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Man-Eater

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“Humans are thought to be at the top of the food chain, but there are other beings who hunt them as food. These monsters who feed on the dead flesh of humans... they are called Ghouls.” There’s a pause. Jimin rolls his eyes and balls the newspaper into his fist to toss it over his shoulder. Where it lands this high up is anyone’s guess. “Still running with that, eh? Humans being at the top of the food chain. Don’t make me laugh.”

Held firm beneath his boot as Jimin presses harder, the officer whines a plea. Something pitifully hoarse and wet. Reflected in the cracked surface of his glasses, Jimin can see his eyes, blood red surrounded by a murky black. No wonder he’s terrified. There’s blood seeping past the edges of his lips already, and Jimin hasn’t even had his fun, yet.

Hunkering down, his coat billowing as the wind around him tussles the fabric, Jimin slaps the officer across the face, jerking him awake. “Ah-ah, Don’t you go dying on me now. We haven’t gotten to the good part.”

The officer in question is nothing but a low-level agent named Choi Minho—freshly assigned to his first big case after a year of pencil-pushing at CCG headquarters, still wide-eyed and surprised, clearly not ready for this.

 

Not ready for Jimin.

 

And yet, here he is. Jimin can feel the wavering thump of his pulse beneath his gloved fingertips that rest over his prey’s throat.

He doesn’t know anything, he insists weakly. He’s just following orders, patrolling the area in search of clues that’ll lead to the binge-eater. “That’s all I know! I-I swear!”

Jimin hums low, leaning in to lick the trickling blood off the officer’s cheek and nuzzle against his hair. Humans are so easy to trick. So foolish. He knows this, because he roams about their streets in plain sight,  speaking to them, accepting food from them he won’t eat at restaurants. Enough that he can walk down the street and not face the end of a quinque, nor a gun. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, so to speak. It’d almost been too easy to corner officer Choi and lead him away from his post. Show a man a pretty face and the prospect of seeing something more, he comes running and doesn’t look back.

“That’s what they’re calling me, hm? Cute,” Jimin purrs as he breathes in the scent of terror that mingles with the steam rising from the city’s industrial district. “I like that. D’ya know what I like more?”

He sighs heavily as the back of his coat begins to tear and give under the pressure of his kagune piercing through skin and fabric without pause. A row of six barbed tentacles protruding from his lower back and curving along his shoulders; one pointed beneath Officer Choi’s chin.

“I like getting answers,” Jimin simpers, craning his neck. It’s taken an enormous amount of skill and appetite in order to gain even an ounce of control over his kagune so that it doesn't attack blindly as it’s meant to do, and during moments like these where he can use them to his liking, he’s glad for having done everything he has in order to achieve this.

He stands tall, shrugging off the tattered remains of his coat towards the ground and turns towards the city, his kagune wrapping around the officer’s ankles and dragging him across wet concrete. His begging goes ignored by Jimin who's deep in his thoughts.

 

By the edge of this building, he can barely make out Tokyo’s citizens as they scatter across the streets like wild ants. The city is plagued, cloyed by polluted air, dull lights and the same faces. Jimin’s tired of it all, the shape of this damned city blurring around the edges. He wishes to crush it beneath his fist, or maybe purge it by eating until his stomach caves in on him.

 

Whichever comes first.

There’s a scream behind him, and Jimin turns, finding Choi’s gaze for a moment. He’s held up by his tentacles that pulse with vibrant red blood as they slither around his torso in search of where to pierce first. Jimin peers at the scene uninterested. This officer isn’t who he wanted, not even close to scratching the surface of what his desires demand.

“Do you know lead investigator Jeon Jeongguk, Choi?” Jimin asks airily as if this happens all the time, but then again it does. Jimin loves to play with his food beforehand. Nothing makes a human look their best than when they're consumed by terror.

To his credit, Officer Choi tries to be rational and remained tight-lipped about answering, using his voice solely to scream for help, until a tentacle wraps around his throat and begins to tighten. Color rushes to his face immediately, garbled wheezes and drool leaving slack lips.

Jimin counts to five, determined to toss this useless sack of meat over the building for all of Tokyo to watch bleed out, but doesn't make it past four, when there’s a sudden, “I know him! H-he’s my commanding officer. We have dinner sometimes—please, please!”

Jimin leans in, arms crossed around his chest. He’s pleased, and makes a soft sound in regards to this information, storing it for later. “Aw, that’s very sweet, he takes his subordinates to dinner. Not very common for him. He keeps his circle very tight. You must be special somehow, hm?” Exhaling gently, his fingers now stroking along one of the barbs protruding past one of his tentacles idly, Jimin tsks when it dawns on him. “Oh dear, you’ve gone and fucked him. That’s why you’re so hesitant to answer, isn't it?”

Beneath grime, saliva and caked blood coating across officer Choi’s face, his blush is apparent, as is his shame. Jimin giggles, lips curving at the edges as one of the barbs retracts and then pierces, striking along the width of the officer’s shoulder without pause.

“And where do you have dinner together? What does Jeon Jeongguk like in a man?” Jimin asks amidst choked screaming, which he ignores in favor of getting more answers. “Oh, you don't wanna’ talk now? Should I eat your heart? Your spleen?” His fingers dance down the officer’s chest, lower and lower until they skim across the gleaming buckle of a belt. Tapping it, Jimin teases, “Should I eat this? How would Jeon Jeongguk react to that?”

The wind picks up and a draft pricks goosebumps on Jimin’s skin and makes him shudder, or perhaps it’s the excitement. He stares at Officer Choi with renewed interest as he continuously cries and attempts to wriggle past his grip and free of the barb stuck inside him. Here he foolishly thought this officer was of no use to him, when, even by a fragment, he is.

“Maybe I should leave you here with a little calling card from me for him to find you,” Jimin says on a whisper, his single-minded determination now fixated on luring Jeon Jeongguk to him much better than the alternative of Jimin doing that himself. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

It takes a little more prodding and tearing from Jimin's kagune around Officer Choi's belly for him to be too weakened to resist, losing too much blood, panic rising high. He gives Jimin everything he needs to know, starting from where he and Jeon Jeongguk have dinner together sometimes after work, as well as the name of the hotel they’ll sometimes go-to for a quick fuck behind closed doors. Even the man’s drink order of choice and how he likes his men. The kind of quinque he’s recently acquired, which is specifically tailored for combat against Jimin’s rinkaku kagune. Jimin commits this information to memory for a later time.

“How interesting you are, Jeon Jeongguk. It sounds like you’re a little obsessed with me.” Jimin simpers, licking his fingers clean since things might have gotten a little… messy on his end, a little delicious and bloody. Officer Choi lays unconscious on the ground, impaled by three-pronged tentacles. Jimin huffs, kicking his ankle in hopes of waking him up, but to no avail.

 

“Ugh, human men are so frail. You get a little scared and pass out on me. How boring and predictable.”

 

There comes no reply other than minuscule whimpers, and Jimin resigns himself to the fact that this man is of no more use to him, and hunkers down, baring his teeth. These days he’s never quite full enough to stop eating, nothing that’s enough to satisfy the hollow pit inside his stomach anyway.

 

Jimin doesn’t react to the sounds a person makes when they’re being torn into, just keeps eating, following the chant inside his head craving more, more, more.

 

Blood oozes around him, some of it splattering as it meets steel beams and discarded pipes left on the roof of the building. It buzzes inside Jimin’s head like white noise, and he tips his head back, swallowing thickly, moaning around another gnash of his teeth as he chews. His eyes roll into the back of his head, and for a moment, sitting amidst the mess, Jimin can only pant during the comedown.

 

When he’s finished, not sated, but not as bored as before now that he’s gotten some of what he wants, Jimin licks the leather covering his fingers clean of any leftover blood. He stretches his hands, flexing and tightening until the gloves grow taut at his knuckles, exhaling deeply. The scent never lessens, only increases as time passes.

 

It always ends like this after feeding. So uneventful and lackluster. Just another human, another weakling. A heavy sort of longing builds in his chest for something more as he hoists whatever remains of the officer are left, off the building and onto the pavement, where the humans below stop and stare.

 

At first, Jimin can’t put his finger on it, but then, as he observes how stunned silence bleeds into terrifying chaos once pedestrians realize what’s in front of them, it dawns on him. What he’s been missing. What that something more is.

 

He doesn’t want to eat someone who scares easily. No, Jimin wants something else. Tougher to swallow, but sweeter on the tongue.

 

Within minutes, the CCG’s officers are on the scene, barring off the sidewalk so that the body isn’t compromised. A flurry of white uniforms, flashing lights, and many questions. It’s as Jimin’s blending in with the crowd, another face amidst humans, that he spots him.

 

CCG Special investigator Jeon Jeongguk.

 

Tall, well-built and pristine in his standard uniform’s white coat with not a single strand of dark hair out of place, Jeon Jeongguk looks unperturbed by the scene, more so calculating as he takes every inch of it in. His composed demeanor no matter how gruesome the circumstances are has granted him a reputation amongst his peers known as their reaper, or to Jimin, the CCG’s trained mutt. He’s wearing thin-framed glasses that do nothing to hide his apathy at the man’s remains before him.

 

It’s as if he couldn’t care less that they used to fuck, his arched brow the only indication he even recognizes Choi.

 

A local news van is parked on the sidewalk across the street, and the police try their best to keep pedestrians calm in the middle of such a gruesome display of violence.

 

Jeon Jeongguk isn’t fazed by any of this and bypasses the tape to step in and skirt around the skittish police officers trying their best not to tarnish the scene. He slaps on a pair of gloves, ignoring the scandalized shock of the forensics guys hovering around him like a fleet of birds, and crouches in front of Choi Minho.

 

Jimin suppresses a grin behind his fingers. Officer Choi is missing bits of his person. An arm, most of his stomach and a portion of his right shoulder, all bathed in dark red blood. His face remains untouched, save for some bruises. Jimin’s version of a present for Jeongguk.

 

Jeongguk stares at the body for a few seconds, then traces a finger over the wounds around the stomach, peering at the blood staining it for a moment before coming to a stand.

 

Whatever he tells the forensics’ guy must be of great importance, seeing as he’s handed a plastic evidence bag to deposit his gloves inside of immediately.

 

Then he’s turning towards the crowd, and Jimin hums, waiting on bated breath. Everything around is so muted and droll, it's as if all his senses return at once the moment Jeon Jeongguk finds him amidst a swarm of people. Jimin sees the color white, so blinding and crisp, and wants to paint it red all over.

 

His stomach swoops as he stares right back, gaze heavy enough to warrant curiosity, but not suspicion. A wonderful sense of excitement courses through Jimin’s body as Jeon Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow in his direction but remains stagnant in his spot.

 

He’s hungry again. No—it’s much more. Jimin is starving.

 

His mouth waters at the faint shift of muscle around Jeongguk’s chest as he reaches for something inside his pocket. Faintly through the noise, he can pick up the investigators heartbeat, and it's steady and relaxed, no signs of fear. A man who’s not afraid of his surroundings. A worthy treat for him.

 

Jimin’s hyperaware of every move the investigator makes even after he’s broken away from his gaze. Down to the last detail, he maps every inch of Jeongguk and stores it to think about much more thoroughly later. The shift in his stance from indifference to alert, the almost imperceptible way his lips move as he speaks and those before him pay rapt attentiveness.

 

It’s no wonder Choi was so committed to die for him; Jeon Jeongguk has a way with people despite his aloofness and commands all eyes on him. His underlings nod to his orders and begin to scatter across the street, and into their cars, while he stays back.

 

Jimin ensures to make it a game, how many times Jeongguk will find him in the crowd, and is on the move constantly, never spending too much time in one spot. It’s clear the investigator has caught onto the fact that something isn’t quite right, especially when during one particular sighting of Jimin he narrows his eyes.

 

Slowly, Jimin brings a finger to his lips. Holds it there, reckless and high on the adrenaline a new challenge will give him as he flashes Jeongguk a hint of his eyes as he turns to leave the scene, a blurring gleam of red in the middle of the night.

 

Don’t say a word, Jeongguk. It’ll be our little secret for now.

 


It dawns on Jimin that he’s not alone the further into the twentieth ward he ventures, feeling a gaze hot and heavy pressing on his back.

 

In fact, he revels in the thrill, each step he takes poised and without hurry. If he were to be executed it would’ve happened by now, and the fact that he’s still standing proves that the investigator isn’t here for a showdown, but rather something else.

 

He’s not surprised it’s taken this long, given it’s only been a mere seven days since they’d put Choi into the ground. That week following the funeral barely registers as anything other than a blur for Jimin, who never sits still enough to take anything for granted, especially when it comes to riling up Jeongguk. He thrives on the way he’s gotten to toy with the man’s composure by showing up to his ex-lover’s funeral and leaving just as Jeongguk attempted to come close for a chat, eyes narrowed in question beneath those smart-looking glasses.

 

Jimin leads him further past Anteiku, a ghoul-friendly coffee shop he ventures into sometimes when he’s itching for fresh meat. All the meanwhile he can hear the loud thrum of Jeongguk’s heartbeat, not rapid, but not as steady as before. His irritation must be clouding his judgment, especially if he’s walked into the lion's den unarmed and on his own; Ghoul public enemy number one, given his track record.

 

At the end of the road, just on the cusp of nightfall, where he’s certain nobody will follow them here, tucked between an abandoned apartment complex, Jimin slows to a halt, hunger churning around his belly.

 

He feels the shift in his clothing as well as the searing buzz that comes with his Kagune retracting in a hard tear through his skin, each tentacle protruding in thick, barbed prongs undoubtedly pointed towards Jeongguk.

 

“Investigator Jeon,” Jimin croons, shuddering when one of the tentacles retracts quickly and then snaps back hard, wrapping around one of his arms tight. Breathless and starving, he’s pleased his meal has come to him when he says, “You’re either extremely sure of yourself or extremely stupid, coming here to find me all on your own.”

 

When Jimin turns he’s met with Jeon Jeongguk face to face for the first time since the funeral. Up close and personal, the investigator’s scent washing over him.

 

Blood and the way it smells, the steady thrum of his pulse. The beat of his heart. It all adds onto the constant chant echoing inside Jimin’s head that demands he abdicates to his base need and feed. More More More—

 

The investigator surprises him, not solely for his indifference towards a ghoul and his kagune pointing right at him, poised to kill, but because his voice doesn’t match the sharp lines of his face.

 

Jeongguk speaks like he’s breathless. A nerve ticks in his jaw, and when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs heavily.

 

“Binge eater, you’re looking a little worse for wear these days. Diet not going well, I take it? You know what they say about overeating,” he scoffs, poised for a fight. He’s all squared shoulders and muscle beneath that pristine looking white coat. Every inch Jimin’s juxtaposition, starting from his stark white clothing, and down to the way he stares as if nothing gets through to him.

 

He doesn’t waver even as one of Jimin’s tentacles comes closer with a muted hiss; the barbs retracting and expanding. Jeongguk regards them the way one regards something that bores them.

 

Jimin pouts, tucking his fist beneath his chin. A picture of the kind of man Jeongguk is supposed to go for. Soft around the edges, small and unassuming. And to think he’d eaten Choi after getting all that information for nothing, as the investigator sought him out in the end anyway.

 

Slow and calculating as he faces the investigator and begins to circle around him, pressing a finger against the nape of his neck and trailing it low, dipping between his shoulder blades where taut muscles flex beneath his touch, Jimin grins.

 

This—This is what he’s been searching for. Someone who won’t cower away, someone worthy of being taken apart by his hands.

 

“Don’t be unkind, Investigator. We’re so well-acquainted by now that we’re practically friends.” Up close, Jimin slithers behind, using his kagune to his liking to wrap around Jeongguk and hold him tight. Enough to feel that full-bodied shudder.

 

Why won’t you fight back, Jeongguk? He thinks, grins wicked. Against Jeongguk’s ear, he whispers, “I’ve still got bits of your guy inside me, y’ know? If you close your eyes and listen closely maybe you’ll be able to hear him through me. Maybe you can pretend these are his hands on you.”

 

Jeongguk stiffens. There’s no pity in his gaze for the man who’d spoken of him the way men do when they’re stupidly in love. “Any man who lets himself be caught by you is nothing to me. Just another casualty on the job.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Jimin’s grip around him tightens. One of the buttons of his shirt pops open from the pressure, and one of the tentacles eagerly dips beneath the fabric in search of hot skin and firm muscle.

 

“I don’t believe your indifference, Investigator,” Jimin says, peering over the investigator’s shoulder where the bulge of his kagune is seen slithering beneath the crisp white shirt; a centipede dragging over the skin. First, his chest, then around his stomach, each button giving way under the force of every touch.

 

“Believe what you want to, ghoul. It’s of no concern to me what you do.” Jeongguk remarks bluntly, and yet he makes no move to be freed. He could if he wants, Jimin is well aware of the quinques he’s armed with at all times, one of them fit for his kind of Kagune specifically.

 

And yet…

 

“And yet, you seek me out, knowing my stomach’s never quite full. Even then you dared find me? I’d be impressed if I weren’t so hungry.” Jimin’s lips curve into a mocking twist, his grip punishing. Body flush to Jeongguk’s back, all that trapped heat melting against him.

 

Gloved fingers rest beneath Jeongguk’s chin, and Jimin’s tone turns molten, sweet like poison masked in a pretty bottle as he tips Jeongguk’s face towards him, and asks, “Won’t you let me have a bite, Investigator? I promise it’ll hurt good.”

 

Jeongguk regards him intently, and there it is—a fleeting but ever-present spark beneath his state. A simmering fire beginning to rage under the surface. “I’ll make you a deal,” the investigator whispers. “Help me in this case, operation Aogiri.”

 

Jimin quirks an eyebrow in interest. While it’s true he’d never side with a human, he’d also never rule out the possibility of striking a deal that’ll make it worth his while. Not when there’s so much to gain.

 

“What’s in it for me?” Jimin croons, the tip of his tongue itching to lean in and taste. And so he does, at first nuzzling against the investigator’s jaw, then licking up, nibbling beneath his ear, where a small piercing glints silver underneath the street lamp’s gleam.

 

“Aside from power?”

 

Jimin hums, breathing in the scent radiating off the Investigator. Soap and something musky and rich like cologne, and even better, the blood pumping beneath his skin. All that sweet flesh.

 

Jeongguk’s breath rushes past his lips as he whispers, “Me.”

 

“You’d offer yourself to me knowing how you’ll end?” Jimin smiles, taking the piercing between his teeth and tugging. “Is the risk worth the payout, Investigator? Or are you perhaps looking to die on purpose?”

 

Jeongguk’s gaze is unwavering, packed with something Jimin can’t quite place. Determination, perhaps. Maybe a little bit of something else, a touch insistent. “I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure my cases get solved. Every risk is worth it in the end.”

 

Jimin rolls his eyes. Human men, so self-righteous. Such martyrs are willing to die for people that will forget their faces within a few days. He’s never understood the appeal of being a hero, it all sounds so...boring.

 

Why be a hero when one could be the thing people truly fear the most?

 

“No dice, Investigator. You’d keep my stomach full for maybe an hour before I had to go off and hunt again, and then what would I do, hm? You go missing and all eyes point to me, the last witness. I rather like my privacy and wouldn’t sacrifice it. Not even for you,” Jimin says, pulling away. The tentacles are slower in following, and one in particular tears a hole in Jeongguk’s shirt, bringing the sleeve with it.

 

There’s a shift in the investigator’s expression. A tick in his jaw. “And if I were to make you help me?”

 

Jimin smiles, toying with the tattered fabric, bringing it to his nose and inhaling. His stomach jolts, and deep inside him, heat simmers low. “You could try. It would be useless, however. I’m not as considerate when I’m mad.”

 

Jeongguk drops his gaze and mutters something akin to a curse, but doesn’t falter. There’s a stiffness to his shoulders. Most likely pride. “Would you like to hear my offer or not, Binge eater?”

 

Jimin shrugs, leaning against a concrete wall. His kagune upon sensing there’s no feeding to be done retracts and he shudders once they’re gone. A breeze hitting his skin where his shirt has been torn. The night is balmy and humid despite this, and the air is thick around them.

 

The facts Jeongguk presents are simple enough to follow. His demands towards Jimin are clear. Aogiri is picking off investigators like flies, as well as wreaking havoc in Cochlea. There have been three breakouts in the last year, and people missing in consequence of that. Ghouls they’ve never seen are appearing, too. Amongst the disappearances is Doctoranou.

 

Jimin recognizes the name, hard to forget when he’s seen the things he has. He doesn’t point it out to Jeongguk, but it’s no matter.

 

The investigator must have dug deeper than Jimin realized, for he raises an eyebrow. His stare knowing. “Whatever you do on your spare time and who you do it with doesn’t concern me,” he says. “But if you wish to get what you want from me, then I want everything I can get out of you in exchange.”

 

“As I said, it’ll take more than that to get me to tell you what I know.” Purposefully coy, Jimin simpers and adds, “If I know anything at all.”

 

“Pick a fucking ward and it’s yours to claim. Feed on whoever is at your disposal there. Walk the fucking street with a guarantee that you won’t be hunted, so long as you give me honesty.” Jeongguk snaps, and ah–there it is. That spark Jimin’s felt scratching at the surface, the chink in the usually composed investigators’ armor.

 

“You’re desperate if you’d risk civilians and go against Washuu’s orders. No casualties.” Jimin remarks thoughtfully, “Kanou And Aogiri must be doing something very nasty if it’s got your panties in a twist like this.”

 

“Sacrifices are necessary on occasion,” Jeongguk says, and for a moment he pauses from speaking to canvas his surroundings as if he’s just now noticed their location and how easy it would be for him to die. He mumbles something along the lines of and I don’t wear panties with the same level of disdain Jimin uses when speaking about eating human food.

 

Breezily, because he’s never one to give in too easy, Jimin says, “Is that why you fuck your underlings then turn a blind eye to them being eaten after? Were they sacrifice too?”

 

The look Jeongguk gives him is lethal like he’s contemplating murder solely off the fact that Jimin is privy to information he rather keeps close to the chest. “I’d advise you to watch your words. You don’t know a thing about me.”

 

“Well, that’ll change quickly, won’t it? I am helping you. Being so selfless, so giving.” Jimin pretends to consider his choices for a moment even when it’s obvious what his answer will be. “And all you’d need from me is what? Names?”

 

“Locations, too. Feeding grounds. Any unauthorized labs Kanou might be hiding in—”

 

“If he’s alive,” Jimin says carelessly. Jeongguk narrows his eyes, smart in keeping his distance. The more time they spend together, the more Jimin becomes hyperaware of his every move. How Jeongguk’s chest rises and falls, and how delicious he smells to Jimin on an empty stomach.

 

He hasn’t fed in days and is certain he looks as if he hasn’t. Undoubtedly ashen around his face, with dark bruises beneath his eyes and disheveled hair.

 

Jeongguk remains silent, ignoring the jab. Patient in waiting for an answer.

 

With a final roll of his eyes, because this isn’t as exciting as he might’ve wanted but still better than spending nights on his own with a hunger that doesn’t quit, Jimin agrees. “We have a deal, Investigator.”

 

Stiff in the shoulders, Jeongguk nods. Holds out his hand for Jimin to shake.

 

Jimin quirks an eyebrow, flashing some teeth. His eyes gleam red in the reflection of Jeongguk’s glasses. “Are you offering to lose that hand?” The investigator clenches his jaw, taking a step back whilst Jimin inches closer, crowding the man on the other side of the wall and peering up. “Seal it with a kiss, Investigator, or better yet… with a taste.”

 

For a moment there’s no sound save for the pace of harsh breaths mingling up close. Jimin’s consumed by hunger, and Jeongguk’s unspeakably affected alertness at their proximity. The flush of their bodies pressed together. Like this Jimin can feel his heart up against his chest, hear how it beats, and he salivates, hands itching to touch any inch of all that hot skin he’d felt earlier.

 

The investigator isn’t as put together like normal, clothing askew this way and that, all thanks to Jimin. His glasses have slid further down the bridge of his nose and his perfectly styled hair is in a disarray, windswept. His shirt is missing half of its buttons and a sleeve.

 

Jeongguk’s never looked more appetizing than this moment, and Jimin, unable to help himself, leans in to bathe in his smell.

 

“M’so so hungry,” Jimin breathes, lips curling, teeth baring. His lower back ripples and he groans weakly as his kagune expels, two tentacles out of six this time, thicker in length and spiked at the tips, curve over his shoulders, pointed on either side of Jeongguk. “I just...want a taste.”

 

The air is heavy between them and when Jimin looks up at Jeongguk again, the Investigator nods. Barely a whisper, he says, “Do it. Take it.”

 

Jimin feels it coming then, like a burst of heat pushing it's way past him, clouding his senses. There’s a chant in his head that urges, begs and pleads for him to take more, more more until he’s moving purely on instinct. Muscle memory. He’s been here before, done this thousand of times.

 

Biting down so hard over Jeongguk’s shoulder that a moan loses its way, catches in his throat. Jeongguk’s blood rises past Jimin’s lips, spilling at the corners and staining remains of white fabric red. His skin feels cool as the wind picks up, and yet the blood in his mouth feels inexplicably hot.

 

Jeongguk stiffens in his hold but doesn’t writhe nor attempt to run, perhaps knowing that if he were to do so, Jimin will have to kill him. He’s pliant after a few seconds of heavy hands smoothing down his stomach, breathing fast and ragged against Jimin’s hair as he begins to get a little rougher, a little greedy.

 

Jeongguk makes a soft sound then, akin to a groan, and suddenly fingers are threading into Jimin’s hair and tugging. Not enough to pull him away, but enough to...urge him closer as he bites.

 

Fuck—”

 

The little noise gets lost over the roar of Jimin’s blood, the taste flooding his mouth. He moans against Jeongguk’s shoulder, holds him still by coaxing his tentacles to curl around his arms and keep them pinned in place, palms smoothing beneath the tattered shirt and up against his chest, Where now his heart’s racing.

 

It must be too much for the investigator, because as soon as he’s urging Jimin closer, he’s pushing him back with a hard shove, gasping against the wall.

 

Jimin feels feral with hunger as he forces himself to swallow slowly, take his time to savor what he’s been given, but it’s hard and he’s—he’s hot all over and trembling from the sheer need clawing at his chest to eat and eat, and Jeongguk–

 

Jimin looks up, finding the investigator staring at him, more so his lips. Their eyes meet as Jimin swallows loud, then shudders, forcing himself to reign it in. Lock it back up until later.

 

Later, when there won’t be any reason to stop. When Jeongguk will let him do as he pleases. Judging by the pressing weight of his stiff cock up against Jimin’s stomach, and the labored pace of his breathing, he might like it.

 

It dawns on Jimin that he’s got his hands on Jeongguk’s chest, shy of touching one of his nipples. He does so and the investigator, who also seems lost in this distorted and heavy sort of daze, stiffens when he realizes he’s also still bleeding.

 

He brings a hand to cup the tender, open wound once Jimin retracts his Kagune, and Jimin whines `low, his throat itching. He doesn’t go for another bite, but he does curl a hand around Jeongguk’s wrist and brings his bloodied palm up to his lips, licking the remains.

 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Investigator.” Jimin rasps, bringing one of Jeongguk’s blood sodden fingers past his lips to suck clean, holding his gaze.

 

Jeongguk draws a sharp breath. There’s the faintest tip of his lips, as if he’d like to smile, perhaps at the absurdity of his own choices or perhaps something else, but doesn’t do often. Like smiling, much like enjoying being eaten up, is foreign to him.














“And here I thought you would’ve eaten him whole by now,” Hoseok says when Jimin walks into his shop, HySy masks, and deposits himself gracelessly onto a chair.

 

The place is scarce as it usually is with any business left in the fourth ward, save for Seonghwa, Hoseok’s assistant, working away on finishing a mask for him. This one intricate and the mouthpiece bound in metal bars.

 

The air smells like leather, flesh, and blood; Jimin inhales. “Well, I didn’t swallow him whole, but I did get a taste.”

 

Hoseok peers up at him, pausing from his task, utterly curious. He’s tall and lanky. Black hair styled into an undercut, the sides shaved close. An array of stark black tattoos cover his arms, one of them a sun that covers his entire left pectoral. He’s pierced all across his face, starting from his nose, inside his lip and over his eyebrow. Like usual, he’s wearing a low slung gray tank top underneath a black wrap sweater, along with harem pants and black sandals. He also wears a thin necklace with round, glittering gems hanging from it, drawing attention to a large tattoo curved around his throat as a collar would.

 

In low light, where shadows flit across their faces, all Jimin can make out is the gleam in his eyes. His Kakugan’s always active, the blood-red iris surrounded by the black sclera, even when he’s not feeding. Though there are rumors that Hoseok has inked the black color around his eyes himself out of a fetish for self-inflicted pain, it’s never been confirmed, so most just assume. Jimin hasn't quite ever cared, but sometimes he’ll look at him and remember just how depraved he truly is when he’s on his own in the fourth ward.

There was a time, very long ago, where Jimin knew all too well what kinds of things Hoseok got down to. Moments, where he'd let the neverending hunger inside him, run rampant and wreak havoc across Hoseok's skin. The eleventh ward knew no truer terror than the two of them together, but those times had passed, and things were different now.

 

“That’s all?” he asks, and when Jimin waves a dismissive hand, he scoffs. Pointing a sharp-looking needle in his direction, he mutters, “Get fucked. You and your secrets. drive me nuts all the fucking time. What the hell happened?”

 

Jimin turns in the chair, circling his arms over the backrest, a smile tipping the edge of his lips. He’s certain they’re still red, stained with something sweet.

 

Going into this Jimin never would have expected such an outcome where he’d consider himself an informant. Even the word tastes odd when he thinks about it, especially considering Aogiri, at their core, are his people. His kind. But then again, Jimin’s never held any loyalties to anyone except for himself, so there’s no conscience to bear weight on. No love lost. Just much to gain.

 

His tongue feels heavy as he licks around his mouth, tasting faint remnants of Jeongguk’s shoulder. Not enough to sate the incessant hunger clawing at his stomach, but enough to sweeten the deal and get Jimin to accept.

 

Jimin sighs and leans against the chair, resting his chin over it and fingering aimlessly through a glass bowl full of faux, jellied eyeballs Hoseok keeps around to scare the ghoul children that pop in once in a while to stir trouble.

 

Of course, Jimin can’t disclose anything he’s spoken about with Jeongguk to the likes of Hoseok. Not when he’s so fond of gossiping to anyone who will listen.

 

“I let him go,” Jimin says after a pause. Hoseok stares at him as if he’s lost his mind. Perhaps he has. Boredom will do that, and god—is he bored these days of the same thing over and over again.

 

There’s a refrigerator inside HySy stocked with bagged human blood and treats Hoseok is delving into mass-producing on the side to curve the hunger, and he watches Jimin as he heads towards it, displeased he’s not gotten anything concrete out of him.

 

Inside, Jimin finds a row of lollipops and without asking what they’re made of, he pops one into his mouth, still restless after having gotten his first taste of what he’s desperately craving.

 

If the boredom and fleeting, but constant loneliness he suffers through wasn’t enough incentive to take Jeongguk up on his offer, then the taste of his flesh sure is.

 

When it becomes apparent that Hoseok won’t let it go, Jimin sighs. Leaning up against one of the display cases, he’s purposely coy when he says, “Let’s just say I sent him back to the CCG headquarters with a souvenir from me and he’ll be back.”

 

Hoseok snorts in response, and Seonghwa hides a smile behind the sewing machine. It’s clear neither take him seriously. even while knowing the things Jimin can do, Hoseok still sees him as an erratic, starved kid on the hunt. “Look at this guy, so confident. It’ll land him in Cochlea sooner than he thinks if he keeps this up.”

 

Jimin grins around the candy until he bites down and it cracks under the pressure, flooding his mouth, blood slipping past the edge of his lips that he then licks clean. He doesn’t dignify Hoseok’s doubts with a response, given the fact that he’s now got the CCG’s prized dog needing his help.

 

Some words are better left unsaid, and by the end of it, Jimin is certain he’ll have the last laugh.








These days there’s no sun, just a muted dull blob hiding behind heavy clouds, polluted air and steam rising from hot asphalt after a drizzle. This soupy sort of stillness where everyone is on red-alert, searching for monsters under the bed, and that could be a product of the tension.

 

The wards are thriving with violence, keeping armed forces and investigators on their toes. A real clusterfuck of ghouls and humans fighting back, Jimin thinks as he blends in, so used to doing so around human beings it’s second nature, keeping his head down.

 

Or, as Jeongguk called it on the phone, “Staying out of trouble.” A real pain in the ass when he’s hell-bent on doing things his way, Jimin wanted to tell him but didn’t get to before hanging up. He’s aware of the details anyway.

 

Jeon Jeongguk is a man of routine, he’s learned. The same coffee order, the same table at the back of a hole-in-the-wall meat shop that doubles as a diner of sorts. The same questions. All of that routine, down to the minute driving Jimin mad. Had it not been for how good he tastes, Jimin wouldn’t waste his time.

 

He meets with the investigator inside Minsu’s meat shop, where today it’s crowded during rush hour. There are two cups of coffee before him, seemingly untouched, and nothing else. That’s another thing about him, he never eats. Not in front of Jimin anyway.

 

Jeongguk finds him as Jimin comes near, sending him a little wave. Behind the harsh facade and without the clinical clothing Jeongguk could pass as an unassuming citizen. Maybe an office worker enjoying some lunch with a friend, or maybe even a date.

 

Jimin snorts as he takes a seat across the investigator. If only those around him knew that underneath those clothes, Jeongguk carries a dirty little secret. A wound on his shoulder, skin missing. Some stitches keeping it sealed up, all that blood compacted inside. Jimin’s teeth marks.

 

The corner of Jeongguk’s lips twitch at the edges as he notices Jimin staring openly at his shoulder, but then he’s back to struggling when it comes to using his actual name to address him.

 

“Personally I prefer it when men call me baby, but since you’re so shy about it, then Jimin will do just fine.”

 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk says, slow. Testing it out. He slides the second cup of coffee towards Jimin, hushed when whispering, “I know you don’t care too much for food today.”

 

“How considerate of you,” Jimin smirks, turning the coffee away with a gentle nudge of his fingers. “Are you teasing, Jeonggukie? How’s your shoulder, by the way. I smell antiseptic.”

 

Wary as though they’ve been caught, Jeongguk surveys his surroundings. Keeping a careful hand cupped around his shoulder as to not disturb the wound and hurt himself. “Keep your voice down,” he hisses, and Jimin chuckles, tucking his fist beneath his chin; a picture of innocence. “It’s fine, by the way. Tender.”

 

“You’re unusually paranoid today,” Jimin remarks softly, noting the twitch in the investigator’s fingers, the pinch of his brows. “Someone crawled up your ass and died in there, maybe? I don't have all day to waste, so you’d be smart to be quick before I get hungry.”

 

Prompted by Jimin’s impatience, Jeongguk slides a folder across the table towards him. Inconspicuous enough on the outside. It’s once it's been opened that things get interesting.

 

“Have a look at any of these M.O’s and see if any of them ring any bells for you.”

 

Jimin adjusts his glasses, observing what’s been presented. Crime scene reports, photos of severed limbs, lots of forensic terms he’s heard in passing. He smiles when spotting a few belonging to him in there as well.

 

“You’re not very funny, leaving my case reports in here, too,” Jimin tells him. “How very sarcastic of you. I’m impressed.”

 

The first genuine smile Jimin’s seen while in the investigator’s presence curls his lips. His laugh is breathless, much more air than sound. “I try my best. Any names you can think of? Or locations. Locations are what’ll make us move forward.”

 

Jimin clicks his tongue in response, then resumes reading and going through each file carefully. There are many he doesn't know anything about, assuming they're Youngbloods, but there are many he does know. Those are the ones he tells Jeongguk about as he procures a notepad from the inside of his jacket and writes everything down.

 

As he recites names and places he assimilates to each ghoul, the conversation begins to grate on his nerves. Makes him anxious to stand up and leave. The constant ache simmering low in his stomach doesn’t help either, especially when all that crosses his mind is Jeongguk’s shoulder and how he tastes. How he smells. The way he’d gotten hard off Jimin’s bite.

 

To make matters worse on his dwindling patience, Jeongguk grazes his fingers near Jimin’s constantly as he talks.

 

Jimin cannot take his eyes off them. Long, thin fingers. Almost delicate in comparison when the gloves are off.

 

“You know, Investigator, you have nice hands.”

 

Jeongguk grunts low at this, the only sound between them the scrape of the pen as he continues to write. Jimin stays silent. “And Kanou,” Jeongguk says once he notices. Jimin hesitates, considers withholding what he knows to himself. “Jimin.”

 

“Do you fuck all of your squad, or is it particular to a limited few? I’m curious.”

 

Jeongguks’ grip around his pen tightens. “The case.”

 

“Won’t go anywhere, Investigator,” Jimin counters. “Besides, I’m bored. Why won’t you answer, hm?” There’s challenge, perhaps some mocking when Jimin asks, “Are you scared?”

 

Jeongguk groans at this, the incessant clicking of his pen coming to a pause. He stares at Jimin from beneath his lashes, and Jimin stares back. Unflinching, waiting to see who will cave under the pressure first.

 

“Tick-tock, Investigator,” Jimin purrs, drumming his fingers slow against the table. “Clock is ticking…”

 

“Only men,” Jeongguk replies bluntly, jaw tensing hard. “And not all of them, just those who are…”

 

“Bottoms?” Jimin supplies.

 

The look Jeongguk sends him is lethal, and he smothers a laugh behind his palm.

 

“Attractive to me,” Jeongguk snaps. “Can we get back to work now?”

 

“One more question. Wait—two.” Jimin says, leaning in, fingers brushing against Jeongguk’s knuckles. Over the thick ridges, the very same he’d licked clean. He whispers, “Do you fuck, Jeonggukie, or do you get fucked?”

 

“I could arrest you if you keep testing me,” Jeongguk says, also leaning in. His anger radiates off him like a livewire. One wrong touch and Jimin will feel it deep inside. “You’ve confessed to killing an investigator, and it would be your word against mine.”

 

Jimin hums at this, cocking his head. “You could do that,” He murmurs, circling his fingers around Jeongguk’s wrist and giving a slight tug. His pulse is racing and his skin is scorching hot. “But then how certain can you be that I’d let you walk out of here in one piece? Is that why you choose these public spaces? Because you believe I wouldn’t do anything? I’ve no remorse to give, no loyalties. How very bold and stupid of you to think anything would deter me, Investigator. I like that in a man.”

 

For all he puts up a front, Jeongguk doesn’t seem in any hurry to do what he’s threatening. On the contrary, there’s a predominant flush starting around his throat and working it’s way up to his face that tells otherwise.

 

“Go ahead and walk out if you’re so certain you can do this on your own as if your department doesn't need me. As if without me you won’t end up lost, having your subordinates die for nothing. You can do all of that. Pretend you don't need me,” Jimin says softly, tipping his chin towards the front door. Minsu is standing by as a young boy helps her wheel in produce crates, and there’s a distinct smell of sizzling meat permeating the air, mingling with the murmurs of a crowd. Jimin ensures Jeongguk is paying attention when his Kakugan’s are active for only a moment. A blink and they’re gone. “But, I’m so hungry, Investigator.”

 

“Both.” Jeongguk’s breath rushes out of him, his face a shade of red. “Sex, I mean. Either is fine. I’m...easy.”

 

Good boy, Jimin thinks. Stupid, yes, but good.

 

“And with Choi?” Jimin asks. “Don’t act so scandalized about It. He’s dead,” he deadpans, “I ate him.”

 

Faced under Jimin’s scrutiny, Jeongguk’s voice is small. Very unlike him. “He...fucked me. He was older, and I have a thing for older men.”

 

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. Purposely slow, testing the waters, he nudges his foot against the inside of Jeongguk’s ankle, rubbing the point of his boot.

 

Jeongguk’s breath catches. Another piece of the mask comes off. Jimin is enjoying the way he unravels when faced with someone who won’t give him what he wants easily.

 

“It doesn’t take much to get you going, does it,” Jimin remarks softly, his foot moving higher, stroking along the investigator’s leg. It’s all toned and firm beneath his fitted trousers, a sign of them being put to good use.

 

Whether it’s from giving chase to ghouls like Jimin or keeping himself steady as an older man fucks him remains a mystery.

 

“People will see,” Jeongguk mutters, unable to meet Jimin's gaze for more than a second. His hands twitch and then curl in, as though he’s doing so out of nervousness.

 

Conversationally, as if he’s not steadily moving his foot towards more interesting places in public, Jimin murmurs, “You look embarrassed, which could mean two things.” Holding his fingers up, Jimin wriggles two. “You think this is wrong and want to run, or you’re thinking of all the ways you can get fucked. That’s my next question, Investigator. Do you want me to fuck you?”

 

Jeongguk clears his throat loudly as a few patrons walk past their table. Some stare quizzically, while others simply walk away. To them, he probably looks tense, or angry, given the hard set of his jaw. But to Jimin, who’s observant, nothing gets past him. Not the way he tries to be subtle in shifting in his seat, nor the labored breaths or the almost imperceptible nod.

 

“The fact that you’re not outright repulsed by the idea tells me you’ve got no morals,” Jimin says. “None whatsoever.”

 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk pauses, fingers curling into the table. He swallows hard on an exhale when beneath it, Jimin grazes his boot over the thick bulge of his cock. He’s hard beneath fitted black slacks. Voice pitched low and rough, a hiss on parted lips, Jeongguk leans in. “What the fuck are you doing?”

 

Jimin continues, steadily rubbing over Jeongguk’s clothed cock, as though this is normal. He hums absently, stirring coffee that’s been left untouched and since then cooled, pretending to be interested in it.

 

After a moment, wide-eyed and faux innocent, he says, “I’m discussing our case, Jeongguk. Didn’t you say it was important?”

 

Jeongguk looks at him as though he’s tempted to protest, but his gaze softens into something sultry, dropping towards his chest, where two buttons of Jimin’s pristine white shirt are undone and showing a hint of collarbone and chest.

 

It's clear the case is the last thing on his mind, but perhaps because he’s stubborn at his core and refuses to admit defeat under Jimin’s gaze, he nods.

 

“The case. Right,” he says through a hard swallow, and Jimin grins when noticing the slight shudder. With a harsh click of his pen, he resumes looking over his notes, shifting from side to side as Jimin absently grazes the heel of his boot over his cock. “Ah—you mentioned something about...about a lab. Is this Kanou's?”

 

Vaguely, Jimin waves a hand. “Could be,” he says. “Could not be, but you’ll just have to go on and see for yourself.”

 

“You’re taking me in fuh–fucking circles,” Jeongguk snaps, his bite wavering on a quiet groan he tries smothering down behind his palm.

 

“What can I say, I like playing with my food before I get to eat it.”

 

Beneath his boot, Jimin feels Jeongguk’s cock twitch. He giggles, cocking his head. “Oh, you like that?”

 

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk spits, the flush on his cheeks betraying his attempts at remaining indifferent as if he’s not trying to arch into the pressure. “You Ghouls think you can do whatever the fuck you want. Play games with people as it suits you—”

 

“You’re in the wrong profession if you think for a second that I’d ever have anyone’s best interest at heart,” Jimin cuts in, pressing harder. Grinding the heel and watching his pretty and wild investigator lose his sense of composure as though it’s a thread caught on a sweater. One good tug and it comes tumbling down. Quiet, but intent, Jimin says, “This isn’t something I’m doing out of the goodness of my heart, Investigator Jeon. Make no mistake about it, this is a game to me, one I’ll play until I get bored. D’you know what I do when I’m bored?”

 

Wordless, Jeongguk glares at him.

 

Jimin bares his teeth. “I eat.”

 

“It’s gotta get old eventually I’d think,” Jeongguk tells him. Jimin asks him to elaborate, distracted by the investigator’s hands. “Eating and killing. Don't you want something more?”

 

“I didn't peg you for an idealist,” Jimin murmurs, terracing the thin veins that trail up his hands and disperse around his wrist. Jeongguk, he realizes, has delicate-looking hands. Kept and trimmed nails, very clean all around. It must be the gloves. “There’s nothing that interests me. It’s all endlessly exhausting and boring, watching human beings. Eating ghouls is more exciting; they fight back harder, but they’ve started hiding from me too.”

 

Jeongguk swallows, his jaw working. “You’re a psychopath.”

 

Jimin smiles, fingers coming up to brush his hair off his face. Overgrown violet, they’ve gotten longer and fall over his brows, a real nuisance. Beneath the table, he rubs over Jeongguk’s cock, pleased it's still hard. “You seem to enjoy that about me.”

 

A heavy silence fills the space around them as Jeongguk stiffens; Jimin swallows it all up. Pictures something much more obscene. A lot less subtle and more brutal.

 

Jeongguk shifts and it draws attention to the way his shirt pulls taut across his chest and shoulders. A lot of subtle muscle beneath skin that's warm to the touch.

 

Jimin tries to pull those thoughts aside. Thinking like this with a hunger that steadily claws up his belly doesn’t do any good. Like thinking about painting all that golden skin red as if it's been bathed in hazy neon lights, fucking inside a pretty thing and biting. Someone sturdy and angry on the outside, but soft and pliant on the inside. Heavy hands trembling, holding him close.

 

Begging in sync with him—more, more more.

 

Jeongguk looks like he’d love that. Surrendering under someone else’s control, getting those steel-clad reservations fucked out of him until it hurts. Until it aches deep inside.

 

Jimin shakes his head, willing the thoughts away for now. “Why don't I tell you a little about Kanou and you sit back and relax, hm? Be good and take notes, because I won't repeat myself.”

 

Jimin can tell Jeongguk struggles with paying attention for this case he stresses the importance of, versus throwing caution to the wind and setting his sights on pleasure and only pleasure. Sweat beads along his hairline and a subtle arch of his back tell Jimin all he needs to know. The investigator is having a hard time.

 

To his credit he doesn't stop writing, eating up what Jimin offers him as information; subtle hints at what Doctor Kanou’s been doing for a while without divulging the full story. He’s stubborn to admit he’s hurting from how tense he’s become.

 

Throughout their conversation, Jimin watches Jeongguk under hooded eyes, a steady heat buzzing beneath his skin only increasing his hunger. His foot doesn't ease either, keeping Jeongguk nice and hard, but unfulfilled.

 

“It’s funny to me, watching you squirm,” Jimin murmurs. His tongue feels heavy as he watches Jeongguk begin to bend under the pressure. “Wouldn’t have taken you for the type to enjoy pain, but you’re full of surprises.”

 

In response, there’s a low, throaty sound. “Fuck,” he hears Jeongguk, as his hand dips beneath the table and curls around Jimin’s ankle, holding onto it as he ruts his cock against the underside of Jimin’s boot.

 

Jimin inhales sharply, sucking his teeth. There’s a heady mixture of scents around him, and yet the one he hones in on making his mouth water. Sweat, cologne and something musky that sticks to the roof of his mouth, as if he’s had a taste, up close and personal between those strong-looking thighs.

 

“Oh,” Jimin says, soft. “I can tell y’know?”

 

Jeongguk tries hard to be subtle and keep a professional facade; be the investigator his kind fears as the CCG’S reaper. It's a losing battle. Jimin sees him gasp, little lips parting on a soundless ‘o’. “Hm? What do you—mean?”

 

“I can smell it,” Jimin says simply, leaning back. He curls an arm over the booth, thighs parted wide, stance casual. As though he’s just another man having lunch with a date that's increasingly becoming more flustered. “You smell like sex, Investigator,” he rasps huskily, inhaling deep. “It makes me so hungry...I could just eat you up.”

 

Jeongguk is quiet often, not the type to speak unless it's implicitly necessary unless he has something to say rather than observe. Jimin’s had time to pick up on all his little queues during moments spent watching him from afar.

 

Right now, amidst ordinary humans who are none the wiser about what goes down at their little table, Jimin sees his fingers shake, hears the quiet way he speaks when trying to deny it.

 

Jimin presses the heel of his boot against Jeongguk’s cock. Leans in to trace fingers under his jaw, feeling it clench. “Drop the act, Investigator. I’ve given you what you asked for. Now it's time you hold up your end of our deal.”

 

Jeongguk’s lips twist when Jimin pulls his foot away, leaving him achingly hard and unsatisfied. A bit spoiled the purse of his small mouth. “I-I can’t just take your word for it. You said so yourself, you’ve got no loyalties. How will I know you aren’t sending me and my squad into a trap?”

 

“Guessing, I suppose.” Jimin bites his lip as he returns the files towards Jeongguk, staring behind Jeongguk and out the window, where all is calm. All is as it should be. Then, he says, “Taking a chance. You like risks, so it shouldn’t matter.”

 

Jeongguk watches him as he comes to a stand, smoothing out the creases of his shirt and craning his neck. Jimin flexes his hands, spreads his fingers. He tucks his forefinger beneath his thumb and presses down hard, enough to crack.

 

The investigator is left staring at him as he walks out, whatever he’d been poised to say left on the verge. Nursing a hard dick and no one to make it hurt any less, Jimin laughs at this peculiar chain of events he’s started.






———



That's the thing about him, the thing about finding prey that’s to his liking. Sometimes, and more often than he can count, they make the decision for him by coming first. Seeking Jimin out in dark corners, abandoned alleys and fucked up, decaying hotel rooms that never get rented out again. All the same, but differing in flavor.

 

No matter the circumstances, unfazed by whatever he’s doing, or not doing, Jimin’s pretty things always find him one way or another. Fueled by their shame, maybe, led astray from what’s proper and what’s not, they come, as though being tugged by a leash.

 

And this particular prey, this kind of man, Jimin wouldn’t mind putting a leash around and tugging it tight until it snaps.

 

Jeon Jeongguk has never looked as wild, nor as manic as he does when he finds Jimin in the thirteenth ward, beneath the subway overpass, inside a dimly lit shop that used to cater to sick fucks looking for cheap thrills and kills, kneeling in front of a B-rated ghoul who’d been itching for a fight he wouldn’t have ever won, clad in his usual get-up consisting of a black shirt that's open to the middle of his chest, sleeves folded and out of the way.

 

He’s never looked as unkempt, the buttons of his shirt askew, his hair in his eyes and breaths coming out sharp, as though he’s run all the way here to find him.

 

Jimin licks his fingers, blood hot on his tongue that’ll never be as sweet as his pretty, furious investigator as he watches Jeongguk stagger into the shop, boots crunching over shards of glass. He’s wearing a loose and sheer looking t-shirt tucked into tight jeans and a thin denim jacket, which he takes off in haste and tosses aside. It lands over an upturned chair. There’s a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, which Jimin snickers at.

 

“You’re a little obsessed with me, Jeongguk. I’m not sure if I love or hate that about you just yet.”

 

“You,” Jeongguk snaps, pointing an accusing finger towards him. His anger so palpable it makes Jimin’s mouth water.

 

“Me,” Jimin drawls, the sounds he makes whilst chewing loud amongst the silence.

 

Tonight, Jeongguk must be leaning on the reckless side. High off all that simmering rage beneath his skin. Little to no finesse to his movements, careless about the corpse in front of Jimin and the gaping hole in the chest. It’s as though he’s too deep inside his head to realize, or perhaps years of training and killing has left the investigator desensitized.

 

Whatever the case may be, the lack of fear does something for Jimin. Makes him smirk.

 

“You did something to me. You fucked with my head. I can't fucking concentrate. Can’t sleep—I can't eat.”

 

Jimin doesn’t answer him right away, busy catching stray drops of blood as they drip from his fingers and onto his open mouth. “Hmmm,” he sighs, pressing his tongue against his teeth and licking. “It sounds like you’ve got a personal problem on your hands, Investigator—“

 

“Jeongguk,” he cuts in, shivering under the chill breeze that rolls through the shop. His gaze takes over Jimin’s kneeling form intently as he says, “Call me by my name.”

 

Jimin flashes him a bloody smile. “You wanna’ get personal? That’s fine with me, Jeongguk.”

 

He clicks his tongue, coming to a stand and kicking his food aside with a wet, meaty thud. He delves further into the shop, past beaded curtains, and down a narrow hall. Jeongguk isn’t the only one feeling out of his skin tonight. Jimin’s been feeling a lot messier and less composed, a touch feral with how deep his hunger for the investigator has become.

 

In the harsh pink glow neon tube lights afford once he follows Jimin deeper into the shop, past piled high bodies and upturned furniture, Jeongguk looks at Jimin as though seeing him for the first time once they enter one of the private rooms. A lot less guarded, free of those stiff inhibitions that keep his focus singular on the job and his sex boring and uneventful.

 

He’s got a gorgeous face, all sharp angles and expressive eyes that are glazed over, heavy and hooded. He looks and smells like sex and blood, and everything Jimin is supposed to hate on human men, but suddenly can't get enough of.

 

Jimin foregoes pleasantries, hazy on the scent of fresh blood and hot skin beneath soaked fabric clinging to his skin because he deserves this—after all these games, all this time spent settling for what’ll never satisfy him.

 

“I hear you in my head. All the fucking time,” Jeongguk whispers, bringing unsteady hands to sift through his hair Jimin comes closer. Pushing them off his forehead, Jimin sees he’s sweating, a particularly fat drop sliding down the edge of his jaw and melting into the collar of his t-shirt. “It makes me wonder...makes me question if I’m losing my fucking mind, y’know? If you’re really there with me or if I’m hallucinating.”

 

Jimin simpers at this, circling Jeongguk slowly. His prey, served up hot and trembling, just his for the taking. Lost little lamb falling into the wolf’s den. Jimin just wants a bite. He curls both hands around Jeongguk’s shoulders, flush to his back, and trails them over his firm chest, smoothing up to his shoulders.

 

Lips poised against Jeongguk’s ear, breath warm, Jimin asks, “And what’s your conclusion, Jeonggukie? Are you losing it? Are you aching for it so badly that you’re seeing me everywhere?”

 

They both know the answer, and yet Jimin wants to hear it leave the investigator’s lips. Wants to see how far he’s willing to go.

 

It's apparent in the way Jeongguk sags into his touch, strong hands curling around Jimin’s wrists and guiding them low, beneath the T-shirt and across his hot skin. He shudders, as though he’s wanted nothing more than this.

 

“I—I feel sick,” Jeongguk gasps, arching into Jimin’s fingers as they find a nipple and pinch. “And hot all over. ‘S like I’m running a fever. It hurts—seeing you everywhere, but not really. Hurts being so...”

 

“So what?” Jimin breathes, so close to Jeongguk that when he peers down he sees open skin and dripping blood. Some land on his fingers, making the glide around Jeongguk’s nipple slick and wet. “Hm?”

 

Distantly, Jimin registers his arousal. Cock hard and heavy beneath leather trousers tucked up and aching to sink into Jeongguk and ruin him fully. Pressed together like this, Jimin can sense everything. The little hitch in Jeongguk’s breath, the way he shudders as the collar of his shirt is tugged aside harsh, torn open and hanging flimsy off his arm.

 

It's heady, all that blood and all that skin just there for the taking, and Jimin groans low. Presses closer, tighter. He, too, shudders on a deep sigh, feeling the rippling tear surge from his waist as his Kagune expels out when Jeongguk moans high against his jaw, eyes pleading. “Do it—do it. Take it. All of it.”

 

It's a blur from there on, and Jimin can’t quite think through the roar in his blood, nor the constant echo of Jeongguk’s racing heart beneath his fingertips, but it’s also too late. Too much.

 

“I will,” Jimin bares his teeth, and grazes them beneath the soft spot under his ear, his jaw and down his throat, tasting the sweat on his way until he’s dazed with the scent of blood on his tongue, dipping the pointed tip into the wound and sucking. “Fuck.”

 

Jeongguk whines at the sudden sting of pain, and he arches into Jimin’s hands that scrape down hard plains of muscle, abs taut beneath his fingertips, trembling as Jimin taps the buckle of his belt. “Oh—it hurts good.”

 

A thickly scaled tentacle curves around Jeongguk’s waist, finding his gun and tossing it aside so that it clatters against the ground, too far away now, the others eagerly following suit in trailing up his skin, touching where Jimin can’t; harsh over his sensitive nipples and wrapping around his throat.

 

“You’re so silly. Such a silly, reckless thing,” Jimin rasps against his skin, biting the curve of Jeongguk’s shoulder hard enough to tear a whimper past his lips. “Bringing your gun with you, and for what, hm?”

 

“I don't know, I-I don't know,” Jeongguk gasps, trembling hands grappling over the tentacle around his throat. Not to pry it away, but hold it steady.

 

Jimin smiles against his skin, then bites down harder, a moan catching on his lips. Inexplicable heat licks up his nerve endings as his mouth floods with blood that drips past his lips, making him feel as feverish as Jeongguk does. His fingers are rough in undoing Jeongguk’s belt and urging the zipper open in order to be rid of the investigator’s pants.

 

A chill hits Jimin’s skin, and he groans, pulling away with a hard gasp. Mouth full, he struggles to chew without choking, even though this is what he wants; to eat and eat and fuck.

 

He feels wild, every inch the monster he’s been painted out to be, and he savors it all. The way he’s got a gorgeous, willing human writhing and begging for his bite does inexplicable things for his ego.

 

Jeongguk’s pants pool around his ankles with a muted clank from the belt buckle, and he stumbles on his feet as Jimin’s tentacles jerk him forward and onto his knees, gasping harshly.

 

Jimin’s slow about coming towards Jeongguk, amused by the way he looks so helpless on his knees, jeans tangled around his ankles, held up by tentacles, so small and easy to contort to his liking. Pliant enough to be ruined by the likes of him.

 

A dangerous image, Jeongguk held still by tentacles, thick thighs pulled apart, whatever modesty he’s got left held private beneath tiny briefs. Jimin salivates over the thought of having such a treat all to himself. He kneels in front of Jeongguk, a tentacle slithering up to tip his chin towards him, where Jimin can see up close how far off he’s become.

 

“You know what’s so handy about these pretty things?” Jimin croons, jerking his head towards the unoccupied tentacles behind him. Jeongguk blinks slow, lips parted on quick breaths as he shakes his head and his hair falls over his eyes. JImin brushes the sweaty strands aside, bloody fingers smearing a trail across the investigator’s skin. “I can manipulate them however I see fit. They can kill…” he purrs, keen on watching him squirm, “Or they can fuck.”

 

“Please—“ Jeongguk croaks, attempting to come closer. He manages to nuzzle against Jimin’s open palm, unfazed by blood on leather as he licks over the glove.

 

Jimin stares down at him, chin propped up by his fist. “Please, please—all you do is beg, hm? A bit greedier than I’d pegged you for, but maybe that’s why you’re such a favorite back at headquarters, isn’t it? Just a good boy doing what he’s told?”

 

Shame, Jimin thinks, is a gorgeous color on Jeongguk. Burns high on his cheeks, mingling with pink lights and crimson streaks. He gasps as another tentacle slides over his chest and goes lower, leaving slick trails in its wake. When it dips between his thick thighs and tears a hole through the flimsy fabric to curl around his cock, Jeongguk whimpers.

 

Jimin stays where he is for a while, watching the way the investigator reacts to five out of six tentacles wreaking havoc on his body how he sees fit, completely at Jimin’s mercy. They’re thick and rough, but Jeongguk responds to each touch as though they’re made for him.

 

Jeongguk moans low, head tipped back, squirming when he’s left barren of clothing, save for whatever tattered remains lay on his body, as the thinnest tentacle around his cock begins to tighten and stroke. He’s bleeding steadily, and caked with sweat, and yet—the investigator submits without question.

 

Watching him makes Jimin hyper-aware of the pressure of his cock from where it's constrained beneath his trousers, and to ease the ache he brings a hand over it, the other working open the zipper. He lets out a relieved sigh once he pulls out his cock and it's encircled by one of his own tentacles; slick and wet.

 

“Jimin, touch me,” Jeongguk whimpers, hooded eyes centered on Jimin’s lap, as though that’s where he wants to be. Desperate enough to satisfy Jimin’s needs. “Jimin, please just touch—fuck me, anything, please.”

 

Jimin tsks. “It's always gotta’ be about you and what you want. What you need. First, you use me for all I know, then, it’s not enough for you, is it? You want me, too,” he says, the tentacles keeping him on his knees now jerking Jeongguk on his back, so that he can have a much better view. “Greedy aren’t you? How cute.”

 

The tentacle around his throat slithers lower, leaving a trail of clear slick down Jeongguk’s body, unraveling. Becoming thicker, and bigger, it bypasses his thick cock, dips between the investigator’s legs, circling his rim, searching and searching—

 

“Oh fuck,” Jeongguk cries out when the blunt tip of one presses in, too thick and too fast, and yet Jeongguk just takes it. Opens so fucking easily around Jimin’s tentacle, soft inside and scorching hot like he’s made for this, made for him.

 

Jimin can’t abstain from leaning in, holding himself above Jeongguk’s body as his tentacle fucks into him, the sounds it makes around his little hole lewd and obscene. Jeongguk peers up at him, lips parted, stained in Jimin’s blood and bathed in his scent, wearing his bite.

 

“You’re a pretty thing,” Jimin breathes, the heat surrounding the tentacle inside Jeongguk sending throbs to his cock as the investigator grinds down as much as he can whilst restrained. Jeongguk emits a pitiful groan, turning away. Jimin cups his chin, tipping it up and towards him. “This is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it? Silly investigator and his silly questions, all a ruse. All a lie.”

 

“‘s not–not true,” Jeongguk makes the loveliest sounds as though he’s torn between feeling the pain of the bite, coupled with the stretch, of abdicating to the burning pleasure that comes with fucking a ghoul. His hands settle over Jimin’s chest, fingers clawing down the skin hard enough to leave raw red welts in their wake, back arching into each thrust.

 

Jimin inhales, hissing at the sudden pain of nails clawing him so deeply, and he leans in, biting above Jeongguk’s chest, over the swell, teeth catching on sweat-slick skin. In response. Jeongguk just wants more and more, desperate to bite off more than he can chew; he gets violent, tugging at Jimin’s hair, writhing beneath him and rubbing his cock up against his stomach along with his tentacle, making a mess. Being a brat.

 

Jimin smirks against his skin, pulling back and letting the blood pooling in his mouth drip down, smearing over Jeongguk’s throat and between their bodies.

 

“You wanna’ get rough with me, Jeonggukie?” Jimin rasps, certain he must look every inch a true monster; his kakugan’s active and his stomach aching with hunger and a need to feed. “Have it your way, pretty. This might hurt, but I promise it’ll hurt the best you’ve ever felt, human.”

 

All at once, as though in sync with every single one of Jimin’s thoughts, the tentacles move in a blur of red against golden-hued skin, a lot less gentle and quicker. Harder. The one fucking Jeongguk slides as much as he can take, causing the investigator’s eyes to grow wide with surprise and tears. Those around his ankles slither up to his thighs, parting them wider, and those free work to keep his hands pinned down, useless to do anything other than taking all he’s given.

 

Being treated roughly makes Jeongguk pliant. Soft and melted on the inside like wax dripping off a burning candle. Hot and tight, his ass bores down in frantic little circles around Jimin’s tentacle-like a greedy mouth, sucking him in.

 

“More—I just want more,” comes a cracked whisper in the midst of the harsh slap of skin as Jeongguk writhes on the ground, the tentacle inside him ruthless as it fucks him, the one around his cock slipping away and trailing up to his chin, the pointed tip poised against his lips; it shuts him up. Keeps him gagged and quiet, enough for Jimin to admire.

 

Jimin’s trousers slip just below his ass as he leans in and wraps both hands around Jeongguk’s waist, the blunt tip of his cock pressing just beneath the thick tentacle. He croons at the sight, Jeongguk’s rim raw and red from use, his body shaking from the force of how he’s handled.

 

“Look at you,” Jimin murmurs huskily, grunting low in his throat as he presses in, the fit around his cock impossibly tight. He groans loud, head tipping back, blood dripping down to his chest. “Pretty human of mine, you just can’t get this from anyone else, hm? Anyone but me.”

 

Jeongguk’s moan is garbled beneath the tentacle, and Jimin hisses when he feels the investigator’s teeth bare down against it, biting hard. Enough to make him bleed.

 

Jimin revels in the sheer intensity, the violence that surges forward when two natural enemies come together; when prey submits to predator’s desires as they’re meant to do. He digs his fingers into Jeongguk’s waist, scratching down his hips as he bottoms out, his cock nestled deep inside the investigator’s ass; Jeongguk’s stomach bulging.

 

“Fuck—Fuck, look at that,” Jimin growls, beginning to feel hazy. Time is lost on him, this frantic and blurring thing that goes over his head as he watches Jeongguk becomes lax, tears streaming down his eyes as his body accommodates Jimin’s tentacle and his cock, both simultaneously fucking inside him harshly; the loud slap of skin that begins to echo in a discordant rhythm inside Jimin’s head.

 

Because this is inevitably what he’s been looking for, what he wanted all along. To have Jeongguk, the CCG’S reaper, their ace card, their ticket to eliminating his kind, under him, ruined and marked, torn apart by him. Begging out loud, disoriented and sobbing over wanting it all. Wanting everything.

 

An animalistic sound tears past Jimin’s lips as he leans down grips Jeongguk’s disheveled hair and jerks his head back in time to kiss him, bite his lips raw and suck the blood that’s caked around them. Jimin can’t think over the roar of his pulse racing. His skin itches, his hair falls into his eyes as he continuously fucks Jeongguk, the joint friction of his cock and tentacle grazing Jeongguk’s prostate, making him sob between their kiss, as though he’s hurting, and yet doesn’t let go.

 

“Just you, Just you, you, you—Jimin,” Jeongguk gasps weakly, barely able to hold his head up, too much blood and adrenaline making him sluggish, eyes squeezing shut. He can't stop trembling, nor clenching around Jimin’s cock, and with a sudden cry, starts coming.

 

The force of it is as violent as the way he gets fucked, thickly spurting over Jimin’s tentacle wrapped around his cock, body growing taut. He cums across his chest and stomach, some of it landing beneath Jimin’s chin, turning milky pink once it mixes with fresh blood on his chest and shoulder.

 

He’s gasping on the comedown, holding onto Jimin as tightly as he can once his hands are released, crying into his chest. Jimin’s convinced he’s had enough, and yet Jeongguk groans once more, mumbling something against his shirt.

 

“Stay,” he’s whimpering, big eyes peering up at Jimin and pleading. “Please, please, come—in me. I want it.”

 

Jimin smiles, bringing his thumb to smooth over Jeongguk’s kiss swollen and bitten lips. His hair is tangled and gleams under pink neon, so Jimin reaches out to touch it, rubbing the strands between his fingertips. “Silly little thing,” he whispers, slow in guiding his cock out, then pressing it inside once again, little to no resistance.

 

Jeongguk whimpers and Jimin bares his teeth, grazing across the wound on Jeongguk’s chest, tongue dipping inside. “I’m gonna’ keep you, y’know? You’re gonna be my pretty thing, pretty pet. Keep me fed so well.”

 

Jimin maneuvers Jeongguk flat on his back, one of the tentacles bracing his head up, the others keeping his thighs parted and held to his chest, as Jimin, coupled with the tentacle inside Jeongguk move in tandem; one fucks in, the other pulls out and vice versa. Rolling his hips down, Jimin’s cock slides against the investigators swollen prostate and he cries.

 

He brings shaky hands up to cover his face, body jerking in time with each thrust, his thin waist flaring out around thick thighs.

 

“Gonna’ breed you, stuff you full of all my come,” Jimin groans, sweat and heat bathing his skin, the cramped fit of his cock inside Jeongguk’s hole one that causes him to still, give a deep thrust and just hold on. Breathe in, breathe out, move his hands down Jeongguk’s body and familiarize himself with it once more, really embed it into his memory for a later occasion.

 

He’s so eager, Jimin thinks as he peers down at Jeongguk, who’s long since lost his ability to keep up and just lays there, babbling incoherencies as the tentacles around his nipples tighten and stroke each swollen bud that much faster, so submissive to Jimin’s wants.

 

“M’soso—full,” Jeongguk slurs, saliva dripping down his chin. He arches into the slick tentacle around his flushed cock, grinding against the scaled ridges until he stiffens and a pitiful drop of come beads at the tip. “Jimin,” he chokes on a gasp, sinking onto Jimin’s tentacle and his cock almost violent, knees buckling. “Jimin, Jimin—“ he cries out, Jimin’s name on his lips the way man chants to a God.

 

Jimin’s head dizzies with the force of it all crowding around him. Jeongguk’s loud enough for the both of them, lost and a touch delirious, gazing up blearily through tears clinging to his eyes. The way he throws his head back, thick neck working on harsh swallows, the way he can do nothing but surrender and take every inch of Jimin’s tentacle and his cock as they continuously fuck inside him, engulfed in the wet heat of his hole.

 

“Hm? Jimin what? This isn’t enough for you?” Jimin grunts, circling his hips and pulling out his cock, smearing an excess of precome and slime around the raw edges of Jeongguk’s ass. Jeongguk makes a soft sound, akin to a whine when he’s not as full as before, and Jimin, amused by the sight of such desperation, jerks a hand in his hair, tugging the strands roughly. “You want more, is that it?”

 

“Hhh—yes,” Jeongguk croaks, easily adjusted; a little doll in Jimin’s grip for him to fuck and eat and break apart to his liking, he moans at the pressure of Jimin’s cock rubbing over his swollen prostate without mercy. “Hit me,” he whispers, dizzy for it and tipping his cheek towards Jimin, eyes pleading. “Make it hurt.”

 

Jimin croons, bringing his soaked fingers against Jeongguk’s cheek, giving it a slight tap. Not nearly enough. The investigator groans, torn between focusing on the tentacles that won’t stop sliding over his body, doing as they like.

 

“Silly human, there’s a word I like for your kind,” Jimin says softly, a hand splaying over Jeongguk’s jaw tight, the other delivering a harsh slap, much more sound than force. “This what you like? Getting hurt? Being a slut?’

 

“Yes,” Jeongguk cries out, head lolling back, bleary eyes squeezing shut. His entire body reacts, first his ass clenches tight around Jimin’s tentacle and his cock gives another twitch, held stiff by a thin tentacle.

 

“Say it,” Jimin groans, leaning in to lick across the investigator's cheek, feeling it warm beneath his tongue. He too bites back a moan as the tip of his cock catches on Jeongguk’s rim, soaking wet from slime and glistening against his skin. “Say it,” he coaxes, sinking in his cock, rapid breath fanning across the investigator’s ear. “Say ‘I’m such a slut, Jimin. I'm such a fucking slut’.”

 

Jeongguk sags against the sensations of his ass being left taut and full with cock and a tentacle, the steady pace of skin slapping against skin one that makes him do nothing more than moan weakly, and if not for the tentacles holding open his thighs, and arms, he’d fall. Breaths rushing out, he locks eyes with Jimin, barely coherent.

 

“I—Oh, oh, oh,” he whimpers high and ragged, “I’m such a slut, Jimin. Suh-such a fucking slut.”

 

“Yes you are,” Jimin hisses, dragging his tongue lower and across the width of his chest, where the skin is raw by the bite and hurts the investigator so good. “You’re just a slut. Just mine to use.” He purrs, pushing in his cock at the same time his tentacle pulls out a fraction, then easing out, but rubbing the length over the taut, rim.

 

“I’ll come. Fuck I-I’m gonna’,” Jeongguk moans, and it's lost amidst the noises their bodies make. Squelching slaps of sweat and slime meeting hot skin, blood when it sticks. Leather creaking under constant movement, chests heaving. The urgent jerk of tentacles rubbing over stiff nipples and an oversensitive cock.

 

Jimin doesn’t stop. Palms flat, he holds himself up and fucks into Jeongguk, working in tandem, feeling the burn around his thighs as they slap over the underside of Jeongguk’s ass, his cock pulsing from the constant clench around it and the harsh scrape of the tentacle brushing over it.

 

Jimin brings a hand up, jerks Jeongguk’s chin and kisses him so hard that their teeth knock together, and Jeongguk begins to bleed. It’s a hot and filthy clash of tongues. Saliva dripping down their chins, animalistic and urgent groans mingling together in a punishing sort of heat, bursting at the seams and enough to leave a mark.

 

Jeongguk sobs into Jimin’s mouth, words dying on his tongue as the tentacles around his nipples tug hard. Head tipped back, he gasps, lithe body growing taut under him as he starts coming, spilling thick between their bodies and dripping onto Jimin’s pubic hair.

 

Jimin doesn’t stop, sweat dripping down his back as he loses himself in the clench of Jeongguk’s ass as he thrusts in, only to pull out and drag his cock inside harder, holding him still. Watching his stomach bulge, watching him cry as the stimulation begins to hurt, and the adrenaline begins to fade.

 

“Mm,” Jimin moans, everything moving so fast that his hands begin to tremble. His thoughts blurring at the edges as his cock drags hot and slippery inside Jeongguk’s ass, cramped and tucked up against his prostate from the thickening tentacle above it. “You’re so good, gonna’ make me come, yeah?”

 

Jeongguk cries out one last time, breaths coming out choppy and ragged against Jimin’s jaw. “Yeah, yeah,” he slurs, “Want it...want it inside me.”

 

Hips unsteady in the way they move, Jimin groans low, keeps his cock pressed in tight as he starts coming, his aching cock impossibly hard and pulsing. The heat travels around his balls and up his back, causing him to shiver.

 

Beneath him, a picture of ruination, covered in blood, sweat and his own come, Jeongguk’s breathing has slowed and he looks moments away from passing out. His cock gives a pathetic twitch, and he comes once more, teary-eyed and whining.

For a moment there’s silence as they catch their breaths. Pressed tightly, their bodies move in sync through rushed breathing, enough for Jimin to make out the erratic thump of Jeongguk’s heart against his ribs.

“Pretty thing,” Jimin stares at him as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, pleased with the outcome, and deeply satisfied that his hunger, for now, has been sated. He dips a finger into Jeongguk’s shoulder, a bite that’ll never truly heal, and whilst staring at the blood coating his finger, murmurs, “Mine.”

 

Jeongguk whines in protest when the tentacles caging him begin to slither away, shrinking in length and girth until all but one retreat inside Jimin’s body. He also blinks, barely able to keep his eyes open while asking, “Yours? Aren’t you...going to kill me? We had a deal.”

 

At first, Jimin doesn’t answer, too busy pulling out. He groans at the rawness surrounding his cockhead, then tucks himself into his pants, leaving them undone. Following up, his tentacle thins eases out of Jeongguk and then slowly retracts, leaving a trail of slime in its wake.

 

Jimin for a moment entertains the thought of keeping Jeongguk around for a little while longer if only to see how far down he can bring him, to watch him be torn apart and fucked open until he caves...or dies. The thought of keeping Jeongguk is seductive, dangerous, and oh so thrilling. How much fun can Jimin have watching his prized human stroll around the city, feigning to be siding with humans, only to come running back to him once his leash is tugged?

 

The choice is so simple that Jimin chides himself for not having come up with such a thing on his own once this entire ordeal started.

 

“While it is tempting to swallow you whole,” Jimin trails off, coming to a stand whilst the investigator remains on his back, running a hand through his hair. “I told you I don’t serve loyalties to anyone, and that includes deals that don’t suit my needs, Investigator. Anyway, I have a much better idea in mind. A better deal,” Jimin rasps, grin wicked. He hunkers towards Jeongguk’s sprawled form, watching the investigator tense, as though expecting much worse.

 

“And why would you make a-another deal with me?” Jeongguk shudders from the ground, barely able to sit up, weary from blood loss now that the adrenaline begins to fade. “What’s in it for you?”

“Because, Jeongguk, I told you,” Jimin says softly, bringing a hand towards the investigator’s cheek, where he nuzzles into his open palm. Such a wonderful pet, the CCG’s dog all for him. “I love playing with my food.”