel that? That’s me, pet. That’s me fucking you so deep you feel it here.” He kept your hand there as he took several long strokes. He grinned when he saw your eyes rolling back. “You’re loving this, huh?” he started going a bit faster, moaning as you tightened around him, “Loving my fat cock ripping you open, hm?”

“Ye-y-yes,” you whimpered, clutching his shoulders and trying to keep still for him.

“It must be the best thing about being a demon slave,” he groaned, “Getting to have demon dick every moment of the day. Let’s see exactly how well you can take this one.”

Kneeling up, he pinned you by the waist, pulling your legs over his thighs as he quickened his pace. Balls slapping against your ass joined your combined moans. He made stars form in front of your eyes; every stroke pushed against your g-spot over and over again, turning you into a moaning mess on the bed. At some point, San began pulling you onto him and he laughed when you began doing it for him.

“You really love it,” he teased, “Look at her.”

“She’s beautiful like this,” said Seonghwa, lazily starting to rub your clit. You noticed his open mouth letting out soft panting, and spotted Hongjoong’s head between his thighs. The red head teasingly swatted his tongue over the slit and underside of the tip, giving it a suck every few licks. “I have a suspicion our pet is a lot naughtier than we first thought. She must have been.”

“Only the filthiest humans are made sex slaves,” San noted, propping himself on his fists and curling you upwards in the process. “You must’ve…must’ve been a whore…a filthy, naughty, slutty whore…”

The degradation. The lack of acknowledgement as they fucked you added to your need for release. You’d always loved being used by your lovers; you loved giving yourself over and letting them do what they wanted. Having these three demons using you and each other was a dream come true. San’s thrusts knocked the headboard into the wall, his groans turning into feral grunts and his strokes becoming feverish. His orgasm came hard, and the hot sensation of his cum painting your walls made you join him. Your body became sensitive to Seonghwa’s hand teasing your clit even as you came; each brush and swirl had you bucking against the sensitivity. When you usually come down from the high quickly, your body starts wearing down, yet that didn’t happen this time. Not with real incubi, and not an average demon. Your orgasm ending, you only wanted more of them.

“My turn,” said Seonghwa.

Hongjoong left his thighs to join San’s side of the bed, the pair sharing soft kisses. He rested himself against the broad man, legs spread for you to see him completely. His cock fully erect, throbbing against his stomach, Hongjoong whimpered when San began stroking him. Both of them looked at you and Seonghwa now, an audience for what you were about to do.

“Get on top, pretty,” Seonghwa said, bringing you on top of him. He didn’t hesitate to impale you on his dick, having the same burning effect as San. “Oh yes,” he panted, head tilting into the soft pillow. “San wasn’t lying.”

You didn’t care when they laughed at you pathetically bouncing on him. Hands on his chest, you raised and lowered your ass onto him in an inconsistent flow. He felt just as good as San, his cock reaching up to your core far too easily. You whined when a hand sharply swatted your ass. You didn’t care whose hand it was; you only cared that the sting added to your pleasure. When he heard you squeal particularly loud, Seonghwa smacked your ass again.

“Desperate cock-whore,” Seonghwa moaned, bringing you forward to keep spanking you. “We’re going to fuck you dumb,” he growled in your ear, “You won’t even remember your own name when we’re done with you.”

The idea of that alone had you rutting against him pathetically. Seonghwa eventually let you kneel back up, and slightly away from him. Hands holding you up behind your back, this position gave all three demons a view of him inside you. Their eyes locked right on where you and Seonghwa met, and when he began pushing up into you, the other two jeered.

“Ride him, slut. Ride him the right way.”

“Don’t be shy. Take him all the way.”

“You’re really a cock-loving whore, aren’t you?” Hongjoong asked in a breath, being teased by San in gradual strokes. “Answer me, slut. Are you a cock-loving whore?”

“Ye-Ye-Yess,” you cried, feeling a second orgasm building in your lower belly.

“Say it. Say ‘Yes, Master. I’m a cock-loving whore’.”

“Yes, Ma-M-Master,” you sobbed, “I’m a cock-cock-lov-loving whore!”

“Keep saying it,” Seonghwa said, pushing his hips upwards, “Say it.”

You did as told, saying the humiliating words as Seonghwa brought you to your second orgasm. It hit you much harder, stiffening your muscles and arching your spine backwards. His deep strokes emphasized each pathetic cry; your tits and ass bounced from the force of his thrusts which delighted the three demons. Having them sitting there, laughing and calling you names sunk you deeper into your arousal. You came even harder when you felt Seonghwa’s hot cum filling you soon enough. Seonghwa’s jaw clenched and he kept his pace steady as he pumped his seed deep inside you. You wanted more. You needed more. Whatever devious pheromone the incubi released sunk into your nostrils and filled your lungs. It smelled like hard candy, roses and cinnamon, turning from scents into a cocktail drug that fueled your body. You swore you ran on their energy and various scents alone.

“Take it all,” he grunted, grabbing your wrists and holding them in front of you, “Take all my cum.”

You would have stopped for a small break at the brothel. By a second orgasm, your body usually gives up. Yet, the brothers did not let you have a break. The power of an incubus must be stronger than you first assumed. Hongjoong grabbed you by the waist, and bent you over in front of him. Pushing your head down into the bed, he wasted no time in forcing himself inside you. Fingers scratching the smooth covers, face buried in their softness, you nearly screamed at the newest cock. Hongjoong did not reach as far as San, but he made sure you felt every hit each time. The only time he slowed down was when San came up behind him. Buried deep in you, you heard Hongjoong let out a long moan that ended in soft panting. Soon, you realized Hongjoong was sandwiched between your pussy and San’s cock. You matched San’s speed so Hongjoong felt pleasure from both ends. The strong pheromones drove you nearly wild now. You wanted him to cum in you too. Even if they couldn’t breed you, you wished they could.

Seonghwa moved around the bed to the front of you, lifted your head and filled your mouth. You greedily sucked up the leftover cum from his dick. His soft rose scent drew you closer to him. You loved the mix of salty and sweetness on your tongue, the remnants flowing from his tip to your throat as you swallowed. Hongjoong twitched inside you, almost creating a vibrating feeling that you’d heard incubi and succubi could do. It had you crying around Seonghwa’s dick; tears streamed from the corners of your eyes as he choked you on it. The combination of fingers rapidly rubbing your pussy, a demon cock shuddering inside you like a vibrator, and knowing San was pounding his demon brother had you trembling in their grasp. When Seonghwa gave you a moment to breathe, drool and cum fell from your lips onto the bed and your eyes remained shut in each euphoric feeling. You focused on nothing but them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes,” Hongjoong whined, “Fuck me like that. Both of you. Fuck me just like that.”

He hunched over on top of you as he came hard. You and San did as he wished, milking his orgasm from him so he spilled inside you. You soon joined him with a body-shattering third orgasm. Your arms shook, becoming numb and weak from the weakness it brought on. All three of them having had their turn, you assumed it’d be over.

You assumed wrong.

San withdrew from Hongjoong and the latter nearly threw you on top of him. Weakly, you slipped him into your dripping hole and rode him. Hongjoong stood over San’s head, and pushed his cock in your mouth. He hadn’t even gotten soft. You heard from other slaves that incubi could go for hours if they wished. In all realness, that should concern you. Even if you’re technically dead, you could never handle such a lengthy session. Yet, surrounded by these horny incubi, you felt compelled to serve them as they wished. Your jaw burned, and your cheeks felt stiff from the abuse. You knew your throat will be hoarse and painful after tonight. This did not seem to concern any of the demons.

“Stay still for a moment,” Seonghwa said from behind you. “This will only hurt for a little bit.”

San arched your back and spread your ass cheeks apart. A cold, slippery substance fell between them to your hole, which clenched and unclenched to the thick head spreading the lube around.

“Oh-ho,” Hongjoong laughed, “She’s going to love that.”

“What’s the point in three holes if we don’t fill each one?” he asked, pushing the tip inside you.

Your high-pitched moan remained muffled by Hongjoong, though the reaction pleased all three of them. You felt entirely full. Plugged up by each of them, having them move in near unison to keep you still in their grasp, you surrendered over to them completely. Your masters would take you however they wished, and you would not complain. Their cocks felt far too good to refuse. The best ones you’ve ever had in your previous life and in this new hellish one, you drowned yourself in it. Seonghwa grabbed both your tits to keep you in place; San rubbed your clit with his thumb while holding you by your hip; Hongjoong held you by the hair as he pumped in and out of your mouth. You stayed frozen in place as your new owners used you for their pleasure, giving you a bit of it in return.

They all laughed and jeered when you came again. Seonghwa tweaked your nipples when he heard you crying on Hongjoong’s dick; Hongjoong kept himself fully planted in your throat so your moans vibrated around his head. This orgasm made your toes curl, your nails from crescent shapes in your palms, and your muscles shake and burn from constant movement. They didn’t stop. Not for a single second. You became putty by the time they laid you back down. Seonghwa pushed himself inside your ass once more, legs on his chest as he ruthlessly pounded you. San brought your head to the edge of the bed, instantly filling your mouth while Hongjoong lapped and fingered your gushing pussy. You didn’t have much time to enjoy it before San began shuddering, and his cum filled your throat. You struggled to swallow at first, though caught onto it easily until you sucked every thick drop from him.

By the time you laid on your side between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you lost all sense of time and place. You felt nothing but the constant flow of bliss coursing through your veins.

“What’s your name, pretty?” Seonghwa asked, the taunt in his tone.

You gave an incoherent mumble, eyes shut and body made of jelly by now.

“What was that?” Hongjoong joined in, “We can’t hear you.”

You mumbled again, head lolling as you felt San hover over you. “Come on now,” he said, teasing your clit in slow circles, “You must have a name.”

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll give you one instead,” Seonghwa panted, moving away enough to let San’s hand tease you. “Use your words, kitten.”

“'Pet’ is a nice name in my opinion,” Hongjoong said, gripping your hip as he bottomed up into you.

“Darling is prettiest,” San said, “Much more endearing.”

“Kitten,” Seonghwa proclaimed, “Kitten is much sweeter. It suits her.”

There they named you. You are their property now, and you had no say. Eventually, the three of them finished and collapsed onto the bed together with you in the middle. The softness of the bed became particularly noticeable once you melted into it. The scent of sweat and sex filled your nose, and a distinct chill fell over your naked body. Your eyes falling shut, you relished in the gentle hands and lips on various parts of you. Their comforting touches lulled you to sleep, you barely listening to their sweet whispers. Whether they spoke to one another or to you, you weren't sure.

You only enjoyed the sweet peace sleep gave you.

***

A/N: just a short horny fic for all of you! I might make it a series, I might not. I have a habit of making these things lol please like and reblog <3

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #choi san #hongjoong ateez #seonghwa ateez #san ateez #demon line ateez #demon line x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #san x reader #hongjoong x seonghwa x san #ateez smut

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theharrowing · 1 year ago

Text

One Day at a Time 🌙 2: It feels right; I don't care if it's wrong

Yoongi loves to help others. As a professional surrogate, he takes pride in using his body to help families bring life into this world, and love into their homes. But when his high school crush Kim Namjoon hires Yoongi to help him and his wife conceive, things get…precarious.

Or, Omega Yoongi gets bred by Alpha Namjoon and holy shit, does he fall in love.

🐺 Yoongi x Namjoon, established Namjoon x Wheein

🌙 word count: 19.3k

🌙 past acquaintances to lovers, a/b/o, mpreg, infidelity, angst, smut, eventual fluff, slash, nsfw, 21+

🌙 warnings: alpha/top Namjoon, omega/bottom Yoongi; Namjoon is married, and he has a big dick; Yoongi is a mess, and he cries a lot; a/b/o stuff (mating cycles, lots of scent stuff, wolf instincts, marking - there will be blood, omega slick), angst (hormones raging, pining, emotional infidelity, infidelity, hurt/comfort), smut (ritualistic sex, ass to mouth, anal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, extremely painful knotting, pregnant sex, begging, praising, possessiveness), confessions, falling in love, “happy ending.”

🌙 note: you already know what is going on. warnings are serious hehehe. okay, have fun!!!

🌙 written for one shot two shot fest

🌙 thanks to @neoneunnajimin & @sailoryooons for beta reading and to @sweetestofchaos for helping me pick scents!

🌙 posted july 2023 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX

Yoongi is on the precipice of completely and total mental collapse.

Namjoon's words take a moment to sink, but Yoongi lies with his eyes wide, staring at the muscular shoulder of the alpha above him as he sniffs the air near Yoongi's head.

I finally get to have you.

Yoongi's hands attempt to find purchase on the satin sheets, grabbing fistfuls while he squirms under the warm breath that wafts across his shoulder, neck, and throat, but the material slides and slips.

"What did you say?" Yoongi mutters despite knowing he should probably leave it alone. But he is spiraling over the idea that Namjoon has wanted this as badly as he has, and he just…he needs to know.

"You heard me, little omega," Namjoon grumbles as he sits up and shuffles around, walking on his knees down to Yoongi's legs, which are bent and half-spread and moving uselessly, uncontrollably.

"Gods, look at you," Namjoon teases as he takes one of Yoongi's ankles and pulls it to the side, spreading his legs. Warmth radiates beneath his touch, and Yoongi lets out a shaky breath, doing his best to keep his cool. "When is the last time someone has touched you?"

With a huff of air, Yoongi squeezes his eyes closed and makes a futile attempt at centering himself. This whole situation was already a mind-fuck without Namjoon toying with him. He thinks he can hear Namjoon chuckling as he takes Yoongi's other ankle and spreads his legs further, but he does not open his eyes just yet.

He knew they would have to have sex, but Namjoon is treating him like a conquest. Or is this how alphas always fuck? Rough and possessive, grabbing and spreading and teasing.

"Do I scare you, little omega?" Namjoon asks with a tone full of mirth as the mattress dips, and Yoongi feels Namjoon's arms beside his hips, beside his ribs, above his shoulders.

Yoongi shakes his head as he opens his eyes, finding Namjoon hovering over him, inches from his face. He could tilt his head up and kiss him at this distance.

"No," Yoongi says, voice shaking unconvincingly. "You don't scare me at all, I was just…not sure what to expect."

"Do you want me to be soft with you?" Namjoon asks, tilting his head to the side. "Make love to you?"

A laugh rocks through Yoongi, and he knits his brows. "What?"

"Because I don't think I can," Namjoon continues, warm, sticky-sweet breath ghosting over Yoongi's face. "Not while in my rut. Not when you smell the way you do. You have no idea how much I'm holding back right now."

Again, Namjoon sniffs at Yoongi's shoulder, keeping himself just far away that he does not make contact with his skin – not that he even has to; the feeling of his breath alone coming out in huffs and pants is enough to make Yoongi's head spin. Oh, but he wishes Namjoon would just brush his lips against his scent gland.

Namjoon may have tauntingly asked when the last time he had been touched was, but Yoongi wonders the same. Rut or not, Namjoon seems desperate, like he is moments away from losing total control. Is this what rut is like, or is Namjoon just as touch-starved as he is?

"It's not that I expect you to be soft," Yoongi finally responds, finding his voice, and doing his best to at least return some of Namjoon's playful energy. "But you really do love to tease, don't you, alpha?"

Namjoon groans deep from his chest, and this time, when he takes in a deep breath, his lips skim over Yoongi's shoulder ever so slightly. The contact is barely there, but it is enough to send a shiver quaking from the base of Yoongi's spine to the tips of his toes.

"I'll stop teasing you, then," Namjoon responds, voice breathy and deep, lust-laced the way it was in the woods. "I'll take what I came here for. Is that what you want, little omega? Want me to knot you nice and tight and fill you with my pups?"

Gods, the language is archaic and borderline humiliating, but it sends Yoongi reeling. He wants it so badly he worries he may lose his mind completely if Namjoon does not hurry and give it to him.

"Please," Yoongi pants, letting his eyelids flutter closed. "Breed me, alpha."

Another groan comes from Namjoon, this one sounding even closer to a growl. "I want to touch you so badly," he mutters, possibly to himself.

"Just touch me," Yoongi responds, almost frantically. Perhaps it is against the rules; Namjoon is married, after all. But there was no clause in the contract – which they have neglected to sign – that prevents intimacy. They are having sex, for fuck's sake; and it is not as if Namjoon is going to kiss him. "We're already doing…this…so just touch me."

Namjoon begins to crawl down the length of Yoongi's body, slowly stalking backward while his lips ghost over his chest, his stomach, his hip. Every minute touch of skin against skin makes Yoongi jolt – sends an electric current through his bloodstream, white-hot and high frequency; buzzing, dizzying, and not quite enough.

"Please don't rip those to shreds too," Yoongi teases as Namjoon's fingertips grab and lift the waistline of his briefs. He does not actually care if Namjoon destroys the garment, but suddenly his heart is pounding so hard and fast and loud, Yoongi worries he might throw up, and he is searching for some levity.

Namjoon laughs, dragging his cheek along Yoongi's thigh and knee as he sits back, pulling Yoongi's briefs with the movement. Yoongi stares at the ceiling above. The thought of being nude makes him shy, even though he is in heat and is desperate to be fucked. Because it has been a while since Yoongi has let someone touch him like this, and he needs it. He craves it.

As his briefs are pulled away, Yoongi lifts his legs high. He feels impatient over the way Namjoon is undressing him so slowly, and by how the material drags and lifts higher and higher. Finally, when the garment passes his ankles and he is free, he begins to drop his legs, spreading his feet but holding his knees together.

Namjoon takes a loud, deep breath, and the sound makes Yoongi tear his gaze from the ceiling. When he looks at the alpha, he is sitting stiff with his nostrils flared and pupils blown, and he has that expression from before – the one that made Yoongi wonder if Namjoon would eat him. In his hand, beside his face, Namjoon grips tightly to Yoongi's briefs, breathing deeply through his nose.

He looks crazed, almost otherworldly, like a demon has clawed into his skin and taken over. The air is pungent with tangerine laced with cinnamon and warm musk, and although the scent is familiar, it is also different. It is headier and tangier, and most of the sweetness is buried. It makes Yoongi sweat – makes him claw against the satin sheets feeling far needier than ever. He is certain that if Namjoon does not fuck him right now, he might actually die.

Yoongi is acutely aware of the fact that his slick is dripping from him. Demureness slips away as he lifts his legs and gently uses his feet to tug at Namjoon, using his toes to dig gently into his ribs. Namjoon looks down at Yoongi, down between his legs, and his lips lift into a grin.

"You're so—" Namjoon begins, shaking his head and cutting himself off.

"Please," Yoongi whines, hole aching to be filled. Namjoon's scent is overwhelming, clawing at Yoongi's senses, ripping his sanity to shreds like the shirt that still uselessly clings to one of his shoulders. Never has he begged to be fucked before, but he cannot hold back. "Namjoon. Please."

Namjoon nods in dazed, slow movements. And then he flings Yoongi's briefs across the room and gets onto his hands and knees in a movement so quick, the mattress shakes, and Yoongi gasps. Namjoon leans close, rakes his teeth over Yoongi's thigh, eyelids fluttering closed, and he looks so feral and so fucking handsome, Yoongi cannot help but stare.

"Yoongi, you are so—" Again, Namjoon shakes his head and stops himself. He nips at Yoongi's thigh, sending a tickling mix of pleasure and a tiny hint of pain coursing through him, making Yoongi dig his heels into the mattress and whimper. "So fucking—"

"So, what?" Yoongi shouts, bowing his back, feeling the sheet stick to his skin, digging his head into the pillow. The desire that pours from him clings in the air and looms overhead like a cloud. Like a threat. Yoongi fears he will be suffocated at any moment if he is not sated.

Rather than respond, Namjoon sinks lower, and, before Yoongi can make sense of his actions, Namjoon grabs and slightly lifts Yoongi's ass, spreading him with both hands as he licks over his hole, slow and firm and so good.

Yoongi's hips buck upward as he moans, choking on the end of it and turning it into a sob as Namjoon licks again and again. Is this allowed? Should he be doing this? Yoongi is already soaking wet and does not need foreplay; why is Namjoon tasting him like this?

But Yoongi does not voice his questions; he would not dare. Namjoon swirls his tongue over Yoongi, groaning and growling, making every inch of his skin burn with arousal, and his cock aches to be touched, neglected, and leaking against his tummy.

"Holy fuck," Yoongi finally whines when he cannot keep it in any longer, back arched with his toes digging into the mattress, attempting to keep himself lifted.

"I just knew you would taste this sweet," Namjoon grumbles, dragging his teeth once more over Yoongi's thigh while sitting up between his spread legs.

Yoongi whimpers, fisting the sheet tightly, body heaving and trembling and desperate. "Please," he sobs, squeezing his eyes closed and opening them wide, staring at Namjoon's shoulders, at his pecs, at his tummy and his thighs, and his hard, leaking cock.

Two fingers graze over Yoongi's hole, and he stutters a moan, keeping his jaw slack while Namjoon penetrates him so slowly it makes his eyes roll back. The stretch of his fingers floods Yoongi with arousal that burns hot in his tummy and spreads to his limbs. Yoongi opens his eyes to find Namjoon's mouth slowly falling open as he watches his own fingers get swallowed. Then he pulls out and looks Yoongi in the eye, mouth tugging to a droopy smile.

"You are soaked for me, omega."

"All for you, alpha," Yoongi responds almost robotically. "Please."

Namjoon strokes his cock with the hand he used to finger Yoongi, spreading slick over his thick length. Admittedly, his size is intimidating, and Yoongi swallows thickly and wets his lips. He wants to taste Namjoon badly, but he needs to be fucked before he loses it.

"Namjoon," Yoongi pleads, dropping his ass back to the bed and digging his toes into Namjoon's hips, trying to pull him close.

With a deep, sardonic chuckle, Namjoon grabs Yoongi's ankles, pulls his legs to one side, and yanks at his thighs and hips, forcing him to roll over. Yoongi flails and twists haphazardly, satin clinging to him and rustling with the movement.

"On your knees, omega," Namjoon instructs.

Yoongi manages to finally shed his tattered shirt, tossing it aside on the bed. And then he scrambles to get into position, crawling back to the center, where he was, knees digging into the damp sheet. He hardly has a chance to settle before Namjoon licks over his hole again, forcing him to tremble and moan, crashing forward.

"F-fuck," Yoongi mutters as he wraps his arms around the pillow and holds it to his chest.

The touch leaves, and Yoongi clenches then tries to relax, feeling his slick build and secrete, smelling it thick in the air, mixing with the heady, sweaty blend of the two of them, along with the smoke from the incense. His own scent of chamomile is supposed to be soothing, but it is sweeter than usual and mocks him – a reminder of his place in life as an obedient little omega meant to be bred. And gods, does he need it so badly.

The blunt tip of Namjoon's cock grazes over Yoongi's hole, and he arches his back in presentation. Namjoon uses a hand to grip and spread one of his cheeks, digging his fingers into the skin. It feels possessive and greedy, and Yoongi wonders if it will bruise – he hopes it will.

"I don't know if you can take me, little omega," Namjoon says in a mocking tone, rubbing his cock over Yoongi's eager, slick hole.

"Please," Yoongi responds.

"You're so tight, even with how much slick you leak. Have you ever taken a knot before, hmm? I might just break you in fucking half."

Yoongi is dizzy and desperate; he thought Namjoon would want to tear into him and use him; fuck him hard and fast, and be done. What the fuck is with all this teasing?

"Namjoon, please!" Yoongi shouts, quaking and on the brink of madness.

"So needy," Namjoon taunts as the mattress dips under his shifting weight.

Yoongi groans and begins to say, "Oh, I fucking hate y—" but he loses the rest of the sentence and chokes out a sob as the tip of Namjoon's cock breaches his hole.

Namjoon continues to push deeper, deeper, deeper, blinding Yoongi with intense pleasure-pain that he was not prepared for, squeezing the air from his lungs and making his legs tremble.

"What was that, omega?"

"Oh, gods," Yoongi gasps before biting down on the pillow and letting out a whimper that is pitchy and broken – pornographic.

Namjoon carves Yoongi open, pushing him beyond what he thought his limits were. He feels so full, and his head aches from holding his breath. Finally, when Namjoon's hips still, Yoongi sucks a sharp intake of air and sinks his head down into the pillow, doing his best to relax.

"I bet your pretty little cunt has never been stretched this wide before has it?"

The words pretty and cunt ricochet around Yoongi's already fucked out mind, and he manages to get some weight onto his elbows and lift his head, breathing in the air that reeks of burning incense and pheromones.

"I am going to fucking ruin you, omega."

"I'm going insane," Yoongi mutters, panting with each breath that falls between his lips. "You're making me go insane."

Namjoon rubs his hands over Yoongi's back and shoulders. The sweaty slide of skin against skin is exquisite, and Yoongi tips his head back and arches his spine, desperate to be felt everywhere. Although he does his best to relax, he can feel the rings of muscle gripping Namjoon tight and fluttering with each sensation.

"Can you sit high on your knees for me?" Namjoon coaxes as his hands wrap around Yoongi's ribs and gently begin to tug.

"M-maybe."

Yoongi shifts on his knees, pushing his arms as tall as they can manage, and then Namjoon takes over, wrapping his arms around Yoongi's chest, grazing palms over his nipples and clavicle, and pulling him until he is sitting high on his knees, speared open, making Yoongi shiver and moan from every tiny, delicious movement.

A low, deep growl comes from Namjoon, who slides one hand up to Yoongi's throat, forcing his head to tilt back.

"Somehow you feel even better like this," Namjoon murmurs softly, slowly pulling his hips back and kicking up a flurry of pleasure and arousal in Yoongi's tummy.

Yoongi moans unabashed as his head attempts to roll, held in place by the fingers that gently squeeze at the sides of his throat. The slow drag of Namjoon's cock already has him threatening to unravel completely.

Namjoon thrusts his hips forward just hard enough to punch the air from Yoongi's lungs, and he grips onto his own thighs as he attempts to breathe through the feeling, voice coming out as nothing but a wet sob.

"Don't hold back, little omega," Namjoon groans as he pulls his hips back and drives them forward, making Yoongi bleat a jumble of vowels. "I want to hear you."

Everything about this feels wrong to Yoongi. He should lay pliant and let Namjoon do what he needs to without giving into his urges to touch and beg and make all the lewd sounds he usually does. But Namjoon feels and smells so inviting – so dizzyingly good.

"Please, alpha," Yoongi whimpers, legs quaking as Namjoon slowly pulls back. "Please breed me."

Namjoon grips Yoongi's tummy, fingertips digging into his skin. "Say my name," he commands.

Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "N-Namjoon…please."

Namjoon snaps his hips forward, pushing a pitchy moan from Yoongi's throat, then he begins to fuck him, finally, setting a rough pace of skin slapping against skin. From this angle, it feels like Namjoon is all the way in Yoongi's guts, and his body is frozen in place, unable to do anything but sit tall and be used.

The pleasure-pain of being fucked so hard makes Yoongi delirious. He babbles incoherently, eyes fluttering closed and then opening wide, watching as the knots and lines on the wooden wall blur and come into sharp focus, over and over.

"S-so…b-big…" he manages to stammer between thrusts.

Namjoon's fingers tighten and loosen over Yoongi's throat and stomach, then yank him back a little further, causing his arms to hang suspended in the air, fingertips no longer able to reach his thighs. Lips pass over Yoongi's neck, over the scent gland in the crook of his shoulder, and he shivers from the touch, feeling euphoria burst and bloom on the spot.

"You take me so well, pretty Yoongi," Namjoon moans before dragging his tongue over Yoongi's gland and the overgrown hair that sticks to his sweat-slick skin.

Yoongi whispers, "Pretty," unsure if he is imagining the word.

"So perfect for me."

Pleasure claws at Yoongi, dragging him down, down, down, threatening to drown him. He wants to cum so badly, but it feels too soon. Should he be getting so much pleasure from this? The lines have long since blurred, and Namjoon praising Yoongi and calling him pretty only amplifies the tumultuous nature of this situation.

With another lick over Yoongi's scent gland, he begins to crumble.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that," he manages to whimper, squeezing his eyes closed.

"That so?" Namjoon asks, lips grazing over the gland with a snarl.

"Yes," he gasps.

Namjoon's voice is low and taunting as he asks, "Can you cum untouched?"

With a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, Yoongi asks, "You're evil aren't you?" earning him a chuckle in response.

Namjoon picks up the pace fucking Yoongi harder, spearing him deeper. Yoongi is in agony over how good it feels; he is so close but not close enough.

Teeth drag over his scent gland and, as if every one of his feral instincts is awakened and on high alert, rippling through him, the dam breaks, and he cums untouched, making a fucking mess. The pace of Namjoon's hips has Yoongi's cock slapping against his tummy, and he sprays his release against himself and the sheet below as he growls and whimpers and claws at the air, frantic and out of his mind.

"Fucking squeezing me," Namjoon moans against his neck, hips stuttering before they find their rhythm again.

Overstimulation has Yoongi's body tensing and relaxing, and he sobs, unsure whether he needs Namjoon to stop or to keep going. It feels incredible in the worst way; horrifyingly too much and too little. His body quakes as each muscle fights to relax.

Namjoon slows his hips and pulls out, then gradually lowers Yoongi to the bed, onto his side pulling the sheet while muttering, "Don't lay in your own mess, pretty omega."

"S-shut up," Yoongi grumbles as he sinks onto his elbows, then rolls onto his back with his legs bent and sliding spread.

Namjoon crawls on his knees to Yoongi's feet and yanks one leg to the side as he takes his place, towering above him. His hair sticks to his forehead, sweat drips down his neck and chest, and he is dangerously beautiful with cheeks flushed and eyes wide – exactly as Yoongi imagined he would look, but so much more.

Without a word, Namjoon lines his cock up and slides back in. No sound passes through Yoongi's mouth as his back bows, and he grabs for the sheet frozen in an arch of pleasure. When he finally finds his voice, it is raspy and broken.

"How do you stay so fucking tight?" Namjoon groans, head tipped as he pulls his hips back and slams them forward.

Yoongi claws at the sheets, hand falling into a sticky, cold spattering of cum, which he tries to rub away but just finds more of his own mess, coating his hand. Namjoon sets a pace somehow faster than before, holding Yoongi's thighs in both hands, spreading him wide.

Still somewhat overstimulated but already chasing his next high, Yoongi feels delirious. As he adjusts to the feeling of Namjoon's unrelenting thrusts, he reaches his hands over his head, draping them over the pillow while his eyes flutter.

Then his fingers brush over something firm and possibly leather, and he becomes curious, grabbing for the item and pulling it out. Namjoon's hips slow even more as Yoongi inspects it. It is brown, definitely leather, and less than a foot long, Yoongi estimates, and it looks like a strap or a handle. Squeezing it, it feels somewhat soft, but also firm.

"What is this?" Yoongi asks, voice rough and fucked out.

When he looks at Namjoon, whose hips continue to roll into him, he finds the alpha regarding him with a worried expression – brows knit and gaze somewhat piercing. He lowers Yoongi's legs, takes the leather item, and places it on the bed. Then he leans forward, caging Yoongi in with his hands, and hovering way too close to his face.

"It's for biting onto," Namjoon says, voice breathy and deep.

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. "For biting onto?"

"So I was right?" Namjoon asks, brow knitting with concern.

Yoongi turns his face away, staring at the wooden wall to the right of him. "About what?"

Soothing, sweet tangerine overwhelms the space, blending with the incense and all the musky, heady aromas, and Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath that falls between his lips in a broken sigh. The fluid motion of Namjoon's hips and slow drag of his cock have Yoongi sinking into a trance.

Like this, it is easy for Yoongi to imagine the alpha caring for him – being soft and gentle with him. Like this, Yoongi can forget all about how Namjoon has a wife waiting for him; how he is nothing more than a means to an end. He wishes Namjoon would hurry up and finish fucking him; he hates how treacherous his heart is suddenly, now that the pace is languid and gentle.

When Namjoon does not answer him, Yoongi opens his eyes. The alpha is watching him with a gently furrowed brow, making his tummy do a backflip, and he looks away as quickly as he can.

"What?" he asks, feeling awkward.

Namjoon's hips slow to a stop, and he sits up, still buried so deep inside Yoongi that every movement is overwhelming, making him wince and gasp. With his teeth grit and nostrils flared, Namjoon lifts Yoongi's legs again, looking above him at the wall rather than directly at him.

"You haven't taken a knot before," Namjoon says. "You should have told me."

"It's fine," Yoongi mutters, feeling ashamed although unsure why. "Don't worry about it."

Namjoon grunts and then begins to fuck into Yoongi once more, holding his thighs spread and lifted, spearing him open. All thought dissipates as pleasure ensnares him, and when Namjoon presses forward against his thigh to spread and lift him even more, Yoongi relaxes into the stretch, malleable and pliant and so, so good for his alpha.

Not your alpha, his brain reminds him, but he shuts it out and allows the euphoria of Namjoon's thick cock to trick him into thinking he could be.

Yoongi's moans are softer – stuck in his throat and punctuated by the loud slap of skin against skin. His muscles burn where Namjoon bends him and presses down, and his tummy feels tight and heavy, like a taut wire ready to snap.

"Getting close," Namjoon mutters, picking up his pace and lifting Yoongi's right leg over his shoulder, sinking impossibly deeper.

Yoongi's ass is lifted, and he digs his head back against the pillow, feeling as though his soul may be escaping from his body. He feels used in the best possible way; nothing more than a breedable little fuck-doll who has no control.

As Namjoon reaches his high, his hips become erratic, and he growls and moans, uttering sounds that may be curse words, but could also be nothing. Yoongi wants to cum again, and the slap of his cock against his tummy is just enough to bring him close but not push him over the edge. He thinks maybe he should not chase another orgasm; continually playing tug-of-war over whether he should be feeling so much pleasure from what is meant only to be a business agreement.

Namjoon's grip is painfully strong, fingernails digging into Yoongi's thigh and hip as he drives himself so fast and deep into Yoongi that pain is at the forefront of every sense. His cock aches against his tummy, and as Namjoon leans forward and bends Yoongi further in half, he is overcome with a feeling of fear. What if Namjoon really could break him in half?

"Fuck, Namjoon," Yoongi mutters, once again clawing at the sheets. Yoongi is sore where Namjoon's thighs slap into him, sore where he is gripped and bent, and sore from Namjoon's cock punishing his tight, greedy hole. He tries to plead but only mutters a weak, "H-hurts."

Namjoon wraps his arm around Yoongi's thigh to keep his leg draped over his shoulder and reaches for his cock, engulfing it in blinding warmth that kicks up so much pleasure, Yoongi fears he might fucking die – like his heart could give out and stop. He only manages to scream, "Oh, f-fuck, I'm—" before spraying his release on his tummy.

The pleasure is so searing and intense, Yoongi squeezes his eyes closed tight, and he screams incoherent half-profanities while his body quakes.

"That's it, omega," Namjoon growls. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, don't stop squeezing me."

Yoongi couldn't stop if he tried. His body is suspended in a grip of euphoria laced with pain so unlike anything he has felt before – body twisted and lifted and used. He babbles through the dizzying high that threatens to light him aflame and turn him into nothing more than a pile of ash, squeezing around Namjoon uncontrollably.

"Brace yourself, omega," Namjoon grunts between thrusts. "I'm gonna cum."

Namjoon's hips still as he moans deep and loud, head thrown back and body practically convulsing. Yoongi feels him twitching inside him, then feels him release, filling him with hot spurts of cum. And then, finally, he feels Namjoon begin to expand.

With his leg slung over Namjoon's shoulder, the discomfort of the growing knot makes his muscles tremble and cramp. Namjoon's head is still thrown back, and he is groaning and whimpering as if locked into a state of bliss. Yoongi, on the other hand, is slowly being stretched enough that the pain feels similar to giving birth, and before he can stop himself, a scream rips from his lungs.

Frantically, he reaches for a pillow – anything to bite onto – and he winds up taking the one out from under his head and pulling it over his face. Condensation builds instantly against the soft material as Yoongi screams bloody murder while hugging the pillow tight against him, still hanging suspended by threads of pleasure despite experiencing physical anguish so visceral it feels nearly incomprehensible.

Sharp, piercing pain in his thigh makes Yoongi's entire body seize, and he pulls the pillow away, attempting to kick from the source of the feeling, only to find that the source is the alpha's mouth. Namjoon's eyes are wide and crazed, and his teeth are sunken into Yoongi's flesh as he growls with a mouthful of skin. Yoongi is absolutely terrified, chest feeling too tight to intake more air.

"Namjoon!" Yoongi screams, lifting his other foot and kicking at the alpha's shoulder. "Stop!"

Namjoon releases Yoongi and stares at his leg as if in a trance. And then his gaze snaps to Yoongi, and he looks afraid, ashamed, and possibly sad. Yoongi sobs as Namjoon continues to grow inside him, and when Namjoon allows Yoongi to drop his foot to the bed, he begins to kick and drag his feet uselessly, thrashing in pain and horror.

"Fuck," Namjoon mutters, leaning forward and grabbing the leather strap that Yoongi found earlier. He uses his hands to attempt to hold Yoongi's head steady, but although his eyes are soft and present once more, Yoongi is scared shitless and in immense pain, and he tries pushing Namjoon away.

"Shhh, wait, Yoongi," Namjoon utters sweetly, filling the room with tangerine so thick Yoongi can taste it on his tongue. He holds the leather device in front of Yoongi's mouth and says, "Yoongi, here, bite onto this."

Reluctantly, Yoongi opens his mouth and lets Namjoon slide the strap inside, nestled between his teeth. It feels cool and soft on his lips, and as soon as he bites down, he feels somewhat calm. He also thinks Namjoon's knot may have finally reached its fullness.

"Yoongi, I'm so sorry," Namjoon mutters, petting over his sweaty face and hair with both hands and leaning way too fucking close. "I lost control; I shouldn't have bitten you."

The pain is present but dissipating to a dull ache, and Yoongi huffs each breath through his nose, drooling around the leather strap. Namjoon's pheromones truly do work wonders, bringing his anxiety down enough that he can emit chamomile and ease himself further into nirvana.

"Are you okay?" Namjoon asks, brows pinched, hands still gently raking over Yoongi's sweat-matted hair.

Yoongi mutters uselessly and nods, eyelids feeling heavy; body completely wrecked. Now that the intensity is gone, Yoongi just feels full, sticky, and sated. He lets his eyes flutter closed as he sinks deeper into the bedding, shivering as his sweat-slicked skin cools.

Gently, Namjoon begins to maneuver Yoongi onto his side, and Yoongi does his best to comply, aided by the lubrication of his slick and Namjoon's leaking cum to allow the alpha to wiggle around until he is lying behind Yoongi, pulling him close, knot nestled deep.

"We're gonna be here a while," Namjoon mutters close to Yoongi's ear, ghosting warm breath over his neck. "Relax, alright?"

Yoongi yawns, dropping the leather strap from his mouth. He curls slightly in on himself and shivers while Namjoon grabs the fur blanket and wraps it over them. Drool coats his chin, but he does not have the energy to wipe it away.

Had he known all of this would have been so painful and so intimate, Yoongi may have backed out. But he is here now, connected to the alpha in a way he has never felt before, and he allows himself to imagine a life like this – wrapped in Namjoon's warm embrace and loved by the man in a way he could never hope for.

As Yoongi drifts to sleep, he feels Namjoon's large, warm hands rubbing over his hip and arm. He even imagines the alpha leaving soft kisses along his shoulder, neck, and spine.

Oh, the imagination can be so cruel, he thinks, just as he drifts off.

Yoongi wakes up naked and alone.

Although he should not be surprised to find himself in the dark, quiet bungalow all by himself, disappointment hits him in a wave, dragging him into its undertow.

Of course, Namjoon would leave, Yoongi tells himself. Why wouldn't he?

The incense have all burnt out, and the candles seem to have been snuffed. Although the other ritualistic items remain scattered around, there is also a tray of fruit and snacks, and a large glass of water. It seems Jeongguk has stopped by to at least bring him refreshments, but he did not bother to take anything away. Perhaps the items need to stay throughout the pregnancy, Yoongi wonders. In order to appease the gods, or…whatever. Yoongi is unsure.

Yoongi rolls into a seated position, feeling an ache in his limbs and deep in his ass, and he winces and groans as he gets onto his knees on the floor and hobbles over to the low table. He picks up a slice of watermelon and holds it suspended in air as his mind flashes back to earlier, replaying segments over and over like a broken record.

Namjoon calling Yoongi pretty, telling him how good he feels. Namjoon losing control and biting him. A shiver runs up Yoongi's spine, and he blinks away the thoughts as best as he can. He tells himself that it was just alpha rut madness that drove Namjoon to say and do things he otherwise would not. The last thing Yoongi needs is to imagine Namjoon really does have feelings for him.

Yoongi feels exhausted, and lonelier than usual. In the past, whenever he would return from the doctor with the in vitro process complete, he would be medicated and sleepy, but blissful in his loneliness, happy to allow his body to rest and grow a tiny human. But this time, the whole situation feels so personal that Yoongi wants comfort. He wants it so badly, sadness wells in his chest, forcing his exhale to come out shattered.

Yoongi attempts to swallow back the urge to cry, but all at once, the emotions hit like a tsunami, and tears well up and break over in an instant. He sets the piece of watermelon down and hangs his head, anchoring his elbows into the hard wooden table and sobbing with his palms pressed against his eyelids.

All he wants is for Namjoon to return. He wants to be wrapped in the fur blanket and cuddled back to sleep, feeling the soft traces of fingertips and lips against his skin. But Namjoon will not come back, because Namjoon is not his.

The hot flashes and bouts of dizziness that come and go for the next several days keep Yoongi bedridden and frantic. Each time Jeongguk comes with food, Yoongi practically begs him to climb into bed and hold him. He can tell Jeongguk is concerned for his health, but he does not ask if there is more that Yoongi might need. And, truth be told, Yoongi would likely catch a whiff of Jeongguk's non-tangerine, non-cinnamon scent and turn the man away.

Instead, Yoongi buries himself in the satin sheet that reeks of days-old body fluids and hugs the fur close, desperately sniffing for traces of the alpha. He avoids his phone, he does not go for any swims – teetering between madness and sanity while waking up to find the sun has risen or fallen again, unsure how much time has passed.

And then, one day, Yoongi wakes up feeling fine. Not great, but fine. He feels sticky from sweat but is not running hot, and the dizziness seems to have subsided enough that when he gets out of bed, he is able to stand. He feels wobbly from lack of proper eating, but he manages to go to the bathroom and return on steady enough feet.

Candles, incense, stones, wreaths, and statues litter the space, and Yoongi finds that he likes them. He rubs his fingers over pink and dark green crystals, scraping his nails along sharper edges. And he picks up each candle to smell them, finding some of the gentle floral aromas familiar from that night.

That night.

Yoongi takes a fortifying breath and grabs his phone from the table, which has a nearly dead battery. As soon as he turns on the screen, he finds a message from Jeongguk sent a day ago—

Jeongguk The worst of the heat should be over soon. I have been bringing water and checking on you, but you have been sleeping a lot. Let me know when you would like me to bring you a meal, or if you need anything else.

—and several messages from Namjoon.

To Yoongi's surprise, only three days have passed since he and Namjoon performed their tempestuous little ritual. He has no idea how long they were fucking for, nor how long he was asleep after, but it seems Namjoon sent the first message late that evening.

Namjoon Please let Jeongguk or me know if you need anything.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, muttering, "Asshole," under his breath. What he needs is for Namjoon to comfort him. But, of course, that is out of the question.

The rest of his messages had come in the following day, and Yoongi really does not know what to make of them. The first one was sent in the early evening—

Namjoon How are you feeling? Let me know when you wake up.

—followed by a second, sent ten minutes later—

Namjoon I would also like to apologize again, for what happened.

—followed by one sent about twenty minutes later—

Namjoon In fact, maybe we should sit down and have a conversation once you're feeling better.

The last one was sent several hours later, in the middle of the night.

Namjoon Jeongguk says you've been awake, but pretty out of it from the heat. I could visit if you think it could help. Let me know.

Namjoon offering to help Yoongi in the middle of the night makes him feel both excited and annoyed. Does Namjoon think that just because the two of them fucked, Yoongi needs him? He does – of course, he does – but Namjoon does not have to know that. And frankly, if he really wanted to be useful, he could have just shown up. It is not like the bungalow has been locked, and even if Jeongguk had been locking it while Yoongi has been in and out of consciousness, he has a key.

It feels like an empty gesture more than anything. Or a weak man trying to sneak around in the middle of the night because feels indebted to the surrogate who he enjoyed fucking just a little too much.

Yoongi huffs out a scoff and ignores the messages from Namjoon, and instead texts Jeongguk to let him know that he is awake and would like a proper meal and a change of sheets; that he'll be in the shower and Jeongguk should feel free to come right in. It is just after 6 PM, which means he has already cooked dinner and likely served the couple, so bringing him a plate should not take too long.

With that settled, Yoongi tosses his phone to the bed. He eats several pieces of pear, drinks some water, then he peels himself up onto his feet to go into the bathroom.

This shower is just like the one inside the hanok, but it takes some adjusting to find a temperature he agrees with. Despite feeling like the worst of his heat is over, everything is simultaneously too hot and too cold on his skin, and he settles on something ever so slightly too cold and gets in. The water is instantly soothing, and Yoongi groans as it gently beats down on his shoulders and back.

He stands still a little while, just letting the water pour down on him with his eyes closed. Although his treacherous little mind conjures image after image of Namjoon from that night, he somehow manages to feel a little relaxed. He even holds back a snarl when he pumps tangerine-scented shampoo onto his hand and lathers his hair with it.

The mood swings are still rampant, and Yoongi at least has the wherewithal to recognize it. He knows that hating Namjoon and wanting Namjoon are both equally irrational and that there is likely a third other option right in the center of the two that he will settle on as soon as his hormones have evened out just a little. That is, unless the pregnancy hormones make him just as unreasonable.

He rinses, conditions, and rinses again, telling himself that eventually he and Namjoon will need to have a conversation, and that perhaps he should be upfront about possibly needing him around. The least he can do is advocate for himself.

As Yoongi slathers chamomile body wash on his skin, he hears movement out in the bungalow. He had left the bathroom door open a crack so that he would hear Jeongguk's arrival, and thinks he can make out the sounds of a tray being set down on the table and the bedding being changed. Then he hears the door open and close again, and before he can question whether Jeongguk has left, warm musk and tangy tangerine seep in through the air, greeting all of his senses and making his body run hot.

"Is he in here?" Yoongi hears Namjoon ask, and he snickers to himself; how could the alpha be so unobservant?

"In the shower," Jeongguk responds.

"You should let me change those sheets," Namjoon says, and his voice sounds closer to the bathroom.

Yoongi thinks he hears Jeongguk mutter, "I got it," but he is not too sure.

Seconds pass with Yoongi just standing under the warm stream of water, holding his soap-sudded rag in his hand while listening. When Namjoon knocks on the bathroom door, it startles him, making him tense up and gasp.

"Yoongi?" Namjoon calls softly.

Yoongi responds with a, "Hmm?"

More seconds pass, and the scent of musk is much stronger, accented faintly with cinnamon. Then, Namjoon asks, "Do you mind if we talk once you're done?"

Yoongi is not sure he wants to talk to Namjoon at the moment, but if the man is here, he may as well at least hear him out while he eats. It is not as if Namjoon doesn't know he needs to eat; he is certain that Jeongguk brought him a tray of food, and Namjoon has to have seen it.

"Sure," Yoongi responds, finally moving his limbs to finish washing up.

"Alright," Namjoon says. "I'll close the door to give you privacy."

Yoongi scoffs and mutters, "Okay," to himself while the door is gently closed. Sure, it is kind of Namjoon to give him privacy, but it is not like there is any part of him the man has not seen. And Yoongi had not brought a change of clothing into the bathroom with him, so he is going to wind up returning to the room in a towel, anyway.

Voices chatter on the other side of the wall, and although Yoongi is curious, he takes his time rinsing. Then he shuts off the water, reaches past the curtain for a towel, and begins to dry. The door of the bungalow closes, and Yoongi squeezes his hair with the towel, then he wraps it around his hips. He brushes his teeth despite planning to eat right away, because he has no idea when he did so last, and applies some moisturizer to his face.

He is not sure what he expects to see when he exits the bathroom, but he is somewhat surprised to find Namjoon wearing a black tee and black joggers rather than his standard white and grey office attire. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at his phone, and when Yoongi steps out of the fog-filled bathroom, he glances up, eyes widening and cheeks blushing before he averts his gaze.

Yoongi cannot quite identify his myriad feelings, but pride definitely floats around in his tummy, and he bites back a smile while approaching the wooden dresser, eyes ahead as he passes Namjoon.

"Sorry for intruding," Namjoon somewhat mutters, and Yoongi glances over his shoulder to find the alpha's shoulders curled slightly forward while he looks down at his empty hands. "You weren't responding to my messages, and I wanted to check on you."

"It's fine," Yoongi says, pulling out a pair of black briefs and soft light blue pajama pants. He has half a mind to stay shirtless just to see if he can get a rise from the alpha, but grabs a plain white tee and begins sliding his arms into it, instead.

He steps into the black briefs while keeping the towel around his waist, but when the action of pulling the garment to his hips causes the towel to come loose, he allows it to drop to the floor. The heady musk that fills the room is almost instantaneous, and Yoongi bites his bottom lip in an attempt to keep from grinning. As he bends to slowly put on his pajama pants, he glances over his shoulders to find Namjoon still staring down at his hands, which are balled into tight fists.

"Still in your rut?" Yoongi asks while pulling the pants to his hips.

He picks up the towel and walks past Namjoon without looking at him, over to the bathroom to hang the towel on a hook. When he returns, Namjoon is watching him with a stare that is somewhat difficult to read. His brows are pinched, mouth in a slight frown, but there is a softness to his eyes. It almost reminds him of that night, after Namjoon had knotted him, and was rubbing his hair and trying to make him relax.

Yoongi walks to the low table and finds a large salad with chicken, croutons, and a lot of vegetables, as well as a small assortment of pickled vegetables and a bowl of glass noodles on the side. He rounds the table and sits on his knees on the far side, with Namjoon and the bed to his right, and begins to rearrange the items on the table, pulling the tray close.

Namjoon clears his throat quietly and mutters, "I am."

Yoongi snickers, raising his gaze while saying, "I can smell it."

The way Namjoon blinks at him, brow further knitting, nearly makes Yoongi laugh, and he swallows down the urge while picking up his glass of water to have a drink. Cinnamon permeates the air, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, not in the mood to baby a grumpy alpha, if that is what the man is here for.

"I'm glad to see you seem to be feeling better," Namjoon says while Yoongi spears a piece of chicken on his chopstick and chuckles to himself as he lifts it to his mouth. He hums in agreement then fits the entire long strip of chicken sideways between his cheeks, and closes his eyes as he savors the perfect blend of dressing on the delicately seasoned meat.

"Jeongguk mentioned you were pretty out of it for a while," Namjoon continues, and Yoongi uses the metal chopsticks to gather a large bite of lettuce, pepper, and onion.

"Typical heat," Yoongi grumbles before taking a bite. He fights the urge to ask Namjoon if he has ever actually witnessed Wheein experiencing a heat in all their years of being married, deciding it is best not to push him.

Namjoon sighs, and Yoongi turns his gaze to the man, eyebrows raised while he chews.

"Have I done or said something to piss you off?" Namjoon asks, taking Yoongi by surprise.

Cinnamon scent spikes again, spicy with very little sweetness, and Yoongi scrunches up his nose in annoyance, shaking his head.

"No," he responds, swallowing down his bite of food. "Why would you think that?"

Namjoon only stares at him, and Yoongi can see he is torn. He must have something on his mind; something that he wants to say to him, and Yoongi wishes he would just come out and say it.

But Yoongi would rather eat, so eat, he does. If Namjoon wants to speak his mind, the floor is his, but Yoongi is not going to sit around and wait for him. The salad and banchan are delicious and savory, and hit all the spots. Yoongi is grateful for a lighter meal; his stomach is somewhat sensitive, and he already feels pretty full.

Minutes pass while Yoongi finishes his food, and although it is a little weird just having Namjoon sit in the periphery, he finds some comfort in the blend of their scents in the air. It is nice to have another warm body in the room, even if the body belongs to an annoying, impossible-to-read alpha with the best dick game he has ever experienced.

A shiver runs through Yoongi at the thought of Namjoon fucking him, and he does his best to ignore the rush of arousal, but it hangs in the air between them, and there is no doubt Namjoon will be able to smell it, as well.

Yoongi finishes his food and sits back with his palms anchored against the floor, closing his eyes while taking a deep, satisfied breath, feeling happier than he has in a while. Then he opens his eyes and turns to Namjoon. The alpha watches Yoongi with a wide, hungry gaze and an otherwise blank expression.

"What?" Yoongi tries, attempting to sound playful, but Namjoon's stare becomes pointed.

Yoongi attempts a different approach, sitting up and rubbing his palms over his pajama pant legs, suddenly feeling antsy. "You said you wanted to talk to me…what's up?"

Namjoon pats the space beside him, and Yoongi tenses at the thought of joining him on the bed, staring at him while his brain uselessly fails to come up with what he should do.

"Come here," Namjoon says softly, adding in a, "Please," that is more of a command than a question.

With a fortifying breath, Yoongi gets onto his feet and shuffles over. He attempts to put space between them, and is surprised when Namjoon reaches out and takes his hand, pulling him over to sit close. Immediately, Yoongi's palms prickle with sweat, and he has a seat, removing himself from Namjoon's loose hold and clasping his hands over his lap.

Warmth radiates from Namjoon, and his musk is so strong this close, that Yoongi finds himself sinking into a state of comfort and teetering on the edge of arousal. He attempts to breathe through it and get his bearings back, but Namjoon's presence covers him like a warm blanket, causing Yoongi to scramble to the side, scooting away from him.

"Namjoon, I can't—" Yoongi begins, and Namjoon turns to him, gets onto the bed on his hands and knees, and leans in close, sniffing the air loudly. Yoongi's pulse picks up, heavy and fast and suffocating, and he mutters, "What are you doing?"

"I can't stop thinking about you," Namjoon admits so softly, Yoongi wonders if he imagines it.

Desire, guilt, and worry all build in his tummy, and he turns to Namjoon, places both hands on his shoulders, and attempts to push him away. "Well, you need to stop thinking about me," he says through grit teeth, frustrated when Namjoon is not moved even a little. "You have a wife."

"Yoongi," Namjoon huffs, emitting cinnamon and sounding exasperated, "please can we not—"

"What?" Yoongi asks, clipped and angry. "Can we not what?"

With a sigh, Namjoon sits up, then crashes to his hip with his legs bent, feet hanging over the edge of the bed. His gaze is unwavering, and Yoongi squirms in place, turning to bend his legs against the bed and face Namjoon; they definitely need to have a conversation.

"The other night, with you…" Namjoon trails off, gazing flitting back and forth over Yoongi's face. He swallows hard and looks away, playing with the fur blanket that covers the bed with his fingertips. His voice is soft and low as he continues.

"I know I shouldn't be telling you this. I know that I should just swallow everything down and try to ignore it, but…" Namjoon lifts his eyes, and they appear sad. "Yoongi, I…I think I am developing feelings for you."

A deep, angry scoff works its way from Yoongi's chest and stomach, and it huffs between his lips with the force of a tiny storm. He knows it has to be Namjoon's rut clouding his lust-addled brain, and the fact that he could so flippantly toy with Yoongi's emotions after what he has been through living in this weird fucking homestead, has sadness boiling in his guts.

"How dare you," he mutters before he can stop himself.

Namjoon's eyebrows fly to his forehead, and he appears sympathetic albeit confused. "Yoongi, wait, what do you—"

"I need you to get out," Yoongi says, gripping onto the material of his pajama pants while his gaze falters and he looks instead to the fur covering the bed. "We can discuss things more when your rut is over, but right now, you are clearly not in your right mind, and you are talking nonsense. You shouldn't have come here."

Yoongi expects the room to be drenched in cinnamon and is surprised by the calming wave of heady, lust-laced musk and tangerine that fills his senses. His own arousal blends in, punctuated by pomegranate.

"Yoongi, please—"

"Namjoon," Yoongi attempts to sound firm, but his voice trembles, "You can't think about me. You can't have feelings for me." Tears well in his eyes, which he closes as he whimpers, "It's not fair."

Before he can stop himself, tears break over his eye line, and he pulls his hands to his face to cover himself, embarrassed and confused and so fucking tired. Namjoon shifts on the bed, and as Yoongi can sense him getting closer, he attempts to twist away, but he is wrapped in a tight embrace that only serves to make him cry harder.

"Yoongi," Namjoon coos softly, rubbing a hand over Yoongi's damp hair while the other is wrapped tightly around his back, pinning his arms in place. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry."

"It's not fair," Yoongi mutters again. He does not want to explain himself – does not want to admit to the alpha that he has feelings for him – but he cannot hold back. "You can't just say things like that to me. This isn't a game, Namjoon."

"Hey," Namjoon says, leaning back and sliding his hands until both grip his biceps. "Yoongi, look at me."

Yoongi shakes his head, digging his palms into his cheeks in a refusal to let Namjoon see him cry. But then Namjoon asks a soft, "Please," that cuts to his core, and Yoongi spreads his fingers to peer through, regarding Namjoon as little as possible.

"I'm not messing with you," Namjoon says sternly, intently. "I know that it might come as a surprise to you that I have feelings, but…I can't help it."

Yoongi opens his mouth, ready to remind Namjoon that being married to someone means he cannot go around having feelings for every omega he has ritualistic sex with, but Namjoon gives his arms a soft squeeze with brows pinched and mouth falling open, and Yoongi waits for him to speak again. He looks like he knows he should not say whatever he plans to tell Yoongi next, which only raises his anxiety more.

"Wheein and I…fuck, this is going to make me sound like a fucking asshole."

Yoongi cannot help it, he chuckles – humorless but amused all the same – as he rubs his hands over his cheeks and lets them fall to his lap, saying, "Spit it out."

"Marrying Wheein was a political move," Namjoon says quickly, eyes on the wall behind Yoongi. "And, I don't know…maybe we used to enjoy each other's company, but…"

Yoongi's jaw sets, and he tongues the inside of his mouth. A dizzying mix of mirth and vitriol stir in the air, spicy with no sweetness to be found. "So you think having a baby will patch things up? Wouldn't a divorce be more effective?"

He can tell by the way Namjoon's eyes widen and pierce that he has struck a nerve, and is surprised to find only calming scents coming from the alpha. "It's not that easy, Yoongi," he mutters softly, almost as if he is ashamed. Or, perhaps, resolved.

"Because you're a political figure," Yoongi responds, rolling his eyes. "Gods forbid the public witnesses their leader create healthy boundaries by filing a divorce. Oh, what will the citizens do if something such as divorce becomes more normalized?"

"I don't want to make a public spectacle of myself, Yoongi," Namjoon says with a hint of a snarl, tainting the air with sharp spice.

"No," Yoongi responds, eyes heavy from crying, shoulders raising defensively as he crosses his arms over his chest. "You would rather invite me here instead and make a quieter spectacle of me. Do you even want a child? Or were you just looking for someone to fuck?"

Namjoon heaves his next exhale and sits up straight, eyes trailing around the room almost as if he does not recognize his surroundings. Then he stands and scoffs, face morphing from incredulous anger to a dull amusement.

"Yeah," Namjoon says suddenly, getting to his feet and sliding his hands into his pockets. "You're right, I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have…told you…" With an exhale and a shake of his head, Namjoon crosses the room and walks out, closing the door softly behind him.

Yoongi feels sad, overwhelmed, and so terribly amused; all he can do is squeeze a pillow tight to his chest and laugh.

For two days, Yoongi stays holed up in the bungalow. He finally takes out his laptop to catch up on a drama he had been watching before, and starts feeling much better, fully coming out of the haze of his heat and physically feeling like he has more energy.

Today, he decides to go for a swim. The sun is shining bright, and when Jeongguk arrived to drop off lunch forty-ish minutes ago, a hot gust of air came in through the door, inviting Yoongi to dip into the warm pool.

Yoongi changes into black swim shorts and a black tee, tying his overgrown dark hair into a bun atop his head. He walks to the bathroom to grab a fresh towel, and goes to the door, opening it wide with a smile on his face. To his surprise and chagrin, Wheein is in the pool while Namjoon is laid out on a pool bed, under a wide umbrella, reading a book.

Hesitance stops Yoongi in his tracks, and he nearly changes his mind and returns to the bungalow when Wheein shouts, "Oh my god, Yoongi! Are you joining us?"

Although Yoongi keeps his gaze on Wheein, he can see Namjoon moving in the peripheral, and he nods, takes a fortifying breath, and closes the bungalow door tight behind him. He walks past Namjoon through a cloud of cinnamon and musk, over to the pool chairs near the far corner, and tosses his towel aside.

Then he pulls his shirt over his head, wrapping his arms around his torso the moment the garment is flung to the chair, and quickly pads over to the steps, wasting no time getting into the water and squatting low so that it reaches his neck, careful not to let the bite mark on his inner thigh show.

Wheein bounces over wearing a flashy red bathing suit and large black sunglasses. She has a wide smile plastered to her face, and she opens her arms wide, flinging droplets of water while pulling Yoongi into a tight hug, forcing him to stand up straight.

"Oh my god, it's so nice to see you again," Wheein says as she pins Yoongi's arms to his sides in a warm embrace. "How was the…you know…ritual?"

"Uh," Yoongi mutters, laughing uncomfortably.

Wheein releases the hug and takes a step back, lifting her sunglasses to her head.

"Was it so awkward?" she asks with a curious smile. "Joonie said it was pretty awkward."

Yoongi does his best to school his thoughts and keep his scent as neutral as possible while he chuckles, shrugs, and says, "I guess so, yeah. It was pretty awkward."

He laughs a little, feeling his cheeks blaze as he adds, "Namjoon was polite and professional," wincing inwardly and wishing he had kept that part off.

For just a split, fleeting moment, Yoongi thinks Wheein's smile falters. Her gaze flits to Namjoon, and Yoongi wonders what she may be thinking about. But then she turns back to Yoongi looking happy as ever, and says, "I'm so glad to hear that. I really am so happy that you're the one helping us."

Yoongi nods, feeling a swelling of emotions. He does his best to only emit calm and hopes she does not notice the slightly sour hints of pomegranate. Luckily, her lavender is nice and strong, with only faintly-detected hints of bitter patchouli.

A loud ringing echoes through the space, coming from Namjoon's direction, and Yoongi turns instinctively, watching as he stands – wearing only black swim shorts – cradling his book with a finger holding his place.

"Break time's over," Namjoon calls before walking off toward the house in all his muscular, tanned glory, and Yoongi swallows a lump as he pulls his gaze away.

Wheein sighs and wraps her arm over Yoongi's shoulders, pout audible as she says, "I was just about to offer you a glass of wine, but you might be pregnant."

And although Yoongi chuckles and says, "Darn," the fact sinks into his guts like heavy bricks.

He might be pregnant.

For several more days, Yoongi spends his time between watching dramas and swimming. He has learned that Namjoon has begun to transition most of his work duties to be done remotely, from home – presumably to be present during the pregnancy – and that he takes an hour-long lunch break that includes swimming and reading by the pool between 1:30 PM and 2:30 PM.

Yoongi makes sure to swim no sooner than 3 PM, but no later than 5 PM, just to be safe. That way, if the alpha takes one of his evening runs, it is usually long after Yoongi has returned inside. Most days, he is alone, but Wheein seems to be taking an interest in at least coming outside to say hi and chit-chat.

On the tenth day after the ritual, Yoongi and Jeongguk drive into the city for a doctor's appointment. And although Jeongguk is kind, funny, and a decent conversationalist, there is a part of Yoongi that wishes Namjoon would be able to play a more active role in all of this. Of course, he cannot, because if the media caught a whiff of the two of them at the appointment, it would cause a stir that Namjoon is trying to avoid.

He and Namjoon have not spoken since the day they had their argument, but Yoongi still wishes his calming alpha scents and familiar, soft voice were present while they sit in the sterile, fluorescent waiting room. He wishes Namjoon could hold his hand tight while he waits on the paper-clad operating table for the doctor to return with his urine and blood sample results.

When the doctor says, "Congratulations, Min Yoongi-ssi. You're going to be a parent!" Yoongi wishes Namjoon could wrap him in a warm, tight hug.

Yoongi does not hide the tears that fall when he and Jeongguk return to the car, and he is grateful when the beta quietly drives to an ice cream shop and tells Yoongi, "Anything you want. It's on me."

He is grateful when he is handed a fish-shaped pastry full of melon soft-serve, and grateful that neither of them speaks the rest of the way to the hanok. At least he can hide away in the bungalow and be alone with his thoughts.

And he nearly gets through the night streaming television blissfully alone, eating his feelings, until, at 11:16 PM, there is a familiar knock at his door.

"Yeah? Come in." Yoongi calls with a sigh, tapping his fingertips to the space key to pause the episode before deciding he may as well just close his laptop and push it aside.

It has been rather hot the last few days, and Yoongi only wears a pair of light blue briefs and a black tee. When the door opens, he bends his legs and wraps his arms around his knees, resting his head on one knee, facing Namjoon, who walks in and closes the door quietly behind him.

Namjoon is dressed in grey sweatpants and a white tee, and he appears to hesitate before entering, then approaches the bed.

"Do you want more furniture?" Namjoon asks, glancing around before having a seat at the end of the bed. "Or are you comfortable here?"

"Is this what you came to ask me about in the middle of the night?" Yoongi responds somewhat groggily.

"No," Namjoon mutters, surprising Yoongi with a soft smile, emitting warm musk. "I suppose it is not."

Although Namjoon hesitates as he sits on the corner of the bed with his legs pretzeled and his back slumped slightly forward, he also seems much more calm and collected than the last time he was here. Yoongi wonders if he has come to apologize for everything from before, and he braces himself for Namjoon to once again tell him that what had happened was a mistake – a product of his rut and nothing more.

"I thought I would come by because…well, we both owe one another an apology."

Yoongi snickers but nods, accepting that what he said before was probably not necessary or kind in any way.

"I also wanted to congratulate you," Namjoon says much softer, gaze finding his.

All at once, Yoongi feels choked up, and he swallows it down, burying his face between his knees for a couple of seconds before changing the way he is sitting to mirror Namjoon, with his legs in a pretzel and his back straight.

"Congratulations to you two, as well," Yoongi mutters, voice much shakier than he would like.

Silence hangs, and although it does not feel heavy, Yoongi suddenly wants to curl into a ball and close his eyes to the world. He feels overcome with sadness and a little bit of excitement for the life he carries.

Unable to hold in his emotions, Yoongi hugs his arms tightly around himself, lets his chin fall to his chest, and heaves out a shaky exhale. He is so tired of crying, but cannot help the tears that build and fall. At this point, he no longer cares if Namjoon sees him like this.

Namjoon stands and walks to the door, and for a split moment, Yoongi wonders if he is going to leave him. Maybe he thinks coming here was a mistake and he cannot stand watching the omega cry, yet again.

But Namjoon locks the door and returns to the bed, tilting his head as he quietly asks, "Are you tired? Do you want to lay down?"

Yoongi shakes his head, although it is not entirely true; he is tired. But he is not interested in lying down just yet. Not if Namjoon has more that he wants to say to him.

"May I?" Namjoon asks, opening his arms and lifting one knee to the bed.

Without allowing himself to overthink it, Yoongi nods. And when Namjoon gets onto the bed behind him with his legs on either side of Yoongi and his arms wrapped around his shoulders, Yoongi sinks into the feeling, breathing in the calming scents that waft from the alpha, and letting his tears fall freely.

Namjoon is warm, and he holds Yoongi just tightly enough that he feels protected and safe. Although the knowledge of all of this having an end date looms overhead, Yoongi allows himself to pretend that it can be his.

Gently, Namjoon rakes fingernails over Yoongi's head, making him practically purr from how nice it feels. He has no idea how long they sit tangled together, but Yoongi sniffles and breathes deeply as the tears dry, catching his breath a little more easily.

"Want to tell me why you're crying?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi scoffs.

He practically asks Namjoon why he cares but settles on, "This is all just…a lot."

Namjoon hums and continues to gently scratch at his head, and Yoongi closes his eyes while considering how much he should divulge. Would it be worth it to tell Namjoon that he really has been developing feelings, and that is why he acted so irrationally the last time the alpha was here? He thinks it would, but struggles to find the words.

Suddenly, the warmth and comfort of Namjoon's embrace feels like too much, and he shrugs away the arm over his shoulders and sits up. Without turning to face the alpha, Yoongi closes his eyes and says, "I do owe you an apology."

Namjoon rubs a hand over Yoongi's back and he flinches slightly, finding himself feeling bothered by how kind he is being despite everything. Or, perhaps, only bothered by how badly he wishes he could have this affection full-time and not just in bursts.

"I'm sorry for what I said. What goes on under your roof is your business, not mine. But what you said really struck a nerve with me."

Namjoon hums and asks, "Because you don't feel the same way about me, I assume?"

Yoongi's heart pounds heavily as he twists and assesses the soft, daresay caring expression Namjoon regards him with. He frowns and furrows his brow, and all he can respond with is, "What?"

Namjoon sighs, cocks his head to the side, and with a soft smile says, "I meant what I said, you know. And I apologize if that was something that you didn't want or need to hear at the time. I can't imagine how weird it must have been for me to confess my feelings after we have hardly gotten to know each other outside of…well…you know…the ritual."

Yoongi's brain buffers. He struggles to accept any of what Namjoon has just said, and once more, only has the ability to ask, "What?"

This time, Namjoon falters, and he looks confused. "I'm…not sure what was unclear, but—"

Yoongi shakes his head and waves his hands, desperate for Namjoon to shut the fuck up before he incriminates both of their hearts even more. He opens his mouth to argue and insist that Namjoon must only think he has feelings because of the heightened emotion surrounding his rut, but instead, Yoongi blurts, "But I do have feelings for you," taking them both by surprise.

"I mean—" Yoongi says, heavy-blinking and shaking his head as he comes to his senses, "—fuck, why did I say that out loud?"

Namjoon's eyes are wide as disks, and he reaches up, gently cradling Yoongi's face with an expression that oozes affection. Yoongi shakes his head in tiny, quick movements and turns away, shrugging off the hands that touch him.

"We can't," Yoongi mutters, eyes wide and glued to the black sheet that folds over the edge of the mattress and disappears. He repeats it again, softly, like a mantra. "We can't."

Namjoon's hands rub over the slopes of Yoongi's shoulders and gently tugs him back. And as much as Yoongi wants to resist and shove the alpha away, he allows himself to be wrapped into a back hug. When Namjoon's hot breath sighs against his neck, stirring up a familiar swell of arousal, he squeezes his eyes closed, doing his best to ignore the soft but present heady blend of scents that shroud them.

"We shouldn't," Namjoon responds, voice breathy and a bit distant. "Once with you should be enough."

Yoongi hums and nods. "Once has to be enough."

It is silent save for the pounding of Namjoon's heart against Yoongi's ear, and he begins to drift asleep, half-seated and half-lying when he hears Namjoon ask, soft enough to nearly be a whisper, "But what if it's not?"

Yoongi wakes up with his face on Namjoon's chest and gasps, scrambling back while holding in the urge to scream. He remembers Namjoon coming in last night but has no memory of the two of them lying down together and falling asleep.

The movement startles Namjoon awake, who regards him with wide, worried eyes before he huffs out a quiet chuckle and stretches his arms over his head, asking, "What time is it?"

Yoongi feels frantic and afraid, and he looks around for his phone, finding it on the low wooden table and haphazardly dropping to his knees on the floor to grab it.

"7:02," Yoongi says, turning back to Namjoon to gauge whether or not the alpha is going to be in a lot of shit for not returning to his bed last night.

Namjoon, however, has the fabric of his shirt pinched between two fingers, right near his pec, inspecting a spot in the fabric. He looks at Yoongi with an amused smile and says, "You drool in your sleep. Cute."

"Cu—" Yoongi starts, already tired of this day before it has had a chance to begin. "Shouldn't you get back to your room? You stayed the night!"

Although Namjoon chuckles in response, his eyes are somewhat sad when he says, "We often don't share a bed. It's fine."

"Oh," Yoongi responds, feeling a bit sullen. "But what about Jeongguk? Doesn't he have a key?"

Namjoon holds his arm out across the bed and pats the mattress invitingly. "He does, but he wouldn't come in here without permission if the door is locked. And you can always message and tell him to bring you breakfast later this morning."

Yoongi stands and returns to bed against his better judgment, clutching his phone tight. He supposes he could message Jeongguk. Or he could insist Namjoon get the fuck out of the bungalow and leave him to stew in last night's confessions alone.

But Namjoon is handsome, warm, and smells like heaven, and he crawls back to the center of the bed and allows himself to be pulled down against his muscular, drool-spotted chest.

Only, Namjoon rolls them over, flipping Yoongi onto his back while he hovers above, burying his nose against Yoongi's neck and down to his armpit, sniffling like a madman. Yoongi chuckles and shoves Namjoon away, only for the alpha to make more of a show of smelling him.

"What are you doing?" he complains despite his smile.

"You're addicting," Namjoon groans, nuzzling against Yoongi's neck, tickling him with a faint pass of lips against skin.

"What?" Yoongi asks through a laugh, jerking his head away.

Namjoon wraps his arms around Yoongi and yanks him until he is on his side and the two of them are facing one another. He feels somewhat crazed from all the attention – from how grabby the alpha is – and he buries his face between Namjoon's shoulder and the pillow.

"You smell even better after sweating all night," Namjoon responds in that deep inviting tone that makes Yoongi want to dive into a frozen lake.

Petulant, Yoongi whines, "Shut the fuck up," earning him a laugh.

Yoongi feels tired and begins to drift in and out of sleep as he and Namjoon settle into their tangled positions, with Namjoon returning to his back and Yoongi fitting perfectly against his side.

When he wakes again, Namjoon is slowly sliding from his hold and sitting up in bed.

"Hmm?" Yoongi grumbles, wiping drool from his face.

"Gotta get to work," Namjoon says.

"Oh."

Yoongi rolls onto his back and stretches his limbs out long, then he sits and rolls his shoulders back. He feels deep, empty heaviness as hunger pangs settle like gunpowder in his stomach.

"I should message Jeongguk," he grumbles, mostly to himself.

"I already did," Namjoon responds as he crawls out of the foot end of the bed and passes a hand over his dark brown hair.

It takes a moment for the words to catch up, and Yoongi gasps, asking, "You what?"

"Relax," Namjoon says, rounding the bed and approaching Yoongi's side, taking a seat beside him. His dimples show as he smiles softly, eyes roving Yoongi's face. "He tried the door shortly after you fell back asleep, and I let him know that we were having a private conversation but that I would let him know when to return."

"Oh." It sounds simple enough, Yoongi supposes. "But what if he suspects—"

Namjoon shakes his head and cuts him off. "Don't worry about Jeongguk."

"Okay," Yoongi mutters, unconvinced.

Before he can say anything more, Namjoon leans and plants a soft kiss to Yoongi's temple, causing the world to screech to a halt. Air gets caught in Yoongi's lungs, and he stares at Namjoon unable to process what just happened.

"Have a good day, Yoongi. You should come swim at 1:30 today."

Yoongi nods, still dazed. "Oh…okay."

And with that, Namjoon gets up and leaves. Yoongi stares ahead for several minutes, interrupted by a familiar knock, thankful to find the resident beta carrying a tray of omelet and tea.

As he gets up to sit on one of the yellow-brown cushions, the spot on his head still tingles, and Yoongi finds himself fixated on how soft the alpha's lips are against his skin.

Yoongi checks his phone over and over all morning and afternoon in anticipation to go out to the pool. He even gets dressed in his swim shorts and a black tee twenty minutes early and opens the bungalow door a crack to let in some warm afternoon air.

At 1:30 on the dot, he hears the hanok door open and close, and he gets up from his floor cushion in a rush and scampers into the bathroom for a towel. Then he stops in his tracks in the bathroom and forces himself to breathe deeply in and out. He does not need to walk out into the blazing afternoon sun reeking of desperation, especially if Wheein or Jeongguk are around.

When Yoongi finally steps out of the bungalow, Namjoon is sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, wearing only a pair of black shorts while staring ahead, softly kicking his feet. Yoongi's presence makes him look up with a start, and the wide smile that spreads over his lips kicks up Yoongi's pulse, undoing all the calm breathing he had done moments ago. The sight of Namjoon's nude sun-kissed torso alone has his cheeks turning warm.

"Fancy seeing you here," Yoongi grumbles playfully as he tosses his towel to a chair near Namjoon and peels out of his shirt.

Namjoon anchors himself onto his hands and slides into the pool, going all the way underwater before returning. He is deep enough that the water comes to his pecs, and he waves for Yoongi to get in. Yoongi approaches the deep end and throws his hands over his head to dive in shallowly, just below the surface, sucking in a breath the moment his fingers breach the water, and smiling to himself as he huffs out the lungful of air.

When he stands, Namjoon is wading over to where he is, and he backs up instinctively, bouncing with every step and changing course in a bit of a zig-zag while the alpha approaches. Namjoon has a sharp, mischievous smile, and every one of Yoongi's nerves is on high alert.

"I feel like I'm being stalked by a shark," Yoongi jokes as he makes quick steps backward, only for Namjoon to make wide, swift steps forward.

"We're canidae, Yoongi," Namjoon teases, "not fish."

Yoongi finds himself cornered, too distracted by the advancing alpha to keep track of where he is going. When Namjoon lunges forward, caging him in with his arms on either side of Yoongi's shoulders, Yoongi screams and laughs – chest heavy and so full of joy. Namjoon steps in close, knocking their knees together as he chuckles deeply, and hits Yoongi with a dizzying scent of heady musk.

His voice sends a shiver through Yoongi as he says, "Seems I have you cornered, pretty omega."

Unable to hold back from panicking, Yoongi looks between the hanok and Namjoon, waiting for someone to come walking out and find them like this. Finally, while quaking with anxiety, he turns his head to the side and mutters, "What if someone sees us."

Namjoon's arms slip into the pool, and his head disappears underwater for just a moment as he bends and wraps his arms around Yoongi's thighs, lifting him as he stands. Yoongi yelps and instinctively wraps his arms and legs around the alpha, squirming and squealing in his hold.

"They went on an errand," Namjoon says, dripping wet with his hair in his face, hands rubbing over Yoongi's ass while he presses Yoongi back against the wall. He leans close, speaking directly into Yoongi's ear as he adds, "They won't be back for a few hours."

"N-Namjoon," Yoongi mutters, dazed by the pheromones that ooze from the alpha but also worried about the kinds of lines they may be crossing. "We shouldn't—" he mutters, swallowing a lump. "We can't."

Namjoon rakes his teeth and lips over Yoongi's scent gland, and his body reacts so strongly – quaking and tingling and oozing with musk – he finds himself whimpering and clawing at Namjoon's shoulder.

"I know it's wrong," Namjoon groans. "But I can't keep my hands off of you."

Blood rushes to Yoongi's cock, and with every hot breath that ghosts over his neck, his hips shiver and rut. He can feel how hard Namjoon is every time one of them moves even the slightest amount, and he plants his hands on Namjoon's shoulders when his desire becomes too overwhelming, attempting to push him away.

"We can't do this out here," Yoongi says, somewhat frantic. "Even if they left, it's too risky."

"Where can we do it?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi knows he should not invite him back to the bungalow – knows that the only correct answer is nowhere; they cannot do this anywhere, under any circumstances.

But he swallows thickly and says, "Inside," before he can stop himself, closing his eyes as guilt sloshes around his insides.

In a swift movement, Yoongi is lifted and placed onto the edge of the pool. He flails, confused by what is happening until his butt meets rough, warm gunite.

Namjoon's pupils are blown wide, and he grins as he says, "Better run, little omega. If I catch you, I might just eat you."

All at once, Yoongi's anxiety and arousal reach new, horrifying heights, and he scrambles to his feet and runs around the pool to where his towel and shirt are. Namjoon wastes no time hoisting himself from the pool, water pouring from his body as he gets to his feet and stalks Yoongi around the deep end, causing Yoongi to scramble and run in the opposite direction of the bungalow, near the shallow end.

"Where are you going, pretty Yoongi?" Namjoon teases in a growl, walking just a little faster to where his towel also hangs draped over a nearby chair.

Once the towel is in hand, Namjoon runs toward Yoongi, making him scream from excitement as he darts around the shallow end of the pool and takes off the long way toward the bungalow. Namjoon spins on his heels – closer to the bungalow than the shallow end – and takes chase, making Yoongi feel frantic as he opens the door wide and slams it shut.

Feeling somewhat guilty about standing on the hardwood floor dripping wet, Yoongi hurriedly towels himself off, staring eagerly at the door, which opens fast and wide, revealing a wet, hungry alpha.

Namjoon wastes no time closing the door, locking the knob, and crossing the space in two swift steps, wrapping his arms around Yoongi's waist before sinking to his knees. The look in his eyes is dark and full of lust, and Yoongi trembles where he stands, heart beating frantically in his chest.

"Namjoon, what—" Yoongi begins, watching as the alpha's eyes trail down his naked torso, to the bulge in his shorts, then drift lower, to the bruise on his thigh. He looks sad, and he leans forward and places a soft kiss over the skin.

Yoongi's eyelids flutter closed at the feeling of Namjoon's mouth pressing into the sensitive spot. He wonders how long a mark like that might stay, and how much harder he would have had to bite in order for it to be a mating mark – on his neck, of course; not his thigh.

Curiously, Yoongi opens his eyes and begins to inspect Namjoon's shoulders and neck for his mating mark. When he finds nothing on either side, he dances his fingertips over the skin beside Namjoon's throat, absentmindedly muttering, "You don't have one."

Confusion stirs in Namjoon's lifted gaze before recognition settles. He scoffs and shakes his head, and then – with a sadness in his eyes – says, "I told you…we're not in love."

Even in today's society, with things being done in less traditional ways, the one act that people still hold onto is mating marks. They say the bond between mated pairs is less intense than it once was, and it is even common to meet younger folks with marks who are single, and folks with more than one. But not marking at all, after years of marriage, is practically unheard of. Especially for a traditionalist like Namjoon, who will not even have a surrogate carry his child in vitro.

Yoongi feels sad at the thought of Namjoon being in a loveless marriage all these years, and he rubs his fingertips over the alpha's cheek before sitting down on the edge of the bed, bringing the two of them closer to being eye-level.

"What are we going to do?" Yoongi mumbles, unsure what precisely he is asking for, or what Namjoon can even say.

"I don't know," Namjoon responds. "Let's just…take it one day at a time."

Yoongi nods, feeling affection burst and bloom behind his ribs. And when Namjoon sits high on his knees and says, "Turn around, I want to taste you," Yoongi does not think twice.

Namjoon peels away Yoongi's soaked shorts and tosses them aside, groaning as he spreads him with both hands and licks over his slick entrance, causing Yoongi to sink forward into the mattress, legs hanging off the edge of the bed, completely enraptured in bliss. For a split moment, Yoongi questions whether he should stop this, but he does not dare; not when Namjoon makes him feel so good.

Namjoon is slow and steady as he eats Yoongi out, twisting fingers inside him while his tongue and lips lap and swirl and suck.

"Tastes so good," he says intermittently, making Yoongi's tummy do a backflip. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about this."

Yoongi sees stars when Namjoon flips him over and takes his cock deep into his throat, gagging himself while sucking eagerly, pulling Yoongi's release from him in an unfurling of time and space that has his body suspended in pleasure and intoxicating desire. He sobs and whimpers as he cums down Namjoon's throat, gripping tightly to his wet hair while his body trembles and quakes.

And when the shrill alarm on the alpha's phone blares just in time, letting him know his lunch break is over, Yoongi feels satisfied as Namjoon plants a soft kiss to his temple and leaves the bungalow in as much of a flurry as he arrived.

Some nights, Namjoon sneaks into the bungalow nice and late to fuck Yoongi until he cries, always pulling out before he knots, sometimes only using his hands and mouth to make him completely fall apart.

"I thought about you all day," Namjoon always says as his fingers dig into soft skin, and he takes and takes, pulling pleasure from Yoongi as if it is his lifeblood – always greedy, always reverent.

Other nights, Namjoon comes by just to hold him and talk with him about remedial stuff. What music they like, what movies they have recently seen, any memorable events that have happened since high school. The more Yoongi gets to know the alpha, the more he finds himself falling for him, and although the heated nights are his favorites, he cherishes these softer moments – holds them close to his heart.

Namjoon arrives some days with his tray of lunch and tea instead of Jeongguk, always quick to check Yoongi's forehead and ask how he feels. Most days, when Yoongi joins Namjoon poolside, nobody else is around, and they can speak and giggle softly while Yoongi wades against the wall with his arms on the gunite floor, and Namjoon sits in his chair, holding onto the same book he has hardly made progress on for weeks.

The two of them have taken to licking over one another's scent glands, but they have never kissed on the mouth. There seems to be an unspoken boundary that neither of them is willing to cross, and Yoongi thinks it is probably best, this way. Kissing is too intimate, he tells himself, knowing in his heart that so many other moments between them are, as well. Kissing, he decides, is too sacred.

Tonight, Yoongi lays on Namjoon's chest, both naked while the alpha combs his fingers through his hair, on the edge of sleep but eager to stay awake a little longer just to bask in his presence. His tummy is still flat, but he can feel his body changing; he has even begun to get sick some mornings.

Nights like these, laying in Namjoon's arms, are a perfect way to end otherwise tempestuous days.

"You know…" Namjoon mutters against the crown of Yoongi's head, and Yoongi hums in response. "We never signed that contract."

Yoongi chuckles and pulls Namjoon closer, nuzzling his head against his sweaty bare pec. "I know. I think about it sometimes."

"Remember the argument we had, when you were still in the main house?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi buries his face against him and laughs.

"Oh, gods, don't remind me."

"You insulted me as an alpha," Namjoon chuckles, holding Yoongi tighter, "and then I stormed in there and you…were you turned on, or something? I swear, I could smell it; you made me dizzy."

With a whiny, embarrassed groan, Yoongi shoves at Namjoon, attempting to roll away, only for his alpha to wrap his arms tight around his back and pull him close.

"You looked so fucking hot when you were angry," Yoongi mutters, feeling his cheeks warm.

Namjoon laughs some more, and Yoongi flails, indignant and slapping the alpha's chest with open palms while laughing, as well – hands striking only hard enough to make Namjoon take him by the wrists, roll him over, and pin him down.

"Is this what you wanted me to do to you?" Namjoon growls when he gets Yoongi onto his back with his arms held beside his head, pinning him to the mattress while he kisses his neck, his clavicle, his chest, going lower and lower until the grip on his wrists falls away.

"Gods, yes," Yoongi whimpers as arousal and excitement pool and slosh inside him, pouring out in a heady musk, inviting Namjoon to do anything he wants.

Namjoon growls as he nips and kisses Yoongi's tummy, to his hip bone, which is always so ticklish, making Yoongi squirm. Ordinarily, the alpha would spread his legs wide and lift his hips, bending him in half to taste his slick. But tonight, Namjoon stops right at his belly button, lips gently pressed into his skin, and he stares at Yoongi as if lost in thought.

Yoongi lifts his head to find Namjoon cradling his tummy while slowly planting kisses against it, and he anchors himself on his elbows as he asks, "Everything alright?"

With a heavy blink, Namjoon nods and lifts his head to smile, but there is a sadness lingering in his eyes, and Yoongi sits up further, reaching down to rub the backs of his fingers over Namjoon's cheek.

"What is it?" Yoongi asks, and Namjoon gets up onto his hands and knees and hovers over Yoongi, caging him in with his head just above his chest.

"Have you ever wanted to raise a child?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi freezes, feeling the air slowly get sucked from his lungs.

Truth be told, no. He has not.

"I don't…know…" Yoongi tries, worried about being too honest; worried that if he says no, Namjoon may no longer want him.

Namjoon watches him for a quiet moment, then kisses his chest and lower, down to his belly, hips, and thighs, soft and slow. When he finally rolls Yoongi around and pulls him onto his knees, thighs spread wide, he is unhurried, taking his time building Yoongi up and pushing him over the edge, again and again, until he is overstimulated and begging Namjoon to stop.

The night before his eight-week checkup, Yoongi is frantic and hormonal, desperate for Namjoon to knot him and make him scream. Namjoon hesitates at first, clearly scared of hurting Yoongi, but he begs on his hands and knees, choking down Namjoon's thick length until it is achingly hard and ready for him.

Namjoon props a pillow under Yoongi's ass and fucks him rough – hard and fast like the first night, fingers and mouth possessive and harsh against his soft skin. Although Yoongi has not begun to show, Namjoon is careful of his tummy, keeping his hands on his hips, thighs, pecs, and throat.

The punishing pace of Namjoon's hips has Yoongi swaying and whimpering deliriously while his body is slightly arched, head digging back against a pillow. Namjoon always fucks Yoongi like each time could be the last, but he seems to hold back, never squeezing too hard or thrusting too fast. Tonight, Yoongi needs it. He begs and pleads until Namjoon gives it to him so good that he can only whimper and sob, crazed and practically non-verbal.

"Gonna cum, pretty," Namjoon grunts, hips stuttering. "Are you sure you can take it?"

Yoongi nods frantically before muttering, "Please," barely able to get the word out.

One large, warm hand travels over Yoongi's side, up to his neck, and around to the back of his head, gripping a fistful of hair. Namjoon lifts Yoongi's neck, pulling him upward, and Yoongi nods somewhat maniacally, on the verge of cuming and so dreadfully entranced by the sight of his alpha.

"I'm gonna—" Namjoon grunts, squeezing his eyes closed before opening them wide, brow knitting desperately. "Fuck, Yoongi, I'm gonna—"

Namjoon bows his back, sweat glistening down his neck, chest, and stomach. He groans and heaves out quick bursts of air, and then he bends forward, filling Yoongi with his hot release – spurt after spurt, mixing with all the slick, which Yoongi can feel dripping from him.

And then, the knot begins, and immediately, it is so overwhelming, Yoongi starts to scramble and squeal, squeezing his eyes closed while he breathes heavy and fast. Tears break, and just when he thinks he cannot take anymore, Namjoon grips onto his hard, leaking cock, rolling his palm over the head.

"Fuck, yes!" Yoongi screams as his orgasm rolls through him like molten lava in his veins, and he trembles and sobs, convulsing in Namjoon's hold, bending further forward as his release sprays over his tummy.

Namjoon's knot continues growing, and as Yoongi's high begins to subside, oversensitivity sets in, causing him to panic; feeling amazing in the worst way possible.

Namjoon looks maniacal as he leans forward, wraps his arms around Yoongi's back, and growls, "Bite me."

"Wh—what?" Yoongi asks, dazed and dizzy and being torn asunder.

The scent Namjoon emits is so cloyingly sweet and thick on Yoongi's tongue that he finds himself chasing it – leaning forward, suspended by Namjoon, who aids in pulling him close. Yoongi opens his mouth and grazes his lips over the alpha's neck but hesitates. He wants to bite him so badly, but that would be an act of staking claim on him, and he is not sure that he can do it.

A scream rips through Yoongi as the knot continues to expand, and he buries his face in the junction between Namjoon's shoulder and neck, attempting to muffle the sound. Namjoon grips onto Yoongi's hair tight with his fist and holds him against his salty sweat-slick skin.

"Bite me, omega," he insists.

The pain reaches its peak, and Yoongi whimpers, trembling and frantic. He knows that he has to bite in order to stave off the pain. He cannot hold back any longer.

With a pitchy roar, Yoongi opens his mouth wide, closes over Namjoon's scent gland, and clamps down hard. All at once, a burst of euphoria floods into his mouth and fills his chest and head with a warm rush of calm and affection. Yoongi continues to bite, breaking skin and tasting blood, all the while Namjoon holds him in place, trembling and growling against him – clinging on like a lifeline.

But he feels incomplete. Yoongi's body is suspended between heaven and hell, full and connected and sated, but he feels like something is missing.

"Need you to bite me too," Yoongi sobs, licking Namjoon's blood from his own lips. Tears pour from his eyes as his body shimmers and flows with a bliss he has never known possible. He hardly recognizes his voice as he begs for it. "Namjoon, please!"

"Are you sure?" Namjoon asks, teeth chattering against Yoongi's neck; when did Namjoon's face become buried in his neck?

Yoongi nods and claws at Namjoon's shoulders and back, feebly attempting to pull him close. And when Namjoon sinks his teeth in, Yoongi snaps.

White and splotchy black is all Yoongi can see as he screams and trembles and writhes, caught on his alpha's knot with his scent gland pierced by teeth. Arousal surges through him in a frenzy he hardly comprehends, and he cums untouched, spurting his release against both their bodies. Never has he felt so electric before as shockwaves of pleasure roll through every inch of him.

In a blink, Yoongi is laying flat on his back with his limbs spread wide, and Namjoon is dragging soft kisses over his neck and chin, muttering incomprehensibly as the pain of the knot dulls and he begins to return to his senses.

Yoongi lifts his heavy, trembling arms and grabs Namjoon by the chin, capturing his mouth in an eager clash of lips and teeth. When he opens his mouth for Namjoon to lick hungrily inside, the taste of their blood comingles before fading away to something sweeter and more delicate; something innately Namjoon.

"Should we have done that?" Yoongi asks against Namjoon's lips as he begins to fade and fall asleep. "Was that a mistake?"

"I don't care," Namjoon mutters against his chin, draping his heavy warm body over Yoongi, getting comfortable enough to wait for the knot to deflate. "All I want is you. It feels right; I don't care if it's wrong."

As sleep claims Yoongi, he almost allows himself to mutter confessions of love, stopping himself just in time.

The ride into the city has Yoongi on edge, and he does his best to mask his scent, but it is impossible. He knows he must stink like Namjoon, as well, making the trip excruciatingly nerve-racking. Wheein insisted on driving Yoongi to his appointment.

"If the media finds out, we're old high school friends, so it wouldn't be weird for me to accompany you," she says reassuringly. "I'm too excited to wait; I want to have a glance at our little baby."

If Wheein notices anything about Yoongi's aroma – his sharp, distressed pomegranate and the heady alpha musk that lingers on his skin – she says nothing. Although her own earthy patchouli gives her anxiety away, her voice is friendly, and she appears eager to be helpful.

The waiting room is dauntingly bright, and the doctor's office feels suffocating. Yoongi keeps his hoodie on, covering the bite mark on his neck. When he adjusts his shirt and pants for the doctor to perform an ultrasound, he closes his eyes. The lubricant and metal paddles are cold on his skin, and everything about this situation is so overwhelming, he feels the urge to cry.

A soft, warm hand takes his, and all at once, lavender hits his senses, and he lets out a deep sigh. Being comforted by Wheein only makes him feel worse, but at least his tears are warranted; seeing your baby for the first time is emotional, after all.

Once he opens his eyes and looks at the screen, a little black blob comes into view, looking like nothing more than a giant bean. And then the paddle works over Yoongi's stomach, pressing in hard, and all at once, he hears it – the heartbeat.

"Wow, just look at that," Wheein says, and Yoongi nods then sniffles as hot tears pour down his cheeks.

There it is – the little life that he and Namjoon have made. A giant bean with a heartbeat. A living, breathing piece of the two of them.

Neither Namjoon nor Yoongi swims for the rest of the summer. The bite marks on their necks never fully heal, and the one Yoongi wears bursts with deep blues, reds, and purples – bruised in the shape of each of Namjoon's teeth. Whenever he runs his fingertips over it, warmth and affection blooms, covering him like a shroud.

But when Namjoon drags his mouth over it, oh the feeling is horrific – good in ways that should not be physically allowed. Arousal bursts through Yoongi like an electric current, running at frequencies too high to control. Just a pass of lips over skin has his cock hard and leaking in his pants – has him on his knees begging for the alpha to cum down his throat and make a fucking mess of him.

As Yoongi's tummy grows, his appetite for pleasure is insatiable. Namjoon spends far too much time in the bungalow for their relationship to go undetected, and Yoongi fears for the worst once the baby is born. He fears Wheein's wrath somehow, though he is not sure what to even expect from someone like her.

Will Namjoon get a divorce? Will Yoongi move out and allow their relationship to fizzle? Will he sit on the sidelines pretending nothing ever happened while an unhappy couple raises his baby as their own?

Most days and nights, Yoongi does not want to ask the hard questions. He only wants to take it one day at a time, as Namjoon suggested. And when Jeongguk drives him to and from the doctor appointments, they always end in tears and ice cream before he is brought back to his temporary home.

Yoongi does not dare tell Namjoon that he loves him. But sometimes, he thinks Namjoon knows. A soft, candid glance here and there, and the way he holds him as he uses his hands and mouth to make him cum – close, affectionate, delicate. Namjoon oozes knowing and understanding, even if he is also too afraid to voice it.

When Namjoon arrives with a wide smile and a grocery bag of Yoongi's favorite snacks, Yoongi is sprawled on the floor cushions, staring at the ceiling. He groans as he somewhat sits up, body stretched and heavy, feeling the familiar swell of love that aches deep inside him at the sight of his alpha.

"How are you feeling, pretty?" Namjoon asks as he crosses the room and sits on his knees, discarding the bag on the nearby low table.

He wears turtlenecks now, usually black like the one he has on today, tucked into grey slacks. Namjoon hovers over Yoongi, caging him in with his arms and legs, leaning in for a chaste, soft kiss. It always takes Yoongi by surprise when they kiss, and he sighs into the feeling, lifting a hand to card through Namjoon's freshly cut, short dark brown hair. Namjoon groans against his lips as Yoongi drags blunt fingertips against his scalp.

"I feel good," Yoongi finally answers as Namjoon backs up only enough for them to see one another. "Better now that you're here."

"Corny," Namjoon teases with a scrunch of his nose, despite the tangy-sweet tangerine he emits.

Yoongi pouts. "It's true."

They hover like this for a while, inspecting one another up close with soft smiles and knowing glances. Words hang around them left unsaid, palpable in the air, and Yoongi wonders when he will find the nerve to just voice everything that builds in his lungs and throat, suffocating in the way his feelings cling.

"Namjoon," he tries tentatively, cringing with the way his voice trembles.

The alpha's gaze softens – something Yoongi would not have thought possible, given how he was already looking at him – and Yoongi takes a fortifying breath and, barely above a whisper, says, "I'm scared."

Although Namjoon says nothing, there is recognition in his eyes. He sits up, then stands, and reaches his hands out to help Yoongi onto his feet. Although it is a bit of a task now for Yoongi to move his body around quickly, Namjoon makes it seem so easy, cradling and lifting him, holding him until he is stable. Then they walk the two steps to the bed, and Namjoon sits, getting into the middle with his legs spread and knees bent, patting the spot in front of him.

Yoongi gets on his knees and moseys over, plopping down with his legs bent to the side, facing Namjoon. Clearly dissatisfied with the space between them, Namjoon scoots forward until one leg is beside Yoongi and the other is draped over his ankles.

"Talk to me," Namjoon says.

"After the baby is born—" Yoongi begins, but he chokes on a sob. His chest rattles and he does not think he can say what is on his mind.

Namjoon scoots closer and pulls Yoongi into a hug, tugging him forward until he is resting against the alpha's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Silence hangs, and Yoongi lets tears fall but swallows back every urge to fully bawl.

"I just…" he tries again, swallowing and sniffling and closing his eyes tight. "Once I'm done here…once I return home, we…we won't—"

"Shh," Namjoon whispers, holding Yoongi close, emitting musky citrus. "I suppose we do need to talk about this, don't we? I don't want you to be so afraid."

"What if I never see you again?" Yoongi sobs, unable to hold back, clenching the black material of Namjoon's shirt in his fist, desperate to never let him go again. "What if you just carry on as if none of this ever happened?"

"Yoongi—" Namjoon tries, backing up as if attempting to look at him.

But Yoongi holds him close as anguish rattles through him. "You said I shouldn't come around to see the baby. You said it would be bad for the media to know about me. So once I'm gone that's it, that's—"

"Hey, hey, Yoongi," Namjoon says, hugging him nice and tight, squishing Yoongi's face into his chest. "We didn't sign the contract. We're not…legally required to do anything, alright? I'll…we'll figure something out."

"You're married," Yoongi sobs, grinding his face against Namjoon's chest while air heaves from his lungs – burns behind his ribs. "You're married and once I leave, your life will go back to normal. Remember long ago, when you told me, 'We can’t choose our circumstances, but we can do our best with what we are given'? Well, I didn't choose to fall for you, and now I'm…now I'm gonna lose you and I…Oh gods, I'm gonna lose you."

"You remember me saying that?" Namjoon asks softly, hug loosening but not letting go. "That was years ago."

Yoongi sniffles and sits up, eyes raw and heavy. When he releases his grasp on Namjoon's shirt, his palm is sweaty, and the material is wrinkled.

"Of course I remember that," he mutters, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. "You were nice to me when nobody else was. I could never forget that."

This time, the silence that hangs feels oppressive, but Yoongi does not know what more there is to say. And his body betrays him with intense cravings and hunger that need to be addressed.

"What did you bring me?" he asks, looking over his shoulder as he sniffles, to the bag on the table that sits sideways, spilling with snacks and a pack of apples.

"Some of your favorites," Namjoon responds, rubbing his palms up and down Yoongi's arms.

Yoongi wriggles around and scrambles onto his feet, hobbling over to the table. In addition to being a round, heavy baby conduit, he feels emotionally off-kilter. Spiritually, even.

He bends a moment and groans, finding the bag just out of reach. But before he can complain or ask for help, Namjoon is behind him – warm palm against the small of his back and reaching around him for the bag. When it is lifted to Yoongi, Namjoon stays close, wrapping him in a back hug and resting his chin on Yoongi's shoulder.

"Was the fact that I was nice to you the only reason you remembered what I said?" Namjoon asks, gently rubbing his lips over the mark on the junction of Yoongi's shoulder and neck.

Yoongi's eyelids flutter closed, and he shakes his head, gripping the grocery bag handles tight while his body sways with affection.

"I never forgot what you said because, after that moment, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Oh?" Namjoon asks, surprise in his tone.

Yoongi nods. "You were so…handsome. So considerate. And you smelled…" he trails off and smiles at the thought of Namjoon scaring off his bullies so many years ago. "...amazing."

"So all this time…" Namjoon trails off with a chuckle. "I could have had you in my arms all these years, and I had no idea."

Myriad emotions kick up in Yoongi's guts, with frustration and worry at the forefront. "I could have known what it feels like to be loved by you," he says as his eyelids flutter shut and tears continue to build and fall.

When he feels the tug of the grocery bag handles, Yoongi releases, allowing it to be taken away. He hears Namjoon set it on the bed, feeling his body shuffle and twist behind him. Namjoon takes Yoongi by the shoulders and spins him around, pulling him close, so their tummies touch.

"My silly little omega," Namjoon teases as he thumbs at Yoongi's tears.

Yoongi opens his eyes to find his alpha smiling soft and wide, and he feels his heart crack just a little deeper, leaving his chest in the form of a huff.

"You already do know what it feels like to be loved by me," Namjoon says.

With a knuckle, Namjoon softly lifts Yoongi's chin. As he slots their lips together, Namjoon smiles, eyes still open, which Yoongi stares into despite being so close they are smudges in the form of deep brown discs.

"Handling our…situation…" Namjoon says, trailing off to press kiss after soft kiss against Yoongi's lips, "it won't be easy." Another kiss, and Yoongi's cheeks begin to burn. "But I don't want to lose you. And as much as Wheein will hate losing the big house and man-servant she did not earn, I'm sure she'll be fine. Maybe her family can marry her off to someone who actually loves her, this time."

"You don't want to be made a spectacle of," Yoongi responds somewhat indignantly. Namjoon's considerations do assuage some of his fears, but he remembers conversations they had months ago, and he has a hard time believing that Namjoon has had a complete change of heart, already. After all, Namjoon has the most to lose. The adversity he could face is nothing compared to what Yoongi might experience.

Namjoon shrugs. "My term ends next year. Perhaps I won't run again."

At this, Yoongi frowns. Although he and Namjoon have not spoken too extensively about his profession, he has come to learn that the alpha enjoys being a public servant, and that the work he does makes a positive impact. There should be more leaders like Namjoon.

"We'll take it one day at a time," Namjoon says, planting a kiss on the tip of Yoongi's nose, which Yoongi scrunches as he turns his face away; he does not need Namjoon kissing his snot and tears. "You made a good point, before; perhaps setting a positive example about boundaries and divorce is something I can help normalize."

"And if the public shames you?" Yoongi asks, unconvinced that Namjoon has given the situation enough consideration.

Namjoon releases the hug and plops back down on the bed, reaching for the bag and dumping its contents onto the mattress. Yoongi's stomach loudly growls at the sight of shrimp chips, and he sits on the other side of the pile, reaching for his prize.

"I'll worry about my image," Namjoon responds, grabbing an apple. "You just worry about bringing a healthy baby into the world. And if you feel uncertain about raising them, we can always hire a nanny. Maybe Jeongguk is good with children."

Yoongi chuckles and opens the bag of shrimp chips with a smile. He imagines a life back in the hanok – in a home with more than two rooms. A nice, open building with more than one window. And although it seems like too big of a situation to be hopeful about, he allows himself to dream, just a little.

The morning Yoongi wakes to his water breaking, he is in the bungalow alone.

Yoongi struggles to sit up in bed, anchoring his palms against the mattress as he lifts his chest and stomach upward, sighing heavily. His cell phone is on the mattress, and he presses the power button on, revealing that it is 6:13 AM.

His thumbs are swollen and slow as he opens his contacts and finds Namjoon's name. The alpha answers on the second ring.

"Yoongi?" he asks, voice groggy on the line. He chose to stay in the hanok last night because he had a really early morning and did not want to have to wake Yoongi…a lot of good that did.

"My water broke," Yoongi croaks, voice rough from disuse.

Yoongi hears a gasp, followed by the line going dead, and he chuckles softly, shaking his head. He can only imagine the panicked expression on Namjoon as he tears clumsily through the home to alert Jeongguk and make sure their bag is packed and ready to go – despite having checked it several times in the past few weeks.

The plan had been for Jeongguk to drive Yoongi to the hospital and be at his side, and Yoongi is surprised when Namjoon pulls the door open wide. His short dark hair is disheveled, possibly from pulling on the black hoodie he wears over grey slacks. He has a mask around his chin and sunglasses tucked into the front of his sweater, and Yoongi wonders if he plans on joining him, incognito.

Before Yoongi has a chance to get to his feet, Namjoon is by his side, arm around his waist, pulling him to stand. Calming citrus musk fills the space, and Yoongi's heart pounds excitedly in his chest.

"Alright, pretty Yoongi," Namjoon says as they begin walking toward the door to where Jeongguk waits in a black sweater and matching joggers, holding a duffle bag in one hand and a set of car keys in the other. "Let's go deliver our baby."

the enddddd!!! ahhhhhh!!! i know this may be too open of an ending for some people's liking, but as mentioned, i literally ran out of space. the fest had a limitation of 40k. sorry, friends lmao. they live happily ever after, okay??? we love to see it. the end. 😍

thank you so much for reading!!! reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of this hellsite and likes are appreciated too!!! i love you!!!

tags: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13@giriiboyy@mgthecat @moonleeai@m1sss1mp@spookyminyunki @sumzysworld @yoongoboongo0

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#namgi #namgi a/b/o #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #alpha namjoon #omega yoongi #bts a/b/o #bts angst #bts smut #fic: one day at a time

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