Seokjin was only twelve when he saw death for the first time.
He was dozing off, lulled by the hum of the engine and the gentle movement of the car as they cruised along the road. It was late; they’d been returning from a party and Seokjin could barely keep his eyes open. His mother was telling him, “It’s okay, Seokjinie. Just sleep,” but Seokjin shook his head. He wanted to watch the stars, wanted to count them, frozen in time as the Earth kept spinning. The moon was full, bathing the earth in soft, cool light. A melancholic voice crackled over the radio, crooning woefully into the quiet of two a.m.
“Don’t grow up too fast,
And don’t embrace the past,
This life’s too good to last,
And I’m too young to care–”
They passed under a bridge, the moon disappearing behind the concrete ceiling above. Seokjin waited for the moon to reappear, sitting patiently as the song reached a crescendo, the singer crying aloud in desperation at the world. Seokjin didn’t understand those words then, but they felt like a premonition and Seokjin wished he’d learned sooner.
The moon materialized before Seokjin’s eyes as the concrete ceiling receded, but with it came the end of the world.
Something heavy and solid fell from the bridge above and Seokjin heard his mother’s scream over the music. He heard the screech of tires against asphalt as his father pressed his foot into the brake pedal, bracing for impact. Seokjin’s mother turned, her hand reaching for him–
“Don’t kid yourself,
And don’t fool yourself,
This life could be the last,
And we’re too young to see–”
They slammed into the object, the back of the car lifting into the air from the sudden force. He heard the gruesome crunch of metal as the front of the car crumpled, the windshield shattering into pieces. Seokjin strained painfully against his seatbelt, and then suddenly they were skidding to the side of the road, the back end of the car spinning around so quickly that Seokjin’s head crashed against his window, and he was out cold immediately.
He remembered waking up periodically, as if he was watching an old picture show, still frames separated by a black screen as the projector clicked through each fuzzy slide. A dark figure approaching their car. A broken window and an arm reaching through, fingers wrapping around his mother’s slim neck. The figure licking blood off its fingers, his mother’s head hanging limply to the side. The slideshow skipped then, flitting through the slides faster than Seokjin could register. Then, bright lights in the distance. White walls and a white ceiling, unfamiliar faces.
Seokjin couldn’t answer the police officers that came to see him. Whenever he tried to think of that night, his head began to pound until all he could hear was the sound of blood rushing in his ears, his heart trapped in his throat. He was haunted by that figure, felt like its eyes were on him from every corner of every room he was in. He often dreamed that it reached for his neck just as it did his mother, lips curling back into a smile, baring its blood-stained teeth. The figure would inch closer and closer, its other hand resting just over his heart. That’s when Seokjin would wake up in a cold sweat, unable to close his eyes after that, every light in his room turned on.
Seokjin was only twelve when he saw death for the first time and he was only twelve when he realized he could never escape it.
By the time Seokjin was fourteen, he knew how to use a knife. The silver dagger he’d stolen from a run down weapons shop was heavy in his clumsy hands but it was enough. He’d been tired of being afraid. For months after his parents died, he could never sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time, too fearful of what lurked in the dark. He wanted to conquer this fear and some childish part of him wanted to avenge his parents. He would search for that monster, and he would find it, no matter what.
He had a diary, a little leather book that he scribbled in and studied every night. Everything he could find out about demons, everything he’d observed, all in his book. He’d made himself a little kit, filled with salt and stakes and crosses. He’d even carved a protective sigil into his skin, the most effective way he could think of protecting himself. But Seokjin was young and inexperienced and he knew sooner or later that it would come to bite him in the ass.
That time came on a chilly October night when he’d foolishly gone after a demon in a dark alleyway, no one else in sight. The demon was stronger than ones he’d faced before, almost completely unaffected by his crudely drawn sigil. He wasn’t fast enough or strong enough and the demon overpowered him easily. It reached for his heart, laughing at the sight of a bloodied and beaten Seokjin, a child.
Seokjin was so cold, and he looked to the black sky above. He just wanted it to be over. Then, the demon shrieked, the sound ringing in Seokjin’s ears. The hand that had been reaching for him fell away limply, and Seokjin strained to see through the darkness. The smell of blood was heavy and thick in the air and Seokjin watched as the demon fell to its knees, eyes wide with terror.
The demon fell to its side with a loud thump. Standing in the mouth of the alleyway was a silhouette, their slight frame ever still, blocking the light spilling in from the street. Seokjin seized up from the fear. The figure made no move to approach him, though, and Seokjin strained to see his face. Before he could get a closer look, the figure faded into the night air and Seokjin was all alone.
the song they listen to in the car is "blackout" by muse, which is a fantastic song so you should check it out!
Chapter 2: part 1
Wind slashed at Seokjin’s face, the smell of blood thick and heavy in the humid August air.
There was a blood curdling scream and then a loud thud. The body hit the floor, its eyes wide with terror and pain. Seokjin crouched down, reaching out to place his palm over the demon’s forehead. He whispered an incantation, a hot, burning sensation spreading from his palm to the tips of his fingers and up his arm. He pulled his hand away, revealing the sealing sigil burned into the demon’s forehead, embers flaking off the fine lines. There was no chance of it coming back now, not with the seal he’d spent years perfecting. It had begun transforming into it’s true form, coarse fur hiding its face, its nose partially stretching into a snout. He promptly pulled out a tuft of fur and stuffed it in his bag.
Seokjin stepped out of the alleyway, pulling the bill of his hat down over his eyes, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. The street cleaners would be by soon enough to pick up after him and Seokjin didn’t want to stick around for that. His car was parked a few blocks away, sitting inconspicuously among a line of other cars, situated just outside a row of townhouses. He hopped into his car, twisting the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. It kicked a little, puttering just slightly before starting properly. Seokjin was going to have to fix that sooner or later.
He pulled away from the curb, the late night radio host’s voice filtering through the speakers. “Be careful out there, everyone,” the host said, their voice muffled by static. “If you’re out at night, make sure you’re not alone and that you’re in heavily populated areas.”
Seokjin slowed to a stop as he approached a red light, fingers tapping away on his steering wheel as he waited patiently. “There have been numerous reports of… supernatural activity, lately. The Church advises that you all take the necessary precautions to avoid being hunted.”
The light changed and Seokjin slowly accelerated, turning right down a dimly street. “So, remember to stay safe, dear listeners. Be smart. Remember to carry salt with you at all times. You never know who or what you might run into, after all.”
The lamp posts flickered precariously, fizzling out for a minute before bursting into life again, then repeating. Namjoon’s shop was packed into a long row of rarely-frequented buildings, his decaying building sandwiched between a run-down Chinese restaurant and a shady tailor. Namjoon’s store itself was tiny, a consignment store of sorts as Namjoon liked to put it. Namjoon lived in the two floors above his store, an apartment he shared with Seokjin. In exchange for a place to stay, Seokjin often hunted for Namjoon, spending entire nights scavenging for whatever ingredients Namjoon requested.
Seokjin’s car puttered weakly as he turned off the engine. He stepped out of the car, shut the door and locked it behind him. There was a small space in between Namjoon’s building and the neighbouring tailor where a staircase hugged the side of the building, leading to the upper floors. The heels of his boots clacked against the metal stairs as he climbed, loud against the silence of the night. Seokjin unlocked the door at the top of the staircase, the air rippling around him as he stepped through the threshold. He locked the door behind him, tossed his bag on the couch, and kicked off his shoes.
All the lights were off, Namjoon already asleep in his room down the hall. He made his way to the stairs leading up to the attic Seokjin had repurposed to be his room, the wooden stairs creaking under his weight with every step. He hadn’t been back in a few days and he fell into his bed unceremoniously, welcoming the comforting embrace of soft sheets and a thick comforter. He fell asleep almost instantly, his body tired and sore, too comfortable now to get up and change his clothes. He could deal with the filth tomorrow.
“Hey, where’s my corrupted heart?”
“No good morning?” Seokjin said as he stepped into the room, taking a sip of coffee.
“It’s three in the afternoon,” Namjoon countered. He’d laid everything out in front of him, things Seokjin had gathered on his last hunting trip. A slip of paper was among them, crumpled from being stuffed in a bag too many times. The words had been crossed out in a listwise fashion, the last item left untouched.
“I was out for three nights straight trying to get that lycanthrope fur, okay? The thing almost took a chunk out of my arm. Getting a corrupted heart was not top of mind.”
“Do you need it this instant? If a client wants something like that, they’d better be prepared to wait for it. If they complain they can try sticking their hand in a demon’s chest and tell me how it feels to be tainted.”
“I trust your skills, Jin.”
Seokjin grumbled something along the lines of ‘maybe you should go and get it yourself, smartass’ but if Namjoon heard it, he simply ignored it. Namjoon gathered the ingredients, placing them in their respective spots in his seemingly endless storage. He updated his own secret list of ingredients, one that Seokjin could never understand no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the words. It was coded, something all witches did to protect their research and secrets. Namjoon had rare items that Seokjin had personally helped him procure, and even rarer items Seokjin didn’t know the origin of.
“By the way, you might want to be a little more careful the next time you go out.”
“Mm,” Seokjin hummed noncommittally, pulling his dagger out of the shaft of his boot. There was blood dried on the tip of the blade, staining the pretty silver a dark black. Seokjin wiped it clean, carefully working his way into the swirling engravings that seemed to glow in the warm candlelight.
“Hey, I mean it. There’s been something in the air lately.”
“What is it?”
“It’s vague... fuzzy. A feeling . I can’t get a clear picture.”
“It’s always a feeling, though, isn’t it?”
“Do you want me to make you a new amulet? A new tattoo?”
“Other than the ones I already have?”
“Just... don’t do anything stupid.”
“When have I ever?”
Namjoon gave him a look, unimpressed, his mouth drawn in a tight line. “You know how many times I’ve had to save your ass? Vampire bites, lycanthrope scratches, curses–”
“Okay, I get it.”
Namjoon tapped a drawer and the air rippled around them for a moment before the drawer slid open on its own. Namjoon fished around in it for a moment, humming a tune as he thoughtfully sifted through the contents of the drawer. He produced a handful of small glass vials from the drawer and placed them in front of Seokjin.
“What’s this for?” Seokjin asked, picking one up and examining it the empty vial.
“Carry some holy water with you. I have a feeling you’ll be needing it.”
Seokjin knew he looked good.
A shirt tight enough to show the cinch of his waist and the spread of his shoulders, and a generous amount of buttons undone, teasing the appearance of his collarbone. He’d pulled on one of his best pairs of slacks, brushed his bangs away from his face. He was going to get a hit tonight, he would make sure of it.
He knew there was something here, that crippling sense of dread creeping up his spine. The skin around each carefully carved sigil was hypersensitive, like they were preparing for danger, like they just knew . Seokjin floated through the densely packed bar, nodding his head along to the beat of the music. Sometimes it was hard to pinpoint that sense of dread as it seemed to seep in from each direction, the soles of his feet soaking it up through the floor, the feeling making its way up each inch of his body. Over the years he’d learned how to follow it, but the sheer volume of people muddled his perception.
Then his sigils flared up, a warning sign, and at that moment Seokjin met its eyes. It was in the body of a young woman, long black hair flowing down her elegantly curved back. She wore a drapey red dress, hips swaying to the music. She fluttered her eyelashes, gave Seokjin a sultry smile. There was something about the way demons moved, so subtle that it was hard to catch but Seokjin had trained himself well. They lacked the little imperfections of human movement, the nuances and idiosyncrasies absent from each breath.
He offered her his own smile as he began to work his way through the crowd. This part was easy. Seokjin was handsome and he knew they wanted an easy kill. All he had to do was play the part. Even now, speaking to her was like second nature. A few flirty comments, a few suggestive touches, and then she was pulling him by the hand, leading him through the bar. They made it outside, the night air cool on his skin. She pulled him into a nearby alleyway, hand sliding up his chest so she could grasp his collar.
He could feel the pull when she kissed him, her maddening influence bleeding into his head. Any normal person would have been gone the moment they met her eyes and if they’d somehow managed to stay sober then they would have completely lost it at her touch. Their touch was hypnotic, an aphrodisiac, eating away at any sense of sanity before you were rendered a soulless husk waiting for your heart to be taken.
She dug her fingers into his shoulder, smiling devilishly into the kiss. Seokjin had to fight the pull, the urge to lose himself in her embrace, his skin tingling restlessly. It was harder this time, her pull stronger than most low-level demons. He would have to be careful about this, he thought.
He let his arms go limp, his head knocking back against the wall behind him. It was her cue to let her guard down and attack and Seokjin would be ready for it. Her lips were on his neck, a smile forming as she began to dig the tips of her fingers painfully into the skin just over his heart. Seokjin slipped the silver dagger out of his waistband, gripping it hard in his hand. He swiftly slid the knife into the space between her ribs, gritting his teeth as she stumbled back. Seokjin couldn’t get the blade far enough in, the tip just shy of her heart, before she was throwing him to the side, the knife falling to the floor.
Seokjin caught himself on a nearby bin, knocking it over as he regained his footing. She glared at him lividly, her eyes red and angry. “You filthy exorcist,” she growled.
Seokjin ducked when she reached for his neck, then lunged toward her. He tackled her to the ground and it took all of his strength to pin her there just long enough to grab the vial of holy water in his pocket. He popped open the top with his teeth and poured the contents over her eyes, grimacing as she screamed in pain. Her skin burned and bubbled and she writhed beneath him. He took the opportunity to reach for his discarded dagger, wasting no time to drive it directly into her heart. Carrying small amounts of holy water around like this turned out to be more effective than he thought, and he was going to have to thank Namjoon later.
The dagger, however, did little to stop her. The blade caused her pain, he could see that, but it didn’t burn her as severely as it did other demons. Seokjin narrowed his eyes, running possibility upon possibility through his mind. She was no regular demon, Seokjin knew that now. Her pull was stronger and she was able to tolerate silver.
Before Seokjin could come to any conclusion, she overpowered him, shoving him off her. He fell to the ground behind him, head knocking back painfully on the concrete. She pinned him down, long fingers wrapping around his neck and squeezing. He gasped, his throat crushed under her strong grip. He struggled against her, clawing at her wrist. She was already ripping open his shirt with her other hand, claws extending before pressing them against the skin over his heart. She pierced the skin, pushing her hand down into his chest painfully.
He gripped her wrist, fighting out an incantation through clenched teeth. Warmth spreaded out of his palm until it was almost burning, the sensation bordering unpleasant. It was enough to make her recoil, letting off him enough that he could throw her off of him by her arm, kicking with his leg to flip her over. She growled at him, her eyes glowing blood red as she glared.
The whites of her eyes darkened into a deep black and every fiber of Seokjin’s being warned him to run. She was showing her true form and it was like his instincts knew that he would be royally fucked if he didn’t get out of there immediately. He didn’t have a chance to react, however, before he felt a pulse of magic through his bones, the only warning he was given before he was flying backwards. He hit the cold hard concrete and he could do nothing more than gasp at the impact, the wind knocked right out of his lungs. He panted desperately, trying to catch his breath. His body ached all over, trembling as the demon approached him, her heels clacking loudly against the ground.
Her hair was floating around her, her face distorted with rage. The corners of her mouth spread as she curled her lips back in a sneer, her long and sharp fangs sliding out. Rough black skin crawled inward from her hairline, consuming her once beautiful face. She dug her heel into his temple and he winced, hands scrambling at the floor as he tried to push against her. His attempts were futile and she cackled at him, digging her heel further into his skull. “Too bad I couldn’t play with you more. You’re a pretty thing, too,” she said, her voice shrill and unpleasant.
Suddenly her foot was gone and he heard her scream violently. The sound sent tremors through Seokjin’s body and panic bubbled up his throat. He craned his neck to look up, struggling to rest on his forearms. The demon was slumped over, her jaw slack and eyes wide. Then, she collapsed to the ground and Seokjin watched her body disintegrate into the night.
Standing behind her was a figure. Seokjin squinted, trying to make out the figure’s features. The figure wasn’t particularly tall or broad, but they were holding the demon’s heart in their bare hand, thick, black blood dripping from the disgusting thing.
“I always hated that bitch,” the figure–a man–said, his voice low and bored, the words ever so slightly slurred like he was too lazy to enunciate. He dropped the heart and it landed with a disgusting squelch on the concrete .
The man walked toward Seokjin, silent in his approach, as if his feet didn’t quite touch the ground where he walked, a thin and intangible separation of two worlds pressed flushed together. He knelt down in front of Seokjin, reaching out to brush away his bangs. Seokjin flinched at the touch. He could see the man’s features now, black hair falling over a young and pretty face. His nose was petite and the corners of his mouth were turned up just slightly, impossibly pink lips surrounded by milky skin. His sharp eyes were bright red, just like the female demon’s, and Seokjin felt the fear crash over him like a wave. He fought through it, meeting the man’s eyes against every fiber in his body telling him not to.
“This won’t do,” the man said, looking over Seokjin’s body. He picked up Seokjin’s forgotten dagger and examined it, tracing the tip of his finger along the engravings. “These are well done,” he said. “But not strong enough.”
Seokjin watched in horror and confusion as the man gripped the dagger loosely and drew a short line across his forearm. The wound sizzled from the silver but the man looked as if he hadn’t felt it at all. Black blood beaded at the surface of the cut and oozed out, dripping down his arm. “Open your mouth,” he ordered and Seokjin could feel the pull. It was strong and he was weak now from his injuries, but he bit his lip, refusing to comply.
“There’s no point in refusing,” the man said. He brought his forearm up to his mouth and placed his lips over the wound, sucking. Seokjin’s jaw went slack as he watched, baffled as the man sucked his own blood.
The man pulled his arm away, his lips pressed firmly together. He slipped the dagger in his boot then grabbed Seokjin’s jaw with his hand and tugged him upward. His touch was surprisingly gentle and Seokjin was too weak to try fighting it again. The man leaned down and their lips met faster than Seokjin could follow. He made a bewildered noise, the sound muffled against the man’s mouth. He hated the way the feeling of his lips made Seokjin shiver with something like anticipation. It was different from the female demon’s kiss, softer and fiery. The man opened his own mouth and Seokjin whimpered when he tasted a thick liquid on his tongue. It was bitter and tasted of rotten fruit and Seokjin squeezed his eyes shut. The liquid rolled down his throat slowly and by the time the man pulled away, Seokjin had tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
He blinked up at the man, a droplet of black blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t throw it up,” the man said. Seokjin swallowed, forcing himself not to gag.
Seokjin breathed heavily, feeling like his body was on fire. The pain he felt before was washing away, overtaken by the heat, and it felt nice. “Who are you?” Seokjin managed, his voice hoarse.
The man reached out and tapped the back of Seokjin’s neck. The spot where he touched burned and Seokjin blinked at the man, unsure of what was happening. This demon had killed another one and saved Seokjin’s life, but he’d force-fed Seokjin his blood and Seokjin couldn’t be sure what that would do to him.
Then the man stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “My name is Yoongi,” the man said. “I’ll be seeing you, Seokjin.”
The man–Yoongi–was gone then, disappearing so quickly it was like he’d never been there in the first place. Seokjin breathed out, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The pain was gone now, replaced by a dull and vague ache. He was surprised when he found he was able to stand, though his legs were a little wobbly.
In front of him lay the body of the female demon, her blackened heart discarded beside her. Seokjin ripped a piece of fabric from the bottom of the demon’s dress and wrapped the heart in it. He was still shaking from the encounter but he hadn’t forgotten what he’d come for, though he felt like an idiot for riding off the work of someone else. He’d been bested by the female demon, only to be saved and played with by Yoongi. The most terrifying part was that Yoongi had known who he was and Seokjin was almost afraid to learn how.
Seokjin shuffled out of the alleyway, vaguely aware that he looked like hell. Still, he was too tired to care and all he wanted to do was go home. He slunk through the shadows to his car, threw the heart in the passenger seat, and made his way home.
Namjoon was still awake when Seokjin dragged himself through the door. He was pacing, deep in thought as he took a turn about the room. The sound of the door clicking shut pulled him out of his head and he made a face at Seokjin, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.
“You look like shit,” Namjoon said.
“Feel like it, too,” Seokjin muttered. He tossed the wrapped heart at Namjoon and Namjoon just barely caught it, frowning as he examined Seokjin’s tired figure.
“What happened to you?” Namjoon asked.
Seokjin shook his head, stumbling toward the couch. He collapsed onto it, his face smushed into the cushions. Namjoon was saying something but Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to listen. He dozed off quickly and suddenly, his body hungry for the rest.
When he awoke again, it was daytime. He expected aches and pains all over his body but when he moved he realized he felt good. Better than he’d felt in a very long time, his body completely refreshed and relaxed. He rolled back his shoulders, stretched his neck. All the usual little clicks that came with such movements were gone and Seokjin could scarcely believe it. If anything, he should feel a thousand times worse.
Then it occurred to him. Yoongi , he thought.
Seokjin stripped as he made his way to the bathroom. His body may have felt good, but he was filthy with blood and grime. He stepped under the warm spray of the shower, running his fingers through his hair. The blood, a mixture of black and red, tainted the clear water as it was washed down the drain.
The only explanation for his rejuvenation was Yoongi’s blood, though Seokjin wasn’t sure how it worked. He stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He examined himself in the mirror. His complexion was healthy and bright, his skin free of any cuts or bruising. Even wounds from days before his encounter were gone.
He pulled on some sweats and a t-shirt and made his way downstairs. The shop was empty, as it almost always was. Seokjin found Namjoon sitting at the counter, his nose stuck in a thick book. Seokjin tapped the counter to get his attention, and Namjoon looked up at Seokjin curiously.
“So it’s as I thought,” he said.
Seokjin raised his eyebrow questioningly.
“I checked on you this morning and you were completely healed. But, Seokjin, have you seen yourself in the mirror?”
Namjoon tapped the back of his neck, looking up at Seokjin expectantly. Seokjin tilted his head, but mimicked Namjoon’s movements. He touched the back of his neck and felt a shock travel down his spine. He narrowed his eyes, touching the spot again. He felt the shock this time, too, and Seokjin searched Namjoon’s face for answers.
“That’s a curse mark,” Namjoon explained. “Or, something like a curse mark. It’s a little different.”
“Curse mark?” Seokjin asked, not fully grasping what Namjoon was getting at.
“If any normal demon tried to put a curse mark on you, your sigils would burn their hand right off. And yet that’s a curse mark. On the back of your neck.”
“So how the fuck do I have it?”
Namjoon scratched his chin, thinking. “What happened last night? Only a powerful demon could have done this to you. Where did you get that corrupted heart?”
Seokjin grimaced, his pride protesting at the thought of exposing his failure. Namjoon was watching him, waiting, and Seokjin sighed. As much as he wanted to pretend last night didn’t happen, he knew that this curse mark was going to fuck him over and Namjoon was his best bet at getting rid of it. The more information Namjoon had, the more of a chance Seokjin could get rid of it quickly.
He recounted the night, starting from the female demon overpowering him completely and then Yoongi ripping the demon’s heart right out. He left out the bit about Yoongi kissing him, telling Namjoon only that he force fed Seokjin demon blood. Namjoon listened carefully, his eyes narrowed as Seokjin went on.
“The demon blood must have healed you,” he said.
“I should be dying right now, though, not getting better. Demon blood doesn’t exactly mix well with human blood.”
“Not necessarily. Large quantities will completely taint your body–that’s why possession is so dangerous–but if you’re strong enough, small amounts shouldn’t hurt you. And perhaps, it can even grant you some of the healing properties of demons, for a short while.”
“But what about this curse mark?”
Namjoon fiddled with the corners of his book, his mouth turning down into a frown. “I’m not sure. But whatever it is, you’re on the owner’s radar now. You should be very careful.”
Seokjin rubbed his temples with his index fingers, sighing heavily. Curse marks eventually killed whoever was unfortunate enough to get one, and although Namjoon said this one was different that didn’t mean Seokjin shouldn’t prepare for the worst.
“I’ll do some research. Here, let me take a picture of it so I can cross-reference – watch the store for me.”
Namjoon took a quick picture of the back of Seokjin’s neck before disappearing to the back room where he kept his personal collection of books and grimoires. Seokjin sat down in the chair behind the counter, pulling his leather book out of his back pocket. He’d grabbed it on the way down, sure that he would need it.
He leafed through the pages, searching for anything that might point him to some semblance of a possibility. His section on curse marks was, regrettably, lacking. He hadn’t come across many and even then, the mark would kill the host in three or so days, limiting the amount of research Seokjin could even do on them. All he knew was that it quickly tainted the body until the body would start to shut down and a demon wouldn’t be far behind.
Seokjin took his own shaky photo of the back of his neck, bending his arm oddly to get the right angle. He quickly got to recreating the mark in his leather book, the sketch a rough representation but close enough. It was an intricate mark, a thin circle surrounding a series of triangles intersecting one another with an odd symbol Seokjin didn’t recognize in the middle. Other curse marks were far more simple than this, simple inverted pentagrams and demonic symbols. This one truly was different, just as Namjoon had said.
He spent hours trying to decipher the mark but he couldn’t crack it, falling short every time he thought he had an idea. The mark was sensitive to the touch, magic pulsing from it in long waves.
When it was time to close, Seokjin walked to the front door to flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Namjoon emerged from his back room, a thick, ancient looking book in his arms. He plopped it down on the counter and smoothed out the pages gently. “This symbol– come, look,” Namjoon said, gesturing Seokjin over.
He met Namjoon at the counter, his eyes following Namjoon’s fingers. It was the same symbol in his curse mark, and Seokjin waited for Namjoon to elaborate. The text was a foreign language and Seokjin didn’t even bother trying to read it.
“It’s the symbols of sin,” Namjoon explained.
“Like the cardinal sins?” Seokjin asked.
Namjoon nodded. “Exactly those. The symbol on your curse mark is… sloth.”
“So what does this mean?”
“There are demons that are the embodiments of the cardinal sins, and that demon gave you this curse mark with the symbol of sloth. Thus, wouldn’t it make sense that it was Sloth who gave this to you himself?”
“Does that mean I’ll be overtaken by sloth and sleep away the remainder of my limited days?”
“I don’t think so,” Namjoon said. “The cardinal sins are powerful demons. I doubt they would use a curse mark to do their killing.”
“Then I don’t understand why I have this. ”
“The only way to remove it is from the one who put it on you,” Namjoon said solemnly. “I don’t think it’ll kill you but I don’t know much past that. It might be some form of possession, who knows?”
“So I need to find Yoongi– Sloth –and get him to take this thing off? A demon isn’t going to give a fuck about it,” Seokjin groaned, hanging his head low. He would be dealing with a demon to get the curse mark off and deals never worked in the human’s favour.
Namjoon gave him a pitiful look. After a pause, Seokjin said, “Silver didn’t work on them. These sigils of mine did jackshit, too.”
“I told you, the cardinal sins are powerful demons.”
“So If I kill him, the mark will disappear.”
Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “You want to chase him down?”
“What else can I do?”
Namjoon’s silence answered everything. Seokjin leaned back in his chair, his hand coming up to rub the curse mark at the base of his neck. “He has my dagger, too,” Seokjin muttered solemnly. He had other weapons in his arsenal, but they were nowhere near as effective as his dagger. He would have to resort to the only keepsake he’d kept from Namjoon’s old teacher, and just the thought of putting it into use made his skin crawl. Seokjin felt like it was haunted, like Namjoon’s teacher was judging him every time he tried to use it.
“In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do to help you find Yoongi.”
Seokjin had never tried tracking down a demon like this before. Sure, he’d fished for some demons for ingredients, but this was a specific demon he was looking for and a cardinal sin at that.
The only thing he could use as a clue was where Yoongi had been that night. Demons were territorial and often hunted within their borders, which meant Yoongi’s land had to have been nearby. His reasons for stepping in and saving Seokjin without killing him were a mystery, but Seokjin wouldn’t rule out territorial disputes just yet. It was possible the female demon had been encroaching on his area, but it didn’t explain how Yoongi had known his name or why he’d given Seokjin the curse mark.
“Is there no way I can track him?” Seokjin asked as he carefully laid out his handy exorcism kit. It was usually kept in the trunk of his car, but it needed some revamping.
Namjoon perused through a bookcase, tapping his chin in thought. “You could try summoning him, I suppose.”
“Don’t I need his demon name?”
“You have his mark,” Namjoon replied. “We should be able to use it to summon him, though summoning isn’t really my forte .”
“I really can’t track him down?”
Namjoon shook his head. “You’re free to try but you have nothing to go on. If you can summon him, you can at least fight in your own territory and on your own terms.”
“I’ve never summoned before,” Seokjin admits, but Namjoon already knew this.
“There’s always a first for everything,” Namjoon said, flashing an awkward smile. He gave up on whatever he was trying to find, instead taking a seat on the edge of the kitchen counter. He looked at Seokjin, hands clasped in his lap.
“If there’s no other way…” Seokjin mumbled, words trailing off. He considered his options, but they were few and far between. Finding Yoongi only based on where he’d met him was a longshot and the only other option was summoning him (or waiting to die from the curse mark, but that didn’t seem all too productive so he shelved it immediately).
“So how do we go about this, Mr. Warlock?” Seokjin asked.
“Well, if you can summon with a circle, a name and a sacrifice, it should be the same if we use his mark as the circle. It’ll serve as the proxy for his name.”
“Any ideas on how to kill him once I summon him?”
“Who said anything about killing him?”
Seokjin caught on quickly, but he didn’t like where Namjoon was going with it. “If my sigils did nothing, what makes you think I can bind him?”
Namjoon gestured to the contents of Seokjin’s exorcism kit. He followed Namjoon’s eyes to the bundle wrapped in greying cloth. Seokjin frowned. “I hate this thing,” he mumbled.
“But my teacher had a knack for bargaining and it wasn’t just because of his silver tongue.”
“Fine. Let’s do it.”
It was freshly night, the stars bright as they twinkled in the moonless sky. Candles filled the small room, the flickering flames casting warm light on Seokjin’s skin. He stood at the edge of a circle, Yoongi’s curse mark drawn in white chalk on the floor. Namjoon stood beside him, a ceremonial knife held in his hand.
“We should do it soon. It’s a new moon and the night is young. He’ll be weaker now,” Namjoon said.
“Are you going to stay here, or jump ship the moment I start?” Seokjin asked.
“Well, if I’m honest, I’m really curious. So I’ll stay in the corner and observe. But I am also weaker now so I won’t be much help if you end up in a bind.”
“So I’m on my own,” Seokjin said.
“That’s the spirit. Okay, ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Namjoon handed Seokjin the ceremonial knife. It was too heavy in his hands, the handle uncomfortable. He much preferred his own weapons, but Namjoon insisted this one would help strengthen the summon. He turned his palm to face the ceiling, quickly sliding the blade along his skin. He held his hand over the centre of the circle, curling in his fingers and squeezing. Blood dripped off his hand, landing directly on the unrecognizable symbol. The blood sizzled as if it was boiling hot, searing the ground underneath it.
He heard Namjoon step back as the candles began to flicker, the air getting cooler and cooler until he couldn’t help but shiver. The ground shook with violent tremors and Seokjin planted his feet, willing himself not to fall right over. He could feel it coming, felt the fear creeping into his brain.
Suddenly, Seokjin was knocked back by an unseen force. He caught himself on the table and quickly drew the silver handgun from the back of his pants. He pointed it forward, finger tensed on the trigger, waiting with bated breath. The tremors subsided and the candles were blown out completely, casting darkness over the room. Moments passed, too long. The silence made Seokjin wonder if he’d failed, but those worries were swept away quickly when the chalk lines began to glow.
In the next moment there was a figure standing in the middle of the circle, his posture relaxed and easy. A yawn greeted Seokjin before Seokjin pulled the trigger. The bang was loud in the small room, deafeningly so. The figure recoiled with a low grunt and Seokjin hit him once again for good measure.
“Fuck,” the figure said. It had been dark when Seokjin met Yoongi so his exact features were blurry, but Seokjin would recognize his voice anywhere. It had followed Seokjin in his dreams since that night, nagging at him in moments of silence.
“Take this curse mark off me,” Seokjin demanded. Yoongi looked at him blankly, clutching at the wound in his shoulder, black blood soaking his smooth skin. “Take the curse mark off,” he repeated.
Yoongi’s expression remained unchanged. “That’s not a curse mark,” he said plainly.
“What is it then?”
“It won’t hurt you.”
Seokjin scowled. “I will kill you right here if you don’t get rid of this thing right now.”
Yoongi sighed. “You can’t kill me with that,” he said, gesturing to the gun in Seokjin’s hand.
“I’m willing to take that bet.”
“I believe you,” Yoongi said, and Seokjin thought he heard amusement .
“I’m not removing the mark.”
Seokjin shot him again. Yoongi grunted at the impact, falling to his knees as his breath hitched. “Don’t fuck with me,” Seokjin said. “Why didn’t you kill me that night? Why did you give me your blood?”
“Is this an interrogation?”
Seokjin moved to step forward, but Namjoon shook his head, stopping him effectively. Instead, he repositioned the gun, aiming straight for Yoongi’s heart. “If you want to think of it that way, sure.”
Yoongi blinked at Seokjin slowly, like he’d just awoken from a too-long nap. He looked displeased, the corners of his lips tilted down into a slight frown. “I was simply… upholding my end of the deal.”
Seokjin scowled. “What deal?”
“Your soul in exchange for protection,” Yoongi answered easily, as if he was talking about a great sale at the supermarket.
“I never made such a deal,” Seokjin replied.
“ You may not have. Doesn’t mean no one else cannot do it in your stead.”
Seokjin’s blood was starting to boil, feeling like Yoongi was just beating around the bush, toying with him. “Explain,” he said sternly, finger tightening on the trigger.
Yoongi straightened, regarding Seokjin with bright red eyes. He started to move, stepping forward over the white chalk lines. Seokjin pulled the trigger, but Yoongi kept coming despite the obvious pain he felt. “You stepped up your game. These bullets are really something,” he said.
Seokjin heard Namjoon whispering incantations but Yoongi was already there, standing a little too close for comfort. Yoongi was shorter than he was, looking up at Seokjin as he pulled the gun out of Seokjin’s hand. “What do you want from me?” Seokjin asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. The fear was there, nagging at him, but he felt calmer this time. He still felt like Yoongi was the one in charge, his presence overwhelming, but Seokjin’s annoyance was starting to override the fear.
“Your warlock friend is weak, too, right now. His spells are doing nothing.”
Seokjin wanted to look at Namjoon across the room but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Yoongi’s. “So what is this deal?”
“Someone asked me to save your life, and I did. In exchange for your soul,” he explained.
“Who made this deal?”
“I believe she was your mother?”
Seokjin’s face twitched. “When?”
“Time is a weird thing for demons. For me, not that long. For you, maybe a decade or so? Who knows.”
The accident, Seokjin thought immediately. Is that why he was the only one who had survived? His memories of that night were hazy at best, so he couldn’t rule out the possibility that he’d been pawned off. Was Yoongi the one who’d attacked his parents? His bones started to tremble at the thought, the thought that maybe he could be face-to-face with his parents’ killer. Maybe his search was over.
“Did you kill her? The one who made the deal.”
Yoongi tilted his head. “They were dead when I found you that night. The demon that did murder them ran with its tail between its legs when I arrived so he didn’t quite finish killing you.”
Seokjin paused, waiting for Yoongi to explain further.
“Your mother made the deal when you were dying from sickness in a hospital. You were just three, I believe.”
Seokjin frowned. So it wasn’t Yoongi after all. He vaguely remembered his father telling him about a scary sickness he had when he was young, but that he’d recovered miraculously. He didn’t remember being sick so he’d always thought his father was exaggerating. “Why haven’t you taken my soul yet?”
Yoongi went silent then. Seokjin felt like Yoongi’s gaze was picking him apart piece by piece, peeling back every layer until he was staring at his soul. He edged closer to Seokjin, their chests touching now. He wasn’t sure if it was the fear or the pull that made little jolts of electricity run down his spine, made his mind cloud over until he could barely think straight. Yoongi was so close, his breath cool against Seokjin’s skin.
Yoongi leaned in, nosing at the curve of Seokjin’s neck. Seokjin trembled at the touch, his eyes falling shut. He couldn’t help the sigh he let out, nor could he help the way his chin tipped back just slightly, inviting Yoongi. His touch was gentle, barely there, and it made Seokjin shiver.
“Please,” Seokjin whispered, unsure of what he was asking for.
He felt Yoongi’s lips move against his skin, groaned at the little nip Yoongi gave him. Then Yoongi was gone, stepping away from Seokjin and Seokjin missed the heat of his body. Yoongi still had that blank expression but there was something in his eyes, a glint, looking all too pleased with himself as they slid downward. Seokjin followed his gaze and was mortified to see why Yoongi looked so smug.
“Another time, Seokjin. When we don’t have an audience,” Yoongi said. His body began to fade, disappearing gradually until he was completely gone, the image of that gaze burned deep in Seokjin’s mind.
Seokjin’s legs gave out and he fell to the floor. He panted, feeling like his entire body was on fire. He could barely process what had just happened, feeling like he’d woken up from a dream. He was hard in his jeans and there was no denying that Yoongi was the cause of it.
Namjoon coughed awkwardly from the other side of the room. “Uh, are we going to talk about what just happened or?”
Seokjin just groaned in response and banged his head against the wall behind him.
“It’s not a curse mark, at the very least.”
“That really makes me feel confident,” Seokjin said.
“It should. It means that he doesn’t want to kill you yet.”
Seokjin frowned. He was still mortified (and even more so because he’d gone up to his room that night and jacked off to the memory of Yoongi’s voice and touch) and Namjoon was not helping. “ Yet ,” Seokjin emphasized.
“If he is Sloth, then your soul shouldn’t be too appealing. You’re not lazy enough,” Namjoon said.
“So he’s just toying with me. For fun?”
“Well, demons live a long time. They have to pass the time somehow, and humans are entertaining.”
“So he wants to fuck with me to pass the time.”
“Or he wants to, you know, fuck you. ”
Seokjin sighed heavily, hand coming up to unconsciously rub at the mark on his neck. “You have no tact.”
“I mean, it looked like you didn’t mind too much–”
Namjoon promptly shut up when Seokjin threw a thick book at him. “It was the pull,” he tried to say but it sounded like a lie even to him.
“Anyway, did you want to take a few days off? Yoongi may not want to kill you yet, but I bet he can track you with that mark. I can always call on my familiar to hunt for me. I’m sure Jimin could use the exercise.”
“Let him rest some more,” Seokjin said.
“He’s been resting for eleven years.”
“Isn’t that only a fraction of time for a familiar?”
“Yes, but he keeps calling me and bragging about the beach. I can’t stand it anymore. He needs to do some work.”
“You just want to stick him with me.”
“No, I’m telling you to take a few days off. Jimin will fetch things for me in the meantime.”
Namjoon wasn’t usually stern, preferring to make logical suggestions until you couldn’t disagree rather than telling you outright to do something. If he was telling Seokjin to do something, it was because he truly wished for it, and it made Seokjin feel a little guilty. He looked blankly at Namjoon, waiting for him to say something else, but it seemed his mind was made up. Even if Seokjin said no, Namjoon wouldn’t give him any jobs so it wasn’t like Seokjin could really do anything about it.
“Fine,” he eventually grumbled.
Namjoon patted him on the shoulder, nodding. “This is for the best right now.”
Seokjin sighed, but he was starting to think Namjoon may be right.
Chapter 3: part 2
Seokjin hated sitting around. It was boring and he could only sleep for so long before he needed to stretch his legs and Namjoon’s apartment did not have nearly enough space. He went out during the day but found he had nothing to do except sit and read books at the cafe at the other end of town. He felt odd in the daylight, like he didn’t quite belong. Couples passed him by, happy and laughing as they clung to each other. A part of Seokjin wanted that, that easy intimacy and joy, but his profession didn’t hold kindly to the idea.
There was no room for attachment in his life. He didn’t have a normal 9-5 day job to go to, nor a normal place to come home to. He woke everyday wondering if it was his last, knowing that it very might well be. He wouldn’t wish that kind of worry on someone else and he didn’t think they would quite understand anyway. It wasn’t like being a cop or a firefighter or something heroic like that. He was an outsider, with no affiliation to the Church, the overruling organization of their city. They protected the city against the supernatural and unknown and in their eyes he was nothing more than a outlaw acting for purely selfish reasons. And well, they weren’t wrong per se. Seokjin was only an exorcist as a means to an end, after all. Once he got a hold of his parents’ killer, he would retire and leave all his work to Namjoon’s familiar. He had no need for a license or formal training.
The sun began its slow descent, the sky turning a pretty pink as it faded into shades of purple and midnight blue. Seokjin began his long walk home, taking his time as he strolled through the city. He felt uneasy just walking like this, not used to taking his time. He was rearing to move, to shake out his limbs and hunt. Exorcisms may have been a means to an end but he couldn’t deny the thrill hunting gave him; the way the adrenaline rushed through his veins as he lied in wait, and the way his heart beat fast when the magic rushed over him as he sealed each evil entity away.
Seokjin made a turn. It was a little early but he needed to shake off the nerves. There was a bar at the end of the street and he could hear a live band filtering out of the doorway. He stepped inside, the place musty with cigarette smoke and the smell of beer. On stage the band jammed away, a man with long, wild hair singing to the crowd. Seokjin found a seat at the bar, resting his elbows on the counter.
It took less time than he thought for someone to approach him, a young man with a dashing jaw and a pretty smile. He bought Seokjin a drink and chatted him up, leaning in closer with each passing minute. It was too easy sometimes but Seokjin didn’t care tonight. He needed to let off some steam and a quick fuck was the best way he could think of.
“Sorry, but he’s taken,” a voice said, low and sultry, and Seokjin flinched at the sound. It was all too familiar, the slight slur in his voice, the gravelly quality of it. It was too close to Seokjin’s ear, made him shiver. The man kissed his teeth in annoyance before disappearing into the crowd.
“What are you doing here, Yoongi? To collect my soul?” Seokjin asked nonchalantly, but his heart was starting to race and he scratched at the countertop nervously.
Yoongi slid into the now vacant seat beside Seokjin. He was dressed in a black button down and black jeans, a heavy watch hanging from his pale wrist. Seokjin watched Yoongi’s fingers tap the counter, took a sharp breath in at the sight of his smooth, long fingers. He had nice hands, Seokjin thought. And a nice face.
Seokjin hated himself.
“I’m here because I felt that you were lonely,” Yoongi replied casually. He waved the bartender over and ordered two beers. Yoongi gestured for Seokjin to take one of them and he did so, taking a swig of the cool liquid. He gripped the glass bottle in his hand, hard enough that he was afraid he might just shatter it entirely. He knew Yoongi would be able to find him with the mark but it was still hard to believe that Yoongi would come to him like this. He wanted to know why and he wanted to know what Yoongi wanted with him, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to admit that he was afraid to find out.
“Mm,” Seokjin hummed instead. He couldn’t help remember the night he had summoned Yoongi, the way Yoongi’s lips felt on his neck, or the fact that he’d jerked off at the thought of him (and spent other nights doing the same thing). He was humiliated at how easily captivated he was by Yoongi.
“And I’ve got something to return to you. Not here, though. It’s a little dangerous looking,” Yoongi added. He was a little too close, his shoulder just barely touching Seokjin’s.
“I don’t deal with demons,” Seokjin said defensively. Just because Yoongi said he wanted to return something didn’t mean he didn’t want something from Seokjin in exchange. Demons didn’t believe in giving without taking.
Yoongi traced the rim of the bottle with his finger lazily. “It’s too late for that. You’re in a deal with me, remember?”
“Not by my own will.”
“Are you always this guarded?”
“Will you kindly explain to me what this mark is supposed to be and why you haven’t taken my soul? You didn’t answer last time,” Seokjin said, annoyed.
“Think of the mark as… my claim.”
Seokjin frowned. “ I’m not a piece of meat.”
“No, you’re not. Just consider it a kind of precaution , if you will.”
Seokjin waited for Yoongi to continue but Yoongi just gazed at him, eyes drooping a little like he’d just woken up. Seokjin gulped at his beer quicker than he usually liked to, but Yoongi was just watching him and he didn’t know what else to do. Yoongi was even closer now, and the alcohol was starting to make Seokjin feel all fuzzy and nice. He wanted to feel Yoongi’s lips on him again and he was too buzzed to feel completely mortified by it.
When Seokjin finished his beer, Yoongi took his hand and pulled Seokjin from his stool, leading him through the crowd and outside. It wasn’t late enough yet for the night to be completely deserted, the streets still filled with people. It was odd seeing Yoongi among this many humans, his movements too smooth and perfect to be anything but demonic, but his hand was warm and smooth against Seokjin’s skin and Seokjin wanted to feel more of it.
They ended up on a sidestreet, devoid of people. Yoongi pushed Seokjin up against the side of a building, placing both hands on either side of Seokjin’s body, caging him in. It was odd how imposing Yoongi felt like this even though Seokjin had a few inches on him and was much, much broader. But Seokjin knew that height and weight didn’t matter for demons; Yoongi could throw Seokjin across a football field if he wanted to.
Yoongi moved closer, pressing his nose into the underside of Seokjin’s jaw. Seokjin shivered, his fingers itching to touch. Instead, he let himself hang limply, focusing on the feeling of Yoongi’s warm breath on his skin. “Where’s your fighting spirit?” Yoongi whispered.
“Beer,” Seokjin explained, eyes sliding down to fixate on the concrete beneath his feet. His face was flushed, burning hot, and he knew Yoongi could tell.
Yoongi travelled upwards until he was hovering just over Seokjin’s ear. Seokjin felt teeth scraping at the lobe of his ear, sending shocks down his spine. Yoongi had to lean into him to conquer the height difference and it was making Seokjin feel hot all over. “So beer is the way to your heart?” Yoongi joked.
“It’s the way to my dick,” Seokjin mumbled.
Yoongi made a little sound, something between a hum and a chuckle. “Good to know,” he said, brushing his lips against Seokjin’s skin, making his way down the column of Seokjin’s neck. Yoongi took Seokjin’s hand in his, holding it up to his mouth to nose along the outline of his fingers. Seokjin breathed heavily, watching Yoongi carefully.
Seokjin startled, his reactions slow and lethargic, when he felt the familiar grip of his dagger sliding into his palm. Yoongi stepped away and Seokjin saw his dagger in his hand, the blade clean and glistening in the moonlight. He hadn’t even noticed Yoongi pulling it out in the first place. “I told you I had something to return to you,” Yoongi said matter-of-factly.
“Why did you even have this?” Seokjin muttered. He averted his eyes, embarrassed. Yoongi was returning his dagger, nothing more. Yoongi could kill him at any time and Seokjin would be able to do little to fight him.
“I’ll see you again, Seokjin,” Yoongi said, ignoring Seokjin’s question. And then Yoongi was gone, disappearing into the shadows just as quickly as he’d appeared to Seokjin every time they met.
Seokjin breathed out, his knees wobbling precariously. He held his head in his hands, trying to gather himself. He felt entirely sober now, the dagger calming him. He gripped it tightly, examining it. All the blood had been scrubbed off carefully, the leather handle polished and pristine.
This time, Seokjin hadn’t even noticed the fear that Yoongi carried with him, too busy lusting over him like an idiot. But still, Yoongi hadn’t even moved to harm him in any way. He was gentle and it was making Seokjin go crazy. And now he was horny , always being left high and dry after Yoongi .
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the contacts. JK, can I come see you? he wrote. It was early enough in the night so Jungkook was bound to see it, provided he had time to anyway. He hid the dagger up his sleeve, having nowhere else to conceal it, and emerged from the sidestreet. As he rounded the corner, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Why are you asking so politely? the text read. Seokjin chuckled and slipped the phone back in his pocket. Jungkook’s apartment wasn’t far from here and he made the walk in just under twenty minutes. Jungkook answered the door quickly, fresh from a shower. He hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt, not that Seokjin really minded.
“You haven’t been visiting me lately,” Jungkook said, closing the door behind Seokjin.
“You haven’t been home lately,” Seokjin countered. He’d wanted to avoid this because he knew Jungkook only got a few nights off at a time and Jungkook deserved his rest, even if he claimed Seokjin helped him to do just that. But Jungkook needed real sleep and booty calls didn’t allow for much of that. “The Church really overworks you,” he added.
Jungkook shrugged. “The pay is good, though.”
Seokjin removed his dagger from his sleeve and placed it on the kitchen counter as he passed by, already making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He only made it to the couch before Jungkook was pressing into his back and sliding the shirt off Seokjin’s shoulders. Then he paused and Seokjin sighed.
“Uh, Seokjinnie, do you realize you have a curse mark?” Jungkook asked, spinning Seokjin around to face him.
“Yeah, well, it’s not quite a curse mark. So don’t worry, I’m not dying anytime soon.”
“What do you mean ‘not a curse mark?’ Looks a lot like one to me.”
Seokjin placed his hand on Jungkook’s chest, his skin warm and soft from the shower. “I’m dealing with it. Now–” Seokjin leaned forward, kissing Jungkook with fervor and determination. He knew Jungkook was worrying (he always was) but he didn’t want to explain Yoongi, didn’t know where to even begin. He didn’t know how Jungkook would react at the notion that Seokjin was locked in some deal with a demon and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Jungkook slowly melted as they kissed, his shoulders relaxing. Seokjin lowered himself onto the couch, pulling Jungkook with him. He moved willingly, eagerly, pressing Seokjin down into the cushions, the curse mark long forgotten.
Sleeping on a cramped sofa with a chunk of muscle the size of Jungkook was less than comfortable. Every time Jungkook’s nose brushed against the mark he couldn’t help but shiver, squirming in Jungkook’s vice-like grip. Jungkook never let Seokjin forget how strong he was, even in moments of quiet unconsciousness like this.
“Jungkook,” he hissed, his voice scratchy and hoarse. Screw Jungkook for being so rough.
Jungkook hummed, his hand sliding down Seokjin’s body to cup his ass. “You okay?” he asked, patting the exposed skin. “I was a little rough,” he added sheepishly.
“No shit. My hips are killing me,” Seokjin said, fighting his way out of Jungkook’s grasp. Jungkook let him go finally, muttering something unintelligible as he dozed off again.
Seokjin made his way to the bathroom and hopped into the shower, grimacing at the dull ache in his back. In times like this he was reminded how young Jungkook was; no control and no patience. Jungkook was altogether too enthusiastic about everything and anything, but it was hard to say no to those sparkly eyes.
He borrowed one of Jungkook’s many white t-shirts and stumbled into his discarded pants. Jungkook was still passed out by the time Seokjin was leaving, his leg hanging off the couch and his hair sticking up in odd places, snoring softly into the couch. Seokjin didn’t want to wake him again so he quietly slipped out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.
When Seokjin arrived home, he was greeted by a pretty calico cat sitting poised on the staircase railing. “Hey Jimin,” Seokjin said as he unlocked the door. The cat purred happily, stretching its paws out in front of it before jumping down gracefully.
Suddenly there were arms around him and a face nuzzling into his back. “Is this Jungkookie’s shirt?”
“You’re heavy, go back into cat form,” Seokjin complained. In reality, he’d missed Jimin. He hadn’t seen Jimin in some months, what with Jimin sleeping away his days at various beaches. Once Seokjin met Namjoon, Jimin was sent off on a well-deserved vacation. As long as Seokjin was around, there wasn’t much for Jimin to do.
He shuffled inside, dragging Jimin along with him. Jimin let go of Seokjin in favour of hopping up on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs as he watched Seokjin.
“Namjoon told me what happened,” Jimin said. “How did you get mixed up with Sloth?”
Seokjin sighed. “I’d like to know that as well.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Jinnie.”
“ Unwillingly. That’s why I’m going to find a way to kill Yoongi before he can kill me.”
“Did you see him yesterday?”
Seokjin tensed. “How did you know?” Jimin was terribly perceptive, he knew that, but it never failed to surprise him. Behind that gentle smile were ever-watching eyes, calculative and penetrating.
“Under all the Jungkook smell, I smell something like burning wood.”
“And burning wood is what demons smell like?”
“Kinda, yeah. But anyway, you need to be careful when you go out. You should just stay here for a while, you know, lay low.”
Seokjin opened the fridge and took his time perusing through the contents. He settled on an apple, running it under the cool water from the sink. “I’m not going to act like a shut-in just because of one demon. He hasn’t gone after me yet.”
“ Yet, ” Jimin repeated, emphasizing the word. “If that mark is what I think it is, he can easily find you if you aren’t somewhere with the proper wards. He’ll never know you’re here, but if you leave he’ll be able to follow you anywhere.”
“And what do you think this mark is?”
Jimin frowned. “It’s something like a dog tag, if you will. Telling other demons who you belong to.”
Seokjin sighed, rubbing his forehead as he tried to make sense of Jimin’s words. “Yoongi said something like it was a ‘claim’ of some sort. He called it a precaution.”
Jimin nodded thoughtfully. “Basically, he’s telling other demons that he’s already claimed your soul so they’d better back off. It’s a thing higher level demons do to keep low level demons from trying to take what’s theirs. Usually it’s for marking territory lines,” Jimin explained solemnly.
“I’m not an object.”
Jimin shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never seen a demon mark a human, but I can tell you for a fact that they don’t care.”
“I just need some way to kill him,” Seokjin said, his fingers tensed around the apple. It did truly seem like Yoongi had no intention to kill him but he had Seokjin in the palm of his hand and it was frustrating. Yoongi was both the most terrifying and mystifying thing he’d ever seen, seemingly omnipresent in Seokjin’s thoughts. He knew his life was in Yoongi’s hands and yet Yoongi managed to stir him up every time, creeping under his skin until he could only want more, more, more. He was afraid of Yoongi but he was more afraid of what he might become if Yoongi ever gave him what he wanted.
“Namjoon did mention that, yes,” Jimin said, tracing lines absentmindedly on the inseam of his jeans as he looked at Seokjin. He could see the concern on Jimin’s face, the slight furrowing of his eyebrows as he seemed to be considering something.
“He was no help.”
“Well, he’s no demonologist,” Jimin quipped, hopping off the counter. “I, on the other hand, happen to be a demon.” He made his way around the counter, coming up to snuggle into Seokjin’s side, expression hidden in Seokjin’s shirt. “I might have a way to kill him.”
It was cold, too cold for the late summer night, the wind whistling past Seokjin’s exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. Seokjin crept along the wall, concealed by shadow. His mark was tingling, like it was warning him of danger, and he dug his fingernail into the skin of his palm, distracting his brain from the thought of Yoongi the mark provoked.
Jimin had insisted on doing it for Seokjin, but he was too restless to sit and wait while someone else cleaned up his own mess. If the rib of a saint dipped in holy water was what it would take, then he would get it himself and put an end to this torment. Jimin wasn’t too happy about the idea of him going off on his own, but Seokjin wasn’t having it.
Seokjin peeked around the corner, scouting out the graveyard. It was eerily silent, devoid of any life. Rows and rows of headstones stretched far past him, a mausoleum sitting at the top of the hill, its stone walls decrepit and chipping. The amulet around Seokjin’s neck cried to him, desperately, and he knew he was surrounded. The ghosts he could not see, the malevolent creatures stalking the grounds around him. They had yet to notice him, however, as the amulet concealed his movements. He was careful as he weaved around the headstones, silent as he went. If he made a sound, they would hear and they would know and the amulet would lose its effectiveness entirely.
He reached the mausoleum, the structure looming over him ominously as he contemplated it. There was no way into it without making noise, but he knew this and he was prepared. He was just going to have to do it quickly–like a bandaid, he thought–and he would have little time to waste. A few ghosts he could take on, sure, but a graveyard full was a suicide mission.
Seokjin swallowed, pausing. There was a rusty old lock on the metal doors, and Seokjin took the large shears he’d brought with him, cutting the lock in one swift movement. A chilling shriek cut through the chilly air and Seokjin pushed open the doors. His amulet burned against his skin, trying and trying to work but the illusion had already worn off. Seokjin let the shears drop as he threw himself inside. He shut the doors behind him, pressing his back against the cool metal until the power in his amulet fizzled out. No ghost wanted to trample over the resting place of a saint and it allowed him to put off dealing with them for a time.
The place was dark and stuffy, and Seokjin turned on his flashlight. He pointed it forward, illuminating the small room. There was a stone coffin sitting at the end of the room, a sleeping angel sculpted into the stone slab covering it. The angel’s eyes were closed, their hands crossed over a sword. Seokjin didn’t know which saint this was nor did he really care. He had no place in heaven, so pilfering some old bones didn’t scare him.
Seokjin braced his hands on the edge of the slab, sucking in a deep breath before he pushed with all his might. He planted his feet harder into the ground as the slab inched forward and pushed until there was enough room to reach his hand in. He shone light on the skeleton inside and carefully snapped off a rib. He was careful not to touch the jagged edges as he wrapped the bone in a cloth and shoved it into his jacket.
He turned, facing the closed door leading into the mausoleum. There were ghosts outside, alert now and aware of him. They were waiting, he knew it. All he had to do was leave the grounds, the ghosts bound to the graveyard and unable to follow him any farther. Seokjin readied himself, taking a deep breath.
He sprung into action, pulling the door open and taking off toward the edge of the graveyard. Shrieks chased after him, shrill and bloodcurdling sounds that made Seokjin’s ears ring. Trying to fight them would be pointless, until he could get close enough to the edge that most would give up, leaving him to deal only with the persistent stragglers.
The wind rushed past him as he pumped his legs harder and faster. The amulet around his neck began to burn painfully, searing the skin it touched. He was nearing the edge before he felt icy claws wrap around his arm, pulling him forcefully enough to stop him in his tracks, his feet flying out from under him and all he could think was that he hadn’t made it . He cried out as he made contact with the ground, a sharp pain radiating from his shoulder. Claws slashed at his face and his chest, cutting deep into his skin. They came from all directions and so quickly that Seokjin could barely keep up. He had no time to react before the icy claws were back, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and throwing him into a nearby statue.
Seokjin gasped as the stone cracked from the impact, shattering to pieces, and he fell to the ground limply. He coughed, reaching into his pocket with his uninjured arm, his hand shaking as he grasped the small container. He uncapped it with his teeth and tossed the contents into a rough circle around him, the salt bright white against the dying grass. He heard several hisses, loud and echoing, the edges of the salt circle quivering.
Seokjin heaved, the air too cool for his struggling lungs. He couldn’t move his left arm, his shoulder dislocated from the earlier attack, and blood was soaking through his shirt. He hadn’t expected these ghosts to be quite so brutal, especially on holy grounds, but they were worse than ones he’d encountered before. The edge of the graveyard was there, just a few metres away, but he wasn’t sure he could run quickly enough in this state. He hadn’t made it quite as far as he wanted to and now he would have to get creative. Weapons would do nothing for him and he didn’t know if he could manage any spells right now. He would have to fight them off with what little salt he had left, or he would have to wait until morning.
He didn’t have to make the choice, however, because he suddenly felt the air ripple around him with energy, making him tremble down to his bones as the fear crept in. He gasped desperately as the mark on the back of his neck burned painfully, spreading uncomfortable warmth throughout his body. The wind picked up and the salt circle was blown away, the grains dispersing until there was nothing left. Seokjin felt the panic begin to set in, no safety net for him to hide in any longer.
Then he felt it materializing behind him, that oppressing presence that made Seokjin’s heart beat faster in all the wrong ways. He held his breath when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder but he couldn’t help but cry out weakly when his shoulder was jostled by the touch.
He could feel the ghosts disperse, their presence fading around him until they were barely there. Seokjin looked back, craning his neck to confirm what he already knew.
“Yoongi,” he said weakly. He was feeling a little lightheaded and Yoongi’s face was blurry. Seokjin couldn’t read his expression no matter how hard he tried.
Yoongi was moving his lips, saying something, but Seokjin couldn’t hear past the ringing in his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was Yoongi sucking the energy out of him or if he had suffered internal damage and was finally giving in, but he suddenly felt like he could barely fight off unconsciousness. He could vaguely feel himself being lifted his feet, his weight leaning entirely against Yoongi’s slight frame.
“Close your eyes,” Yoongi ordered softly and Seokjin could do nothing but obey.
Suddenly he felt like his brain was being pulled out of his own body, the feeling so foreign and odd, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. It didn’t last long and when he finally felt like he’d been returned to normal, he couldn’t help but keel over and vomit.
He pried his eyes open, blinking away the dizziness. There was a hand on his back, warm and soothing as it rubbed his back in large circles. “You have a knack for putting yourself into impossible situations,” Yoongi said gently.
“What–” What are you doing here? he wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.
“We must reset your shoulder. This will be unpleasant,” Yoongi said, touching Seokjin’s injured shoulder lightly. Despite Seokjin’s confusion, he found himself nodding, wanting to relieve the pain in his shoulder and knowing that he couldn’t let it go for much longer.
“I will do it quickly,” Yoongi said, his only warning before he was raising Seokjin’s arm from his body, twisting it inward and pushing it back in to the socket in one swift movement. Seokjin cried out pitifully at the pain and he felt Yoongi brush his sweaty bangs from his forehead. His touches were so gentle and soothing, it made Seokjin feel just a little better.
There was some rustling, the sound of metal clinking against something, and then Yoongi was holding up his wrist to Seokjin’s mouth, pushing against his lips. “Drink,” Yoongi ordered and Seokjin found he couldn’t disobey.
He recognized the taste of black blood, the liquid heavy on his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut as he drank, trying not to gag at the awful taste. Yoongi pulled away his arm finally, wiping the corner of Seokjin’s mouth with his thumb.
Then Seokjin was being lifted into the air, his body going limp as he was carried to another room. He was laid gently on a comfy mattress, body sinking into it. Yoongi was beside him, leaning over him, his dark eyes searching Seokjin’s face. Then Yoongi was gone, disappearing into another room. Seokjin glanced around, taking in his surroundings. The room was simply furnished–an armchair in one corner, a dresser pressed against one wall with an old radio sitting on top of it–just the bare necessities.
Yoongi reappeared, holding a basin of water and a towel thrown over his shoulder. He placed the basin on the nightstand and dipped the towel in, squeezing the excess water out. Seokjin let out a shaky breath when Yoongi reached over, smoothing the towel over Seokjin’s face. He wiped him down tenderly, moving from his face to his neck, unzipping his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt to reach his chest. It felt nice, having someone care for him like this.
“Why are you doing this?” Seokjin asked weakly.
Yoongi didn’t answer in favour of leaning forward and brushing his lips against Seokjin’s the cuts on his cheek. Seokjin let out a shuddery breath, his eyes glazing over as Yoongi continued to leave little butterfly kisses along the sensitive wounds. The pain was slowly being washed away, and his eyelids were starting to feel too heavy to keep open.
As Seokjin began to doze off, he registered Yoongi moving up to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Then he let himself go, too comfy and safe to keep himself awake any longer.
Chapter 4: part 3
Seokjin came to slowly, his consciousness coming back in bits and pieces. It was quiet, the room too dark for him to see but somehow he knew where he was. He hadn’t been moved from Yoongi’s bedroom but he was wearing different clothes now, an oversized t-shirt and loose sweatpants, and he felt revitalized, the black blood taking full effect. He blinked at the lump of curly burnt orange fur breathing softly on the bed next to him. On closer inspection he saw that it was a dog and that was odd. Did demons usually keep pets?
He lifted himself off the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping animal, and felt his way across the room, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. He knew he should be afraid to be at Yoongi’s mercy but he was oddly calm.
He tapped the wall until he felt the handle of the door and he opened it, gingerly stepping into the soft light behind it. The rest of the place was just as minimalist as the bedroom: a couch in one corner of the room sitting in front of a small television, a hallway leading deeper into the apartment, and an open kitchen on the other side. Yoongi was standing there, dressed in all black like Seokjin had always seen him. He was leaning against the island, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Seokjin approach.
“How are you feeling?” Yoongi asked.
Seokjin paused, breathing out as he met Yoongi’s dark eyes. The mark on the back of his neck tingled, but it was a pleasant feeling. He couldn’t stop himself from moving, taking long strides until he was standing right in front of Yoongi. He watched Yoongi uncross his arms, swallowing when Yoongi straightened, his chest touching Seokjin’s.
Then Yoongi was surging forward, pressing his lips to Seokjin’s and kissing him with such force that Seokjin stumbled backward, stopping when his back hit the counter. Yoongi’s hands were on his hips, his fingers digging into the bone there, and Seokjin snaked his arms around Yoongi’s neck, fingers tangling in Yoongi’s silky black hair. The mark was positively searing now, sending pleasant shocks down Seokjin’s spine.
He made a little noise when Yoongi nipped at his bottom lip, his mouth opening to give Yoongi more access. Yoongi licked into his mouth, giving him no time to breathe, never letting up. It made Seokjin go weak at the knees and he clutched at Yoongi harder.
Seokjin was light headed by the time Yoongi pulled away, a string of saliva connecting their mouths. Yoongi’s eyes were glowing red and it made Seokjin shiver with anticipation. He felt like every nerve in his body was being electrified. Yoongi slid one hand upward, scraping his nail over a nipple as he passed it, making Seokjin twitch. His land landed on Seokjin’s cheek, thumb stroking the jut of his cheekbone almost lovingly.
“I don’t understand you,” Seokjin breathed out.
Yoongi hummed, his voice low and rumbling. “What’s there to understand?” he whispered.
Seokjin let out a breathy laugh. Everything, he wanted to say. Instead, he settled on, “Let’s start with your goal here.”
“Do I need a goal?”
“You’ve saved me twice now, put this mark on me, and haven’t devoured my soul.”
Yoongi took a step back and Seokjin’s shoulders sagged a little. Yoongi opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs. Seokjin blinked at him, confused. “You haven’t eaten in a while,” Yoongi explained.
Seokjin clicked his teeth, annoyed at Yoongi’s dodging. “You still haven’t told me why you haven’t killed me yet,” Seokjin said sternly, his daze starting to wear off.
“You intrigue me. You don’t let fear conquer you,” he replied bluntly, the sound of the eggs sizzling on the stove mixing with the gravel in his voice. “And you are… beautiful,” he added quietly.
Seokjin couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat, the tips of his ears flushed a warm pink. He turned his head away, embarrassed. Yoongi was always catching him off guard and it was frustrating. He wondered what Yoongi’s face would like if their places were switched and it was him that was being surprised, but he could scarcely imagine it.
“I don’t– why are you only appearing to me now ?”
“I helped you once before, when you were just a wannabe exorcist. But since then, you’d always managed to get out of sticky situations before. However, Lust was going to kill you and you were not equipped to deal with it.”
So that female demon had been Lust, another cardinal sin. How the hell did he get caught up in this? “So the mark?” he asked.
“As I said: a precaution. It came in handy, didn’t it?”
Seokjin bit his lip. Yoongi was looking at him, following the movement of his mouth. He dipped his chin, finding a spot on the floor to stare at. “Would those ghosts really have tried to kill me?”
“Ghosts bound to a graveyard have little to lose. Most other demons wouldn’t dare touch you,” he answered. Seokjin wondered what suddenly made Yoongi decide to be so talkative. He’d gotten almost nothing during every other brief meeting with Yoongi before, Yoongi’s ever cryptic words haunting Seokjin in every moment. Yoongi was still calculating but it was like his shoulders had dropped just a little and his jaw was more relaxed. It was entirely possible that this was a ploy to get Seokjin to lower his guard and yet Seokjin was falling for it: hook, line and sinker.
“What did you do with the rib?” Seokjin asked.
Yoongi finished the eggs, plating them delicately and pulling a fork from one of the drawers. He placed it on the island and gestured for Seokjin to take a seat and eat. The eggs smelled delicious and Seokjin was so hungry; he couldn’t resist sliding onto a stool and digging in. At the same time, Yoongi was toasting some bread, his fingers tapping away to a steady beat against the granite countertop.
“I’ve added it to my collection. I’ll keep it safe for you.”
“So it can kill you?”
Yoongi shrugged. “You can kill this body but I cannot die. Humans cannot live without the cardinal sins, after all.” Yoongi slid the toast onto Seokjin’s plate and placed a glass of water in front of him.
“So it was futile,” Seokjin mumbled. There was no escaping Yoongi it seemed, and Seokjin hated how he was becoming increasingly okay with that.
Yoongi rounded the island, stopping when he was standing beside Seokjin. Seokjin stilled as Yoongi placed his hand on the counter, leaning in close until his breath was tickling the shell of Seokjin’s ear. “You don’t seem too disappointed by that. Should I eat you after all?”
Seokjin shivered. He wanted to drop everything and kiss Yoongi silly again, but he bit his lip, clutching the fork tightly in his grasp. Yoongi chuckled, and Seokjin realized it was the first time he’d heard him laugh. He liked the sound of his voice, deep and rough, and it penetrated his core, making his stomach twist with want.
There was silence, Yoongi standing close to Seokjin’s body but not saying a word. Seokjin finished eating, and he placed the fork gently on the empty plate. He felt Yoongi’s fingers brush against the mark and his toes curled at the feeling. “Is it uncomfortable?” Yoongi whispered quietly.
“Yeah, it is.”
“You can always find me with this,” Yoongi said quietly, scraping his blunt nail along the edges of the mark gently. “Just call and I’ll be there.”
“And you can find me,” Seokjin said, a statement more than a question, turning to look up at Yoongi.
Yoongi continued to stroke the mark and Seokjin couldn’t get used to the feeling. “I can remove it for you, if you’d like.”
“You would unclaim your property?” he asked quietly.
“You’re not my property.”
Seokjin didn’t know what had gotten into him. He couldn’t feel the fear anymore, nor could he feel the pull. It was just Yoongi looking at him, his hands warm and soft against Seokjin’s skin. Yoongi was waiting patiently for him to speak, his hand slowly moving up Seokjin’s neck until he was carding his fingers through Seokjin’s hair.
Seokjin licked his lips and Yoongi’s eyes darkened. “You… don’t have to remove it,” Seokjin muttered after a long pause, averting his eyes.
Yoongi kissed him then, slower this time and deeper. He moved his hands to Seokjin’s jaw, his touch light, tilting his head up as he pressed forward a little bit harder. Seokjin went pliant under Yoongi’s touch, sighing into his mouth.
Seokjin found himself being pulled to his feet, Yoongi’s arms wrapping tight around his waist. They were moving, Yoongi leading them somewhere, Seokjin unable to do anything but follow obediently. He heard the click of a handle and the creak of an opening door and he vaguely registered them turning. The backs of his knees hit something soft and he tumbled back, dragging Yoongi down with him.
Yoongi kissed him harder and Seokjin’s back arched, his fingers finding their way under Yoongi’s shirt. Yoongi pulled away, fitting himself between Seokjin’s thighs. His eyes were red again, glowing in the darkness of the room. They were frighteningly beautiful, like rubys.
“I want to see you,” Seokjin said, demanded.
The lights came on at once, as if Seokjin’s words were the trigger alone, and Seokjin could see Yoongi’s face properly now. He was pulling at the buttons of his shirt and Seokjin helped him, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, sliding his hands along Yoongi’s skin. He was flawless, smooth and velvety to the touch. Yoongi tossed his shirt away, quickly tugging at the hem of Seokjin’s until the fabric bunched under Seokjin’s arms. He leaned forward, sucking a nipple in his mouth, grazing his teeth against the skin, reaching over to roll the other one between his fingers. Seokjin threaded his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, breath quickening as Yoongi’s mouth worked.
Yoongi kissed his way back up, pulling Seokjin’s shirt off as he went, sealing over Seokjin’s mouth with his own. His lips were insistent, pulling Seokjin apart at the seams slowly, breathing fire and electricity into his wanton mouth. When he pulled away, Seokjin couldn’t stop himself from letting out breathy little moans into the quiet space of the bedroom.
The way he moved was slow and purposeful, sucking marks into his skin as he explored every inch of Seokjin’s body. Seokjin squirmed, his pants tight and uncomfortable. He could feel Yoongi against him, too, and Seokjin wanted to feel his skin against Yoongi’s. If Yoongi noticed Seokjin’s obvious discomfort and impatience, he ignored it. Instead, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Seokjin’s pants and pulled them away swiftly. He wasn’t wearing any underwear and he sucked in a sharp breath when the cool air hit his aching cock.
“Yoongi–” Seokjin breathed and Yoongi sat up straight, his chest rising and falling quickly as he combed his eyes over Seokjin’s body.
“Beautiful,” Yoongi whispered and Seokjin felt the thrum of his voice in his bones.
Then, faster than Seokjin could register, he was being flipped over onto his stomach and Yoongi was covering his back, mouthing at the mark on his neck. Yoongi had lost his pants somehow in the commotion and Seokjin could feel Yoongi’s cock rub against the base of his spine. He bucked his hips back involuntarily, wanting Yoongi to just fuck him already.
He felt Yoongi’s teeth on the juncture between his shoulder and his neck, the only warning he was given before Yoongi bit down hard. Seokjin gasped, fingers curling in the sheets beneath him. Yoongi gave him little kitten licks over the area, then found a new spot to bite down and repeat. He nipped his way over the curve of his shoulder and down the ridges of his spine, leaving bright red marks in his wake. Yoongi rose onto his knees and brushed his fingers over the mark, tracing over the lines as he reached for the bedside table with the other hand. He retrieved what he was looking for with practiced ease and Seokjin heard the pop of a bottle cap before he felt cool liquid against his entrance as Yoongi continued to nip and lick and suck the expanse of his shoulder blades. Yoongi was teasing him, applying light pressure against his entrance but never giving in. It was agonizing, being touched like this. Too soft and feathery, not hard enough.
“Your shoulders are beautiful,” Yoongi whispered, voice muffled against his skin. His hand wandered down Seokjin’s side, touch so feathery light it made Seokjin shiver. “So is your waist, and your hips.”
Seokjin let out a shaky breath as Yoongi finally pressed a finger in. He rolled his hips back to meet Yoongi, cock hard and trapped against the sheets. Yoongi was moving too slowly, too delicately, even when he eventually added another finger. “I can take more–” Seokjin tried to say but Yoongi was too preoccupied with kissing every inch of Seokjin he could reach to pay him any mind. He pressed his fingers in deep, curling them and twisting.
It was excruciating and Seokjin couldn’t take it any longer, his cock aching to be touched. He ground his hips against the mattress but the silky sheets were too soft– not enough friction –and he lifted his hips just enough to give him room to reach down and wrap his fingers around his cock–
Seokjin sputtered when he felt himself being lifted off the mattress until he was sitting on his knees, his back pressed flush against Yoongi’s chest. Seokjin whined when Yoongi’s fingers slipped out of him and he grabbed hold of Seokjin’s wrists, pulling them back roughly. He twisted his neck to look back at Yoongi pleadingly, breath hot against Yoongi’s ear.
“Don’t,” Yoongi said roughly.
“You’re killing me,” Seokjin whined. Yoongi just hummed before capturing Seokjin’s lips with his own, sliding his fingers back in. Seokjin reached his arms back, clutching at Yoongi’s skin wherever he could, digging his fingers in painfully. Yoongi continued to torment him, going all the way up to four fingers. He curled them inside Seokjin, pressing against every sensitive spot he could find, ones Seokjin didn’t even know he had. It was like he was a book and Yoongi was reading him word by word, carefully analyzing and memorizing each little noise and shiver.
Finally, finally, Yoongi slipped his fingers out and slathered his cock in lube. He pressed the tip against Seokjin’s entrance, giving Seokjin a little peck on the mouth before sliding in fluidly. Seokjin sighed at the stretch, a little painful but overall pleasant, his breathing erratic and shallow. Yoongi wrapped his arm around Seokjin’s body, pulling him ever closer as he fucked deep into him. His other hand travelled upward, stopping to twist Seokjin’s nipple between his fingers. Yoongi was smaller than Seokjin, his shoulders not as broad and his torso not as long, but he managed to make Seokjin feel like he was being overwhelmed, covered on every side, burning hot all over. It was maddening and Seokjin wanted more .
“ Yoongi, ” Seokjin breathed. Yoongi moved his hips slowly and deeply, so deep Seokjin thought he was going to lose his mind with every deliberate thrust. His cock was heavy between his legs, twitching every time the tip of Yoongi’s cock pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves deep within him. “Fuck, Yoongi, please– ”
He heard Yoongi make a low noise in his ear and he was being pushed forward onto his hands, his thighs trembling violently. Yoongi fucked him harder, a little more frantically, and Seokjin couldn’t hold back his voice. Yoongi’s face was buried between his shoulder blades, tongue lapping at the sweat gathering there.
“Feels good –” Seokjin moaned, high and loud. Yoongi swore in response, voice muffled against Seokjin’s skin.
“ More ,” Seokjin said– begged. Yoongi finally obliged, fucking him brutally hard and fast. Seokjin’s arms crumpled beneath him and he fell forward onto his elbows, fingers clutching at the sheets desperately. It felt so fucking good, Seokjin felt like he was high, his brain muddled and incoherent. “Touch me,” he said, craning his neck to look back at Yoongi.
Yoongi’s hand was on his cock then, jerking him off in sync with each thrust. Seokjin came suddenly and quickly, a high and breathy moan falling from his lips. Seokjin whimpered as Yoongi continued to jerk him off, his cock still half-hard and sensitive. Yoongi slipped out of him and Seokjin turned, wanting to see Yoongi’s face. He shifted so he was on his back, Yoongi sturdy between his legs. He sucked marks along the sharp edge of Yoongi’s jaw and Yoongi fucked into him again, sighing roughly against the feverish heat of Seokjin’s body.
Yoongi pulled Seokjin’s legs over his shoulders, bending him in half as he pressed into him and Seokjin thanked God he was flexible. Yoongi hit deeper and deeper, reducing Seokjin to a trembling mess as he nipped at the soft skin of his inner thighs. He was incredibly hard again, all too sensitive from his first orgasm, but Yoongi was relentless.
He felt like Yoongi was breaking down each and every one of his walls with every sweet whisper of his name, pushing him closer and closer to the edge until he was hanging off by the tips of his fingers. Below him was a bottomless chasm, Yoongi’s voice echoing his name from the depths, calling to him. He was being consumed by Yoongi and it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
Yoongi was merciless and two more orgasms later, Seokjin felt his consciousness starting to wane. Yoongi had only come once and his hips continued to snap with such vigor and intensity, like it was still round one and Seokjin could barely keep up with him. Seokjin’s fingers scrambled for purchase against the headboard behind him as Yoongi rammed into him, the bed sliding into the wall with every purposeful thrust.
“No more,” Seokjin pleaded, his head falling to the side weakly. Yoongi slid his fingers around Seokjin’s chin, tugging just slightly until Seokjin let his head be turned to face forward. Yoongi kissed him, thrusts slowing to a steady rhythm as he moved his mouth languidly against Seokjin’s.
“No more?” Yoongi repeated, reaching down to drag his thumb over the head of Seokjin’s cock. Seokjin sobbed, quivering as Yoongi touched him.
“You’re killing me,” Seokjin sobbed, voice shaky and broken. “I can’t anymore–”
“One more time,” Yoongi whispered, mouthing along the line of his collarbone. Seokjin just whimpered as Yoongi began to move quicker, his movements so smooth and inhuman. Seokjin watched him through hooded eyes, liked the way Yoongi’s eyebrows knitted together as Seokjin tightened around him. Several minutes later, he was hard again and he wasn’t sure how he’d managed it. He didn’t have the stamina for this torture.
Seokjin was barely awake by the time Yoongi was coming, his rough voice hitching beautifully as he fell over the edge. He went soft inside Seokjin but made no move to pull out, trailing soft little kisses over Seokjin’s face. He passed over his forehead, eyes, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, and finally found Seokjin’s mouth. Then Yoongi dipped down to take Seokjin’s cock in his mouth, flattening his tongue along the underside of it. His mouth was magic and Seokjin moaned loudly as he came again.
When Yoongi pulled away, Seokjin shivered as the sweltering heat of Yoongi’s body disappeared. The sheets were a mess beneath him and he was covered in a mix of his and Yoongi’s come. Yoongi, too, looked disheveled and messy; he’d never seen Yoongi look anything but perfect, look so human. And he was the one who’d caused it.
“You’re a monster,” Seokjin muttered weakly.
“Humans often call demons that, yes.”
Seokjin gave him a pointed look, thoroughly unimpressed. Yoongi stood and Seokjin could see the teeth marks peppering the skin of Yoongi’s shoulder and arm. Seokjin didn’t think he was much of a biter but then, he also didn’t think he could come that much and yet the evidence was there, splattered all over his and Yoongi’s chests.
Yoongi retrieved a few tissues from his bedside table and wiped away the bigger messes on Seokjin’s body, almost reverently. Then he walked across the room and pushed open a door, disappearing into what looked like a bathroom. He heard the sound of rushing water and he stretched his arms over his head, sighing into the pull of his muscles. He should feel worse about the situation, or conflicted at least. Instead, he felt oddly calm. He knew Yoongi was dangerous and he knew that demons couldn’t be trusted. Still, he wanted to dive in deeper, lose himself to the maddening pull. He’d screwed up, whether he meant to or not, and there was no turning back now.
The sound of rushing water ceased and Yoongi returned to the bedroom, his hand held out as he approached the bed. Seokjin crawled to the edge but that’s as far as his legs were going to take him. Thankfully, Yoongi sensed this, and he scooped Seokjin up in his arms. It was an odd feeling, being carried like this by someone fairly smaller than him, but he knew he would have to toss that idea away if he was going to be around Yoongi.
Seokjin blushed at the thought. He was going to be around Yoongi, for how much longer he didn’t know, but he wanted it. Yoongi brought him to the bathroom and lowered him into the standalone tub, and Seokjin sighed as he submerged below the hot water. The water was bubbly and tinted pink, the air smelt of roses and lavender, and was that the smell of epsom salts? Whatever it was, it felt heavenly.
“Do all demons like baths like this?” Seokjin asked as Yoongi fit himself behind him. Seokjin leaned back into him, letting his eyes slide shut. Yoongi’s hands were on his shoulders, his thumbs digging into the tight muscles there, massaging him.
“Like this?” Yoongi asked, nosing along the tufts of hair behind Seokjin’s ear.
“You know. Bubble baths, smelly soap and stuff,” Seokjin said, groaning as Yoongi continued to massage the knots out of him.
He felt Yoongi shrug behind him. “Why not?”
“Just. Never thought you would like something like this,” Seokjin said.
“Do you not like it?”
“Me? God, no, it feels fantastic. Will you always pamper me like this afterward?”
Yoongi hummed and Seokjin was starting to think that was his go-to form of communication. Maybe he wanted Seokjin to guess, to fill in the conversation himself, and Seokjin was willing to play that game. Yoongi broke through each of Seokjin’s walls easily, it was only fitting that Seokjin try to do the same.
"By the way, where did your dog go?" Seokjin asked.
"That is not a dog," Yoongi said, sounding a little indignant.
"Looked like one to me," Seokjin mumbled. "What is it then?"
Seokjin turned to give Yoongi an incredulous look. "That cute little puppy is a hellhound?"
"He is something like a familiar to me. It is much easier to have him in that form than his true form," Yoongi explained. Seokjin shook his head in disbelief. He should have known.
"Where did he go?"
"He went elsewhere to give us privacy."
"How kind of him."
They settled into comfortable silence then and Seokjin felt himself starting to doze off. Yoongi was fiddling with his hair while Seokjin traced little drawings into Yoongi's knee absentmindedly. It had been a while since he'd relaxed like this and it felt nice. Jungkook was a caring guy, too, but he was too busy and Seokjin always felt like he had to be the one taking care of Jungkook, not the other way around. He didn't realize how much he'd really wanted someone to take care of him like this and he certainly never thought he'd get that with Yoongi.
After a while of dozing off and coming back to, Seokjin asked, “What do we do now?” He wanted to provoke something out of Yoongi, but he wasn’t sure what. Did he want Yoongi to tell him he was going to eat him? Did he want Yoongi to tell him to stay?
“What would you like to do now?”
Seokjin paused. He knew what he wanted, but he was afraid to voice it aloud. Instead, he turned his head and kissed Yoongi slowly, softly. Yoongi met him for each kiss and somehow, he knew Yoongi had heard him anyway.