Archive of Our Own

“Park Jimin.”

Jimin turns to see Kim Taehyung, a shit-eating grin on his face. Jeon Jungkook flanks him on the left.

Ah. This isn’t good.

Cinnamon wafts up to his nose. It’s a bit overbearing. Jimin wrinkles his nose and leans ever-so-slightly to the side, just enough to seem casual, like he’s simply shifting on his feet.

Taehyung’s scent is strong, even for an alpha. He also appears to have never learnt how to control his scent output, judging from his behaviour in the classes Jimin has with him and, well, right now.

“Can I help you?” He asks politely, trying to temper his scent in an attempt to hide his distaste for the pair. After all, he has a reputation to uphold as an approachable student council president. A proper student leader isn’t supposed to be standoffish or annoyed with the peers they’re meant to help.

But still — Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook spell out trouble with a capital ‘t’. Whatever they’re here for, it’s not going to go well for Jimin.

He slides his gaze over to Jungkook, who has his phone in his hand and looks absolutely disinterested. He can’t detect his individual scent beyond the general marker that indicates his alpha status.

Good. At least one of them has manners.

Taehyung’s scent flickers in amusement, and he holds up a phone, flashing a photo at him.

“This you?” He says.

And oh, fuck.

Jimin can practically feel the blood drain out of his face, but manages to keep a relatively straight face.

The photo is grainy and was clearly taken in bad lighting, but Jimin’s face and the consequences that could follow if the teachers and the school at large were to get ahold of this are crystal clear.

Smoking in the alley beside the school had admittedly never been one of his brightest ideas, just convenient. And now, it seems as though he’ll be paying the price for his complacency.

“Where did you get that?” He tries to stretch a hand out for the phone, itching to snatch it away and get rid of any evidence that the picture existed in the first place, but Taehyung holds it just out of reach, his grin growing more smug.

“Oh, yeah, it’s definitely you.” Taehyung laughs, then clicks his tongue, looking vindicated as he glances towards Jungkook. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

Jungkook grunts noncommittally. “Nothing’s even happened yet.”

Taehyung just sticks out his tongue at Jungkook.

Jimin tries to pretend he isn’t panicking as he tries to figure out a realistic course of action that ends with him deleting the picture and resolving this whole issue.

“What would people think if this got circulated?” Taehyung lilts. “Wonder how that’d affect your reputation as Student Council President.” He places unnecessary flair on the title, hand coming up to gesture almost theatrically. Jimin wants to punch him.

Jimin sets his jaw. “What do you want?”

Taehyung shuts his phone off and shoves it into his front pocket. “Follow me,” he says, and starts walking. Then he turns and pauses, before cheerfully adding, “if you want,” before continuing to walk.

In another world, it’d seem affectionate and warm. In another world, Jimin and Taehyung could be in that awkward, bumbling part of a budding friendship when every new step closer is tentative, when each of them play it off as just a casual relationship, in case they seem too clingy or too deeply attached too fast.

If you want. Jimin can see it — it’s after school, and Taehyung’s inviting him over to hang at his place, but it’s totally Jimin’s choice and Taehyung’s just offering, no big deal, if he doesn’t want to go, it’s no pressure. If he declines, it’s no sweat off either of their backs. Completely free and easy.

But this is here and now. Taehyung’s just revealed he has something that’s very incriminating about Jimin. Jimin knows that this decision is definitely not free and easy.

If you want.

As if Jimin has a choice.

He follows, a sense of foreboding prickling under his skin.

Jungkook skulks behind him as he trails after Taehyung. He’s silent, but his presence itself is loud. Jimin feels constantly aware that he’s behind him. It drives him into an automatic sense of hyperawareness, running in the same sort of vein as his fight-or-flight response.

Jimin feels very much like a calf being marched to a slaughterhouse as Taehyung leads him down corridors and up staircases.

He knows this school like he knows his own house, has walked these halls a million times, has memorised every nook and cranny; yet, it still feels a bit alien now, like when you listen to an old song and hear bits that you’ve never noticed before.

Maybe the problem lies in the company he’s with. He’s never quite enjoyed spending more time than was required with cocky, no-good alphas who flout the school rules frequently.

Despite the sense of jamais vu he’s getting, he still recognises his surroundings, and if what he thinks is happening is going to happen, he’s really in for a rough one.

The closer and closer they get to where he thinks they’re going, the more dread fills his being.

The way Taehyung behaves or seems to feel couldn’t be a starker contrast to Jimin’s mental state. The alpha is humming something upbeat, scent alight with excitement (Jimin tries to keep his distance, staying as far away as possible to avoid breathing it in), and there’s a skip in his step that reminds Jimin of a child.

They stop at a darkened room. Jimin keeps his eyes on Taehyung’s back. He doesn’t need to look up at the dingy steel card on the frosted-glass door that reads Meeting Room #06-13 to know where they are. His heart is in his stomach.

There are meeting rooms just like this one all over the school, but evidently, Taehyung has decided on the one located closest to the auditorium. It happens to have a notorious reputation for being one of the few places on the school campus that students go to for ‘privacy’.

Basically, they come here to fuck. And Jimin’s sure that Taehyung‘s aware of this — he’d even go so far as to say he knows it for a fact, because, well. Everyone does.

What exactly this indicates about whatever’s about to go down, Jimin doesn’t even want to entertain the idea of.

All he can do right now is hope that the two of them really do want to just talk.

Swinging the door open and flicking on the electrical switches, Taehyung strolls into the room and takes a seat in an available chair, leaning back in the chair. He folds his arms behind his head in that awfully stereotypical alpha douche way, except he somehow makes it look attractive, which Jimin hates. What a prick.

Hesitantly, Jimin follows him in, walking to the middle of the room before stopping abruptly to hover in front of the desk, hands firmly at his sides and back stiff, facing him so it looks like he’s going to be carrying out a presentation with an audience of two. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t want to get comfortable with the likes of them. It’d do him no good.

He takes a cursory glance around. He’s never been in here before, but the general layout of the room is identical to the other meeting rooms that are peppered throughout the school. It’s quite small, meant for modestly-sized groups to hold discussions.

A untidy line of chairs are in a row in the centre of the room, and a table sits just off-centre, like someone pushed it away or knocked into it and didn’t bother to realign it with the chairs.

Taehyung gestures to the empty chair that Jimin’s standing beside. “Sit.”

Jimin presses his lips into a grim line. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” His body language screams nonchalance and indifference. Jimin could not be more annoyed.

Jungkook takes a seat next to Taehyung, posture even more relaxed as he slouches in the chair and stares up at Jimin. Jimin tries not to flinch or fidget.

The door is shut. He doesn’t know if it’s locked or not, but it might as well be. No one will bother them when the door is closed; the teachers don’t care enough and the students know not to.

Here, in this enclosed space, Jimin can taste both their scents on his tongue easily — Jungkook smells like a rainstorm after a drought and of sandalwood, and the cinnamon in the air only seems to get more concentrated.

He can feel his omega start to get a bit agitated at the foreign alpha scents, his own pre-existing negative feelings towards them not helping one bit.

Being student council president means that Jimin’s had to address both the student body, comprising about 800 students, and the teachers multiple times previously. Compared to standing here, before the eyes of the very alphas that hold his future in the palm of their stupidly big hands, delivering a speech to the school sounds like a cakewalk.

“So.” Taehyung fixes his gaze on Jimin, amber eyes piercing.

Jimin wonders if he can see right through his false calm.

One corner of Taehyung’s mouth tilts up. “I’m blackmailing you.”

Jimin doesn’t speak. His blood boils. Of course.

Jungkook elbows Taehyung. “Hyung.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung turns to give Jungkook a brief but exasperated look before correcting himself. “ We’re blackmailing you.”

“Okay,” Jimin says, jaw tight. “So what do you want?”

Taehyung shrugs. “What do you think I want?”

Jimin’s eyebrows draw together in a scowl. “Why are you — stop playing games. I don’t have time for this.”

“Why? Too busy with student council president responsibilities, I presume?” Taehyung takes out his phone and waves it at Jimin, one perfectly-trimmed eyebrow cocked. “Well, after I send this to the entire school, I’m sure you’ll have more free time on your hands. You won’t have to worry about being president anymore.”

Jimin opens his mouth. Promptly closes it. Bites the inside of his cheek.

He needs to be more careful with his words, if he’s going to be dealing with Taehyung.

Taking his silence as encouragement, Taehyung grins and leans back. His eyes are predatory.

“You really wanna know what I want?”

Jimin dips his head in a shallow nod, not once breaking eye contact.

“I want you to get on your knees,” Taehyung says, smile lilting and dangerous. “And crawl.”

“Fuck no,” Jimin says instantly, and shit, so much for watching his mouth. At this point, it’s almost an automatic response to self-entitled alpha bullshit with how quickly it comes out of his mouth. Crawl? No way in hell.

Taehyung’s eyes flicker a bright golden, scent thickening. Jungkook bristles beside him. Sandalwood and petrichor gets just a bit stronger.

“Either you crawl,” Taehyung leans forward, “or you present, omega .”

Jimin is going to kill Kim Taehyung the second he deletes that photo.

“Listen,” Jimin swallows down his anger and tries to keep his tone even. De-escalate the situation , a voice in his brain urges, sounding awfully like his mother’s. Renegotiate from there. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out.”

The other two take his apology easier than he thought they would — or, rather, Taehyung just inclines his head in acknowledgement, amusement alight in his eyes. It’s almost like he was expecting Jimin to blow up, which Jimin finds mildly irritating, but he ignores it. Jungkook remains silent.

“Anyway, I’m sure we can work something out.” Jimin tries for a stellar smile, which probably comes out more constipated than anything.

Taehyung leans back. “Mm, I’m not too sure about that.”

“What do you want?” Jimin asks for the second time, a bit less forcefully this time, more simpering. He’s thinking playing into the soft little omega persona might get Taehyung to crack. “Money?”

Beside Taehyung, Jungkook snorts. “You really just asked us that.” His tone is one of disbelief but mostly condescension, and god, does Jimin want to just slap him.

Okay, yes, fine, maybe asking the two of the most loaded students in school if they wanted money was, in hindsight, a bit redundant on his part. In his defence, he doesn’t think very well under pressure.

Plus, for some reason, despite all the fans being on, it’s starting to feel kind of hot. His uniform sticks uncomfortably to his skin. And so, a warm and stuffy room plus a moderate to high-tension situation equals slow thinking.

But it doesn't matter now. Jimin shoulders on.

“Homework help? Tutoring?” Jungkook’s face doesn’t change, but Taehyung perks up just a bit, looking vaguely interested.

Jimin latches onto that like a lifeline, rushing to elaborate. “I’m topping most of my classes. Straight As. I could set aside time once or twice a week, we could go to the library or something.”

Taehyung hums. “Go on.”

“Any class you want. I can go through study guides or the raw content itself.”

“I’m pretty sure our subject combinations aren’t the same. What if I need help with a class you don’t take?”

“I… I pick up things quick, so I can read up on the content myself and try my best to teach you. Or alternatively, I could just tutor you in the classes we share. I know you’re not performing as well as you might like in History.”

‘Huh,’ is all that Taehyung says in response. Jimin doesn’t know how to take that. He subtly leans forward to try to get a hint from his scent, but to his chagrin, it’s mostly neutral. All he can smell is alpha, which agitates his omega.

His throat is dry. Sweat drips down the side of his head, running down his neck. He resists the urge to loosen his tie. Why is it so hot ?

Jungkook smacks Taehyung lightly on the arm. Taehyung turns to him and they share a meaningful look that Jimin doesn’t understand whatsoever. Then Taehyung turns back to face Jimin.

Amusement dances in his eyes. Jimin’s been on alert this whole time, but it just makes his hackles raise more.

Taehyung offers him a placating smile, as if to say What can you do? “Sorry, Jimin-ssi. I just think taking you down a peg will just be a lot more personally satisfying than raising my grade-point average.”

Jimin takes a step forward. Not a good idea, but he’s feeling feverish, blood sizzling under his skin. Or maybe it’s the pure heat in the room. He can’t tell. “What did I even do to you?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know, reported Jungkook for violating dress code —“

“—he altered the fucking uniform into a crop top! Who wouldn’t have noticed that?”

“Looked damn good in it, too,” Jungkook mutters. He’s ignored by both of them.

“—went to the discipline master about one tiny scuffle —“

“—you were fighting in the hallways! Someone would’ve told the teachers eventually!”

“You say this as if you’re the epitome of a law-abiding model student yourself,” Jungkook spits, and fuck, he’s got Jimin there.

Taehyung rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone, turning it on and scrolling through it before finding what he’s looking for and holding it up so Jimin can see it. “Here. In case you forgot why you’re even here. Don’t get all holier-than-thou on me when you’re the one smoking.”

Jimin sees the photo again. Sees himself in it. Thinks about what exactly would happen if it got out.

The school would probably strip him of his title. Maybe give him detention, or even suspend him for a few days. They’d call his parents, definitely. That would be a fun conversation. He’d have to sit through two hours of lecturing and comparison to his brother, because Jihyun would never do this. Then his allowance would get cut, his privileges taken away. Maybe he’d get a curfew.

And he makes the split-second decision to lunge forward and snatch the phone right out of his hands.

He hears a noise of surprise, then a snarl.

Foggy-brained, he’s not too sure what happens next. It’s all a blur. He only knows that he has the phone in his hands for a good ten seconds and he does manage to delete the photo. Relief rushes through him.

Then two alphas are on him, hands grabbing at the phone in his hands. Someone’s hand wraps around his wrist, and it’s like they’ve electrocuted him, sparks flying at the touch.

The scent glands in his inner wrist throb.

Jimin tears his arm away like he’s been burned. His heart hammers away in his chest.

The phone is ripped from his grip.

He’s left standing closer to them than where he’d been at first, chest heaving. He doesn’t know what just happened.

“Well,” Taehyung says after a tense silence. “You are aware that photo recovery is a thing, right?” He grins, scent triumphant.

And Jimin‘s heart sinks.

The skin of his wrist where they’d touched him tingles. When he looks, the scent glands there are reddened and swollen.

He reaches up to probe gently at the ones at his neck. Swollen, too.

And then he feels it.

Wet. Slick. Between his thighs.

Smells it.

Rich, melting chocolate.

And his heart drops entirely to the bottom of his stomach.

No, no, no, no, no, no. His heat isn’t due till next week. There’s no fucking way this is happening right now. Of all the stupid horror stories, of all the stupid heat cliches —

Cinnamon and rainy sandalwood mingle together to form a siren call that appeals to his olfactory senses instead of by his ears.

All of a sudden, Jimin can’t speak, his instincts going haywire and his nerves fraying. The room is suddenly a sauna that’s set at way too high a temperature, it’s like he’s being roasted alive, except the heat isn’t just external.

He presses the back of his hand to his forehead. He’s burning up. He needs to leave .

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow before stepping forward, and his eyes widen.

Further away from him, Jungkook perks up, and he lifts his nose to sniff at the air.

And in unison, they speak, eyes flashing gold, sealing Jimin’s fate.

“ Heat.”

Jimin would find their speaking in tandem comical if he wasn’t so scared. “Stay back,” He chokes out, scrambling to his feet and backing away. Why the fuck does the room seem so big yet so small — he feels like he’s suffocating but he can’t seem to find the stupid door.

They don’t listen to him, instead choosing to advance forward even more. “Sweet little omega,” Taehyung croons. “Smell so fucking good.”

Jimin frantically whips his head around, the haze in his head threatening to pull him under as he tries to search for — there! He spots the glass door on the other side of the room, and in a bid to escape, practically throws himself into a mad dash for the handle. They’re caught off-guard, he can tell, and he’s so close to wrenching it open and running out of the school to safety; he can almost see himself, shoelaces having come loose in his haste, sprinting down the street back to his apartment —

But Jungkook’s faster. He slams into a wall of solid muscle, and alpha scent blooms in his nose and all around him. With the fleeting skin contact comes an ache, carved deep within his chest. For more , for closer , for them.

Wetness gathers in between his thighs, he can feel himself dripping, and he knows Jungkook can too, from the way his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare.

“Submit,” he says.

He backs away instantly, trying his best to push aside the whine his omega lets out. He keeps his eyes trained on Jungkook, whose own eyes are glowing yellow, lips stretched into a predatory smirk, scent taking on a palpable tang that only indicates one thing.

Jimin just shakes his head wildly, muttering no repeatedly, because no, he can’t submit, he hasn’t defied omegan expectations just to succumb to the wretched claws of heat — and to be at the mercy of the two biggest asshole alphas in school when he does, no less, so there’s no fucking way he can accept this — only to knock into Taehyung‘s firm chest, who grins wolfishly.

“ Boo.”

Cinnamon washes over him, making his knees weak. If he thought Taehyung’s scent was strong before, now it’s loud enough to bowl him over completely. Jimin backpedals away from him, stumbling backwards like a newborn fawn learning how to walk.

“I don’t —“ Jimin cuts off with an oomph as he backs up into the wall, hard concrete hitting his back. They waste no time catching up to him.

And now he has nowhere to run, not with Taehyung and Jungkook caging him in from both sides and looming over him, wearing identical expressions that make Jimin think he’s seeing double. They look like they’ve been starving, and Jimin happens to be a three-course meal with an extra large serving of dessert.

He’s cornered, and he feels so very small, with his arms stuck firmly at his sides and the press of the wall against his back. He can’t even breathe through the musk of pure alpha pheromones that permeate his senses, clouding his mind even further.

Jungkook has one hand flat against the wall next to Jimin’s head in a very kabedon-esque stance, and if it were anybody else, in any other situation, Jimin probably would’ve laughed. But the drip of slick between his thighs and the way the younger alpha is hunched over and leaning into his space, almost panting, is a firm reminder that this isn’t something normal.

Taehyung has his eyes closed, inhaling deeply near his throat, like he’s taking his time to fully savour the heat scent that rolls off Jimin in saccharine waves, and Jimin feels a prick of scandalisation; some part of him wants to push them away, but that’s overshadowed by the instincts telling him to submit entirely, to give into these two alphas who are big and strong and virile and who will give him healthy pups —

“It’s okay, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says. “We’re gonna give you what you need.” He clicks his tongue. “Let’s get you lying down, yeah?”

Jimin tries to shake his head. Pure fire is licking at his limbs, and he aches . “Don’t — don’t wanna—“

But they pick him up anyway, Jungkook doing most of the lifting, and move him over to the wooden table.

Jimin lets out a soft oomph when he’s laid out fully on the hard surface of the lacquered table. His back is moist with sweat, making the cotton of his uniform stick uncomfortably to his skin. It’s like someone’s fiddled with the dial on his sensitivity and turned it up to the max, enhancing all his senses to an overwhelming extent. Everything feels like too much.

Taehyung shushes him, caressing his cheek as fresh tears fall. He hurts all over, but his touch feels like relief, like ointment on a burn.

Despite himself, Jimin leans into it, begging himself to allow it just once. He feels himself get wetter, and he’s sure the two alphas can smell it too, judging from the way their scents sharpen almost immediately.

“Cute,” Taehyung murmurs, as hands — Jungkook’s, Jimin realises dazedly — start stripping him of his clothes, tugging his slacks off until he’s left in his uniform shirt. The school tie is tugged over his head, his blouse torn right off him, buttons flying clean off with audible pops. His sneakers are thrown to the side haphazardly.

The heat in his body is all-consuming, burning him up from the inside, eating at him.

Instinctually, Jimin lets out a drawn-out sigh when cool air hits his heated skin, damp with sweat, and goes laxer on the table, eyes staring blearily up at Taehyung, mouth open as he pants softly. Exposed to the cold, his nipples pebble, and he yelps when Jungkook tweaks his left one before snickering.

Within him is a war of minds, mirrored by a splitting headache. His omega versus his ego. He doesn’t know what to say. No, he knows he wants to say something, but he can’t seem to form coherent sentences that accurately express his current state of mind.

He wants to tell them to stop, to leave him alone, but he also wants to tell them to hurry up and fuck him already. He wants to scream that he hates them, but he also wants to get on his knees and swear eternal loyalty as long as he gets stuffed with cock right at this instant.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Taehyung asks, almost sympathetic. Jimin would think he actually cared if it weren’t for how pleased he looks at this turn of events. He’s still touching his cheek, thumb stroking over smooth skin, expression content and relaxed.

In contrast, Jungkook’s expression is intense, gaze molten, as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Jimin’s plain black panties, movements languid.

“It’s okay, baby,” Taehyung cooes. “Jungkookie’s going to suck your pretty little cock, take the edge off before we fuck you, yeah?”

They don’t know , a voice in Jimin’s head whispers amid the chaos. It fades into the storm.

Jimin’s breathing hard. He doesn’t know what to do, his rational brain clashing against his instincts to give in and take it like a good omega. Half of him itches to preen under the attention and push his nose into either of their necks, but the other half is still refraining, reminding himself where he is, who he’s with.

What should he do? What is he supposed to do?

Then everything happens all at once, almost too fast for Jimin to comprehend, and the decision is made for him.

Taehyung slips his thumb into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin’s eyes go wide, too frozen to do anything, whether it be biting down or taking it deeper — just as Jungkook pulls his soaked underwear down, and fully exposes his aching flesh to the cold air.

The scent of chocolate drifts up to his nose. He hears a sharp intake of breath. Petrichor and sandalwood swells in the air between the three of them.

Jungkook smells shocked.

Jimin sees Taehyung’s eyes dip down to between Jimin’s thighs, where slick glistens on the folds of his pussy. Inviting .

“Looks like our Jiminie was hiding another secret,” Jungkook murmurs.

And Taehyung’s scent flares so brightly it feels like cinnamon is seeping into him so completely — his skin, his hair, his scent glands — so utterly overwhelming and alpha that it fully awakens the omega within him and turns his brain to pure animal instinct.

He’s heard of things like this happening; an alpha’s scent overpowering an omega, or vice versa, to the point that their more animalistic side emerges. He just never thought it’d happen to him.

Now, with any sense of restraint or pride gone, Jimin releases a shuddering breath and latches onto the thumb in his mouth, sucking deferentially as he stares up at the two of them.

His alphas.

Taehyung’s hysterical, eyes wide and pupils blown. “Oh, this is just fucking fantastic.” He laughs again. “Park Jimin has a fucking cunt.”

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a skirt to school, prez?” Jungkook leers, fingers skating easily around his drenched inner thighs, but never where Jimin wants him.

Jimin only whines louder and takes Taehyung’s thumb deeper, till his entire digit is in his mouth.

Taehyung’s eyes keep flicking up to watch Jimin suck on his thumb and down to where Jungkook’s teasing near his entrance, like he can’t seem to decide what to focus on.

Sweat drips down Jimin’s hairline. He’s hot all over, and his omega’s going crazy having not just one, but two alphas, this close to them but not knotting him already, not filling him up with the cum he needs.

“Jungkookie asked you a question, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says, tone faux-stern. “Don’t you think an omega slut like you should be wearing a skirt to school?”

His cheeks pinken at Taehyung’s vulgar language. As an omega, he’s faced plenty of the same remarks, but they’d always made him feel angry. This… is different. His words simmer on Jimin’s skin, diffusing into a strange sort of pleasure that swoops into his chest, settles deep in his stomach, and crows loud.

Taehyung cocks an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer.

Jimin nods meekly and turns his head to the side. He doesn’t have to look to know Taehyung’s grinning.

Their attention on him and Taehyung’s thumb in his mouth has miraculously managed to dull the heat he feels to a plain throb, but he still needs them to touch him properly, knowing that once they do, the ache will get better.

“Pretty pussy,” Taehyung says, transfixed. “So pink and wet for us.”

“Fuck...” Jungkook drags his finger through the slick on his inner thighs, collecting a decently-sized globule of the viscous substance on his fingertip before putting it in his mouth.

Jimin almost moans at the sight, squirming as he leaks more slick. Taehyung’s thumb is cool against his tongue.

Jungkook looks a mix between satisfied and absolutely gratified when he retracts his hand, looking to Taehyung. His scent thickens. “He tastes like Hershey’s, hyung.”

Taehyung scoffs. “No kidding.” Amused, he eyes Jungkook. “That’s your favourite, isn’t it?”

Jungkook doesn’t bother to respond, eyes trained solely on Jimin, scanning up and down his naked body in a way that makes Jimin cower and shiver. His gaze lingers on his spread thighs. “I want to eat him out.”

Jimin opens his mouth to squeak out a desperate “ please” . At this point, he just needs someone to touch him .

“Go ahead,” Taehyung says, as if Jimin hadn’t spoken, and casually withdraws his fingers from Jimin’s mouth, a little to Jimin’s disappointment. “It’d be good to get him loosened up anyway.”

At that, with the same sense of urgency that Jimin feels bubbling in his blood, Jungkook pulls up a chair, sits down at the table, curls his fingers around his thighs to yank Jimin closer — the omega practically glides over to him, the slide made easy thanks to the gratuitous amount of slick that’s pooled on the wooden surface — and shoves his face between his open legs.

Jimin keens out.

Hot.

The sensation of Jungkook’s tongue dragging at a painstaking pace over his clit is almost too much to handle on its own, let alone when it feels like his entire body is burning up from the insides. He stares down at the alpha between his thighs, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Letting out a sound like a mix between a pleasured moan and a hum of approval, Jungkook’s gaze darts up to lock onto Jimin just as he lets out a shaky gasp at the vibration from the noise.

Then he lets his tongue dip between his folds, and Jimin’s hips buck as he chokes on a breath, hands flying up to cover his face. It’s the first time anyone’s touched him down there, let alone eaten him out.

He feels hot and wet inside him, warmth spreading downwards to pool in the tips of his toes. It’s a different kind of heat — not the uncomfortable, achey, rampant one, but something softer, more pleasurable, almost comforting. Like being swaddled in a warm blanket.

With hooded eyes, the tight grip that he maintains on Jimin’s thighs, and the vigour in which he’s burying his face into his pussy with, Jungkook’s something out of a wet dream. Jimin can’t look away.

His hands shoot down on pure instinct, tangling into his dyed hair and only encouraging Jungkook on. His hair is soft to the touch and almost fluffy, and Jimin tugs on him, breathing laboured. His heart is doing somersaults in his chest.

He feels so… raw , naked and laid out on a table, completely vulnerable. The bite of arousal is like cigarette smoke in the air, three distinct scents a tangible reminder of who he’s with.

Next to him, Taehyung traces the skin around Jimin’s left nipple with his thumb, touch feather-light and deceptively gentle, before he leans down to scatter kisses around his chest and neck — ‘kisses’ is a stretch, really. It’s more like frenzied licking and biting in a way that’s guaranteed to leave marks of varying shades of red. It stings, but it stings good.

He’s scenting Jimin too, the omega notices, a bit delayed in his realisation, and god, he hadn’t known how much he needed it until Taehyung gave it to him. The alpha pheromones directly on his scent gland help to satiate the heat and settle his omega, and just feels good. He can’t remember the last time he’s been scented so intensely, and he finds himself pushing up closer to Taehyung.

It’s all too much. The delicious pressure and suction on his cunt, the way Jungkook’s fingers sink into the creamy flesh of his thighs, how Jimin feels more of Taehyung’s teeth than his lips on his skin.

He’s wound up tight. He knows his orgasm is building. His body feels electric, writhing in Jungkook’s grip and under Taehyung’s ministrations. Moans spill forth from his quivering lips, as he cries, please please please —

Back arching up, Jimin comes.

His mind blanks. White-hot pleasure courses through every inch of his being, and suddenly Taehyung’s mouth is on his.

Taehyung tastes like the cinnamon rolls that the bakery down the street near his apartment used to sell, and the taste makes Jimin moan into his mouth. It doesn’t help that Jungkook is still lapping at his sensitive pussy, and Jimin’s trying to close his trembling legs but Jungkook’s grip on his thighs is unyielding.

Eventually, Taehyung breaks the kiss, but not before tugging Jimin up so he’s sitting upright. It feels courteous, like he’s allowing him to attempt to gain some sense of composure before the two alphas knock it right out of him again.

Jungkook delivers one last lick to his raw skin, before leaning back. His mouth and chin are coated in a sheen of wet.

Smugness looks good on him, Jimin decides, still a bit dazed.

“Look so pretty when you come,” Taehyung says, voice low. “So good for us.”

Jimin basks in the praise, clinging onto every word. His alpha’s approval feels better than any kind of reward.

The heat is momentarily satiated by the orgasm, but Jimin’s still very much fully in his omega's headspace. It’s like drowning, but pleasantly. Embracing it is easier. Better.

“Wanna see his mouth around a cock,” Jungkook mutters, swiping at Jimin’s lips. They’re still pinkened from the kiss.

Taehyung hums in agreement. “Look at these fuckin’ DSLs. He was made for this.” He inclines his head in Jimin‘s direction, staring down at Jimin through his eyelashes. “Aren't you?”

Jimin drops his head in a submissive nod, goosebumps rising on his skin. “Just wanna make alphas feel good,” he says, and god, he really does. He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“You will,” Taehyung says simply. It’s a promise. “On the floor. On your knees.”

Jimin slips from the table onto the floor on unsteady legs, still weak from his orgasm, before getting onto his haunches obediently. He’s in a puddle of his own slick, but he honestly can’t find it within himself to care.

Looking up at Jungkook and Taehyung from below them, the feeling of smallness and inferiority envelopes him again. Like he belongs here, on his knees, ready to service his alphas.

Their scents are extra potent, the musk aggravating the heat in his bones and getting him hotter.

The alphas make a sound of satisfaction.

“Good omega,” Taehyung coos as he undoes the button on his pants, casually condescending in a way that normally would’ve made Jimin fume, but now it just makes his omega unreasonably happy, because he’s good. He’s a good omega.

Jimin stares openly at the bulge in his slacks that’s tenting the fabric. Taehyung’s big, as expected of an alpha. Jimin imagines it stretching him out and shivers. His scent sweetens.

They take notice, of course. Jungkook’s lips curl into a grin.

Taehyung’s movements turn a little more deliberate, teasing. It’s clear that he’s savouring this moment, relishing in the present situation. Even while sliding the zipper down and slowly freeing his cock from his underwear, he doesn’t take his eyes off Jimin for a second.

Jimin doesn’t meet his gaze. He’s too focussed on what Taehyung’s doing to make eye contact, too absorbed in Taehyung’s every motion.

His cock is as big as Jimin figured, maybe even bigger, and slightly curved. He’s thick, too. Fully hard. Pearls of precum crown his tip.

His pussy aches. Jimin wants him.

He scoots closer, clings to Taehyung’s legs. Stares intently at him.

“So eager,” Jungkook says, tone patronising with an undertone of teasing. He props his head up on his elbow, getting comfortable as he watches the two of them.

Gripping himself, Taehyung slaps his cock lightly against Jimin’s cheek, making Jimin jump, before he prods at Jimin’s lips, smearing precum all over them.

This is familiar to Jimin, at least. He opens up without making a fuss, eyes fixed on his cock.

“No hands,” Taehyung warns as he feeds Jimin his cock, inch by inch. “Watch the teeth.”

Taehyung’s scent is stronger than ever. Cinnamon fills his mouth and his nose, clings to his skin, and goes straight to his pussy. He’s leaking slick on the floor.

His cock is hot and heavy in his mouth, the perfect weight, something that manages to partially satiate the hunger deep within him, the need to please and gain praise and validation.

He’s too big for Jimin to fit all of him without deepthroating it, so he tries to wet as much of his length as possible, effectively slobbering all over his cock till it’s sufficiently lubricated.

Taehyung’s hands are big where they rest gently on his head, threading through his hair to grip at him firmly.

Hands on either side of him, Jimin sucks on the tip, flattening his tongue against the underside of his head, while flicking his gaze up to gauge his reaction.

Taehyung‘s gaze is pure sin when Jimin makes eye contact.

“Good omega.”

Jimin almost forgets how to breathe. It’s like an instant dopamine shot to his veins.

“Think you can handle taking my cock deeper?”

Jimin nods profusely. Anything for alpha , he wants to say.

He’s a bit rusty, but he tries as hard as he can. Jimin forces down his gag reflex, staying still and taking a deep breath as Taehyung pushes his length deeper down his throat. He makes sure to keep his eyes on Taehyung’s the entire time, a perfect picture of obedience.

He bottoms out with no problem. Jimin can feel his cock at the back of his throat. His eyes begin to water.

Someone inhales sharply. He doesn’t know who.

A moment of Jimin making unwavering eye contact with Taehyung while his dick is stuffed down his throat passes, before Jimin whines. Thankfully, Taehyung gets the message and pulls out, before slowly sliding back in.

Taehyung curses. “You’re way too good at this for it to be your first time.” He threads his fingers through Jimin’s hair, smoothing it back in an action that’s oddly gentle. “Who was it, hm?”

“Thought student council presidents weren’t supposed to be in relationships,” Jungkook says, letting out an exaggeratedly disappointed sigh, and Jimin knows it’s exaggerated, but it affects him all the same, omega whining. Alpha upset?

He lowers his gaze. Jungkook continues on. “Guess that’s just another rule you’ve broken.”

“Look at the slut. You think he could resist?” Taehyung starts slowly fucking into Jimin’s mouth, ignoring how Jimin jolts every time he hits the back of his throat. “Was it Jung Hoseok? You two are pretty close.”

Hoseok — his best friend and the treasurer. Heart-shaped smiles and delicate hands flash in his mind. They hadn’t ever gone further than a few clumsy kisses and fevered touches.

Keeping his eyes down, Jimin doesn’t respond, too preoccupied with trying not to gag. Taehyung doesn’t look bothered by his lack of a reply; rather, he seems even more stimulated by the fact that Jimin can’t speak.

“Or maybe it was Kim Namjoon.”

Jimin’s eyes knife up to Taehyung at the sound of his vice president’s name, staring up at him through his wet lashes.

He thinks of hushed whispers. Kneeling with his thighs pressed together, slick dampening the seat of his pants. An affectionate hand carded through his hair. The ache in his jaw. Spit dribbling down his chin. The deep timbre of Namjoon’s voice as he tells Jimin that he’s doing so well, so pretty and soft for him, so perfect —

“Both?” Taehyung snickers. “Wouldn’t put it past you.”

Jimin wants to scream. His omega doesn’t understand why he keeps talking about other alphas when he — when they , Taehyung and Jungkook, are the ones that are here, and it hurts his brain. The heat’s beginning to surge again, and all he needs is more of them all over him. He’s not satisfied, he needs Jungkook too, needs him to be just as present as Taehyung is. So he darts his eyes over to where the other alpha is sitting.

And he looks straight into the piercing light of Jungkook’s phone camera.

He blinks instinctively, the afterimage burning on the back of his eyelids as tears steal down his cheeks.

“I think the other alphas would appreciate this, hm?” Taehyung says, sounding cheerful. “They’d love to see the cute little omega council president, always so uptight and bitchy—“ Taehyung inhales sharply, before letting a contented sigh out. “—become a needy knotslut.”

“That’s what you are, right?” Jungkook says, voice soft. He strokes a hand across his cheek, touch tender in a way that feels like the aftertaste of something overly sugary.

Jimin gurgles an affirmation. His jaw’s starting to hurt.

“Hyung, do you think we should send this to the senior group chat with just the alphas, or the whole level?”

“The whole level. Think everyone needs to see what a perfect whore he is. Maybe some of them can learn from him.” Taehyung laughs, bright and boyish. “That’s what being student council president is all about, right? Setting a good example for your fellow students?”

Thinking about his peers seeing him like this, completely naked and helplessly aroused, on his knees and at the mercy of two of the most infamous alphas in the school, makes Jimin tremble. His stomach turns, and he can’t tell if it’s butterflies or queasiness.

Satisfied with his filming, Jungkook turns his phone off and tosses it to the side. “Hyung, I want a go. Pull out.”

Taehyung huffs. “Couldn’t even wait for me to finish,” he grumbles, but pulls out anyway, leaving Jimin to catch his breath, chest heaving.

A thin thread of saliva connects Jimin’s ruddy lips to the glistening tip of Taehyung’s cock, only broken when Jimin swipes at his mouth, wet cheeks rosy. His breaths come out in puffs of air.

He almost surges forward to take Taehyung back in his mouth again, despite the dull pain in his jaw, but Taehyung stops him with a knowing smile. “Stay,” Taehyung says, as if Jimin’s a dog.

Jimin obeys, angling his gaze down in submission, but his omega’s distraught by the outright rejection. All he wants is cock, even if it’s just in his mouth, and he doesn’t understand why his alpha is stopping him.

Then Jimin feels a hand — Jungkook’s hand — tilt his chin up to face him. Jimin breathes in his scent, letting it consume him completely.

Jungkook’s expression is intense, eyes hard and burning with a desire that makes Jimin highly anticipatory. His cock is out, looking around the same size as Taehyung, if not a little thicker.

Jungkook slots his dick between Jimin’s lips, and pushes in slowly, letting out soft, ragged moans that only get him needier, wetter. Jimin opens up wider to accommodate, tongue laving across his tip and savouring the heady taste.

After a quick glance up, Jimin starts bobbing his head, cheeks hollowed as he works Jungkook’s cock.

“Isn’t he pretty?” Taehyung asks. It’s rhetorical, but Jungkook answers anyway.

“The prettiest,” Jungkook bites out, eyes half-lidded. “Feels so good, hyung.”

Taehyung’s eyes dip from Jungkook’s blissed-out face to where Jimin’s plump lips are wrapped snugly around his cock, before he looks back up at Jungkook.

Then he leans in and kisses him, tongue slipping easily into his mouth.

Jimin’s body floods with heat. Blood roars in his ears.

They’re works of art. Two Michelangelo sculptures come to life.

Jungkook responds immediately, groaning out and kissing him back, slithering a hand around the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. His cock twitches in Jimin’s mouth. The sensation is delicious.

His movements slow to a halt. He’s just cockwarming Jungkook now, completely still.

His vision tunnels, world collapsing in on itself so the only thing he sees is them. He can't tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him, can't hear anything but the obscene, wet noises from their kissing and the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears.

It’s as if he’s in a trance watching Taehyung and Jungkook. All of a sudden, their bodies tense, and Jungkook breaks the kiss to look down at Jimin, scent fiery.

It’s only then that Jimin realises he’s been involuntarily releasing even more heat pheromones in his scent, all cloying temptation, so thick that it’s clear all he wants is to be fucked, bred, mated.

His fingers are pumping steadily in and out of his sopping pussy, and his other hand rubs desperately at his swollen clit. He’s so out of it he doesn’t even remember reaching down in the first place. His skin is sizzling hot.

Then Taehyung turns that gaze on him, and Jimin just lets out a full-fledged, entirely needy whimper.

It’s the ultimate sign of submission for an omega.

Taehyung is delighted. “Needy slut. Need alphas’ knots?”

Jimin nods, as much as he can with Jungkook’s cock still in his mouth. “Please,” he tries to say, but it comes out muffled and only serves to make Jungkook groan at the vibrations.

The alphas make eye contact, an unspoken look passing between them. Then Jungkook’s gently sliding Jimin off his dick and gathering him up in his arms, and oh , his chest is firm and he smells so good it makes Jimin dizzy.

Then they’re horizontal, his chest to Jungkook’s chest as they lay on the table, which is refreshingly cool to the touch. He can feel the slow, steady beat of Jungkook’s heart against his skin. He can feel Jungkook’s cock, stiff and wet, against his inner thigh. His hands rest on Jimin’s hips.

“Alpha’s gonna fill you up,” Jungkook whispers to him, causing the fine hairs on his skin to rise. “Gonna give what you need, baby.”

Jimin thinks he whimpers again. Jungkook’s stare doesn’t waver, eyes hooded.

“This pussy,” Taehyung hisses from behind him, big hand gripping Jimin’s cunt so hard it hurts, “is mine.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and reaches out to nudge him. “Hyung.”

“Ours,” Taehyung begrudgingly amends.

It’s almost like some kind of reflex action in reaction to their words and verbal claim over him when Jimin’s stupid Omega brain decides to release shocks of dopamine, filling his mind with pure pleasure.

To his embarrassment, a loud purr starts deep in his throat, uncontrollable. He has barely enough clarity of mind to cover his face with his hands, but he couldn’t stop the purr if he tried.

Ours . It echoes in his brain.

The innate, Omegan desire he’d suppressed for so long to belong to an alpha, to be marked and claimed and ravished, finally rears its ugly head. He can feel himself dripping onto Taehyung’s palms.

Taehyung laughs, sounding pleased. “You like that? Like hearing that you belong to us?” He grinds the heel of his palm down onto Jimin’s swollen clit, and Jimin’s hips buck, a squeak escaping from his lips. “How cute.”

“The cutest.” Jungkook drops his gaze to nuzzle his nose into Jimin’s neck, around his scent gland, making Jimin keen out as Jungkook’s scent fans over him even more. Where Taehyung is aggressive and torrid, Jungkook is deliberate and thorough in his scenting.

“You’re fucking soaked,” Taehyung mutters, low but just audible enough for Jimin to hear. “Think Jungkookie could just slide right in.”

Jimin whines. The heat’s flaring up again, body having waited too long.

Alpha. Knot. Now.

Jungkook presses his lips to the sensitive skin of the curve of his neck, leaving wet kisses near his gland. Goosebumps pebble his skin.

Shivering, Jimin manages to stammer out a ‘p-please’ , voice small and pleading.

“Since you asked so nicely…”

And then the head of Jungkook’s cock slides against his folds, and Jimin has a moment to let out a shaky exhale before it’s pushing in, bottoming out in one quick motion.

Jimin sobs out.

The moment that Jungkook enters him is indescribable — it’s like relief and ignition at the same time, like both relaxation and fireworks.

He’s so thick, fills him up so good . When Jungkook pulls out and fucks back in, it’s like a craving finally being satisfied.

A firm slap is delivered to his ass cheek, and Jimin clenches around Jungkook. “Perfect little omega,” Taehyung whispers directly in his ear, voice so drenched in lust it makes him shiver.

Jungkook sets a powerful pace, thrusts weighted and almost calculated. Jimin’s body jerks forward a little with each stroke. His fingers grab onto Jungkook’s shoulders.

He doesn’t even know he’s babbling out incoherent gibberish until Jungkook catches his lips in a searing kiss, and Jimin melts into him, body going pliant as he fucks into him, rhythmic and measured.

Jungkook’s grip on his hips has gone from light to bruising. His body is all hard muscle and strong lines against him. Jimin feels like he’s submerged in his scent, overwhelmed by rain and sandalwood.

The kiss is broken eventually, and Jimin settles for bashfully scenting Jungkook back, kitten licking at his scent gland and rubbing at his neck. He can’t remember the last time he scented someone who wasn’t a family member, or the last time he scented someone in a non-platonic way, and it feels good. Better than good.

Now Jungkook’s completely coated in Jimin’s chocolate scent, and Jimin doesn’t know how to explain the feeling of possessiveness and pride that soars in his belly.

Then Jungkook hits a particular spot in him, and Jimin writhes, mewling out. At the sound, both the alphas’ scents intensify.

Jimin feels a finger probe near where Jungkook’s buried in his cunt, skating across the rim of his hole. For some reason, Jungkook slows to a stop.

“Aw, look how stretched your tiny pussy is just from Jungkookie’s cock. How are you going to be able to handle the two of us, hm?” Taehyung cooes.

Two of us. Jimin’s eyes are screwed shut and his bottom lip is worried between his teeth. He needs both of his alphas to be inside him, to claim him, to breed him properly. He needs it, needs it like how he needs oxygen, like how a fish needs water. “Can handle it. P-promise.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Taehyung says, sounding disappointed. “I don’t even know if you deserve it.”

“Only good omegas get knots,” Jungkook adds, lips right next to his ear.

Jimin’s eyes snap open. No, he can’t, he can’t . He tries to speak to both of them at the same time, twisting his head around to catch a glimpse of Taehyung and looking back at Jungkook, eyes wide in protest. “B-but alpha said I was a good omega.”

Taehyung tugs lazily at his heavy cock with one hand, gaze carnal. “Good omegas beg, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin doesn’t hesitate. “ Please , alpha. Please give Jiminie your knot.”

Jungkook turns his head to press a kiss to his neck, humming against his skin.

Taehyung’s lips twist into a smirk. “That’s more like it,” he says. “Turn back around.”

Jimin complies, lying back down, eyes shutting as he clings to Jungkook. Cinnamon gets stronger, and Jimin can feel Taehyung’s body heat emanating off him as he draws closer.

Then a finger is prodding at his cunt, pushing in on top of Jungkook’s cock.

Jimin gasps out although he’d been expecting it. His heart rate speeds up. He clutches tighter onto Jungkook, who tightens his grip on him in turn.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” Taehyung murmurs, breathing slightly strained. “So messy for us.”

It pumps in, out, in, out, in, out. It’s uncomfortable at first, but the discomfort slowly deliquesces into a buzz that runs through his veins. The repetition becomes solacing. Jimin relaxes into it, lets himself enjoy it.

Then the finger pulls out, and is swiftly replaced with Taehyung’s hard cock. Jimin thinks he’s going to take it slow and stretch him out like he did with his finger, but no.

Taehyung doesn’t waste time — he fucks right into Jimin’s stuffed cunt, no hesitation or second thoughts, slide aided by the copious amount of slick Jimin’s produced.

All three of them moan out.

Jimin’s eyes roll back. All thought leaves his mind. He can only feel the stretch, so tight and so deep, but so delicious. He’s so full, fucked to the brim, and he fucking loves it. His mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out.

Then Taehyung pulls back and thrusts back in, and Jimin wails.

His nails scratch down Jungkook’s arms, leaving angry stripes in their wake, but he can’t find it within himself to care. Jungkook doesn’t look bothered anyway, judging from his expression. He looks just as blissed out as Jimin feels.

“So tight, baby,” Taehyung breathes.

He starts moving, motions rapid and fevered, hips snapping in and out at an ungodly pace. If Jungkook fucks like he wants to make Jimin cry, Taehyung’s goal seems to be making Jimin scream.

Taehyung’s hand glides up his spine to wrap around the nape of his neck, while the other gropes at the fat of his ass, kneading and squeezing at him.

“Love your ass,” Taehyung groans. “ Fuck.”

It feels so surreal. Jimin can feel them throbbing inside him.

“Gonna move,” Jungkook mutters.

Slowly, Jungkook starts fucking up into him, strokes tentative as he tries to adjust with Taehyung there. Soon enough, they fall into an easy rhythm, pushing and pulling like antagonistic muscles; when Taehyung pulls out, Jungkook thrusts back in. This way, he’s never empty.

Lewd, wet noises sound, the squelch of slick shamefully loud and the slap of skin on skin seems to echo, but Jimin barely registers them. Everything else blurs into a haze of intoxication, gratification burning in his bones.

All he can smell is sex, chocolate, cinnamon, rain, and sandalwood. It’s like they’re in a bubble separate from the outside, their own little world where only the three of them and this feeling of pure exhilaration exist. Just them and their pleasure.

Between their larger, muscled bodies, something within Jimin clicks into place. This is where he belongs. He was made for this.

Mates , his omega whines.

Jimin’s drooling on Jungkook’s chest. His eyes are unfocused, but he snaps back to attention when Taehyung delivers a stinging spank to his ass.

“Who would’ve thought?” Taehyung snickers. “The president of the student council’s just a knot-stupid slut when he gets fucked.”

Jimin whines and pushes back on their cocks, grinding on them as much as he can. The heat’s reaching the acme of its intensity, spurred on by the volatile pheromones in the air, and all he can feel is insatiable desire for them, for their knots, for more.

“Greedy little omega,” Jungkook says. “Maybe two cocks aren’t enough for you?”

Taehyung sits a finger at his puckered asshole. Taps it lightly. “Maybe we should let the guys have a go. Fill up all your holes, hm?”

Jimin twitches at his words, clenching around them, and Jungkook lets out a strangled moan. “ Fuck , do that again.”

Gratified, Taehyung continues on, leaning down so his chest is against Jimin’s back to whisper into his ear. “Yeah? You like that? Proud little student council president on his fucking knees like a perfect omega whore? Ready to serve his classmates?”

Jimin hiccups, thinking about touching other alphas, letting them use him, all while his alphas sit by the side and watch him with darkened eyes, and squeezes down on their lengths again. “I — yes.”

Taehyung tuts. “Such a slut.”

Jimin’s bottom lip wobbles, and he falters. “B-but. I’m your slut?”

The grin is clear in Taehyung’s voice, and his delight is even clearer in the look that Jungkook shares with him. “That’s right. You’re our slut.”

And he pulls back out to slam back in, and Jimin chokes on his own spit. He’d been rough before, but it’s like hearing their claim over him coming from Jimin’s own lips has completely unleashed him.

He speeds up, pounding into Jimin’s raw cunt at a breathless rate. His mouth wanders across the expanse of Jimin’s bare back, teeth biting at pale flesh and lips painting bruises on his skin. His hands linger on his ass, never straying far, like he can’t bear to not touch Jimin’s butt for too long.

Jungkook matches his energy scarily easily, keeping pace with Taehyung, and god, it’s like every stroke from either of them has his toes curling.

His climax is coming up, he can feel it as it builds in his belly. He tries to reach down to rub at his ignored clit, to give him that push he needs over the edge, but Jungkook snatches his hand away before he can, and crashes their lips together in a kiss that entirely melts what was left of Jimin’s brain.

“Good omegas come on their alphas’ cocks,” is what Jungkook says when Jimin pulls away to gasp for air, and Jimin nods fervently. He was a good omega. He could do that.

Jungkook and Taehyung are close too; Taehyung’s movements are becoming sloppier and sloppier, and Jungkook’s tensed all over.

All of a sudden, a hand fists in Jimin’s hair and his head is yanked back, and Taehyung’s kissing him, all clashing teeth and heavy tongue. Cinnamon washes over him even more, and it’s as if his scent stokes the flames inside him, sending him hurtling right towards his release.

“Close, close, close,” Jimin sobs when Taehyung breaks away, voice cracking and grip tightening on Jungkook’s shoulders, whole body vibrating like a rubber band drawn taut, ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

“Gonna cum on both your alphas’ cocks?” Taehyung snarls out. “Want our knots, omega?”

“Yes, yes, want alphas’ knots,” Jimin blubbers. “Want mates to breed Jiminie, please, please —“

Jungkook curses. “Of course, baby. Gonna breed you so fucking good, yeah?”

“ Please, please, please—“ Jimin’s in hysterics.

And with one last thrust, Taehyung knots, with Jungkook following suit not long after. Hot, thick streams of cum flood into him, painting his insides with white. Jimin lets out a breathless whine when he feels their knots expand and lock in, cunt stretched to its limits.

Then sharp teeth sink into his skin — Taehyung first, then Jungkook on the other side. Pain blooms in his neck, twin blades slicing into him, and he winces, jerking as his body processes the pain.

But the bites trigger his orgasm, and the spike of pleasure hits him like two sucker punches straight to the gut. Jimin trembles violently, back arching, as the climax racks his entire body, cunt spasming around both their knots.

He sees stars for a second — twin spots of brightness that dot his vision as his body convulses, twinkling like real stars before they fade, leaving Jimin to coast across the waves of post-orgasm bliss.

His omega is appeased. Mates bred us so good, it whispers. Jimin can’t find it in himself to disagree.

And just like that, it’s over. His heat is sated. For now.

Head lolling down, the last thing he feels before his eyes flutter shut is cum, thick and viscous, dripping out of his ruined pussy.