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gods & monsters

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yoongi is looting a music store when he gets the notification on his phone.

he’s rarely one for crime during the rest of the year—other than not wanting to get arrested, he thinks of himself as a fairly moral person. but for twelve hours on this, the twenty-first of march, all crime is legal. and he’d be stupid not to take advantage of it. he doesn’t want to murder anyone, doesn’t even want to do something stupid like incorrectly file his taxes or whatever it is the smartasses do. he’s not one of those pathetic people who barricades himself in his home in fear of what someone else might do during the purge.

yoongi just wants a new keyboard.

he runs his over the keys of the nearest keyboard, debating his options. technically, he could take more than one—it’s legal until tomorrow at seven in the morning—but he lives a good half an hour walk from the store and isn’t keen on trying to carry more than one keyboard while also defending himself against anyone looking to murder as many people as possible in twelve hours.

a noise from the street draws his attention, yoongi’s eyes scanning the area outside of the broken store window. the baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire he brought as defense hangs in one hand; he only had to use it once on the way here, and it was only to scare off someone who didn’t have enough conviction to follow through with their attack. there are a few cars on fire outside of the store, some of the other instruments already stolen. but yoongi lives in a fairly respectable part of the city, which means no one is looking to get out all of the rage they’ve stored up for the last year.

it’s only the third year of the purge, but yoongi has already figured out his own routines during: he goes out to get one big ticket item he’s had his eye on all year, steals it, and comes back home before locking his doors, turning off the lights, and keeping his weapons at his side in case someone tries to break in.

despite what the purge promises, it’s usually a quiet night for him.

but not this year.

he turns back to the keyboards when he’s satisfied no one is going to burst into the store and murder him, running his fingers over the keys again to draw out a few chords. he likes the sleek look of this one, but another on the other side of the aisle has more options for synth sounds, and—

his phone makes an unassuming ding noise. social media is always a mess during the purge night, people uploading videos and photos of what they’ve gotten up to considering there are no consequences for publicly confessing to murder or theft. he keeps his notifications off for messages, not interested in ensuring his parents that he’s alive until he’s locked back in his house, and his own friends will either be out committing their own crimes or barricading themselves in their homes out of fear.

a notification means something else. when yoongi looks at his phone, glancing out of the window first, he sees something curious: it’s a notification from the livestreaming site that many popular idols use to communicate with their fans. some idol is livestreaming now, during the purge.

specifically—jeon jeongguk is livestreaming during the purge.

yoongi hates the way his heartbeat picks up just seeing the name, just thinking about it. he’s been a fan of jeongguk’s since the younger man debuted four years ago, at the tender age of sixteen. back then, he was smaller with rounder cheeks, not having yet completed his growth spurt. his company had first tried to go with a darker concept, dressing jeongguk up in baggy clothes and chains, ridiculous eyeliner that made him look like he’d never gotten out of a grunge phase.

despite the cringe-worthy concept, jeongguk’s voice immediately shot him to fame. his voice is gorgeous, a velvety smooth tone to it that makes him perfect for ballads even though he tends to sing pop songs instead. luckily over the past four years, his company has let him take hold of his own concepts and he’s now known as a much softer idol, performing concerts in pastel colours and glittering eyeshadow.

while some of his dancing can be considered sexual, jeongguk’s persona on stage is still that of a mature, likeable young man who has captured the hearts of nearly every generation alive. he has fans adoring him at every second of every day, from young girls to elderly men. it’s not lightly that he’s been dubbed korea’s sweetheart.

yoongi has followed him for four years, buying every album countless times in an attempt to get into fansigns, although he’s never been lucky enough to do so. he follows jeongguk on every social media site, buys his merchandise, attends music shows and concerts to see him perform. yoongi is obsessed with him—only slightly more than might be considered normal, given how often yoongi thinks about jeongguk. thinks about what might happen if they meet, if he were ever given the chance to talk to jeongguk face to face, if he could let jeongguk know what he means to yoongi. some of yoongi’s friends have found it strange just how devoted he is to jeongguk, considering yoongi is ten years older than jeongguk. but he can’t help what he feels. even if he’s thirty years old, he can’t help it.

seeing a notification that jeongguk is livestreaming just serves to remind how much yoongi loves him.

and how much he wants to fuck jeongguk’s brains out.

yoongi tries to tamp down those secondary desires that flare up every time he sees jeongguk’s name; over the past few years, nearly every single one of his sexual fantasies has involved jeongguk somehow, wishing it was jeongguk’s hand around his cock, jeongguk’s mouth around his cock. almost any picture yoongi sees of jeongguk automatically prompts the question: what would this look like with yoongi’s come on his face?

that must be normal, though, surely. jeongguk is young and gorgeous and does body rolls onstage like he’s asking for the sexual attention. and jeongguk is entirely unattainable anyway, so it’s not like any of yoongi’s fantasies could come to fruition to begin with.

still, he always has time for jeongguk. even in the middle of the purge—although he has no idea why jeongguk would be livestreaming during the purge, anyway. celebrities are usually protected—barricaded away in their houses with scores of security guards and measures, stockpiles of weapons in case anyone tries something. either jeongguk is doing something illegal and wanting to show off to his fans—which would admittedly ruin his reputation, despite crime being legal right now—or it’s an accident.

or, as yoongi soon finds when he clicks on the notification, it’s something else entirely.

the first clue that something is wrong is the livestream title; jeongguk always adds about ten emojis, even typing in aegyo to endear his fans. this title, on the other hand, is just the word finally. when he joins the video, there are already thousands of other people watching, but at first he thinks it’s frozen; the screen is completely black, and even when he turns up the volume, there’s nothing there. no jeongguk. no anything.

then—there’s a crackling noise and the image changes, showing someone picking up the phone and offering the view of a man’s face. he’s wearing a black face mask, covering his nose and mouth, and a black cap. he’s breathing hard, the camera so close to his face that yoongi can’t make out anything in the background other than darkness.

“okay,” says the man, hushed and husky as he speaks to the camera. it wobbles, the sounds of footsteps echoing through the speakers of yoongi’s phone. “i’m gonna wait until there are more of you here.” it’s not jeongguk—whoever this man is, it’s certainly not jeongguk or even one of his managers. the comments on the screen flood in with fans asking what’s going on, who the man is, if jeongguk is safe.

yoongi begins to get a queasy feeling about all of this.

“don’t worry, your precious baby is fine,” says the man, and yoongi glances away from the screen again, making sure the noise from the phone isn’t drawing attention of anyone dangerous. “you should be paying attention to me. you should all be paying attention to me, like he should have—otherwise this wouldn’t be happening.”

something about that voice is… familiar. but he doesn’t put the pieces together until the man pulls the camera back a bit more and tugs the face mask below his chin, revealing his entire face. yoongi gasps when he recognizes the man, when the man says, “my name is choi seongmin. and i’m finally going to get what i deserve.

choi seongmin—he’s jeongguk’s stalker.

he popped up soon after jeongguk debuted, constantly following jeongguk around. he’d always manage to find out which flight jeongguk was on while traveling, which hotel he was staying at, which restaurants he was eating at, and follow after. he managed to get into fansigns and made sexual advances on jeongguk even before he was of age, sent obsessive presents trying to entice jeongguk to meet him somewhere. he’d take private pictures of jeongguk and spread them on social media, refusing to back down even when jeongguk’s company tried to stop him.

finally, after three years of it all, jeongguk’s company took legal action and filed a restraining order against choi. he’s spent the past year going on maniacal tirades across social media, posting entire essays about how he’s being treated unfairly, how he deserves to be with jeongguk, to at least have some of jeongguk’s attention.

most of them were extremely sexual, describing his sexual fantasies of being with jeongguk, of how he’d do things right. how jeongguk would be so happy with him.

yoongi knows exactly what choi seongmin is doing the moment he appears on camera. for the next—eleven hours, yoongi checks his watch—all crime is legal. for the next eleven hours, choi can violate the terms of his restraining order. he can be near jeon jeongguk. and he can do a hell of a lot more than that.

yoongi’s heartbeat is a thumping rabbit in his chest as he watches choi turn the camera. he’s in a house, in a bedroom; the only light is from an open laptop set on a desk against the wall, illuminating the rest of the room in faint white light. although the camera is shaking too badly for yoongi to make out much, he can see the huge windows on two of the walls, the streetlights not doing much for visibility, and various objects looming in the dark.

it’s not any of those things that yoongi focuses on, though. instead, he’s staring at the thing in the middle of the room, of the screen as choi walks closer. there’s a bed. on the bed is a lump, a human curled in on itself. when choi gets close enough, yoongi can tell the person’s hands are bound behind their back by rope, ankles the same, and they’re struggling against these bonds, whimpering and crying loudly through what must be duct tape over their mouth.

even before choi fists his hand in the person’s hair and yanks their head back to be seen by the camera, yoongi knows. but it’s like a punch in the gut to see jeon jeongguk’s terrified, red-rimmed eyes staring into the camera, beautiful voice desperate and terrified now as he tries to shout through the tape covering his mouth.

his cheeks are wet from tears, hair sticking to his forehead because of sweat. yoongi thinks he sees a trickle of blood on jeongguk’s temple before choi lets go of his head and it falls back onto the bed.

choi laughs as he returns the camera to film his own face. “see?” he says. “i told you he’s fine. he’s with me and we’re going to have a lot of fun tonight. aren’t we, jeongguk?”

on the bed, jeongguk screams through the tape, a noise so heartwrenching that yoongi almost drops his phone. he forgets all about the stupid keyboard, about anything that he wanted to do during the purge. right now, jeongguk has been kidnapped by his stalker, is being held in an unknown location, and said stalker is going to livestream something terrible. yoongi can only guess at it—but he doesn’t want to say it out loud, doesn’t want to imagine this horrible man violating jeongguk like that. because choi doesn’t deserve jeongguk. he’s been nothing but invasive and creepy, hasn’t taken no for an answer even when given the word by the authorities.

but yoongi can’t do anything about it. he can only watch with both horror and a morbid curiosity as choi sits on the end of the bed next to jeongguk’s head, petting his hair almost lovingly as jeongguk tries to squirm away from him. his tears seem to glitter in the light from the laptop.

“for years, i’ve loved jeongguk,” says choi. “and he’s been nothing but dismissive of me. can’t he see that everything i’ve done, i’ve done for him? trying to get his attention, just trying to love him. i don’t know why he won’t accept my love.”

jeongguk screams against the tape again, headbutting choi in the thigh. immediately, choi slaps him across the face. “i told you to behave, bitch,” he snaps, and yoongi physically recoils at the words and the actions. “i deserve this and you know it. be good and this will be enjoyable for you. don’t forget that no one knows where you are. no one can do anything about this until tomorrow morning at seven. it’s going to be a very long and fun night, jeongguk.” his says jeongguk’s name with such tenderness, leaning down to press a kiss to jeongguk’s head as jeongguk sobs, struggling.

choi turns to the camera once more. “feel free to stick around,” he says. “i know you want to. you might call me disgusting for wanting to love jeongguk this much, but don’t lie: all of you want it, too. i’m just the only one brave enough to do something about it.” with that, he gets off of the bed, quickly setting up the camera on the desk so that it’s filming most of the bed. like this, yoongi can make out almost all of jeongguk’s body curled onto itself, the way he trembles with terror.

and yoongi hates that choi is right—yoongi is going to stick around and watch whatever happens next. he’s horrified at it and yet wants too badly to know what choi plans, what he’s going to do, how far he’s willing to go to get what he wants. he doesn’t think choi will go as far as to physically harm jeongguk or kill him, but he is obsessive to the point of being destructive. he might think that if jeongguk can’t be his, then he can’t be anyone’s.

but there’s only one way to find out.

off-screen, he hears rustling noises, the sound of material hitting the ground. then, when choi steps back into frame, he’s naked from the waist down. although some part of yoongi knew it was going to happen, he still gasps, leaning back against the keyboard behind him as he watches. choi doesn’t seem interested in formalities, though; he grabs jeongguk and quickly tugs down his jeans and underwear even as jeongguk sobs and struggles to get away.

yoongi watches, equal parts disgusted and interested, as choi flips jeongguk over onto his stomach, squeezing lube over jeongguk’s bare ass and his own fingers. when he sinks the first one into jeongguk, the muffled scream that jeongguk lets out could break glass, but choi doesn’t stop. he fingers jeongguk roughly, groaning as he strokes his own rapidly hardening cock.

one finger turns to two turns to three in rapid succession, too quickly to be comfortable, and jeongguk is still sobbing as he tries to keep his hips away. but choi’s fingers are insistent, opening jeongguk up as he strokes his own cock. all the while, he keeps telling jeongguk how much he deserves this, how choi will treat him right. how they could have done this the nice way had jeongguk not been a little pussy and gotten the authorities involved.

how it doesn’t matter anyway, because no one knows where they are. no one can stop them. and no one would, anyway, because it’s the purge. choi isn’t even doing anything wrong in the eyes of the law.

when he pulls out his fingers, slicking up his own cock in preparation, choi finally turns to the camera again. there’s a wicked smirk on his lips as he says, “now we’re going to put on a show. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i’m going to.”

and yoongi—yoongi hates that he actually is being affected by all of this. his dick started taking an interest the moment choi sunk his finger into jeongguk’s hole, and for the past minute, it’s been slowly hardening. he doesn’t want to be turned on by this, by a random man raping his idol—but he is. god, he is. jeongguk just looks so small and helpless, tied up and unable to do anything to stop what’s about to happen. more than that, he’s so gorgeous, even with tears on his face—especially with tears on his face.

the thing is, yoongi has imagined this sort of thing so many times: being the one to touch jeongguk, to stretch him open to take yoongi’s cock. seeing his bare ass, his pink cock rutting against the bedsheets. in his fantasies, jeongguk was always an enthusiastic participant in whatever he did, but he can’t deny that there’s something horribly arousing about watching jeongguk squirm on the bed, watching choi pin him down on his stomach, sitting heavily on jeongguk’s thighs to keep him in place.

when choi fits his cock between jeongguk’s cheeks and pushes in for the first time, yoongi’s own cock twitches in his jeans, demanding attention. and suddenly yoongi isn’t watching because he can’t look away the way he can’t look away from a car crash—he’s watching before he wants to, because he likes the way choi groans when he bottoms out, reaching out to hold onto jeongguk’s tied hands as he immediately begins thrusting roughly. jeongguk cries out, sobbing and screaming as choi pounds into him hard enough that the slap of their skin can be heard through the tinny speakers on yoongi’s phone.

“fuck,” choi moans. “he’s so tight. god, should have raped him so much sooner—” and yoongi lets out the smallest of groans, finally giving in and dropping the bat so he can cup his cock through his jeans. as the sounds of their fucking echoes through his phone, he begins rubbing himself, hating that he’s enjoying this.

that’s jeon jeongguk, the idol he loves more than anything in the world. he’d give up his life for jeongguk. he’d do anything to keep him safe and protected—but god, watching him struggle against a bigger, stronger man pinning him down and forcibly fucking him is messing with his head, is making arousal pool in the pit of his stomach.

choi keeps making such disgusting noises, saying such awful things about all of it, and jeongguk keeps crying, trying to wiggle away even though choi has him trapped, fucking him deep and hard. even if jeongguk did manage to get away right now, it wouldn’t make a difference; choi is right: no one can do anything. no one even knows where they are.

although—when yoongi stops palming his own cock long enough to actually focus on the screen, eyes drawn away from the obscene action in the foreground, his eyes catch on something interesting in the background. through one of the windows of the house, he can just make out the first few feet of a red neon sign. when he squints, he can make out the beginning of a sentence, something that rings a bell.

all at once, yoongi realizes—he recognizes that sign. all at once, yoongi realizes—he knows where choi is.

he doesn’t think twice, just scoops up the bat he dropped and runs. fuck the keyboard, fuck everything else in the purge. he knows where choi is holding jeongguk and choi is wrong. someone does know where they are; someone can do something about it. yoongi is going to do something about it.

yoongi vaults into the street, immediately hurrying back the way he came half an hour ago. there isn’t anyone on the street, only the burning cars and a few other stores that have been looted in the past hour hours. still, he keeps his bat clenched in one hand as he runs, glancing down at his phone screen once in a while to see any new developments—but choi is still drilling into jeongguk relentlessly. and that goddamn sign—

when yoongi finally sees it in real time, looming before him, he feels an inordinate amount of triumph. he only had to ward off two different people while running, but they didn’t seem keen on running after him to begin with, so here he is. here he is.

the neon sign belongs to a restaurant he passes by almost daily, some saying about bread. he knows this sign because it’s a restaurant only a few blocks away from his apartment. and when yoongi finally stops running, breathing hard as he holds his phone again, he turns around until he figures out which window the sign can be seen through.

there—the house kitty corner to the restaurant. of course: it’s one of the biggest houses in the neighbourhood, owned by a rich family who always has enough money and resources to stay protected on purge night. but it’s known in the neighbourhood that the family is out of town this year, choosing to protect themselves elsewhere; there were posts all over yoongi’s social media about his neighbours planning on looting the house, ransacking it for everything its worth.

in any case, the house is empty. anyone in the neighbourhood would know that.

choi seongmin must have found out. when yoongi lifts his phone, still showcasing choi fucking jeongguk as jeongguk cries and flails around on the bed, he sees the exact window. if he looks close enough, he can see the light from the laptop in the room, the edge of the bed jeongguk is currently being raped on.

yoongi grins. “gotcha,” he murmurs. and then he runs for the house.

he can’t be sure what it looks like on the livestream—he’d long since pocketed his phone by then—but yoongi likes to think it was heroic. see, it was easy to get into the house, considering choi had gotten through without trouble. the family hadn’t even bothered to set their usual security system, letting yoongi hop the fence into the backyard and sneak in through the backdoor without trouble. never having been inside the house, it was harder to find the bedroom choi and jeongguk were in—but he listened and followed the sounds of grunting, screaming, and skin slapping against skin.

when yoongi gently pushes open the bedroom door, he finally sees the scene in all its glory; with choi’s back to the door, he doesn’t see yoongi. but yoongi can see him sitting on top of jeongguk on the bed, cock pounding into jeongguk relentlessly. his own cock jumps again, reminding him of its hardness, but now isn’t the time.

there’s a man raping yoongi’s idol. there’s a man violating the person that yoongi has loved and cherished for four years now.

and yoongi thinks it’s time choi got what he really deserves.

yoongi’s hands grip the bat tightly as he takes his first steps into the room, foregoing any warning or battle cry. choi doesn’t deserve even a word from him, so he instead takes off into the room. the sounds of his running footsteps draw choi’s attention anyway, and he turns at the last second, eyes wide as he shouts something—but it’s already too late.

the bat catches choi in the side of the head, the force with which yoongi swung it sending choi careening sideways. immediately, blood spurts from choi’s face thanks to the bat and the barbed wire wrapped around it. but one hit isn’t enough. yoongi swings again, knocking choi further on the bed. then he swings again, again, again—bashing choi’s head in as blood splatters yoongi from the wounds. by the time he stops, choi’s face is nothing but pulp, body unmoving where he slumps sideways.

dead.

yoongi breathes hard, grip still tight on the bat as he stares at choi’s dead body. he’s never been one for murder, even during the purge—but this one was deserved. it was right.

he only remembers he’s not alone when there’s a loud whimpering sound from the bed and yoongi turns to see jeongguk has twisted around and is staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. immediately, yoongi drops the bat, letting it roll to the side of the room as he grabs choi’s body and pushes it off of the bed. he lands with a satisfying thunk, finally leaving jeongguk alone on the bed.

yoongi crawls onto the bed beside jeongguk, reaching for him, but jeongguk screams again, trying to wiggle away.

“hey, hey!” yoongi says. “i’m not going to hurt you!” he holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. he can understand why jeongguk is terrified—yoongi didn’t hesitate in killing choi, and jeongguk is already traumatized from the kidnapping and rape. but yoongi doesn’t make a move to hurt him any further.

“i came here for you,” yoongi explains lowly. “i saw what was happening on the livestream and i recognized that sign outside of the window. so i figured out where you were and i came right away. i’m not with him, i promise. i killed him so he would stop hurting you.”

jeongguk’s eyes are still wide and terrified; his face is wet with tears, snot, and exertion, forehead sweaty. he’s breathing hard enough to worry yoongi, but he doesn’t try to roll away from yoongi, so yoongi takes that as a good sign.

“is it okay if i take the tape off of your mouth?” asks yoongi. after a bout of silence, jeongguk nods. yoongi tries to be gentle about it, wincing at the way the tape pulls on jeongguk’s skin when he slowly peels it off.

as soon as his mouth is free, jeongguk says, “what the fuck? what the fuck—” he lets out a terrified sob. “he—he was—”

“i know,” says yoongi, glancing over the side of the bed at choi, still unmoving. “but he’s dead now, jeongguk. you don’t have to worry about him. are you okay?”

jeongguk sobs again. “he raped me,” he says. “what do you think?”

“sorry,” says yoongi. “i’m so sorry, jeongguk. i don’t know what to do.”

“y-you could start by turning off that fucking livestream.”

somehow, yoongi forgot that was still going. he looks up at the laptop screen and phone leaning against it, which is still capturing all of this. on the laptop screen is the livestream page, now showing jeongguk on the bed and yoongi kneeling next to him, choi nowhere in sight. he can’t see any of the comments nor the number of viewers.

“that’s fucked up,” breathes yoongi, watching the screen. “that he would do that.”

“my company filed a restraining order against him for a reason.”

“how did he get you, anyway?” it’s that morbid curiosity again. plenty of celebrities have gotten harmed in some way during the purge, but they’re usually the ones without enough money to truly protect themselves. jeongguk, on the other hand, is precious.

jeongguk sniffs again. “he must have had some friends on the inside or whatever,” he mumbles. “the people who were supposed to be protecting me tonight just handed me over to him.”

yoongi tilts his head, looking at jeongguk again. “so your guards aren’t out looking for you?” jeongguk turns his eyes to yoongi, that same pain in them. but his lack of an answer is answer enough. “there’s no one coming?”

“there’s no one coming,” whispers jeongguk.

oh, he thinks. oh.

yoongi thinks of that feeling of standing in the music store and watching the livestream. he thinks of hearing choi speaking to the camera, the absolute power in his voice when he told the audience that no one could stop him. he thinks of seeing choi pinning jeongguk down, taking whatever he wanted from jeongguk because no one could do anything, so he was going to do what he always wanted to do. and he was going to do it in front of millions of people.

yoongi’s cock kicks again.

(seeing a notification that jeongguk is livestreaming just serves to remind how much yoongi loves him.

and how much he wants to fuck jeongguk’s brains out.)

oh, it’s a terrible idea yoongi gets, when he realizes the livestream is still going on and choi is dead on the floor and jeongguk is still tied up, absolutely helpless. it’s a terrible idea yoongi gets when he remembers every single sexual fantasy he’s ever had, when he remembers how many times he’s jerked off to the thought of jeongguk just like this, stretched open for him, ripe for the taking.

it’s a terrible idea. but it’s not illegal. not right now.

when yoongi shuffles down the bed, sliding off of it, jeongguk asks, “where are you going? aren’t you going to untie me?” but yoongi is already grabbing the phone from the desk, the one still filming. he turns it so he’s recording in front of him, recording when he gets back on the bed and pushes jeongguk back onto his stomach, sitting on his legs like choi did.

“hey—” jeongguk begins, but yoongi isn’t listening. “what are you doing?”

yoongi points the phone at jeongguk’s ass, even more perfect than through the screen. he uses his free hand to cup jeongguk’s ass cheek, ignoring the shriek jeongguk gives out and the way he tries to wiggle away. instead, he digs his hand into the flesh, pulling apart his cheeks to reveal jeongguk’s already-stretched hole.

“fuck,” yoongi groans to himself. “look at that.” jeongguk’s hole is still slick with lube, clenching around nothing after choi’s cock was pulled out. it’s perfectly pink, the way yoongi imagined it would be, and looks only slightly abused even from choi pounding into him for minutes on end. yoongi has fantasized about this so often, but nothing compares to reality, to seeing jeon jeongguk’s gorgeous, slutty little hole in front of him, already prepped and slick.

waiting for him.

yoongi hooks his thumb inside jeongguk’s rim, tugging on the muscle as jeongguk gasps, still trying to wiggle away. “s-stop,” he sobs, probably beginning to realize this isn’t going how he thought it would. “i thought—i thought you were going to help me.”

yoongi is mesmerized by the way jeongguk’s hole swallows his finger when he pushes it inside, already groaning at the tight heat that surrounds his digit. that could be his cock. it will be his cock.

“please,” jeongguk begins, struggling and sobbing again. “please stop. just stop.

yoongi should stop. he should turn off the livestream, should help jeongguk to a secure location and make sure that nothing bad happens to him for the rest of his night. he should go back to the music store and get the keyboard he came out for in the first place.

yoongi should do a lot of things.

but the temptation is just too great. for years, he’s imagined what would happen if he could just talk to jeongguk. but right now, he has something so much better that has literally fallen right into his lap: the object of his fantasies and obsession, naked and bound, unable to stop him from doing whatever he wants, whatever he’s been fantasizing about for years. so yoongi isn’t going to do any of those things that he should do.

he’s going to rape jeon jeongguk.

as soon as the thought enters his head, he’s already made his decision. yoongi tosses the phone onto the bed, uncaring of what it might show now, and slides off of the bed, yanking jeongguk down by his legs. he positions jeongguk over the end of it so that his feet are against the ground and he’s bent over, chest still against the bed. like this, his hole is on display and yoongi groans, quick to unbutton his jeans and push them, along with his underwear, to his knees.

jeongguk starts struggling again, shouting at him to stop, to let him go, begging—and god, yoongi’s so fucking hard, cock drooling pre-come at all of it as he wastes no time in putting his feet on either side of jeongguk’s, rubbing his cockhead over jeongguk’s loose hole. that already feels amazing, but he has no patience—so he positions himself at jeongguk’s entrance, takes hold of jeongguk’s hips, and pushes inside.

immediately, jeongguk lets out a cry, clenching around him, and yoongi’s stomach knots with pleasure as he manages to bottom out. “fuck,” he sighs. “fuck, he was right. god, you’re so tight.” the heat around his cock drives him insane, but he’s finally inside of jeongguk—as he’s wanted to be for years now. nothing can compare to what it really feels like, what jeongguk’s body feels like under his hand, wrapped around his cock.

yoongi rucks his sweater up so he can look down and see the obscenely beautiful sight—his cock inside jeongguk, the rim stretched around him so beautifully. he has to stare long enough to wrap his mind around it, to believe this isn’t some dream of his.

but jeongguk is still sobbing, begging for yoongi to stop and let him go. in yoongi’s dreams, that was never a feature—but he’ll take this over a dream, anyway. wrapping his hands around jeongguk’s little waist, yoongi pulls back out and then thrusts in hard, jostling jeongguk on the bed. it makes him groan how easily he can do it, how small jeongguk feels in his hands, and he can’t wait any longer; he begins thrusting properly now, fucking jeongguk fast and hard.

now, finally, the sound of skin against skin is his and jeongguk’s, not some bastard who can’t even appreciate jeongguk properly. finally, the moans are his own, filling the room and drowning out the sound of jeongguk crying. yoongi fucks him so hard that it almost hurts his own hips when they collide with jeongguk’s ass, skin bruising between them. but jeongguk is so fucking tight, so hot around him, and he can’t even move with the grip yoongi has on his waist.

“p-please,” jeongguk cries, still trying to stop yoongi to no avail. “why—why are you doing this?”

“i’ve loved you for so long,” yoongi moans, transfixed as he watches his cock disappearing and reappearing as he fucks jeongguk. it’s slick with the lube inside jeongguk and his own pre-come, filling him so well. it’s like jeongguk was made to take his cock. “watched you for so long, been to so many of your concerts, bought all your albums—” he hisses as jeongguk clenches around him again, but yoongi fucks him through it, enjoying the tightness.

“if you l-loved me,” jeongguk hiccups, and yoongi fucks him a little faster just to hear the way his voice wobbles with it, extra sounds pounded out of him when yoongi’s hips slap against him, “you wouldn’t rape me. you’re—you’re just like him.”

“choi was a stupid bastard who just wanted to hurt you,” breathes yoongi, changing his tactic as he grabs onto jeongguk’s bound wrists and uses that as leverage to pull jeongguk back on his cock. he groans at the feeling, bending his knees in an attempt to fuck jeongguk a little deeper, wanting to hear him scream with pleasure. “he didn’t love you like i—like i do. he didn’t adore you like me.”

jeongguk doesn’t have a smart comment to that one, too busy making some noise between a whine and a groan. it makes yoongi grin.

“you’re so beautiful, jeongguk,” he breathes, kneading his ass as he keeps pounding into him. “god, so fucking tight and gorgeous. you take cock so well.”

“please stop,” jeongguk whispers.

“such a good boy for me, baby,” sighs yoongi. “thought about this so many times, but it’s better than anything i could have imagined. don’t know why i didn’t think of this before fucking choi did.” then again, if it wasn’t for choi, this wouldn’t have been nearly as easy for yoongi. kidnapping jeongguk was the hard part of it, and yoongi merely got to swoop in at the last second and slip his cock right into jeongguk’s waiting hole. he’d almost say it’s fate.

“c’mon, jeongguk,” yoongi groans. “wanna hear your pretty voice screaming for me.”

let me go,” jeongguk growls instead, and it almost makes yoongi mad. he doesn’t want to be mad—he wants to enjoy this, wants it to be heaven. but jeongguk’s begging and sobbing is beginning to irritate him. he thrusts one last time into jeongguk, then, grabbing his arms and yanking him upright so jeongguk is standing, back to yoongi’s chest and his legs trapped against the edge of the bed.

yoongi grinds into him. “i’m being so nice to you,” he murmurs against jeongguk’s ear. “and you want to be rude to me. just look at choi. he tied you up, slapped you, even put tape over that pretty mouth of yours. but i took that tape off. i’m being so gentle. so if you don’t behave, i might have to stop being gentle.”

jeongguk’s chest heaves; yoongi can feel his heartbeat where their bodies are pressed together. but jeongguk doesn’t say anything and yoongi finds himself grinning, pressing a kiss to the side of jeongguk’s neck as a reward of sorts. because it’s true—he doesn’t want to be mean like choi was. but he can’t help it if jeongguk is going to be a fucking brat.

he starts fucking into jeongguk again, standing now—it’s slower and shallower, but jeongguk still lets out a quiet whine, dropping his head back on yoongi’s shoulder. like this, yoongi can almost pretend that jeongguk agreed to it.

he slides his hand around jeongguk’s stomach, rubbing over his bare skin. “so gorgeous,” he murmurs. “always so gorgeous, especially when you’re all done up with make-up. wearing those pretty outfits you love—god, when you wear those tight pants.” he moans, scratching his nails over jeongguk’s stomach to feel it clench underneath his hands, cock reaching ever deeper inside of him. he imagines fucking jeongguk so deep that he can feel the tip of his cock through jeongguk’s stomach, imagines him so bloated with yoongi’s come that he looks pregnant.

he almost comes on the spot, having to hold back as he moans through gritted teeth. instead, he moves his hand lower, almost surprised when it comes in contact with jeongguk’s own cock—which is hard. yoongi’s hips stutter to a halt as he looks over jeongguk’s shoulder at it, red and leaking, curved up toward jeongguk’s stomach.

“oh,” says yoongi, trailing his fingers over the base of jeongguk’s cock. “what do we have here?”

“n-no,” jeongguk shrieks, desperately trying to move his hips away from yoongi’s hand. but moving away from yoongi’s hand just means he fucks himself back on yoongi’s cock instead, making him sob.

yoongi runs his hand so tenderly over jeongguk’s cock until he can lightly grasp the head, rubbing his fingers over it. “baby likes it, huh?” he murmurs. “baby likes daddy’s cock so much even when he’s being raped?”

s-stop,” jeongguk gasps, but for the first time, it’s not with such a tone of desperation to be let go. this time, there’s a distinct note of pleasure to the word, his cock twitching in yoongi’s hand.

“your mouth says stop, but your body is telling me otherwise,” murmurs yoongi, grinding into him as he continues to play with jeongguk’s cock. “don’t lie to me, baby boy. you like this, don’t you? it feels good to have my cock this deep inside you. when’s the last time you’ve been fucked this good, huh? when’s the last time anyone made you really scream?”

jeongguk lets out a desperate sound, wiggling against him. “i don’t—i don’t like it,” he sobs. “i want you to stop.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me come if you keep begging.” yoongi moans, still grinding deep as he takes jeongguk’s cock into his hand and begins stroking it. of course he wants jeongguk to feel good, too—this isn’t just about yoongi. that’s the difference between him and choi: choi was just doing this for himself, wanting to take what he thought he deserved by force. but yoongi loves jeongguk. it’s not his fault that jeongguk doesn’t love him back.

jeongguk almost shrieks at the mention of yoongi coming, squirming against him—but yoongi doesn’t want to come just yet. he’s sure that it’ll happen plenty of times over the next few hours, but the first time—the first time he comes inside jeon jeongguk will be the only first time. it has to be special.

he keeps stroking jeongguk instead, keeping his own thrusts staccato. although he knows jeongguk is trying not to react to it, he’s doing a poor job; he keeps letting out tiny whines and mewls, half-moans that cut off when he realizes what he’s doing. but it’s just a sign to yoongi that jeongguk does like it. that yoongi is doing so much better than choi could ever hope to.

“such a pretty little cock,” he sighs. “pretty little ass, so tight for me. you’re daddy’s good boy, aren’t you, jeongguk?”

jeongguk makes the most gorgeous noise in response, something caught between a moan and a protest, and yoongi can feel arousal and pleasure coiling in his stomach, can tell that he’s going to come if he isn’t careful. but he brings himself right to the edge, pounding into jeongguk as many times as he can before he knows he’s going to snap, and then—he stops. at the last second, just before he comes, he stops. edging himself has never been a speciality of his, but he knows it’ll just make his eventual orgasm even better. and this way, he won’t have to worry about a refractory period.

he breathes hard, already knowing his next move—he wants to see jeongguk’s face, wants to kiss him. this was never just about fucking jeongguk, but making it as real as possible. in a few swift movements, then, he’s pulled out and manhandled jeongguk back onto the bed, this time on his back. for a time, yoongi just looks at him, this gorgeous boy who is all his for—yoongi kicks off his jeans, pulls off his sweater, and checks the time. he still has nine and a half hours, nine and a half hours of this boy all to himself.

he unties jeongguk’s legs, struggling to keep him on the bed, because once jeongguk realizes what he’s doing, he immediately begins thrashing, trying to get away. with his own strength and determination, yoongi manages to tie one of jeongguk’s ankles to the bedpost, and once he’s secured, goes searching. he finds the bag of supplies that choi must have brought with him, pulling more rope from it and securing jeongguk’s other leg to the opposite bedpost.

even when jeongguk continuing to cry and beg, yoongi ignores it, crawling over him to undo his hands. even as jeongguk tries scratching him to get free, yoongi just yanks his arms above his head, securing his hands to the headboard.

finally, jeongguk is spread out before him, pretty and abused hole on display with no way of closing his legs or moving his arms. it’s everything yoongi could have dreamed off, such a pretty boy for him. he wants to touch, wants to mark up every inch of jeongguk’s body so jeongguk can remember who he truly belongs to for days or weeks after—but yoongi is still too impatient, reminded of his orgasm denial.

and he has nine and a half hours left. he’ll have time for that later.

instead, he crawls back onto the bed between jeongguk’s legs, lifting his thighs so they’re resting on top of yoongi’s knees when he gets close enough to rub his cock over jeongguk’s hole again. jeongguk writhes, still letting out pleas, but they fall on deaf ears. yoongi is too busy staring at jeongguk spread out before him, body flushed and sweaty, his cock resting against his stomach and hole trying to clench closed.

yoongi forces his cock inside anyway. the view is even better this way, watching jeongguk’s hole greedily swallow him like his body is begging for something his mind hasn’t yet accepted. groaning as that delicious heat engulfs him again, yoongi wraps his hands around jeongguk’s thighs and immediately begins pounding into him, hips snapping quickly as he seeks out that pleasure once more.

he spots the phone choi was using for the livestream—the livestream that’s still going on. immediately, yoongi reaches for it, flipping it so that the camera is capturing jeongguk’s face at first. he has his head turned to the side like he’s hiding, but like this, he can’t pretend for yoongi anymore. while he’s still crying, his face is contorted with an attempt to hold back the pleasure he’s clearly feeling as yoongi fucks him. as yoongi rapes him. it’s so filthy to think about—jeongguk enjoying his rape. but it’s right there on his face, the way his brows are furrowed, the way he bites into his lower lip. when he was facing away from yoongi, it didn’t matter. but now yoongi can see everything.

jeongguk can’t hide.

“fuck, look at him,” yoongi sighs, moving the camera down to capture jeongguk’s cock on his stomach and then finally to where his ass is being filled with yoongi’s cock. he angles the camera to get the way jeongguk’s rim stretches around him, the obscene shine on yoongi’s cock when it’s visible, just a blur with how quickly he’s fucking jeongguk. “isn’t he so gorgeous? isn’t he so perfect? such an angel. such a good boy for daddy.”

jeongguk groans. this one sounds almost more out of pleasure than anything.

“hm, jeongguk-ah,” he calls. when jeongguk doesn’t respond, yoongi slaps his thigh. “baby, look at me. look at the camera.” perhaps out of fear of further harm, jeongguk turns his head, opening his eyes to throw a hurt look at the camera. even seeing it through the screen makes yoongi’s stomach clench; he looks so beautiful especially like this: cheeks flushed, lip bitten raw, arms stretched above his head. “good boy,” yoongi murmurs. “wanna tell your audience how good it feels?”

“f-fuck you,” snaps jeongguk, but it has no real conviction. he sobs again. “please—please stop it. someone help me, please.

“no one’s coming, angel,” grins yoongi. “just take daddy’s cock like a good boy, okay? take daddy’s cock and maybe i’ll let you come.”

he grows tired of holding the camera, pausing so he can reach over and set it on the desk like choi originally had it. then he turns back to jeongguk, resuming his earlier thrusts, moaning as he does so. the new position is better with jeongguk spread out before him, cock spurting pre-come onto his stomach in a clear violation of whatever his mouth is saying.

speaking of which—“pl-please, just stop,” jeongguk whines, sniffing loudly. “please, i’ll do—whatever you want. i’ll give you money. just let me go.”

yoongi leans over, planting one hand on the bed next to jeongguk’s head. he feels so powerful like this, looming over a pretty boy who physically can’t move because he’s tied to the bed. as he rolls his hips into jeongguk’s, nice and deep, he gently moves jeongguk’s hair off of his forehead. “i’m being so good to you,” he whispers. “choi kidnapped you and hurt you, tied you up in such a painful position. he didn’t care about your pleasure when he was raping you. but i don’t. don’t i, baby?”

“let me g—ah!” jeongguk suddenly tenses, moan forced out of him as yoongi finally finds his prostate. yoongi smirks as he angles his hips just right to brush against it again and again, jeongguk’s voice moving higher and higher in pitch as he spasms on the bed.

yoongi leans down and kisses jeongguk’s jaw. “you don’t want me to let you go,” he murmurs. “not when i’m making you feel so good.” and yoongi certainly won’t when he feels so good—jeongguk’s ass is so tight and hot, his body so young and ripe for being ruined by someone older and more experienced. yoongi has so many things he wants to do, all of these fantasies that he’s had for years that he can finally enact.

he wants to fuck jeongguk’s mouth, wants to come so hard down his throat that it wrecks jeongguk’s vocal chords for a day or two. he wants to stretch jeongguk open so wide that there’s no resistance when he pushes his entire fist inside along with his cock, until jeongguk is loose and gaping, until yoongi can barely even feel anything when he pushes inside and can jerk off inside jeongguk’s hole as he fucks him. he wants to bring jeongguk to the edge again and again until he’s begging to come and then milk him until he has nothing left to give—and then fuck him again anyway so he’s crying with the overstimulation.

he wants jeongguk to be his in every sense of the word: covered in yoongi’s come, maybe even his piss, and marked all over with yoongi’s mouth and teeth. maybe yoongi will even carve his name into jeongguk’s skin as a reminder, just to claim him. at first, he just wanted to fuck jeongguk. but now he realizes he has nine and a half hours to do whatever he wants, to act on all of the depraved fantasies he’s kept hidden for years.

jeongguk is his. his to rape, to fuck, to play with. jeongguk is his toy, the most loved of all—the kind of toy that becomes so loved over time that it’s worn out, nothing but a ragdoll coming apart at the seams, falling apart and only able to rely on its owner to take care of it. it’s going to be the best night of either of their lives.

yoongi kisses at jeongguk’s jaw again, running his hands up and down the boy’s sides now that he has a chance to touch. jeongguk shudders under him, crying a little louder as yoongi starts kissing him, moving his lips over his chin and then catching onto the side of his mouth. jeongguk turns his head away, repeating no no nonono, but yoongi merely grasps his chin, forcing him back as yoongi whispers, “doesn’t that feel good, baby boy?”

he finally kisses jeongguk’s mouth—something that somehow means so much more than just fucking him. kissing is so much more intimate, so much closer, and even as jeongguk groans against him, not kissing him back, yoongi doesn’t care. it’s close enough—close enough when he kisses jeongguk so gently, fucks him so gently. licks into his mouth, wanting to taste every bit of jeongguk as he can.

and then jeongguk bites him.

yoongi recoils so quickly that jeongguk almost rips off a piece of skin from his lip, and the reaction is immediate: yoongi slaps him across the face, hard. jeongguk’s head snaps sideways with the force of it, gasping in pain as yoongi stops moving, cock buried inside jeongguk as he touches his lip tentatively. it’s not bleeding, thankfully, but it’s tender where jeongguk’s teeth dug in.

“why would you do that,” deadpans yoongi, eyes hard as he grasps jeongguk’s chin again, forcing them to look at each other. jeongguk’s cheek is already blooming red, breathing hard and ragged as he stares at yoongi with his pupil’s blown wide. out of—lust? “look what you made me do, baby.” yoongi clicks his tongue. “you know i don’t want to hurt you. i love you, jeongguk. but i have to punish you for being bad, so maybe you should behave so that i don’t have to hurt you again.”

jeongguk’s eyes fill with tears once more, spilling over so quickly as he trembles. “i’m s-sorry,” he whimpers. yoongi’s cock twitches inside jeongguk. “i j-just—just wanna go home.

almost immediately, yoongi feels himself soften, leaning over to kiss the tears away. “you’re so pretty when you cry,” he whispers. “thank you for apologizing, babydoll. you’re so good. you were in the wrong, weren’t you? biting is very bad behaviour.” when he pulls back, jeongguk looks so utterly terrified that yoongi almost wants to slap him again—just to make it worse. but yoongi certainly isn’t in the wrong here. jeongguk made yoongi slap him when he misbehaved. so maybe the rest of this will be much easier.

“please,” whispers jeongguk. he sniffs. “please let me go home, s-sir.”

yoongi hums. “daddy,” he whispers. “it’s not sir. it’s daddy.”

jeongguk positively trembles, looking so young and vulnerable as he looks up at yoongi. for so long, he’s been struggling, begging and crying loudly, thinking that asking just one more will let him go home. but here, finally, is the smallest of turning points: when he looks up at yoongi, face streaked with tears and snot, and whispers, “please let me go home, daddy.”

hearing that word out of jeongguk’s pretty, sinful mouth makes arousal spike up yoongi’s spine, groaning as he leans down and presses a kiss to the side of jeongguk’s mouth again. “you’re such an angel,” he whispers. “listen to me so well, sweetheart. can’t let you go home when you’re being so good for me, bun. you make me wanna rape you until you pass out on my cock.” even then, yoongi would keep fucking him. fuck his slack mouth, his waiting hole. god, he can’t wait until they get there.

jeongguk whimpers again, but it sounds so different from the way he did before. he’s already losing so much of his fight, perhaps recognizing that this doesn’t have to be so hard. or recognizing that there’s no use in fighting it, anyway—if yoongi hasn’t been moved by his pleas yet, the chance of him changing his mind are slim to none. and how could he change his mind when he’s gotten a taste of all of this? once he’s felt jeongguk’s ass around his cock, once he’s gotten a glimpse at how good jeongguk can be for him? the only option is to keep going, to delve deeper and deeper into his depraved mind until he’s pushed jeongguk past his breaking point—and then to keep pushing anyway.

yoongi’s not gonna stop.

he reaches down between them, hand engulfing jeongguk’s cock. he keeps his own thrusts deep and slow, reaching as far as he can into jeongguk as he begins stroking jeongguk. his grip is firm, calculated, bringing jeongguk closer and closer to the inevitable edge. and jeongguk starts squirming, breath coming in short little bursts, repeating, “no, stop, don’t—don’t, please—” but yoongi bares his teeth in a predatory grin, stroking faster and faster, nosing against jeongguk’s cheek and murmuring, “that’s right. come on daddy’s cock, baby. show me how much you love when i rape your greedy little hole,” until, finally—

jeongguk lets out a high-pitched whine, body tensing and hole clenching around yoongi as he comes. he comes hard enough that he hits his own chin with it, and the sight drives yoongi wild—another sign of how much jeongguk is secretly enjoying this, being used and abused, forced to take whatever yoongi wants to give him.

not wasting a second, yoongi sits up, grabs jeongguk’s waist, and begins fucking him as quick and hard as he can manage. even as he pounds closer to his own orgasm, driven mad knowing jeongguk came on his cock, came being raped by yoongi—he can’t help notice such a subtle shift in jeongguk’s actions. maybe he’s tired from an intense orgasm, but the sounds he lets out don’t sound so much like protests anymore. they’re just sounds he can’t help making as yoongi fucks him, his head lolling to the side. he’s not struggling anymore, not like he did before.

he’s tired of fighting—at least for right now. he’s finally giving him. he’s not begging to be let go. he doesn’t tell yoongi to stop. right now, he’s just… letting yoongi rape him.

it’s this, finally, that drives yoongi over the edge. in the last seconds as he thrusts into jeongguk a few more times, he can’t decide where he wants to come; he wants his come covering every part of jeongguk by the end of this, in his mouth, in his pretty ass. but the first one means more. the first one after killing a man and raping his most beloved idol.

it only makes sense that yoongi should come inside of him, then. claiming him so yoongi can watch his come dripping out of jeongguk’s hole. he pounds into jeongguk a few more times, until he can’t hold out any longer, and finally comes with a low, “fuck.” he buries himself inside jeongguk, shooting his come as deep as it’ll go—the first of many, he knows. he shakes with it, at how hard he comes after holding out for so long even though he could have come merely from seeing jeongguk naked and waiting for him.

while he comes down, yoongi continues to thrust shallowly. finally, he pulls out, sighing at the feeling as he watches jeongguk’s hole clench around the emptiness. it just wants him back, yoongi knows—doesn’t know how to exist without yoongi inside again, filling him just right.

“fuck, baby,” he sighs as the first sign of his come begins seeping out of jeongguk’s hole. he wipes it with his finger and pushes it back inside, making the boy mewl at the intrusion.

satisfied, yoongi leans down and kisses jeongguk’s stomach, then up his chest, then his neck, and then finally his mouth again. this time, jeongguk doesn’t move, just pressing his lips together so yoongi can’t lick inside.

“felt so good, angel,” says yoongi, cradling jeongguk’s face. “you made daddy feel so good.”

jeongguk finally looks at him. there’s something dead in his eyes. “will you let me go now?” he asks quietly. then, belatedly—but without having to be asked—he adds, “daddy.”

yoongi kisses him again, and then crawls off of the bed. his legs are only slightly wobbly, but he manages to find his jeans on the floor, fishing his phone out of the pocket. licking his lips, yoongi sets an alarm on his phone for 6:50 the next morning, which will give him enough time to finish whatever he’s doing and leave before all of this becomes illegal again.

“oh, babydoll,” he sighs as he tosses the phone onto the desk and crawls back onto the bed. “daddy’s just getting started.”

yoongi fucks jeongguk. and he fucks him and fucks him and fucks him, until sweat is practically dripping off of his face, breathing so hard that it almost hurts his lungs to do so. he murmurs his praises to jeongguk, calling him a good boy, letting him know how beautiful he is, how good he feels around yoongi. he watches as jeongguk’s cock fills up again, watches as jeongguk comes again and again as yoongi does—first inside of him again, and then on jeongguk’s stomach, then his face, smearing it into jeongguk’s skin with the head of his cock before waiting for himself to grow hard again for another round.

it never takes long. he grabs the phone still recording all of this as a livestream and films jeongguk’s messy body, films his fingers fucking his come back into jeongguk’s hole. he runs his hands over every inch of jeongguk’s body, kissing him and marking him up with dark lovebites that will last even after this night. just thinking about the time before him, everything he can do to jeongguk before the purge ends always has yoongi’s cock fattening once more.

at first, he thinks only of fucking jeongguk, merely getting his dick inside his beautiful boy until he comes. but as time wears on, he realizes he has so many opportunities before him for more. all of his most depraved fantasies can come alive here.

it helps that eventually, jeongguk stops fighting. he gets too tired, spent after yoongi keeps pulling rapid orgasms out of him, voice hoarse from crying and shouting at yoongi to let him go. eventually, when yoongi is taking him from behind again, fucking into jeongguk so hard and deep that he can feel a bulge with every thrust where he holds onto jeongguk’s stomach, jeongguk just… stops struggling altogether.

he gives a little sigh, one of defeat, and goes entirely slack. he stops crying, stops making any noises that aren’t tiny moans pulled from him by yoongi’s cock deep within him. it seems that he’s finally accepted it, truly has. when he comes moments later, it’s with a pitiful whine, his cock doing little more than dribbling out a few drops of come. yoongi calls him a good boy for giving his daddy all of his come and finishes inside of him.

then yoongi unties him. he does so slowly, just in case jeongguk gets a burst of energy and determination and tries to run. but jeongguk stays slack on the bed, allowing yoongi to gently rub and kiss at where his ankles and wrists have been chafed by the rope holding him. he doesn’t try to fight, doesn’t try to leave. he’s just letting yoongi do what he wants, even without the restraints.

maybe it’s out of fear or defeat. but yoongi likes to think it’s because, deep down, jeongguk likes this. he trusts yoongi. he knows just how much yoongi loves him, and yoongi won’t harm him.

not having to tie jeongguk up leaves yoongi with plenty more opportunities for fun. he lets jeongguk sit in his lap, thrusting up into him as he watches jeongguk’s little cock bounce against his stomach, whining all the while. he folds him in increasingly strange ways, testing jeongguk’s flexibility from years of dancing as he lets yoongi manhandle him however he wants.

trusting that it’s safe to do so now that jeongguk seems to have given up, yoongi fucks his mouth, hand tight in jeongguk’s hair as his balls slap against jeongguk’s chin. jeongguk’s mouth is so perfect—yoongi tells him so, tells him how much he loves jeongguk’s voice, loves his pretty throat and tongue and lips. he forces his cock down jeongguk’s throat and doesn’t stop fucking it even when jeongguk begins choking, finally doing his first fighting when he’s unable to get air. but yoongi doesn’t stop until he comes down jeongguk’s throat, until, when jeongguk coughs and speaks next, his voice is hoarse. with any luck, yoongi will have damaged his vocal chords for a few days, just another reminder.

best of all, after a brief rest period in which yoongi fingers jeongguk relentlessly, fucking him with his tongue at the same time, yoongi gains the strength to do what he’s always imagined doing with jeongguk. he pulls jeongguk off of the bed, hooking one of his arms under jeongguk’s knee and fitting his cock back inside him. then he scoops his other arm under jeongguk’s other knee, forcing jeongguk to latch onto his shoulders so he doesn’t fall over as yoongi holds him up.

standing, holding jeongguk against him like this, yoongi begins pounding into him once more. and jeongguk isn’t light by any means, but yoongi is strong—and jeongguk clings to him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and face buried in yoongi’s neck as yoongi fucks him hard. each thrust has jeongguk bouncing back and forth, stretched wide open in this new position.

like this, yoongi can almost pretend he’s not raping jeongguk at all. because jeongguk is making these little noises into his neck, ones of desperation and pleasure. this close, yoongi can hear him mumbling please over and over, but he’s unsure if jeongguk is begging for yoongi to stop or continue. either way, yoongi spreads his feet a little wider, ramming his cock into jeongguk over and over and over as jeongguk flops in his hold.

the first drip draws yoongi’s attention, a hollow sound in the room. when he pauses, looking down part their bodies, he sees a small puddle has formed on the floor. with a groan, he realizes his own come is dripping out of jeongguk’s loose hole around his cock, spilling onto the floor. yoongi has fucked him so many times already that jeongguk is overflowing with come.

“hear that, baby?” he breathes as he returns to fucking jeongguk. the boy whines into his neck, nails desperately holding yoongi’s shoulder blades. “hear how well daddy is breeding you? you’re so full of my come, angel. taking it all so well in that little hole of yours. right into your tummy, huh?”

jeongguk makes a desperate moaning sound, lips against yoongi’s neck. he must be sore, his little hole taking so much abuse. even when yoongi has been resting because his own cock is rubbed raw, he hasn’t given jeongguk a break—he fingers jeongguk, eats him out, plays with his red rim constantly. he just can’t get enough.

but even yoongi is reaching a limit. he strains to keep jeongguk in his arms as he fucks into him a few more times, finally feeling an orgasm approaching when he dwells on the puddle of his come on the floor. at the last second, he let one of jeongguk’s legs go—but jeongguk doesn’t quite have the strength to stay upright and he crumples, causing yoongi to let go of his other leg as jeongguk falls to the ground.

yoongi doesn’t mind—he kneels over jeongguk’s slack body, jerking himself off until he comes one last time over jeongguk’s mouth. it’s almost painful, not much left to give, but what little come that does drool out of him lands directly in jeongguk’s open mouth, making yoongi groan once more.

he’s tired, though. and when jeongguk tries to say anything, yoongi leans down to hear him. jeongguk’s voice is small and hoarse when he whispers, “food.”

it must be midnight by now, maybe closer to one in the morning. “hungry, baby?” asks yoongi, to which jeongguk nods. “bet you’re thirsty too. daddy’s been fucking you for too long.” to be fair, he’s hungry, too—and they happen to be in a house with what he imagines is a fully stocked pantry and refrigerator.

he brings jeongguk to the kitchen, admiring his own handiwork when he turns on the light and sees him better; jeongguk’s entire body is covered in dark marks from yoongi’s mouth, even bruises from his hands holding on a little too tightly. come has dried over him as well, and there’s fresh come running down his leg. he’s flushed and sweaty, hair a mess, face entirely fucked out and tired. it’s the most beautiful thing yoongi has seen in his life.

he finds food for both of them, as well as water. but jeongguk is too spent to do much—and yoongi can’t let him have control for even one second. so yoongi feeds jeongguk from his own mouth, forcing jeongguk to kiss him every time he wants any food as yoongi pushes a bite from his mouth to jeongguk’s. despite how filthy it is, jeongguk doesn’t even look fazed.

he does let jeongguk gulp down as many glasses of water as he wants, drinking desperately as yoongi tenderly rubs his back and calls him a good boy. yoongi grabs a washcloth and gingerly wipes sweat from his forehead and neck, ruffling his hair, kissing over his skin delicately as jeongguk slumps against the counter.

it’s almost… domestic.

“see how well i take care of you?” asks yoongi. “choi wouldn’t have done this. he just wanted to get off inside of you and be done with it.”

jeongguk doesn’t look at him. but he doesn’t argue either. yoongi kisses his cheek. “daddy’s gotta fuck you again, baby.”

“hurts,” jeongguk sniffs. he wipes at his eyes, which have gotten wet with tears. “it h-hurts.”

“what does?”

jeongguk frowns.

“does your little asshole hurt?” asks yoongi, only a slight tease in the words. “daddy’s cock is too big for you, is that right?”

“no,” says jeongguk. “s’just… a lot. please just—can i have a break?” he raises his eyes to yoongi this time. and he’s asking so nicely, so sweetly, like the most polite boy in the world. he really is how the media portrays him: polite and humble and kind, with those big doe eyes and pouty lips. yoongi tucks a piece of jeongguk’s hair behind his ear.

“you want me to give you a break?”

jeongguk nods, small. timid. just the way yoongi wants him.

the grin on yoongi’s face is smug. “i can give your ass a break, baby,” he says. “i’ll fuck your little pussy instead.”

“what?” asks jeongguk, confused, but yoongi is already grabbing him and dragging him back through the house. he’d gotten the idea at least an hour ago, after telling jeongguk that he was as wet as a girl, that his hole felt like a cunt—and this has been one of his fantasies for jeongguk, too. seeing him dressed in such pretty clothing, such pretty make-up, he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like if jeongguk was a girl.

yoongi happens to know the couple that owns this house has a daughter, maybe around jeongguk’s age. he finds her bedroom, pushing jeongguk down onto the bed before he rifles through her closet until he finds what he wants: a pleated skirt and a pair of thigh highs, which he pulls onto jeongguk as the boy asks, “what are you doing? why are—why am i wearing this? please—”

“shh, sweetheart,” says yoongi as he zips up the skirt; it fits jeongguk perfectly, skirt sitting snuggly around his tiny waist. yoongi has to sigh at the image he makes, so gorgeous like that.

“i don’t understand.”

“you’re my pretty little girl, jeonggukie,” says yoongi, turning him toward the floor length mirror against the door. he runs his hand over the waistband of the skirt. “don’t you feel pretty, baby?” he runs his hands over jeongguk’s chest, rubbing his thumbs over each of jeongguk’s nipples just to hear him gasp, back arching into the touch. then his hand moves lower and lower, until he can cup jeongguk’s cock through the material of the skirt, rubbing his own cock against the back of the skirt. “gonna let daddy fuck your little cunt, baby girl?”

“i’m not—” jeongguk gasps when yoongi squeezes his cock, cutting him off. still, he grits out, “i’m not a girl.”

yoongi reaches under the skirt from the back, rubbing his fingers over jeongguk’s hole. he squirms, unable to get away when yoongi wraps an arm around his stomach. “you sure?” he asks. “you’re so wet for me. dripping slick because you want my cock in your pussy so badly.”

“don’t—” jeongguk begins, but yoongi sinks one finger in. he knows it must hurt, must be so unbelievably sore. but yoongi doesn’t care, not when he’s about to play out another of his best fantasies. “it’s not a—a pussy.”

yoongi growls against his ear, slipping in a second finger and scissoring them open. “it’s my pussy,” he says. “daddy’s slutty little pussy, perfect little cunt all for me. that’s what you meant, huh?”

jeongguk makes a pained noise, nails digging into yoongi’s arm. “stop,” he whispers.

“say it,” whispers yoongi. “say your little pussy belongs to daddy.”

“no,” says jeongguk, and yoongi moves with a renewed swiftness—the arm around jeongguk’s stomach moves upward, hand clenching around jeongguk’s throat instead. he squeezes, uncaring if it’s in the wrong position for safe breathplay; he doesn’t want jeongguk to enjoy this part.

jeongguk’s face starts getting red as he tries to yank yoongi’s hand away, but only when yoongi is certain he’ll get the message does he let go, merely keeping his hand around jeongguk’s throat without squeezing. the boy gasps for breath, still holding onto yoongi’s wrist.

say it,” yoongi growls again.

this time, through gasping breaths, jeongguk obeys: “it’s—it’s your little pussy. my pussy belongs to you.”

“good,” says yoongi, kissing the back of jeongguk’s neck. “now ask me to rape it.”

jeongguk’s entire body jerks at that, at how obscene it is—but yoongi knows jeongguk will listen to him. he simply wants jeongguk to understand that he wants it, that by asking for it, he’ll begin to understand that yoongi isn’t doing anything wrong at all. all of this is legal right now, anyway. and it won’t be legal come seven in the morning, but jeongguk will still have liked it. jeongguk will still want it again.

he can feel jeongguk trembling against him, hole clenching around the two fingers still inside. and it takes almost a full minute, yoongi’s eyes burning into his through the mirror. but eventually, in that small voice again, jeongguk whispers, “please—please rape my pussy, daddy.”

yoongi practically melts, such beautiful words from such a beautiful boy—or girl at the moment. he kisses jeongguk’s neck again, says, “of course, baby. my good girl.”

in seconds, he’s pushed jeongguk over at the waist so he has to catch himself on the mirror, flipping the skirt up so yoongi can see his hole. he rubs his now-hard cock against the rim a few times, wetting it with the mix of lube and come there, and then pushes in. despite having fucked jeongguk countless times over the last few hours, every time he pushes in is like the first, such mind-blowing heat and tightness despite all of the abuse jeongguk’s hole has suffered.

a perfect little cunt.

grabbing one of jeongguk’s thighs, yoongi lifts his leg sideways, hooking his hand under it to spread jeongguk wider. in the mirror, he can see what they look like—how perfectly they fit together, those pretty thigh highs along jeongguk’s legs, the skirt hanging down. it’s a picture of perfection.

yoongi begins thrusting, groaning as he imagines just what he wants. “god,” he moans. “such a tight cunt, baby. so wet for me. you like daddy in your pussy, huh?”

jeongguk grunts, forehead nearly hitting the mirror every time yoongi thrusts into him and jostles him forward. and even though it’s mostly a rhetorical question, jeongguk still mumbles out a, “yeah. daddy feels—daddy feels good in my little pussy.” yoongi groans again, tightening his grip on jeongguk’s body as he fucks into him.

“gonna breed you so good,” he moans. “fill you up with my come, breed you over and over until it takes. until you’re pregnant with my baby.”

jeongguk gasps—and of course it’s not actually possible. but the thought of it makes yoongi dizzy, sinking into jeongguk as if it is his cunt, as if the next time yoongi comes, he’ll force a baby into jeongguk. it would be the ultimate reminder of what happened, something that could stay with jeongguk for literally the rest of his life.

“d-don’t,” groans jeongguk, head hanging as he grips onto the mirror. “stop saying that.”

“you don’t want me to breed you?”

no.

“tell that to your pussy, then,” laughs yoongi. “feels like you’re sucking me in, baby girl. just asking for me to fill you with my come until you’re swollen with it. agh, fuck, such a greedy cunt—” he huffs out a moan, dropping jeongguk’s leg in favour of wrapping both hands around his waist and forcing jeongguk back onto his cock even harder. from there, he reaches forward and grabs onto jeongguk’s hair, pulling his head up so they’re forced to meet eyes in the mirror.

yoongi rams into him so hard he’s sure he’ll bruise his own hips. “feel me in your womb, baby?” he asks, feeling jeongguk shudder around him. “fuck, daddy’s gonna come—” jeongguk tries getting away from it, as if it’ll work—he manages to wrench himself forward and out of yoongi’s hands, but yoongi presses forward, trapping him against the door as he fits his cock back inside.

he finishes fucking jeongguk like that, hands trapping jeongguk against the door. when he comes, it’s almost as hard as the first time, telling jeongguk what a perfect pink pussy he has. almost immediately, when yoongi steps back, jeongguk collapses onto the ground, shaking. and yoongi regards him for a moment, watching as something changes in jeongguk’s face. like a sort of realization, a sort of feeling.

as yoongi manhandles him onto his side on the ground, one leg propped up against yoongi’s chest as he slips back in, jeongguk scrabbles at the carpet below them. “wait—” he begins, breathing hard as yoongi begins fucking him slowly. “n-no, wait! i have to go—”

“you’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” yoongi grasps jeongguk’s cock lightly, pleased to see he’s hard again despite having been so against the idea of feminization.

“no, i have to go—i have to pee.” jeongguk whines, dropping his head against the ground. at the mention of it, yoongi can see the signs: jeongguk is clenching so hard that it’s almost hard to fuck him, but yoongi goes slowly, forcing each inch in and out of him. “please, let me.”

“you drank a lot of water, didn’t you?” asks yoongi. “you should have thought about that at the time.”

ngh, i have to go—” jeongguk practically sobs, trying to hold it in. yoongi gets a wicked idea, rolling jeongguk onto his back and pushing both of his knees up, practically holding him in half as he fucks him slow and deep. like this, it must be even harder for jeongguk to hold it in, bladder awkwardly squished against the rest of his organs. jeongguk lets out a sob, squeezing his eyes shut.

yoongi presses his hand over jeongguk’s stomach, adding only a little pressure. “you can go whenever you want, doll.”

“no, don’t—” jeongguk gasps, letting out another sob. “please, stop, please, i can’t hold it—”

but yoongi doesn’t stop. of course he won’t stop. he keeps fucking jeongguk, slow and tender compared to all of the abuse from the past few hours. as jeongguk keeps begging him to let him go, yoongi presses down a little harder on jeongguk’s bladder, waiting for the inevitable. and finally, it comes—jeongguk practically shrieks before he’s pissing all over himself, unable to control his own bladder. the piss pools on his stomach and chest before running off of his sides and into the carpet below, and yoongi groans as jeongguk finally unclenches, letting yoongi fuck him faster through it.

jeongguk starts crying again, but it’s not even from yoongi raping him anymore. it’s from the humiliation, the shame of pissing himself. it smells awful, probably feels disgusting, but yoongi folds jeongguk up a little more, propping one of his feet up so he can fuck jeongguk faster.

“look at you,” he says. “such a messy slut. isn’t it so good that i’m here to take care of you?”

“please,” jeongguk cries, the stream of his piss finally lessening as he finishes. yoongi has never found piss particularly arousing, but there’s something about seeing jeongguk covered in his own urine and crying about it, still wearing a skirt and thigh highs, split open on yoongi’s cock that goes straight to his head. he feels another orgasm approaching, so quickly after the first one, but everything about this is ridiculously hot.

this time, he pulls out, adding to the mess on jeongguk’s stomach as jeongguk quietly cries, limbs flopping back onto the carpet when yoongi lets go of them. “hm, good little girl,” says yoongi as he jerks jeongguk off, eventually adding his own come to the mess. “letting me fuck your cunt like that.”

jeongguk heaves a broken sob. “please,” he says again, just about the only word he’s capable of, apparently. “let me rest.”

finally, yoongi does—by dragging jeongguk through the house, cleaning him up (at least the piss, because yoongi likes seeing his come on jeongguk too much to get rid of it yet), and then gently coaxing jeongguk onto his lap when he takes a seat in one of the armchairs in the living room. despite jeongguk complaining about how much his hole hurts, yoongi convinces him that cockwarming him counts as resting; he lets yoongi tug him down onto his cock until their hips are flush, jeongguk straddling him.

the truth of how spent and tired he must be comes from how easily he leans forward, placing his head on yoongi’s shoulder and sagging into him. it’s already been a long night, but they still have a few hours to go. and yet—jeongguk needs comfort, and the only person he’s going to get it from is the one raping him.

yoongi runs his hands up and down jeongguk’s back, merely enjoying how it feels to have jeongguk surrounding him, yoongi’s cock deep inside and staying there. getting a new idea, he lifts his fingers to jeongguk’s mouth, slipping two of them inside. jeongguk lets him, lips wrapping around the digits as both comfort and warmth. yoongi has since grabbed the phone still recording all of this, offering anyone still watching a view of jeongguk like this. he spreads his legs, showing where his cock disappears inside jeongguk, talking to the camera about how good jeongguk is, how sweet, how perfect. he can’t help it—he just loves jeongguk so much. he has to let all of jeongguk’s loyal fans know how perfect he is taking cock, too.

they stay like that for minutes and minutes, until yoongi realizes that jeongguk has fallen asleep in his lap. at the realization, something possessive overcomes yoongi—knowing that even in sleep, jeongguk’s hole is still filled by him.

yoongi snaps his hips up into jeongguk once, experimentally. when he doesn’t wake up, yoongi does it again and then again, sliding his hips down on the sofa until he can get good leverage and start thrusting up into jeongguk properly. this is how jeongguk wakes up—bouncing on yoongi’s cock, with yoongi saying, “we’re not done yet, sweetheart.”

when he wakes up, for just a second, it’s like jeongguk forgets where he is and what’s happening. his eyes are hazy, confused and unfocused, and he lets out a mumble of, “daddy?” hearing jeongguk, out of it and half-asleep, say something like that nearly makes yoongi come on the spot again. and then jeongguk snaps back into reality, whining as his hands latch onto yoongi’s shoulders.

“hi, baby,” grunts yoongi, hands gripping jeongguk’s ass hard to pull him down on his cock, impaling him as he fucks up. “have a nice dream? was i raping you in it, too?”

f-fuck,” gasps jeongguk, and yoongi stops moving, realizing that jeongguk has begun to move his hips on his own. jeongguk is trying to fuck himself on yoongi’s cock, wanting more, lost in pleasure—and maybe it’s because he’s still half-asleep, but maybe he’s finally broken that much. maybe he’s finally admitting to liking it.

“fuck, yeah, baby,” groans yoongi, encouraging the movement of his hips. “fuck yourself on my cock.”

jeongguk does—miraculously, he does, whining as he swivels his hips in tiny movements.

“just like that,” sighs yoongi, slapping jeongguk’s ass. jeongguk keeps whining, but then there are tears on his cheeks, too, still grinding back onto yoongi’s cock. “look so good raping yourself on my cock, angel. i knew you wanted it. feels too good without daddy’s cock in your hole, yeah? you were made for me.”

“yeah,” jeongguk moans, sniffing.

“say it, sweetheart,” says yoongi lowly, wanting to know just how far jeongguk’s current desperation will go. “say you were made for my cock.”

“b-baby was—made for daddy’s cock,” repeats jeongguk, hips beginning to tire as he fucks himself.

“say you’re glad i came to save you and decided to make you my little toy instead.”

“i’m glad you saved me,” jeongguk tries to hold back a moan, watching yoongi with hazy eyes. “glad you wanted to use me instead.”

yoongi pushes himself into a sitting position, pushing jeongguk down onto his cock until he bottoms out, and whispers, “say you want me to rape you forever.”

jeongguk breathes hard, but he says it: “want you t-to keep raping me. want daddy to rape baby forever.”

groaning, yoongi pisses inside of him. he watches the way jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth opens in a strangled moan when he realizes that yoongi isn’t coming, but pissing instead. it fills jeongguk, stomach distending before yoongi lifts jeongguk off of his cock and all of it gushes out of him and this is what makes yoongi come, finally, splattering on jeongguk’s ass before he pulls jeongguk down on him again.

hand on jeongguk’s cock between them, yoongi growls. “now you’re mine,” he says. “mine to fuck, mine to rape. you’ll never want anyone else when i’m done with you.”

jeongguk gasps, head thrown back as he whines, “let me come, let me come, please, wanna come—”

and who is yoongi deny his gorgeous, perfect boy?

he takes it slow after that—fucks jeongguk gently, tenderly. every time jeongguk seems on the verge of sleep, yoongi wakes him back up with cock in his mouth or fingers in his ass. finally, jeongguk is so stretched and gaping that yoongi is able to fit most of his fingers into jeongguk’s hole along with his cock, using it to his advantage to milk more come out of jeongguk. when yoongi’s cock becomes too sore to continue, he fits various objects into jeongguk’s ass and uses them to fuck him, ranging from bottles to the handle of the baseball bat he brought with him, watching as jeongguk loses his composure when he fucks it as deep as he can, the bat bulging through his stomach.

finally, jeongguk has stopped crying altogether. the only sounds he makes are ones of pleasure, although yoongi can’t be sure he’s truly accepted he’s enjoying it or merely stopped bothering to protest long ago.

eventually, the sun begins to come up. yoongi knows, when he sees the sun beginning to rise, that he’s rapidly running out of time. he’s been fucking jeongguk in some capacity for nearly ten hours—a true feat for stamina and determination, but yoongi has wanted him for so long. he’s merely fucked out four years’ worth of sexual fantasies in one night.

finally, yoongi comes for the last time, spilling into jeongguk where he’s lying on the bed they originally started on. it’s only right to end where they began, and yoongi leans down to attach his lips to jeongguk’s neck as he pulls one last, albeit dry, orgasm from jeongguk. the boy shudders as he comes, eyes closed and completely spent as yoongi pulls out and surveys his handiwork for the last time.

jeongguk looks so beautiful covered in his spit, come, and lovebites. although most of the night will have been captured on livestream, yoongi still pulls out his own phone and takes a few pictures, ones that are only for him. satisfied, he gets to work cleaning jeongguk up. he runs warm cloths over every inch of jeongguk’s body, scooping as much come as he can out of jeongguk’s gaping asshole. he brings more water for jeongguk, unconvinced he’ll be able to make jeongguk eat anything when he’s already on the verge of passing out.

then, finally—yoongi lays down next to jeongguk and holds him. runs his hands through jeongguk’s hair, over his delicate face, rubbing gentle fingers over his skin. “you did so well,” he murmurs to jeongguk. “my good boy. you made me feel so good and behaved so well. i’m so proud of you.”

jeongguk makes a noise, still awake. yoongi drop a kiss to the top of his head as his phone alarm goes off—he has ten minutes left.

but he wants to stay forever—wants to hold jeongguk forever, the long-awaited aftermath of this night finally arrived. jeongguk will be recovering for weeks just from the physical aftermath of this, let alone the emotional and mental trauma of being raped for almost twelve hours between two people. but some part of yoongi truly believes that jeongguk won’t be so traumatized—that he’ll realize just how much he liked it. that he’ll realize he’s glad it happened at all.

yoongi stays like that for as long as he can, whispering praises to jeongguk and holding him. but finally, he knows he can’t stay any longer. people from jeongguk’s company might already be waiting outside if they’ve figured out where he is and as soon as the clock turns to seven in the morning, they’ll be able to stop him if he’s still here.

his heart aches. but he untangles himself from jeongguk, kissing his forehead. “jeongguk-ah,” he whispers, watching as jeongguk’s eyes peel open just slightly, hazy as they watch yoongi. “daddy has to go.”

jeongguk hums something.

“you had fun, didn’t you? you liked it, huh?”

jeongguk makes another noise.

“what do we say when someone does something nice for us, baby?”

it takes a second, but then jeongguk murmurs, “thank you.”

and that’s more than enough—jeon jeongguk thanking yoongi for raping him, for raping him for ten fucking hours. it’s the best night of yoongi’s life. but now it’s over, so he slips off of the bed, pulls on his clothes, and finally turns off the livestream. he grabs his own phone and his bat, pleasantly surprised with the turn of events on this purge night.

before he leaves, though, he has another idea. while the lovebites and bruises on jeongguk’s body will fade, he wants something more as a reminder of this night. the memories will remain, but that’s not enough. yoongi wants something physical.

he considers jeongguk’s perfect form. he might be unconscious by now, but yoongi takes his chances, climbing back onto the bed and holding jeongguk’s body down as he turns the boy’s face toward him. carefully, he presses one of the barbs on the wire wrapped around his bat into jeongguk’s left cheek, right over the cheek bone. pressing down, he snaps the bat sideways sharply, grinning when jeongguk doesn’t wake, even as blood blooms from the small nick yoongi made in his skin.

it’ll heal. but it’ll scar. and now they’ll both forever have a reminder of this night, one that jeongguk can’t hide with clothing or even make-up. every time jeongguk looks in the mirror, he’ll remember the feeling of yoongi’s cock deep inside of him. and every time yoongi sees a picture of jeongguk, he’ll remember jeongguk thanking him for raping him.

it’s the perfect end to a perfect night.

as yoongi leaves the house the way he came, sneaking into the back alley behind the house and heading toward his own apartment, there’s a smug little grin on yoongi’s face.

he can’t wait for next year’s purge.