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Jimin's four when he’s adopted from the pedigree hybrid pound by a filthy rich family consisting of absentee parents and a snotty-nosed brat called Soonhee. They’d bought into the advertisement of him being a pink-haired purebred that’s worth thousands, and saw him as the epitome of feline adorableness. He was thus deemed fit to be the furry companion of their only child.
He was forced to accompany Soonhee to her classes, attend to her every whim when no one else was there to serve her, sit through tantrum after tantrum because this spoiled little shit had to have things her way, no matter what.
He's thirteen when they kick him out. Apparently Soonhee didn’t find him useful after he seemingly grew out of his baby fat and his wide, too-large-to-be-real eyes, and her parents decided to cut their losses.
Standing on the street and staring at the shut door of the house he’d called home for the past nine years and had thought he would continue to call home until he passed, he’s forced to come to terms with the unpredictable cruelty of life.
Something died in him that day.
It was dark and humid outside. All he had was his white leather collar, still looped around his neck, and a brown paper bag stuffed to the brim with food, a token of pity and a bland goodbye from the housekeeper. He remembers feeling numb as he walked away to seek shelter for the night.
Five years pass in a hurricane-like sequence of events. Everything that happens after he gets abandoned is simultaneously too insignificant and too painful for him to think about for too long, so he doesn’t look back.
Now he survives off petty theft, pawning off the various miscellaneous items he manages to nick from rich, upper-class suburban households.
Honestly, it’s more fun than one would think. The thrill of it all, as well as some idea of satisfaction he gains from mildly terrorising his old neighbourhood, is worth more than anything he steals. At this point, all the theft is just an adrenaline fix for him. He’s a junkie for the high of it, the rush of blood in his veins and the knowledge that they couldn’t catch him if they tried. (And they do.)
He’s quite literally a cat burglar, in both senses of the phrase – he’s a cat hybrid who makes a living off thievery, and he tends to scale the houses to sneak inside through the windows. It’s beautifully fitting, Jimin finds.
He takes his job seriously — of course, it’s his livelihood. He can’t afford to be sloppy, and he isn’t.
But with their belongings going missing, people have been getting more and more suspicious as of late. There’s been rumours floating around of a stray hybrid running around the neighbourhood, climbing fences and walls to sneak into houses and steal valuables. Understandably, paranoid residents have started to exercise more caution, making sure to lock all their windows and doors at night.
Which has become a big fucking annoyance for Jimin, considering that he prefers to work at night, under the natural cover that dusk provides.
But whatever. He makes do. Thievery in broad daylight is just as fun, anyway.
He does manage to pull it off — daylight or no daylight, he’s successful. A bit more care is required, though. He makes sure to make his steps extra soundless, get through the whole process much quicker, and in general, just be more conscientious.
Jimin has a sort of goal, or objective. Or more like a challenge that he’s issued to himself, ever since he started this: target each and every house in the neighbourhood at least once. So far, he’s stolen from every house but one.
His old home.
Not for lack of opportunities. It’s been five years since he’s been kicked out and four since he resorted to stealing. It’s just that – well, it’s hard to explain. It’s not exactly that he’s scared, or that he’s afraid of it, but he is wary of the history that ties him to the place. He can’t seem to shake the emotional attachment that he has to the place, and because of that, he hasn’t been able to target it.
It’s not a good emotional attachment, to be clear. Looking at it makes him sick. It’s not quite trauma — Jimin doesn’t think it’s that bad — but it’s… up there.
So he avoids it for the most part. Doesn’t even want to look at it when he passes by.
Eventually, he grows bored. He’s used to the other houses by now. They don’t give him the same thrills anymore. A true, adrenaline-pumped challenge is something he’s been itching for recently.
(This neighbourhood is exceptionally stupid. Somehow, it took them four years to even catch onto the stealing, and even now, they don’t exercise the same caution in the daytime. Jimin figures it’s the fact that they’re all mostly old, cushy, rich fucks that aren’t too bright – all trust fund babies who never quite learnt how to do anything on their own. Or so he’s heard.)
So it’s this boredom, the craving for something new, that lands him behind a bush, peering at his old house.
If he’s going to be doing this, he needs to do his homework first. He doesn’t strive for anything less than perfection, and this needs to be perfecter than perfection. Preparation is key.
Structurally, the house appears the same — a two-story townhouse, painted brick red and ebony black. There’s a mini garden in the front yard and a perfectly manicured lawn leading up to the porch. Just like every other house on the street, it’s detached from the next, separated by a large space of grass.
Jimin hates it. Hates every single thing about it.
He’s about to leave when he notices movement – two hybrids in the front yard, playing with a ball.
Actually, come to think of it, he hasn’t really been keeping up with their hybrids, not since the second year. He found that it was better if he just – avoided almost everything he could regarding the family or their pets.
Squinting, he deduces that they appear to be males, a tiger and a dog – doberman, maybe? Interesting. He’s seen a few exotic hybrids around before, but never a tiger.
Jimin lifts his nose and sniffs. And he catches it. The faint, but distinct, scents of two alphas.
Two alphas. They own two alphas now.
Jimin scoffs. Alphas in this neighbourhood are either too slow or too old to give chase. All of them are neutered, and that’s detrimental to an alpha’s physical and mental state. Jimin has had worse experiences with omega and beta hybrids.
This will be a piece of cake.
Given that they look around Jimin’s age, they must be already neutered too. Not that Jimin himself is spayed, but that’s only because they made him leave before he matured enough to undergo the procedure.
He would be able to know for sure by their scents if he got close enough, but he decides he doesn’t need to. There’s no way, realistically, that they wouldn’t be neutered. They don’t pose much of a threat (if any at all) to him.
He decides then – he’ll do it.
-
It’s cloudy. The air is cooler than usual, and it’s a little windy, too.
Instinctively, Jimin gets a bad feeling – after all, cat hybrid – but he shakes it off. Having reservations prior to the actual burglary is no way to go. And soon enough, he’s too hyped to be thinking about anything else but getting in, hopefully making some kind of dent in their fortune, however small, and getting out successfully.
From when he takes his first leap onto a wall, to when he’s left the house after successfully securing his loot, he’s running on the pure adrenaline that’s shooting through his veins. It’s why he does this, and thinking about how this is his old house, where he spent most of his younger years, has him buzzing. Nerves he hasn’t felt in years only help to enhance the high he gets from this. It feels like his first time all over again.
He scales the wall easily. Sneaks through the open window. Crawls through and lands on his two feet with a muffled, barely audible thump. Thank god for overly expensive carpeting.
It’s easy. He’s done it a hundred times. Will probably do it a hundred more.
His heart starts beating a little faster as he looks around, taking in the familiar interior. Memories that he’s not willing to dive into linger in the back of his mind.
He knows his way around, so he doesn’t waste time, heading straight for the master bedroom.
Whatever foggy memories Jimin has of his old house don’t serve him here (as a hybrid, he was never allowed in Soonhee’s parents’ private quarters), but he’s pretty unsurprised by what he sees.
It’s a large bedroom with fancy, modern furnishing, walls and furniture consistently done in a deep purple tone. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, in this neighbourhood of pretty uniform interior design. For people with more than enough money to spare, they seem to lack any sort of creativity whatsoever in their decor.
He lets his instincts guide him here – checks in the dresser, the drawers, the closet, behind the paintings and curtains, and manages to nab a good handful of valuables – jewellery, mostly, because Jimin admittedly has a soft spot for shiny, pretty things.
When he figures that he’ll have stolen enough to 1. be pretty much set for the next two or three weeks and 2. be noticeable, that is, for his old owners to get home and realise that a significant number of items worth a sizeable amount of money is gone, he leaves.
The only window in the room is facing the front of the house, which is generally not a stellar idea, considering it’s daytime and he will most definitely be spotted and caught. The only viable way out is the way he entered – out the room into the hallway, through the window beside the hallway, and down the back of the house.
So he opens the door, hand curling around the handle as he carefully pushes down, and moves as lightly as possible, trying to balance his haste with deliberacy. He even makes sure to close the door behind him silently, releasing the handle slowly so that it doesn’t click shut.
When he’s sure the door is shut properly, he lets out a soft breath, before turning back around.
And coming face to face with one of the alpha hybrids.
He just barely holds back an eep of shock.
It’s the tiger. Tawny fur lines the rounded ears that peek out of his bush of dark hair, and he stands significantly taller and wider than Jimin. Jimin can see the hint of a striped tail hovering behind him like a shadow.
For a split second, the two of them just stare at each other.
He has pretty eyes, Jimin finds himself thinking. A shade of golden orange that Jimin’s never really seen before. And his hair is fluffy in a way that makes Jimin want to touch it.
Then those eyes flicker down to the black bag that Jimin’s clutching, and back up to hold his gaze.
Jimin’s ears twitch. His tail sways uncertainly behind him.
The tiger hybrid curls back his lips and snarls.
And that’s his cue.
Jimin turns on his heel and breaks into a dead sprint, gripping tightly onto his bag.
His blood pumps in his veins. God, this is it. This is it.
The chase.
Jimin all but flies down the hallway, combat boots pushing down on the carpet in thumps. He can hear the tiger’s footsteps following in quick succession behind him, and that only serves to make everything so much more exhilarating. He hasn’t had a good chase in a while, and frankly, he feels it’s one of the best parts of robbing people – getting chased and knowing that they won’t be able to catch him.
Two turns are coming up. He needs to decide which way to go, left or right.
Momentarily blocking out the sound of his pursuer catching up to him, Jimin tries to recall the house’s layout. The right turn has the ugly painting that Soonhee did when she was seven still hanging on the wall, so right should lead to Soonhee’s room, which means that left leads to his room, which is near the entrance –
He fakes a right, only to cackle in excitement when he swerves to the left at the last second, leaving the other hybrid to pounce on nothing and crash into the wall. Jimin keeps running.
Behind him, the tiger hybrid lets out a low but surprisingly loud growl — calling for someone that Jimin’s willing to bet is the other hybrid – it sounds something like ‘Jungkook’ but he can’t be sure.
(He thinks he hears a distant howl in response.)
He arrives at the top of the staircase in the foyer, eyes scanning across his surroundings for a possible way out. He doesn’t want to rely on the chance that the front door isn’t locked, and there aren’t any windows he can see.
Then he spots the pet flap, and some instinctual, animal part of him says yes you can definitely fit through that and he doesn’t have any more time to think, not with the tiger having gotten up and the speed at which he’s now barrelling towards him, so he hops onto the staircase railing and slides his way down to the door, and lunges through the flap, hands first.
It opens easily. Jimin can taste victory on his tongue.
His hands go through, then his head, and his torso, and –
It stops at his hips. He can’t go any further. His knees are on the floor.
There’s no way.
There’s no way.
He drops the bag to try and push himself out, or to shimmy himself in, but nothing gives.
Jimin strains, panic beginning to set in. No matter how he moves, wiggles, shakes, flails — the rectangular-shaped opening is sturdy and almost tight around his middle. The wood is too stiff to give way.
This can’t be happening.
He struggles again, tries to pull back, out of the flap, but it doesn’t give. He’s trapped.
Jimin lets out a frustrated growl. He can’t move forward or backward, no matter how he pushes or pulls at the door. He lets his palms fall flat to the welcome mat, while his knees remain on the marble floor in the house’s interior.
He’s stuck.
He’s fucking stuck.
Tail twitching in agitation, stomach tight, heart in his throat. Stuck.
And oh, no.
Jimin smells them before he hears them – scents burning and smoky in his nose and on his tongue, of the outside and the grass and alpha, and hears them before he sees them – paced footsteps padding lightly on the ground.
(Now that he thinks about it, he hadn’t been able to smell the tiger hybrid before he saw him. The house was just so doused in their scents that Jimin couldn’t tell, but now that he’s outside – well, half outside – he can tell just how heavily scented the inside was.)
“Well,” A voice to his side drawls. Jimin snaps his head to the source of the voice. It’s the doberman, looking smug as hell. He’s standing alone in front of Jimin, gaze heavy. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
The doberman stands tall — maybe even taller than the tiger, if not the same height, and just as built. His ears stand at attention on top of his head, and the gleam of silver indicates that he’s even got them pierced.
Seeing him here seems to send a jolt through Jimin. This must be Jungkook. But the tiger. Where was the tiger?
Jimin twists his body in an effort to try and turn behind, but even if he could, the door is a painfully white, opaque wood. His lower half is not visible at all, so he can’t tell what’s happening or what’s going to happen, and to put it quite frankly, he’s scared out of his mind.
Hands land on the dip of his hips, making Jimin hiss and jerk away instinctively, but they hold him firm. He tries to use his tail to swat at him, but the tiger is unbothered.
Goosebumps rise on his skin. Jimin can’t remember the last time he’s been in physical contact with someone, let alone another hybrid.
“He is the cat, Kook-ah,” says the tiger hybrid from behind. His words are slightly muffled but loud enough for Jimin to hear him without having to strain.
The doberman’s ears flatten, miffed. “Shut up, hyung,” he snaps, eyes trained above Jimin’s head, on the door, before he focuses back on Jimin, and his mouth curls into an easy smirk. “Little kitty’s stuck, is he?”
A slap lands hard on his cotton-clad bottom — Jimin yelps, jumping a little, before he flushes and lets out a warning growl from the back of his throat.
“Looks like his ass was too fat to fit through the doggy flap,” the tiger taunts.
Jimin bristles. His ears flatten. His cheeks feel hot. “Shut up, and don’t fucking touch me,” he snaps.
A low whistle. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, kitty.”
Jungkook snorts. “Literally and figuratively.”
He opens his mouth to respond when — to his utmost horror — he feels hands trail down to the space in between his thighs.
He clamps his legs together instinctively and turns, as if he can see anything going on behind him. “Don’t — don’t touch me!”
He prays that he doesn’t sound as scared or as… inexperienced as he feels.
Surprisingly, Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Taehyung-hyung.”
Taehyung, the tiger, tsks at that, but the hands are taken off him.
Jimin relaxes a little, but tenses again when Jungkook steps closer.
“Mistress told us to be on the lookout for a thief, but I didn’t think you’d actually come.” Jungkook bares his teeth in what Jimin thinks is supposed to be a smile. “You’ve got the whole neighbourhood afraid that someone’s going to pop out of nowhere and rob them blind.”
Jimin cracks a tight but self-satisfied smile at that. “Good. They should be afraid.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Of what? A tiny pink fairy of a domesticated cat breed?
His grin sours. “This tiny pink fairy was about to make off with about half your mistress ’ fortune.” He spits it with about as much vitriol as he can instil into the word.
Jungkook hums, before picking up the black bag Jimin dropped and placing it on the table nearby. Out of reach. Fuck.
“Keywords being ‘about to’,” Jungkook lilts. “Good thing you’re stupid enough to get yourself caught, right?” He glances over the bag. “And half her fortune? Let’s be real – this is barely a tenth of it.”
Jimin clacks his jaw shut. He hopes they can’t smell his embarrassment, but who is he kidding? They know – Jungkook knows, judging from the way he snickers at him.
When Jimin doesn’t give him any verbal response, Jungkook grins and says, “It’s funny — me and Taehyung-hyung were just starting to get bored of this neighbourhood.” He flashes a grin. “I appreciate the entertainment.”
Jimin chooses to simply glare at him.
Jungkook seems unbothered. “What’s your name, hm?” He reaches down to tug his collar up sharply, making Jimin snarl. The dog hybrid pays him no mind, peering at the engraved tag. “Jimin,” he says slowly, like he’s testing out the way his name feels on his tongue. Ji-min. He says it again.
Jimin doesn’t like the way it sounds so smooth from his mouth. Doesn’t like that he likes it, if he’s being honest.
“Soonhee-nim told us about you, you know,” Taehyung says, and Jimin freezes. The thought of anyone in the family talking or even thinking about him after his departure had never occurred to him.
“The hybrid that wasn’t good enough,” Jungkook remarks. “So he got thrown out on his ass.”
His fists clench. “Shut up,” he hisses. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Jungkook is unfazed. “I do, actually. More than you think, anyway.”
Jimin clamps his mouth shut. He refuses to dignify him with a response. All they want is a rise out of him. Jimin isn’t stupid.
“Touchy subject for you, babe?” The dog hybrid leans in, stare unfaltering as he tilts his head, before drawing back and laughing softly. “Hm. Relax, I’m not cruel. I won’t push when there’s clearly some…” He gestures vaguely. “...trauma, there.”
Jimin’s nostrils flare. “Alright, you’ve had your fun – just. Just get me out of here and I won’t ever come back. Deal?”
“Who says we’ve had our fun?” Taehyung asks, voice dark. “We’re just getting started, kitty.”
“Like I said,” Jungkook says, “There’s nothing to do around here. All of the other hybrids are boring – old or just plain sterile.”
Jimin furrows his brow.
When Taehyung touched him earlier, he’d assumed it was more of a scare tactic, or maybe that he was a little handsy. He didn’t think there would be a possibility of things going… further.
His stomach starts to churn uncomfortably. Sweat drips along his hairline, down to his temples. It feels as if there’s an unpleasant layer of heat that’s settling on his skin. He isn’t entirely sure what’s happening, but he doesn’t like where this could be going.
But Jimin doesn’t get a chance to push back before Jungkook’s continuing, “But here you are, a perfect little toy for us. Completely untouched too, I can smell it on you. You’ll be begging for our knots in no time, Jimin-ah.”
Jimin bristles, panic beginning to spark in his chest. The fact that it’s all of a sudden so warm doesn’t help the rapidly growing anxiety within him. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “Hold on a fucking second –”
“Think of it as a punishment, yeah?” Jungkook’s scent is effervescent in the air, his excitement so clear that Jimin almost feels sick. “And compensation, you know – this has been exciting and all, but me and Taehyung-hyung were actually planning to start the new season of Kakegurui before you tried robbing us.”
“You’re actually kind of bad at it, by the way,” Taehyung adds snidely. “I could scent you from a mile away. And you didn’t even notice when I was standing outside the door. Frankly, it’s like you were asking to get caught.”
“Shut up,” Jimin says, shrill and loud, and his tail is whipping from side to side and his heart’s pounding in his chest and his skin feels hot; he brings his hand up to his face and oh, he’s burning up, and why is he burning up?
Something’s happening to him.
He squeezes his eyes shut, tight, before he opens them to glare up at Jungkook. “What the hell did you do to me?”
Jungkook tilts his head, eyes scanning over him quickly before he speaks. “I’m not following.”
Jimin growls, low in his throat. “I’m — stop pretending,” he says. “You — one of you did something. I’m —“
He stops, mind screeching to a halt when he feels a kind of wet gush out of him.
Dark rubies glitter in Jungkook’s eyes. “What makes you think we did anything?”
Jimin doesn’t answer. It’s not pee or sweat — he rubs his thighs together and just barely holds back a whimper at the sensation. It’s sticky and viscous on his skin. His stomach feels weird, too, like there’s a burning in his abdomen, more intense than any sexual arousal he’s ever felt before, something that quickly swells into an urgent throb, and his — his…
Jimin swallows.
“His pussy’s drenched,” Taehyung remarks, sounding gratified. His hands rest right on the curve on his ass. “Soaking right through his pants. You think he’s not spayed? ”
Jungkook scoffs. “No fucking shit. Why else would he be going into heat?”
Heat?
Heat?
“You’re,” Jimin says, a little dumbly, “not neutered?”
He means it as a statement, but it comes out as a question.
A sharp laugh sounds from behind. “We’re studs, little kitty,” Taehyung says.
Irritation gnaws at him. He doesn’t know what that is, but he’s obviously he’s not going to tell them that. “So you’re not neutered.”
Jungkook snickers at that. “Kitten, do you know what studs are?”
Jimin angles his chin up, eyes elsewhere. It’s enough of an answer.
“Well –” Jungkook leans down, eyes alight. “Aren’t you just precious?”
Hands rub at his ass, kneading and squeezing, and Jimin splutters indignantly, attempting to swipe at Taehyung again with his tail. “Well, studs are alpha hybrids whose sole purpose is to fuck and breed pretty omegas like you, kitty.” He can hear the smile in his voice. “And the two of us happen to be very experienced.”
The breath whooshes out of him.
Jimin feels faint.
(And not turned on whatsoever. Definitely not.)
Jungkook offers him a smile. “So, to answer your question, nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “Neither of us are neutered. And you, pretty,” he leans down to look him in the eye and pats his cheek patronisingly, “aren’t spayed.”
Face flushing, Jimin jerks back from his touch, even when a voice in his head screams for him to submit submit submit present present present.
“Go away,” is the first thing he can think to say, and he immediately regrets it when the two of them laugh at him.
“Trust me, kitten, you’re not going to want to be alone when your first wave really hits.” Jungkook holds the back of his hand to Jimin’s forehead before humming knowingly. “It won’t be long now.”
“S-shut up,” Jimin grits out, his mind beginning to fog up. He’s trying to come up with something cleverer, or maybe more threatening, but he’s much too overwhelmed. It’s like all his senses have been dialled up all of a sudden, olfactory senses sharpened and he can feel everything.
He can feel how there seems to be a fire burning under his skin, a fire that’ll consume him from the inside if he’s not careful enough. Something like an itch that he needs to scratch, badly. The feeling is supremely uncomfortable. His clothes chafe harshly against his skin with every small movement.
He wants them off.
The seat of his pants is completely wet, and the feeling of the damp fabric clinging to his heated skin is very much uncomfortable, made worse with how slick is oozing down his thighs and his pussy’s just about aching to be filled.
He’s never felt this way before, never felt the need to be fucked, knotted, bred up with kittens. Never thought he’d ever salivate at the thought of a thick cock filling him up.
But here Jimin is.
Stuck in a fucking flap in the door. Going into heat because of a pair of stupidly attractive, unneutered alphas.
God, it’s so fucking hot.
Jimin twists the leather strap of his collar, as if adjusting it will help with the discomfort he’s in right now.
He knows what he wants — there’s no way he could not know, when his instincts are screaming at him to just get mounted. He wants his clothes off. And to be fucked. And bred. Till he’s leaking cum.
But he still has enough clarity of mind to remain stubbornly quiet. He doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
He breaks his own silence with a sharp squeal when a sort of pressure swipes across his clothed cunt, and he realises with a start, cheeks aflame, that Taehyung’s just licked at him through his wet pants.
“Fuck, his slick tastes so good,” Taehyung says, and Jimin expects him to strip him of his clothes – is secretly looking forward to it, because this way he has less agency. He can still convince himself that he doesn’t really want this, it’s just that he has no choice.
But Taehyung doesn’t do anything of the kind. Instead, he starts thumbing at Jimin’s clit.
A strangled moan leaves Jimin, before he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed closed. He doesn’t want to look at Jungkook right now, knows he’s sniggering away with that stupid smirk on his face. The scent of his amusement is strong in the air.
Molten heat builds in his stomach, his thighs rubbing together involuntarily as he squirms in place. It’s getting difficult to keep quiet, and he’s sure that they know it – know that Jimin is struggling to resist, but fuck, he really doesn’t want to satisfy them by letting them know that he might be enjoying this.
But it seems like Jungkook has other plans, raking his long fingers through Jimin’s hair, massaging his scalp and rubbing his ears in a way that would normally make him hiss, but now has him melting into a puddle.
He’s starting to feel very… floaty is the word he’d use to describe it. It’s like there’s a fog hanging thick in his brain, hindering his ability to think rationally or clearly. Jungkook’s scent – and even Taehyung’s – is all he can breathe in, overwhelmingly dominant and alpha , till he takes a deeper whiff and realises that he’s emitting sickly saccharine pheromones.
The fingers on his throbbing clit only serve to accelerate the state he’s in, heat flaring insistently in his stomach in a way that makes him feel like crying because he’s so so so empty and why is he empty? When there’s two perfect alphas with him, touching him and scenting the air with heavy tangs of arousal that say they want him as bad as Jimin wants to be bred?
And it hurts, it fucking hurts – his clothing is chafing against his sweat-damp skin, and with the dazedness there’s a headache that’s pulsing slowly against the sides of his head.
Nails scrape against his scalp, sending tingles down his spine. Then his clit is pinched, and more fingers rub up against his clothed cunt, teasing at and between his folds, the cotton of his pants the only thing stopping Taehyung from sliding his fingers right into him.
Something in Jimin breaks.
He lets out a sharp whine, wholly unable to hold back any longer.
“Off,” Jimin says – begs, “clothes off, please.”
His eyes are still closed, but he knows Jungkook’s smiling. “Whatever you want, kitten.”
His pants, his shirt, his socks and boots, they’re all tugged off him swiftly on either side, until he’s naked and still on all fours in the flap.
(If he had enough ability to think of anything that wasn’t getting fucked at this point, he would’ve realised that he had more than enough room to wriggle out and escape. Of course, he wouldn’t have made it far either way, but it’s something.)
Taehyung exhales loudly. “Smells so fucking good.”
Jimin’s whining at the absence of their touch, his clit throbbing for attention. He is on fire, and the second that Jungkook grips his face, forcing him to look up at him, it’s like he somehow gets even hotter.
He moans, unabashed and loud, when Taehyung licks a stripe up his cunt, this time with no fabric between his tongue and Jimin’s pussy. Hips bucking, he tries to grind against his tongue, but the tiger hybrid’s already pulling away before Jimin can get any more of that delicious friction, eliciting a sob from the cat hybrid.
“Please – need alphas,” Jimin blubbers. His vision blurs, and it’s only then that he realises he’s crying, tears welling up in his eyes as his cheeks are squished together by Jungkook’s fingers.
Jungkook snorts. “I thought you wanted us to go away?” He lets go of Jimin, who finds himself chasing his touch, straining his neck. “It’s not too late, we can still leave you alone now, kitten.”
Jimin’s lower lip trembles. “No!”
He cries out when a firm slap is delivered to his sopping pussy, sensitive skin stinging. “Ah, hurts—“
“No?” Jungkook says. Jimin can only stare pitifully up at the dog hybrid, eyes glittering wet. “But that’s what you told us just a few minutes ago.”
Frustration makes his chest tight. “Alpha, please.”
He perks up when he notices Jungkook’s moving to undo his pants, and starts to full-on salivate when he pulls out his stiff cock, thicker at the base and a dark red at the tip. He’s the biggest Jimin’s ever seen, and Jimin wants him in him.
“I don’t think you deserve to have a cock in your cunt,” Taehyung says. “Look at you. Dripping all over yourself like a common molly whore.” He brings his hand down again, and again, and again, till tears are streaming endlessly down Jimin’s face and his clit is pulsing from the impact, skin smarting.
“You want my cock, whore?”
Jimin’s hips jerk. “Yes, yes, yes, please, please, please,” he finds himself rambling, eyes fixated on the way that Jungkook’s wrapping slender fingers around his length.
Jungkook sneers, sharp teeth bared. His ears are dark pricks atop his head. He slaps his cock on Jimin’s cheek, crudely rubbing the head on Jimin’s lips and wetting them with even more precum and spit. “Please what?”
Jimin sniffles. “P-please fuck my cunt, alpha. Need you — need you inside.”
“How cute,” Taehyung says. Fingers skate across his raw skin, and Jimin almost thinks he’s going to oblige, before nails scratch across his ass and something way too fucking big is shoved right into his bare, dry asshole.
Jimin screams, and is cut off by Jungkook’s cock, thick and sweaty and pushing straight down his throat.
Immediately, his gag reflex engages, throat muscles tensed up as they attempt to contract, to resist swallowing around the tip of the cock that feels like it’s so deep it’s ramming all the way down his gullet.
He’s gagging, hands scrabbling at Jungkook’s thighs in a desperate plea to pull out, he can’t breathe, but the fingers that card into his hair and firmly hold him still to take his cock tell Jimin that Jungkook does not care if oxygen is making it into his airways or not.
At the same time, pain, so intense it’s blinding, zigzags through his body, his rim searing as he’s torn apart. His vision blurs, and distantly, numbly, he feels wetness rolling down his cheeks.
They’re too big, both of them. He’s just a little cat hybrid — he wasn’t built to be able to handle the cock of a tiger hybrid, let alone while deepthroating a doberman hybrid. He’s choking on Jungkook’s cock and trying to breathe and crying and screaming because he’s so sure that he’s torn, so sure that he must be bleeding or something; the feeling of something wet in his ass is one of the sensations he’s trying to process right now as Taehyung forces his way into his virgin asshole.
It’s a matter of spirit against flesh, because while he’s struggling to take them, a voice in his head is screaming that this is where he belongs, this is what he’s supposed to do, supposed to sit pretty for his alphas to use him as they please and fuck him full of their seed.
It feels like he’s stuck like that for a long time, in this limbo of stillness because neither of them are moving and yet he’s aflame with pain and –
Pleasure.
As much as it literally pains him to acknowledge it, the time that they spend unmoving is time that aids Jimin in getting accustomed to the intrusions, and his omega body is more than happy to turn his discomfort into an easy haze of lust.
Even in ways that he hadn’t originally anticipated.
“Fuck,” Taehyung rasps. He’s pulled out mostly, so only the tip is left sheathed in Jimin’s wet hole. Jimin can feel fingers probing around his raw pucker. “Kitty’s so fucking needy for cock that he’s slicking from his asshole.”
Oh my god. Jimin’s eyes widen at that. He hadn’t even known that it was possible to do that — that his body could do that.
Jungkook swears and pulls out, giving Jimin a few seconds of reprieve, a short slot of time for him to suck as much air into his lungs as he can, before he’s threading his fingers through Jimin’s hair and pushing right back into his mouth. He doesn’t stay still this time, snapping his hips forward like he wants to reach the back of Jimin’s throat, before pulling back and fucking in again. “Shit, baby. That desperate for your alphas, huh?”
He slurs out a ‘yes’, but it’s effectively muffled by Jungkook’s cock, heavy and full in his mouth. The only sounds Jimin’s making are gurgles, until Taehyung, apparently having gotten his fill of marvelling at the slick leaking from his asshole, starts fucking into his hole with vigour, pulling pitched mewls out of Jimin that end up as vibrations against Jungkook’s length. He doesn’t get a break whatsoever; the breath is getting punched out of him on both sides.
Jimin’s eyelids flutter. He’s so fucking full.
The voice that he’ll eventually come to recognise as his inner omega is purring, half elated that his alphas are helping him through his heat, but also half concerned, because how are they going to breed him if they’re using his mouth and his asshole, but not his cunt?
But whatever protests his omega may have end up fading into the complete and utter blur of heat-addled delirium that Jimin falls into. Everything is happening way too fast and too much – Jimin tries but ultimately can’t keep up, eyes falling shut as he lets himself be facefucked and pounded and groped and touched and oh, Jimin just feels good. It feels good to let go.
His first orgasm creeps up on him and catches him by surprise, has him convulsing and clenching around Taehyung’s cock as a wave of pleasure crashes into him, and he can physically feel the heat plaguing him subside a little – enough to be noticeable, but still not significant enough for him to feel at least a little back to normal.
Taehyung’s hands haven’t left his ass since he started fucking him properly, kneading and spanking the ample flesh. Jimin’s sure there’ll be bruises and hand prints on his skin after this is all over.
“Coming just from a cock in your ass and another in your mouth?” Taehyung breathes. He sounds closer, like he’s hunched over – well, as much as he can be in this position. He grabs the base of Jimin’s tail, yanking on it lightly, and Jimin arches in response. “Fucking slut.”
Jimin lets out a whimper, body twitching from the aftershocks. His eyes water from how Jungkook’s using his mouth freely. There’s an ache in his jaw, and his chin is completely wet with his own drool.
His nipples are pebbled and peaking, but Jungkook hasn’t bothered to pay any attention to anything that isn’t his mouth, solely focussed on chasing his own pleasure; just like Taehyung, who hasn’t touched his clit since he took off his pants, even when Jimin’s been more or less begging for it (although he supposes that could be more because he’s incoherent than anything else). Honestly, a little, dirty part of Jimin relishes that they’re ignoring him in favour of their own enjoyment. After all, he’s being useful, right?
It feels like Jimin continues to get fucked for hours on end – they really do not fucking stop, not even when Jimin comes for the second time, nor do they knot, which utterly flummoxes Jimin’s omega – until Jungkook finally pulls out for good, and Jimin draws in shuddering, choking breaths into his lungs, breaths that are knocked right out of him, because Taehyung shows no sign of stopping.
At this point, he’s just kneeling in a puddle of his own slick and sweat. He can feel it run down his thighs, drip down his knees, dampen the back of his shins.
“God, look at these fat fucking lips,” Jungkook groans. He slaps the reddened head of his dick against Jimin’s mouth, smearing precum all over his lips. “Made for sucking cock.”
Jimin preens at that, puckering and letting his tongue loll out of his mouth so he can lick, kittenish, at the head of Jungkook’s dick.
His eyes cross when he notices the precum gathering at his slit. He hurries to lap it up, but makes sure to slow down and savour the taste on his tongue. It’s like a concentrate of Jungkook’s scent, and Jimin’s not letting it go to waste, even if it’s not actually the alpha’s seed.
Oh. Jimin trembles in anticipation just at the thought of getting pumped full of his alphas’ pups, of getting filled to the brim with thick, hot cum. To say he wants to get bred is a horrific understatement; he’s drooling for it, is fucking dying for it.
He arches a little bit more, tries to present as well as he can when he’s in this position.
Taehyung exhales sharply, bringing down a palm onto his ass, making him squeak at the impact. “Such a good whore for me.”
Jimin feels like he’s getting fucked dumb, like the cock steadily pistoning in and out of his dripping asshole is ridding him of all coherent thought, but his pussy still aches. With each thrust to his sweet spot and each time he’s filled up, he just loses any ability to think straight. All he can do is suckle on the tip of Jungkook’s length, tongue laving at the underside.
He’s reduced to his most primal urges, and the only thing on his mind is —
“Knot,” Jimin moans, detaching off his cock with a barely audible pop. “Need alphas’ knots.“
Jungkook hums, eyes glinting. He doesn’t seem bothered that Jimin’s stopped, much to his relief. Jimin can see the sweat glistening on the golden skin of his clavicle. “Where do you need it, kitten?”
Jimin swallows, eyes flicking up to lock gazes with Jungkook. “Need it — need it in my pussy, alpha.”
Adjusting so that his length lies flat across Jimin’s face, base near his lips and head at his eyes, the doberman stares down at him. A corner of his lips lift in a smirk. “Is that so?”
“Y-yes, alpha,” Jimin stutters out.
“Hm.” Jungkook strokes his thumb across Jimin’s cheekbone, wiping away the wetness from his tears and sweat. “Since you’ve been so good…”
Suddenly, a hand slips down to finger at his neglected clit, rubbing circle eights that have Jimin’s tail twitching and his cunt spasming around nothing as another orgasm hits him.
His eyelids fall shut as the now-familiar pleasure wracks his body. He feels as if he is underwater for a few seconds, sound distorted and muddled to his ears. It’s just as peculiar as his first climax — physically it’s overwhelming, but the heat within his body persists, only deterred by a bit.
Distantly, he registers warmth leaving him: Taehyung pulls out, and Jungkook moves away, his body heat gone and all Jimin can do is whine because why are his alphas leaving him?
Then hands and this tugging on his body, pressure around his torso – he’s being pulled back.
Jimin whimpers as his ears catch a little on the flap, and all of a sudden, he’s unstuck, finally out of the opening.
He opens his eyes to see Taehyung smiling at him, eyes glinting.
“I hope you didn’t think we were done with you,” Taehyung lilts.
At that, Jimin‘s distress melts into a relief that washes over him. He’s so out of it that he makes a noise that’s near a sob and practically throws himself at the tiger hybrid. Arms curving around his neck, instinct guides Jimin in pressing his nose along his jaw, scenting him till his omega feels settled enough.
Taehyung catches him with ease, picking him up and manoeuvering him into his lap on a nearby sofa and gripping onto his hips a little too tight, possessive, and Jimin feels like his insides are lined with warm fuzz.
Then something hard and wet twitches against his stomach, and Jimin looks down to see Taehyung’s cock, stiff and leaking and an angry red at the tip. In his heat-daze, he doesn’t care or even think to make comparisons between his and Jungkook’s cock – all he can focus on is how good he’s going to feel with his knot deep in his cunt.
Jimin’s pussy clenches involuntarily in a reminder that he still hasn’t been fucked properly, slick dribbling out of him (from both holes) onto Taehyung’s firm thighs. The cat hybrid whines, clutching onto him.
“What does my omega want, hm?” Taehyung murmurs, and Jimin whines again at that – my omega.
“K-knot,” he manages to get out. “Knot me, alpha, please.”
Taehyung raises an eyebrow, gaze directed slightly to the side of Jimin’s head as he seems to address someone else. “What do you think? Does he deserve our knots?”
Twisting around, Jimin sees Jungkook with an amused grin plastered across his face.
“I think he’s waited long enough.” Jungkook’s gaze roves over Jimin’s sweaty, flushed body. “Haven’t you?”
Jimin nods frantically. In a sudden rush of impulse, he somehow finds the boldness to reach down and slide two fingers right into his dripping heat, moaning out at the penetration. “‘M so tight, alphas, pussy’s all ready for your knot.”
A growl rumbles in Taehyung’s throat, while Jungkook lets a string of expletives loose. The air thickens with the heavy tang of arousal and alpha pheromones, serving to get Jimin even more riled up, breathing heavily as he fucks his fingers in and out, in and out, but it’s not enough.
Taehyung and Jungkook share a loaded look that Jimin doesn’t fully understand but has no time to question, because Jimin blinks and then Taehyung’s whispering a ‘c’mon, lift your hips up for me, baby’ and slotting the head of his dick between his folds, and that’s when Jimin promptly forgets about anything but the feeling of being so close to getting what he’s been wanting all this while.
Taehyung slides in, bottoming out with ease from just how obscenely wet he is.
Jimin’s eyes roll back into his head.
Finally.
It feels as if he’s been both set on fire and doused in freezing water at the same time – pleasure sparks through him as Taehyung’s cock drags deliciously against his inner walls; yet the achy pains from the heat are slowly starting to ebb away, so he isn’t as uncomfortably warm.
Taehyung doesn’t bother to have mercy on him, setting a quick, powerful rhythm almost immediately – and for that, Jimin’s grateful, because fuck, it feels fucking fantastic. The cat hybrid doesn’t even realise he’s letting out loud, stuttering moans until Taehyung slots his mouth over his in a bruising kiss.
Behind him, Jungkook presses up flush against his body, lips attaching to the sensitive skin of Jimin’s neck. One hand comes up to tweak at his erect nipples, making Jimin mewl into the kiss. Vaguely, he thinks that Jungkook’s tugging at his cock lazily with his other hand.
Jimin melts into Taehyung, body going lax and eyes closing as he lets him take control.
His eyes fly open, hips jumping, when the fingers previously rubbing at his nipples give his pec one last squeeze, before gliding across his ribs and abdomen to pinch meanly at his clit. Jimin breaks the kiss, whimpering and panting as he stares, wide-eyed, down at where Jungkook’s hand is toying with his swollen clit.
In doing so, he realises something else that makes him whine, hands coming up to hide his blushed face.
Oh, god.
Every time Taehyung fucks up into him, the bulge of his cock becomes visible in his lower abdomen. He’s so big he’s distending his stomach.
At the sight, his cunt squeezes involuntarily around his dick.
Unfortunately, the two alphas notice.
Taehyung snorts out a laugh. “Look at that.”
Jungkook peers over Jimin’s shoulder and promptly scoffs. “Mine’s gonna be bigger.”
Taehyung slows a little to be able to sock Jungkook in the shoulder, the younger snickering. “Fucker. In your dreams.”
Jimin shakes his head, face burning against his hands. “Don’t look,” he whines.
Then his hands are ripped from his face, Jungkook restraining them behind his back with just one hand, while the other forces his head down, so he can’t look away from the lewd image of Taehyung stretching him apart and filling him up completely.
“C’mon, don’t tell me this doesn’t get you even wetter,” Jungkook murmurs into his ear.
A shiver runs down the length of Jimin’s spine.
“It does,” Taehyung says, grinning. “His little pussy got tighter.”
All Jimin can do is stare down at the bulge. He’s so deep, and all he can think about how easy it’ll be for him to be impregnated like this.
Taehyung shifts a little, pushing his legs wider open, and he hits a spot that has Jimin crying out, body going taut as his back arches, head falling back on Jungkook’s shoulder.
Then he hits it again, and again, and again, until Jimin’s a blubbering, moaning mess.
“Gonna knock you up with my fucking cubs,” Taehyung bites out, “Then we’ll have Jungkook knot you and see whose seed catches first. Is that something you’d like, kitty?”
“Y- yes,” Jimin sobs out, limbs hanging limp, upper body only supported by Jungkook’s firm arms holding him up. “Yes, breed me, breed me—“
Taehyung lets out a guttural moan, and then he’s fucking his knot into Jimin’s swollen cunt, stretching him out like never before, and Jimin wails himself hoarse as his large knot breaches his opening.
Then he feels it.
Hot, thick cum. Gushing into him.
The knot locks in, and with that, Jimin comes so hard he blacks out.
Only a few minutes must have passed before he comes to again, blinking his eyes open slowly. He’s still impaled on Taehyung’s cock, and his thighs are trembling. He feels much better now, though; the heat has receded notably and the gnawing pain within his body doesn’t seem as present.
Jimin only realises that his knot hasn’t yet fully deflated, and his cock is still fully hard, when Taehyung grunts and tries to pull out. He inhales sharply, the slick making it easier for him to slide out, but there’s still a little pressure, a bit of a sting – but the physical discomfort pales in comparison to how his omega reacts, wailing and demanding that their alpha put the knot back in so Jimin can be bred properly, so the cum will stay in.
Already, he can feel wetness dripping out – looks down to see white coming out, and tears spring to his eyes, mouth contorting in a frown. “No, no, no,” he babbles, grabbing Taehyung’s wrist, staring pleadingly at him. “Need – need alpha’s knot back inside, please –”
Jungkook shushes him, carding his fingers through Jimin’s hair, caressing the back of his neck in an attempt to comfort the omega, and unsurprisingly, it works. Jimin relaxes significantly, quieting down as he directs his gaze at Jungkook.
“It’s okay, Jimin-ah,” Jungkook says softly, “Alpha’s gonna fuck all that cum back into you, alright? Then I’ll give you even more cum and a bigger knot.” He ignores the punch that Taehyung aims at his chest.
Jimin blinks, sniffling. “Really?” He ventures after a short pause.
Jungkook smiles – really smiles, all teeth with his nose scrunching up boyishly and his eyes forming crescents that make butterflies erupt in Jimin’s stomach. “Really. Now,” he leans back into the sofa, spreading his legs, “I want you in my lap.”
Taehyung’s knot pops out with one last tug, and Jimin tries to ignore the sensation of his precious cum dribbling out of him. Bashfully, he clambers off Taehyung and makes his way over to Jungkook, kneeling awkwardly over him, his thighs on either side of the dog hybrid.
His cock is a dark red and drooling. Jimin feels his cunt throb.
Jungkook lines up his tip between Jimin’s fat folds, teasing at his entrance and making Jimin shiver, before gesturing for him to go ahead.
“Don’t be shy, baby. Sit.”
After a second more of hesitation, Jimin sinks down fully on his cock, shuddering at the way it fills him completely. He’s still sensitive from his previous climax, and Jungkook’s size isn’t helping things.
“Ride me,” Jungkook demands, and Taehyung splutters.
“My cum’s gonna drip out of him. You just want him to only have your pups.”
Jungkook ignores him. “Show us how much you want my knot, kitten,” Jungkook says, voice like honey.
“Brat,” Taehyung mutters, but Jimin doesn’t scent any real anger on him.
“Go on,” Jungkook says, expectant.
Jimin’s at a loss for words. “B-but…”
He tilts his head. “Try.”
“Um.” Jimin swallows. “Okay.”
And he really does try, lifting his hips up and letting gravity handle the rest when he slams back down, but he’s sore from everything else they’ve done, so it’s tiring after a while, and then he tries to just grind against his cock, but he’s a little clumsy with it, unsure of what exactly he should do, and again, he’s still oversensitive, so doing too much has him jolting from the overstimulation and stopping.
He feels humiliated, being so bad at this. He should be better for his alphas. They probably expected better – probably had better.
“Aw, does our pretty kitty not know how to ride cock?” Taehyung cooes. “Did I fuck all the brains out of you, baby?”
Jimin snuffles wetly. “‘M sorry, I can’t –” He breaks off in a sob. He doesn’t want to disappoint them.
“Don’t cry, baby,” Jungkook says, reaching up to wipe away his tears. “Don’t worry, you did so good for your alphas.”
All Jimin can do is nod, leaning into Jungkook.
Jungkook rubs the back of Jimin’s neck again. “I’m gonna take care of you now.”
“Please,” Jimin finds the voice to say.
“I wasn’t asking permission, Jimin-ah.”
And then he’s switching them around so now Jimin’s lying on his back across the leather of the sofa, and Jungkook’s towering above him, with Taehyung sitting beside and watching the show.
The pace he sets is ruthless, the force of his thrusts making Jimin’s head knock repeatedly into the backing of the sofa. He finds the spot that makes Jimin squeal in no time, and Jimin himself can barely take it, holding onto Jungkook’s forearms for dear life and mewling out each time he hits it. Meanwhile, Taehyung has his dick in one hand and he’s circling Jimin’s raw clit with the other. It’s like the roles from just now have been reversed; they’re really just taking turns with him.
This position is much too exposing, he finds, with both the alphas in his line of sight at all times. There’s no escaping. Somehow, he feels embarrassed, lying down and crying as Jungkook fucks him like his sole goal is to make him come twice before he does himself.
“Look,” Jungkook says, smoothing a hand over Jimin’s tummy.
Jimin looks, and just like earlier, with Taehyung – the bulge of his cock in his stomach.
Jimin clenches down on his cock, eyes half-lidded as he stares.
Taehyung reaches out to press down on the bulge, feeling at it, and Jimin jerks, moaning at the sensation. “Feels – feels weird, alpha…”
“You’re so cute, kitten,” Jungkook praises. “Gonna look even prettier all swollen with my pups.”
It’s all too much. Tears from overstimulation gather at his waterline. He’s drawn taut, orgasm just around the corner.
Then Taehyung kneels on the sofa and suddenly all he can see is the underside of Taehyung’s leaking cock.
“Jungkookie seemed to enjoy your mouth earlier, so I figure it’s my turn, hm?”
Jimin opens up easily, even welcomes the weight of it in his mouth, the taste and the scent of Taehyung exploding on his tongue and seeping into his skin, his flesh, his very bones.
Déjà vu hits – they don’t stop, not even when Jimin comes so hard he sees stars and he spasms so violently that Jungkook has to tighten his grip on him so he doesn’t hit Taehyung right next to him, not even when Jimin blacks out again, and they haven’t stopped when Jimin regains consciousness again.
He passes out and wakes up a few more times, before his body decides he can’t handle any more. The last thing he remembers is Jungkook pushing his knot into his abused cunt, and filling him to the brim with warm cum, just as Taehyung shoots his load all over his face.
-
Jimin startles awake.
He’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and completely bare of any clothing.
The first thing he notices is the pain.
It’s a dull throb, especially in his lower half and the skin of his neck and chest area, but he’s aching all over, body incredibly sore.
The memories of being in heat hit him like a sack of bricks to the face, and Jimin’s cheeks flush at just how utterly shameless he had been while heat-delirious.
Jimin pants into Jungkook’s ear, hands roaming the broad expanse of his chiselled chest. Says – no, chants – ‘my alpha my alpha my alpha mine mine mine’ like a prayer and stares hard at the slope of his unmarked neck, before he gives in and leans into the dog hybrid so Jimin can scrape his teeth over his scent gland —
And nothing. His recollection of his heat comes in flashes of memory, nothing totally concrete, or helpful. He racks his brain and comes up empty.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Did Jimin bite him?
There’s no way, right?
Did either of them bite him?
His hands shoot up to probe around his jawline and near his ears, where a mating bite would typically be located.
Breathing out a sigh of relief (and wincing a little), he concludes that while the skin there feels a little bruised and raw, there’s no bite, mating or otherwise.
But it’s a whole different issue if Jimin was the one who bit him. If what little he learnt in school holds true, he wouldn’t feel any different, but Jungkook would —
Nope. He’s not going to think about that.
At this point, he’s been lying down and alone for a while now, and — he eyes the door — the door’s even ajar. If this isn’t an opportunity to leave now and never come back, he doesn’t know what it is.
Okay. Yes. He’ll just make a quiet escape now and avoid the two of them for the rest of his life. He’ll leave, and everything will be fine. It’ll all go back to normal and he can just keep stealing from the rest of the neighbourhood.
He groans as he tries to sit up — and quickly realises he can’t.
Panic starts to grow, manifesting in uncomfortable flips of his stomach.
Upon further inspection, he realises that his collar has been attached to a short chain, which is attached to the headboard leg of the bed he’s on. The chain is far too short to allow him any room to even sit up, let alone move around.
His hands immediately fly up to undo the clasp of the collar, but he realises, with mounting horror, that this isn’t his collar. Someone’s switched it out for another one, and — he frantically runs his fingers along the sleek leather — try as he might, he doesn’t seem to be able to find a clasp or a hook or anything, let alone take it off.
Heart rate picking up, he looks around, as much as he possibly can. The room is unfamiliar to his eyes, but frankly he can’t remember much of the interior of the personal rooms in this house, nor is he expecting the rooms to be the same after five years anyways, so this could be Soonhee’s room for all he knows.
He drops his head, flopping back onto the mattress, and closes his eyes. Maybe this is just a really realistic nightmare. Maybe if he wishes hard enough, he’ll wake up and realise that he was just having a particularly intense wet dream, and that in reality, he’s safe back at his little cosy hideout with all his warm blankets and the pretty, shiny jewellery that he didn’t want to pawn off.
“Ah, good, you’re awake.”
His eyes snap open, head whipping to the source of the sound.
It’s Taehyung, looking like he’s starving and Jimin’s breakfast.
Jimin’s cheeks colour at his intense gaze, and in his attempt to hurry and cover his chest and between his legs, he forgets that he can’t sit up and ends up yelping as the collar tugs tight at his neck, forcing him down again.
Taehyung raises an eyebrow. His scent indicates that he finds Jimin’s struggle funny. “I’ve seen it all already, kitty. No point trying to hide.”
“Where’s Jungkook?” Jimin blurts. Thankfully, Taehyung doesn’t seem to have any visible bites on him.
“Oh?” Taehyung actually looks surprised, before it smoothes out into his resting nonchalant arrogance again. “He’ll be pleased to know you’re asking about him.”
“Where is he?”
“Why so curious?” Taehyung shoots back. “Kitty already wants round two?” He pauses and grins. “Well, I guess it’s more like a fifth round, really.” He tsks. “Not even in heat anymore and yet you’re still insatiable, hm?”
Jimin resolutely refuses to respond to the obvious bait, but Taehyung doesn’t seem bothered by his silence at all. He even seems tickled.
“Anyway, I come with good news, Jimin-ah,” the tiger hybrid says, and Jimin perks up a little. Maybe they’re taking pity on him and letting him leave without a fuss. It’s optimistic, but what else does Jimin have to hang onto now?
A smirk makes its way onto Taehyung’s face, leisurely and gradual, and Jimin’s heart drops to his stomach before he even hears what he has to say, because there’s no way in hell that this will be good news for him.
Taehyung runs a hand through the thick mass of curls on his head before saying, “Mistress said it was alright for us to keep you. Even pets need pets, yeah?”
His heart stops.
(Jimin can’t speak, can’t think, can’t seem to process his words, even—)
Taehyung snickers at Jimin’s expression, tilting his head. Cruel amusement dances in his eyes.
“God, we’re going to have so much fun together.”