Archive of Our Own ^beta

In all honesty, Yoongi’s feelings about this god-awful place are bittersweet. 

He’d long given up the church; nothing to do with politics or swayed beliefs, but more because of busy schedules and different priorities. Yoongi’s in his mid-twenties—work and friends and education had slowly taken over his life many years ago in its place.

There’s also something about this church that always made his skin itch, made his heart sink with a small sense of fear. The building is older than what feels like time itself, and even with all of the colored light that bleeds through stained glass windows, there has always been something dark about the building. He’d hated it ever since he was a child. 

Yet, as Yoongi sits on the organ’s familiar bench, fingers reaching out like vines, eager to caress and latch onto each key, he realizes that there’s also some kind of twisted sense of home that settles in his chest as well. He used to sit here at this very same organ when he was younger, once small hands struggling to reach all of the keys at once—now as an adult, his fingertips stretch across each one easily, like second nature. 

Muscle memory is a funny thing. 

The last service of the day has long since ended, Yoongi left alone in the dim light, letting the quietness of the evening fall on him. With very little natural sunlight left, the room is a bit darker than it had been this morning when he’d been playing for everyone who’d come to pray and listen to the sermons. Now, the soft notes that fill the air from under his hands feel a bit different, feel a lot more somber. 

But as a new organist for this very same church, he recognizes the nostalgia that swims in his heart too, the way a lighthouse guides a lost ship to shore. Music was hard to make a living off of as it turns out, much to his disappointment. It only feels natural that he’d return to the place that he once rejected, desperate to do what he loves in a familiar environment, even if he was doing it for free until he figured out his next step. 

His parents had been ecstatic, honored that their son had returned to the church. Yoongi, choosing not to let them know he had only considered it a temporary stop in the meantime as he searched for other jobs, didn’t object otherwise. 

But as he’s the only one left in this big, empty church that he both loves and hates, his fingers sweeping across each key with a level of memorization that only comes with genuine love for the craft and almost two entire decades of practice, Yoongi completely feels at ease. His eyes flutter shut on instinct, letting the beautiful music swell and recede, its sound full with life as it decorates the space around him before it bleeds away in the same way it came. 

Everyone’s gone home for the day—Yoongi the only one with any reason to stay. But, he figures this is as good a reason as any. He can say it’s for practice, even if he has to practice the religious songs he once loathed as a child a few times in the hour, just in case someone’s passing by. 

He feels at peace here, with the keys under his hands, the sound in his complete control, smooth and practiced and his. Yoongi doesn’t have space for a proper organ like this at home, his small studio apartment barely big enough for him and his regular music equipment, so he savors these moments the best he can—eager to listen to how loud and purposeful the large instrument is when he plays it. 

Yoongi’s mind naturally flows to the songs he’s working on at home, a few slow ballads in his computer ready to be finished at one point or another. Church songs can be just as slow and refined, classic enough to stand the shift in time, and Yoongi tries to pull notes from what he can remember off the top of his head. 

He recalls the song he had played last week, something he had been forced to sight-read and play because he hadn’t prepared enough, the memory of this song long forgotten over the years to him but never those in the pews. It had been a simple enough melody, one Yoongi can easily replicate now. 

He picks the first few notes, fingers hitting the keys by memory, his foot pressing on the pedal in tandem. He falls into the melody easily enough, blending notes and the music together, bits and pieces of his original music at home, parts and chunks of the church notes he’s been familiarizing himself with lately. It’s a lot more fun to do than he expected, and Yoongi lets himself enjoy it, hands flowing freely in any way they want.

It’s a darker kind of tune, more church music than his own, but definitely altered. It sounds beautiful from an organ compared to what he’d be able to play back home on his keyboard.

For a moment, Yoongi feels a small rumble. He glances over his shoulder, expecting to see someone behind him (a custodian or last-minute straggler), but no one stands there. His fingers don’t leave the keys, still pressing and moving across them in a dedicated rhythm, but then there’s a second rumble, something he can feel even in the bench he sits on. 

Earthquake?

The music abruptly stops when he finally feels the presence of something else in the room. It’s a small and subtle shift in the air, but it makes the hair at the back of his neck stand up on end regardless. Yoongi turns around and sees nothing, his lower back pressed up against the organ in anticipation, but empty pews and a shut door greet him instead. 

It’s possible that he had just imagined it, but it still feels strange, like a light static flow has been slowly creeping up his arms. There has to be something going on. 

“Ah, aren’t you a handsome one?”

Yoongi jolts, turning around. His heel catches a snag in the carpet and he tumbles backwards, landing messily onto the ground. His palms catch him before he hits his head, but as he looks up he can see a figure laying across the top of the organ’s pipes, a whole person resting on top despite the pipes not being built to sustain that kind of weight. 

A young man lays on his side, cheekbone in palm as he looks down at Yoongi. From where Yoongi sits this low, the trespasser looks even higher up. 

“What—?” Yoongi tries to let the words come out, to let them flow, but his tongue feels caught. 

Because this doesn’t look like any normal human. If Yoongi squints hard enough, he can almost see some kind of tail flickering behind him, a long and thin kind of thing that sways eerily like a cat’s would when agitated. But the smile this creature wears is almost delighted. 

“You summoned me, yes?”

Yoongi blinks. “Uh—I don’t—think so…?”

The creature blinks for a moment, and Yoongi can make out black irises and sharp teeth from where his grin doesn’t falter. 

“Ah, but you did!”

Suddenly, he disappears, and Yoongi’s forced to look around the room frantically, searching with his breath held deep in his chest. He figures he should scramble to his feet, but before he can, the creature flickers right in front of him, feet firmly planted on either side of Yoongi’s ankles as he crouches above him. 

Yoongi gasps as the sudden movement, and fear starts to settle in. He’d messed up somewhere along the line, it seems. Even now that he’s returned to the church, believing in God had been a bit of a challenge. It always felt like blind trust where Yoongi wasn’t the type to believe in these kinds of things—but here exists a creature not of this earth, and Yoongi really does feel like he’s made a grave error along the way. 

The creature has all sorts of good features and a sculpted jawline to match, fingernails long and black from where they rest on his thighs. He’s clothed in black slacks and a black button-up, almost as if he were one of the churchgoers who came to mass this morning, and that comes as a stark surprise. He looks very much human, aside from the tail, teeth, and dark eyes that don’t seem to leave Yoongi’s face. 

“You played my song! I came running as fast as I could.” 

Yoongi’s mind is admittedly panicking. He tries his best to process everything through the dangerous fog that’s clouded his thoughts, and all that comes to his memory is the organ and the blend of church songs and original work he had improvised on the go. 

It doesn’t seem possible, but the demon still grins at him happily, eagerly. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Yoongi admits, limbs still locked with fear. “I was just playing music—might’ve accidentally done it.”

“Ah, that’s a shame,” he says, voice a suave husk that sounds absolutely beautiful to listen to. “You’re quite the good looking one. I was excited.” 

Yoongi swallows nervously. “Yeah, so… it was just an accident, you know? So…”

“Accident or not, we’re bonded. At least for the next decade or so. Hell has decided upon it already.”

“I’m sorry, what—?”

“I’m Kim Taehyung,” the creature offers, still perched so easily over Yoongi’s body on the ground. “And your name?”

“Uh—”

“What’s the matter? Surprised to see a demon after playing its song?”

“It’s not that I knew it was ‘your’ song—I was just messing around with some music—”

“On a church organ.”

Yoongi licks his lips. “I mean, yes. But I didn’t know—”

“I need your name,” Taehyung interrupts yet again, hardly letting Yoongi get a word in about the mistake that this was. “It’s the next step in sealing the bond.”

Yoongi still can’t seem to process any of this. He pulls himself together just enough to pull his legs free and cross them on the ground, hands in his lap. The demon doesn’t move from his spot. 

“I’m not doing any kind of pact. Like I said, this was all a mistake. I didn’t mean to—summon you or whatever. It was an accident.”

“Ah,” Taehyung hums, long fingers reaching out and tilting Yoongi’s chin up with the tip of its nail. “But like I said, Hell has already decided upon our bond with the last notes of my song. I’ve been bound to you since Hell decided the bond must be finished.”

“And if I say no? If I disagree to this pact—?”

“Our souls burn,” Taehyung says as stoically as one could say such a thing. It sounds as if he’s reading from a textbook. “Both of ours. Mine is already trapped in Hell, but yours? A soul that disobeys Hell is as good as dead.”

Yoongi really has no concept of souls or faith or Hell, and all of this feels so overwhelming and sudden. Suddenly, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. No matter how much he tries to pursue music, no matter where or why, something awful comes from it. Something like heartbreak settles in his chest.

As he looks up at Taehyung, he feels a lot of remorse for his mistake—one that he didn’t even know he was making in the first place. 

“So let me say it again,” the demon says, head cocking to the side a bit. “I’m Kim Taehyung. I need your name, darling.”

With bated breath and a sinking feeling, he says, “Min Yoongi.”

“A pretty name,” Taehyung agrees, leaning forward and putting himself in Yoongi’s space. “Suits you.” 

Yoongi feels flustered all of a sudden, cheeks a tinted pink a little. It’s an easy compliment, but the situation must be getting to his head, because the demon’s grin deepens at the blush he sees. 

Taehyung is so close to him that their lips brush as the demon speaks, irises expanding, the electricity that was lingering on Yoongi’s skin growing heavy and tangible. It feels like something locks in his chest, and it’s then that the demon murmurs a pleased, “Nice to meet you, Min Yoongi.” 

-(🔒)-

Yoongi had been forced to bring Taehyung home. It was a strange affair—Yoongi wasn’t quite sure what the fuck he was doing. But Taehyung had promised that with their new bond, Taehyung wouldn’t be able to get far without him. 

They’d have to be together for a while, whether Yoongi liked it or not.

At first, Yoongi tries to sleep it off. 

His body feels like lead as he tosses his keys on the counter, kicks off his shoes, and treads silently to the bedroom. He can feel Taehyung follow, but for now, Yoongi hopes it all goes away with some time. Perhaps he’ll sleep it off and wake up to find that it was just some strange dream his brain had decided to torture him with. Although, the moment he hits the bed, Taehyung’s voice hits his ears easily enough. 

“Sleep?” The demon asks. “Already? It’s merely seven in the evening.”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose as he pulls the covers up to his chin. 

It’ll go away in the morning.

Except morning comes, and when Yoongi’s eyes flutter open and dawn bleeds orange and yellow into his room through the slats in his blinds, he still feels the pit in his chest, the weight of something iron and heavy. It has a pull to it, and even though he tries his best to ignore it, it still lingers for a while. 

It means he’s still stuck in this same situation. 

“Good morning.”

Yoongi sighs, blinking up at Taehyung who leans over his dazed frame. For a moment, the sunlight shines behind Taehyung, golden rays that highlight his skin in all sorts of beautiful ways, but Yoongi does his best to blink them away, moving so the light doesn’t seem so bright behind Taehyung anymore. 

“Good morning,” Yoongi responds solemnly. “You’re still here.”

Taehyung takes this with grace, laughing happily in amusement. “Of course. We’re bound together after all.”

The demon plops onto the bed, grinning at Yoongi as if this is where he properly belongs, sprawled out in Yoongi’s sheets, long hair pooling on the pillows. It’s quite a sight to see—Yoongi’s been on his own for years, and while this apartment is new to him, having freshly moved in just a few months ago, Taehyung looks more at home in its space than he does.

“Bound,” Yoongi echoes quietly, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Tell me a bit how this works.”

Taehyung hums, rolling around onto his stomach while propping his chin in his palm. He looks at Yoongi thoughtfully, irises just as dark as ever. Surprisingly, his tail curls around Yoongi’s calf gently. It’s not forceful, but a simple way to connect, and somehow that weight in Yoongi’s chest lightens ever so slightly.

“We’re connected through the bond,” the demon says simply, voice a low murmur. “Once you play the notes to my song, the connection of our souls begin. If Hell wishes to fulfill the pact and take the soul calling out, then we complete it by exchanging our names. Since you gave me yours, Min Yoongi, you completed the bond. Hell has my soul, and now it has a part of yours. Now, we are bound together! I’m sure you can feel it here.”

A long finger presses right in the center of Yoongi’s chest, pinpointing where that weight rests so easily, noticeable, but also as if it found its proper home too. Yoongi instinctually reaches up and presses onto the same spot where the demon’s touch had just been, feeling the dull ache there. 

“You feel this, too?” He dares, still not ready to meet the demon in the eye. “Or is it just me?”

“I do,” Taehyung says, reaching out and grabbing Yoongi’s fingers before pressing them to his own chest. “Your soul is mostly intact, though, aside from the piece Hell took. You might feel it stronger. Hell owns my soul after all, so it’s there but fainter.”

Unfair.

Then comes laughter, the demon’s tail flickering up in amusement. “You think so?” 

Yoongi pauses for a moment. “You know what I’m thinking, too?”

“Not exactly. I get vague feelings about it. But I clearly assumed right, didn’t I?” Taehyung looks like he’s the cat that caught the canary, chuckling at Yoongi’s distraught expression. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t abuse it.”

“I have a feeling that you’re a liar.” 

Taehyung laughs some more, and Yoongi can hear it even when he pulls his fingers away from the demon’s chest and retreats back under the covers for the morning. He hopes the day stays away from him for just a little while longer. 

-(🔒)-

Yoongi and Taehyung are… able to make it work for the time being. 

A decade, the demon had said. They’re bound for an entire ten years it seems, but Yoongi chooses to tackle that later—for now, he focuses on making it through every single day one at a time.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to want to do anything but follow Yoongi around for the most part. And for a while, Yoongi thinks it must be because of the bond. One afternoon, he made Taehyung promise to stay home while he went to the grocery store, and the demon obliged until the pain in Yoongi’s chest grew so deep that he had to turn around and head home. Taehyung had already been waiting at the door for him, feet shoving into Yoongi’s old sneakers. 

So, Yoongi figures it must be because of the pain that settles in for the both of them, even if it’s lesser for Taehyung. 

“What’s this?” Taehyung asks one day, leaning over Yoongi’s laptop from where it sits perched on his desk. There are a bunch of moving lines and flashes, but Taehyung doesn’t look away for a moment. “So much has changed since I’ve last been with humans.”

“Do you know what a computer is?”

The demon shakes his head, tail sweeping back and forth slowly as his eyes flutter across the device. “I’ve heard of the word before, but not entirely sure of what it is.”

“It’s—well—” Suddenly, Yoongi struggles to figure out how to explain what the hell a computer is. How does one even explain that? “It’s a machine that… you can type letters on it? And look up information.”

Taehyung looks enthralled, watching carefully as Yoongi slowly explains everything he can. A When the topic of the internet pops up, all Yoongi can explain is that while he doesn’t really understand how it works, despite Taehyung’s endless curiosity, he just knows that it does and what it can do. 

The demon looks on in astonishment, reading the keyboard carefully. “Why are all the characters mixed up?”

Explaining these mundane things to Taehyung seemed like it would be a bit annoying in the beginning, but watching the demon’s curiosity pour out as his eyes seem to sparkle, Yoongi feels a bit fond of the whole situation. 

They spend the rest of the day teaching Taehyung to use search engines and type coherent sentences. The demon looks the happiest he’s been since he’s arrived. 

-(🔒)-

It’s a stupid thing to say. He can’t really explain it to anyone either. 

As Namjoon sits on Yoongi’s couch, gaze locked on the TV, completely unaware of Taehyung eyeing him up as he directly stands in front of the screen, Yoongi truly feels sick. 

It’s become readily apparent that Taehyung can’t be seen by Namjoon. 

“Hey,” Namjoon murmurs, eyes squinting at the flat screen on the wall. Yoongi’s shoulders straighten up for a moment, hopeful. “Do you think Jeongguk will want to do documentaries when he’s a famous director? Do you think he’ll bring me along to, I don’t know, the Amazon rainforest to film the animals?”

Yoongi visibly deflates, and Taehyung looks at him with a smirk that sits uncomfortably warm in Yoongi’s chest.

“Maybe,” Yoongi belatedly returns, slumping into his seat cushions. 

The demon looks at him with his tail perched high enough that it almost peers over his shoulders. He looks amused.

“He can’t see or hear me unless I want him to,” Taehyung informs, mirth lacing his words. “Want me to show him?”

Yoongi frantically shakes his head no, watching as the demon moves to sit on Yoongi’s armrest, his thigh brushing Yoongi’s hand away. Taehyung looks at Namjoon with interest, but his tail drapes over Yoongi’s shoulders, light enough to be comfortable, weighty enough to mean something.

Soon. Another time.

Taehyung nods at the promise, and Yoongi still feels startled about how easy he took it. Taehyung gets a bit playful and whiny about things like this, but he perches himself right next to Yoongi, as if that was a natural place to be with his toes brushing against the carpet. 

Yoongi doesn’t know why this feels so right, like this partnership between them is so quickly comfortable, but he doesn’t complain. It’s hard to feel worried about it when he’s bonded to someone like Taehyung anyway.

-(🔒)-

When Yoongi sits at the church organ again, ready to play for the early morning services, he feels something twist in his gut. 

Is it because there’s a contract he has involving Hell itself and it feels wrong to play such sacred music? Or is it because he remembers the last time he played it all those weeks ago, Taehyung had appeared so suddenly and that heartbroken feeling had immediately settled in? Yoongi already feels so unattached to his music—is this yet another facet of it that he’s messed up?

Yoongi’s fingers twitch while they settle on the keys, and a bit of nausea swells inside of him. It almost feels wrong now. 

“It’s fine,” Taehyung promises, sitting right beside him on the bench, making a space for himself. “No need to be so nervous.”

Yoongi glances at him, and he sighs at the fact that this is the second time in a row he’s sitting in a situation where he can’t verbally respond, especially in front of all the people who fill the pews. But Taehyung looks at him with concern in his eyes and an encouraging hand on his shoulder, and that’s so strange. It’s an odd thing to be comforted in this place by a demon of all things.

“Play for me instead,” Taehyung says, tail wrapping around Yoongi’s waist and settling in his lap. “Just for me.”

Yoongi nods, waiting for his cue. Once the singing starts, he presses the keys, letting muscle memory take over. It’s not perfect—anyone with a trained ear could probably pick up on it. But that’s okay. He’s moving through the song and that’s all that matters to him. 

Taehyung looks at him, specks of gold flickering in his eyes, and Yoongi feels the warmth flush his cheeks, feels the smile starting to pull at the corners of his mouth. And for now, this is enough. 

-(🔒)-

As Yoongi rolls around in bed, he can hear Taehyung move beside him as well. The demon has taken a liking to sharing the bed, and while Yoongi has been comfortably sleeping by himself for the last five or six years, the body next to him is somehow a welcomed one. Apparently, Taehyung doesn’t require sleep, but he still naps when he can or when there’s absolutely nothing to do. 

More often than not, that’s when Yoongi sleeps too. 

“Restless night?” Taehyung asks, hair tousled around and he peeks at Yoongi’s puffy face with a smile. “You look tired.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi hums, blinking away the sleep. He rubs at his cheeks softly, trying to fully wake up, but the demon is already wide awake and interested, head propped up on his palm like always. “Just—trying to sort through this whole bond thing, I guess.”

“Want me to explain some of it? You can ask me anything.”

Yoongi grumbles a bit, but figures the necessary conversation is overdue. “Yeah. Let’s do it over coffee first.”

The two of them gather at Yoongi’s kitchen table with a mug of coffee each, Yoongi’s black, Taehyung’s with milk. They sit in the same chairs they always do, Yoongi in the one closest to the kitchen, Taehyung in the one closest to the window so he watch the people outside. 

They already have a routine it seems. 

“So…” Yoongi starts, blinking slowly as he sips from his coffee. “What’s the point of a bond?”

“The point?”

“Yeah, why would Hell care to make a bond happen?”

Taehyung nods, sipping from his own cup thoughtfully, steam filling the air in front of him. He looks good like this, back to the large window, Seoul’s morning light cascading around him in pretty hues. He almost looks perfectly human, aside from the tail, black eyes, sharp teeth, and long, dark nails.

“You played my song. We all have songs that are connected to our souls. We don’t make them—you just… kinda know when a song is your song. When a mortal plays it, it’s opening up the first half of a bond.” Taehyung sets the mug back on the table, tracing the rim with his finger. “Demons usually jump at the chance to fulfill it. It gets us out of Hell after all.”

Yoongi chews on the inside of his cheek, nodding as he listens. “But what’s in it for Hell? Why does it allow it? What’s the benefit?”

“Punishment,” Taehyung muses, a small but sad smile on his face. “It reminds us why our souls have been taken from us. Being human will always remind us of a better life—of something we don’t have.”

“That’s… Shit, I’m so sorry—”

Taehyung laughs, but it isn’t rueful. “It also allows the demons to tempt the human souls into sinning. Works out for Hell quite nicely, huh?”

“I suppose.”

“But we don’t mind. After all, what else is there to do in Hell?”

Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s supposed to have the answer to that—it’s not like he knows or understands what a place like that truly is. But Taehyung doesn’t look glum or remorseful. In fact, he genuinely does just look happy to be here. 

“So I’m supposed to sin?” Yoongi wonders aloud. “Because you’re supposed to tempt me into it? Which sin?”

“Any,” the demon chirps, happy. But his eyes seem to darken a little as his tail swishes slowly. “I have a favorite of course. But that’s something to tackle another time, darling.”

“And why are the bonds so long?” Yoongi asks next, quickly shelving that previous comment for later as he taps the table softly. “Any reason?”

“This will sound stupid but… less work. Hell would have a lot of tracking to do if demons were in and out all the time. If we stay away longer, it’s less likely we return and go so often.”

Yoongi feels like he still has so many questions, but he supposes that should be fine for now. “Is there anything you want from me?”

It’s Taehyung’s turn to look confused. “Anything I want?”

“I mean… you’re living with me aren’t you? I brought you here because of me playing your song. Is there… any foods you miss, or are there places you want to go or…?“

It’s quiet for a moment, and Yoongi wonders if he had said the wrong thing, had accidentally been offensive in a way he doesn’t understand yet. He opens his mouth, an apology ready to drip into the air between them, but Taehyung tilts his head to the side sweetly, chin propped on top of his folded hands, and he smiles. Gold flickers in his eyes, noticeable and beautiful, and it’s then that he finally says what’s on his mind. 

“We don’t usually get those kinds of questions, from what I’ve heard.”

“You’ve never been bonded before?”

“Nope. It’s my first time.”

“Well, it’s an honor, I suppose. I promise to do my best.”

Taehyung grins and grins and grins. “I will, too.”

-(🔒)-

“What does ‘hyung’ mean?” Taehyung questions quietly, Namjoon and Jeongguk talking quietly on the other side of the table about what food they’d like to order. 

“Ah. It’s an honorific.” By the time Yoongi finishes explaining what those are and why Namjoon and Jeongguk both refer to him as “hyung”, the waitress has come around and taken their orders. 

With the menus collected and taken away, the table feels more cleared and roomy, and Jeongguk takes the time to lean closer, eyes excited with that familiar glisten. 

“Taehyung-ssi, where did you meet hyung?”

“Church.” Taehyung looks pretty smug about it. And if it weren’t for his tail tucked away in his (Yoongi’s) jeans, Yoongi is sure it’d be swaying back and forth. “Of all places, huh?“

“Especially for hyung,” Namjoon agrees, sipping from the straw in his glass of water. “He’s always hated church.”

“I hate it a little less now,” Yoongi defends, and his friends seem to giggle at the thought of this. Taehyung, on the other hand, seems absolutely delighted. “Anyway.”

“How long has it been?” Jeongguk asks eagerly. “I’ve never seen hyung date before—I have to know everything!”

“How long?” Taehyung echoes, long nails gripping his own straw. Namjoon looks impressed for a moment. “Since what?”

“Since you two started dating officially,” Namjoon fills in easily. 

By the time Jeongguk has started nodding his head in agreement, Yoongi already starts to sputter out his drink, nearly choking on it entirely. Taehyung looks absolutely smug beyond belief, and as he rests an arm around Yoongi’s shoulder in the booth, the two on the other side of the table smiling like fools themselves, Yoongi has barely had the time to catch his breath. 

“A few months,” Taehyung says proudly. “He asked me on a date the first time we met in the cutest way. We went to dinner and had a good time, and well, I’m still here.”

Namjoon grins so deeply that his dimples can be seen from miles away, and Jeongguk looks like he’s genuinely a few moments away from audibly squealing in his seat from excitement.

The thing is that the words aren’t true. And Yoongi knows that well enough. But he can also feel the heavy sadness in his chest, palpable and noticeable enough that he knows it isn’t from himself. It’s from Taehyung. 

Why is he sad?

Because if only it were true.

The answer comes back to him in a way that lets him know it isn't from his own thoughts, the words formed through the bond he’s growing used to nowadays. 

Yoongi looks at his friends with an awkward grin. He says it purposefully, but still a bit bashful about the situation.

“So you two can stop hounding me about getting a boyfriend, yeah?”

“Okay, okay,” Namjoon laughs, hands in the air. “I’m happy about this, Taehyung-ssi!”

Taehyung looks a little dazed himself, blue eyes focused on the table for a bit too long (Yoongi had forced the colored contacts on him at the last minute to avoid the questions about why his irises were pitch black. When he looks back up at Namjoon, he dons a small smile, but Yoongi can tell it’s because he’s hiding back the happiness that settles in Yoongi’s chest as well.

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“Hyung hasn’t looked this comfortable in a while .”

Yoongi wants to retort, despite the furious blush and embarrassment that settles on his cheeks, but Taehyung grins so widely, fingers gripping Yoongi’s shoulder a bit more tightly.

“Yeah? Good to know.”

-(🔒)-

Letting Taehyung into Yoongi’s life is almost too easy. Taehyung makes it easy. 

He makes Yoongi laugh in the early mornings, mugs in hand as the two of them hover around in the kitchen, Yoongi making breakfast while Taehyung watches and learns. He makes Yoongi sit down and discuss important topics—asks about politics and societal norms and everything else under the sun, and it makes Yoongi think a lot. Makes him consider himself and his place in the world a little more with each conversation. 

It also turns out that having someone who can feel your emotions and almost read your mind means that Yoongi is forced to be vulnerable and open, even when he doesn’t want to be. This is a challenge—Yoongi’s more of a private and reserved kind of person, saving those emotions for music and lyrics. But Taehyung brings it out of him so smoothly, so effortlessly. 

For a demon, Taehyung surprisingly has a lot of love and care in him. 

When Yoongi logs off his computer, knees aching and hands sore from work, Taehyung always senses the stress, even when Yoongi doesn’t say a word about it. The demon will make tea and sit with him on the sofa, will tidy up the apartment the next day so Yoongi comes out to a clean house and has less work to do, and even tries his best at cooking something for the both of them, or at the very least have dinner ordered by the time Yoongi finishes his shift and emerges from the room.

It had been a strange thing to be a part of. But the more Yoongi came home upset, the more Taehyung’s dark eyes followed him around with concern. 

Finally, one night it all comes to a head. 

“What’s going on?” Taehyung questions in the quiet of Yoongi’s room, the both of them laying in bed with soft piano music filling the air from the speakers. “You’ve been really stressed out.” 

Yoongi hums, arm thrown over his eyes as he thinks about the question. “S’okay, Taehyung-ah. I’m okay.”

“Bullshit.”

“Aish, such a dirty mouth.” 

Taehyung laughs earnestly, tail reaching around to wrap around Yoongi’s thigh again. He’s not sure why the demon always picks this part of him to wrap around, but it feels good to be tethered to Taehyung in such a way, the touch a constant part of Yoongi’s life. It’s comforting. 

Taehyung also moves so much closer, cheek in his palm as he supports himself up with his elbow, looking over Yoongi’s tired frame as he peeks up at the demon. 

“I’m being serious! Let’s talk about it.”

Yoongi sighs a little, chewing on the inside of his cheek. There’s a lot to unpack—there’s no way he even has the emotional capacity to dive into everything. But, the demon doesn’t seem to want to give up, and Yoongi can feel his worry through the bond as well. 

“I write music,” Yoongi begins, still hiding underneath his arm. “It’s what I went to school for and what I’ve learned through experience and work. But, I recently lost my job because the company I had contracted with went under, and I haven’t been able to find a new one anywhere. So I’m forced to work at some accounting desk job to make ends meet until I find someone who will hire me, but I hate working there. I want to make music, not work with numbers and money. The only good thing is they let me work from home.”

Yoongi glances up at him, and Taehyung’s eyebrow is raised as he looks over Yoongi thoughtfully. He seems to consider the words properly, carefully, and that alone makes Yoongi smile. Taehyung is always so considerate and always makes sure to do his best in these kinds of things. 

“Will you show me your music?”

“Can we do it tomorrow? M’tired.”

“You promise?”

Yoongi smiles. “Of course.”

“I wish there was more I could help with,” Taehyung says quietly, face shadowed in the moonlight that comes through the blinds. He genuinely looks concerned, but his eyes flicker to Yoongi’s and there’s something there—something dark. “Let me help you in any way I can.”

“You do a lot,” Yoongi promises, reaching up and brushing the hair out of Taehyung’s face. “You help around the house and you’re always here for me. Thank you. I do appreciate you, you know?”

Taehyung smiles, earnest and boxy and so, so wide, and it makes Yoongi’s heart feel so much lighter. He can feel the warmth that comes from Taehyung’s part of the bond as well, and it makes him do something rash. He leans up and presses a small kiss on Taehyung’s cheekbone, soft and tentative. 

The demon gasps a little, surprised, but Yoongi is already pulling away, smiling as he pats Taehyung’s shoulder. “Let’s sleep. Thank you for hearing me out.”

The demon’s eyes are wide, but he doesn’t let Yoongi turn over. Instead, Taehyung leans down and presses their lips together in a surge of courage, and Yoongi gasps into that as well. It’s surprising and just as soft, giving room to pull away, but Yoongi doesn’t. 

He reaches up and cups Taehyung’s face, keeping him close and near, deepening the kiss when it feels right. Taehyung opens up so easily, moving with the movement so smoothly, and it makes Yoongi happy—so fucking happy to have this with someone. Even if it’s temporary, or even if Taehyung doesn’t want this in the morning, a little drunk off whispered tones and pale moonlight.

But through the bond, it’s apparent that Taehyung feels the same way. 

-(🔒)-

In the morning, Yoongi still fears that Taehyung will have regretted their kiss—the demon forced into an awkward remaining 10 years of their bond. But when Yoongi wakes and heads into the kitchen, Taehyung looks anything but. 

The demon moves forward and kisses Yoongi over the kitchen counter that separates them, and Yoongi startles a bit from it, but he finds himself smiling despite the shock. 

“Good morning,” Taehyung greets, grin sharp and eager, Yoongi finds himself chuckling. 

“Morning, Taehyung-ah.”

And like this is how Yoongi realized that he wants to wake up this way for the foreseeable future. 

-(🔒)-

It takes a few more weeks for Yoongi to find the time to show the demon his music, despite Taehyung’s endless pleas. But when Yoongi nervously taps his fingers across the desk, headphones covering Taehyung’s ears, he worries that the demon will hate it. 

Yoongi knows his music is good—he’s worked on crafting these sorts of things for years, knows what he wants and knows how good his songs can be. He had been sought after for a while—he had just picked the wrong company it seems, and it’s hard to make a name when said company goes under and he has to start from scratch. 

So, while he normally wouldn’t be nervous for such a thing, for showing his music to someone else, there’s still a pit in his stomach. And he knows it’s because it’s Taehyung. If Taehyung doesn’t like it, he wonders if some part of him will break even further. 

Someone shouldn’t have such power over that part of him, he knows. 

But Taehyung is powerful enough for Yoongi to just accept it.

“This is absolutely amazing,” Taehyung murmurs, eyes wide and dark. They almost glisten in the shitty lighting in Yoongi’s makeshift studio in the guest bedroom of the apartment. “I mean—not that I listen to a lot of music nowadays, but—oh! This part was cool! Replay it!”

Yoongi has no idea what part of the song he’s referring to, but he checks his computer and rewinds part of the song, the last 15 seconds at least. It seems to appease Taehyung, because he starts happily humming along. 

They spend a lot of the afternoon like this, Yoongi pouring his heart out through his music and songs, Taehyung listening and humming along the entire time. At some point, he moves to sit on top of Yoongi’s desk, long legs still managing to touch the floor, bare toes digging into the carpet while he listens joyfully. 

It’s almost a silent experience for Yoongi, the headphones fully in Taehyung’s possession, but for whatever reason, Yoongi doesn’t mind at all. He watches contentedly, fingers tapping along to what parts of the song he can pick up that bleeds from the headphones. It may be quiet, but he’s absolutely enjoying himself. He gets to watch Taehyung’s expression change with each song, honest and pure, and the demon’s tail seems to flick with each beat as well. 

It makes Yoongi all kinds of happy. 

Taehyung listens and Yoongi watches. 

It isn’t until a few hours later that Yoongi’s run out of things to show off, but Taehyung seems disappointed despite being gifted an entire discography.

“Hey,” the demon says as they step into their shoes at the front door, preparing to go out for dinner. He’s busy stuffing his tail into his jeans, but he still manages to glance at Yoongi thoughtfully. “I can see how much you love this. Music.”

Yoongi hums. “Yeah.”

“It reminds me of being human. I was—I was a painter. I used to paint all kinds of things. I remember what that passion is like. Don’t give up on it, okay?”

Yoongi feels absolutely stripped bare from the words, his frame frozen in the doorway as he waits for Taehyung to finish putting on the shows he always borrows from Yoongi.

“Okay,” he tries, breath heavy. “I’ll try.”

“I mean it,” Taehyung says, licking his lips thoughtfully. A glint of sharp canines peek through. “It’s good for the soul. I miss that feeling a lot. Thank you for sharing such an emotion with me—it feels good to remember something like that. Hell kind of strips that away from you, you know.”

And suddenly, it dawns on Yoongi that he’d almost entirely forgotten that Taehyung was a demon. It was evident in the eyes and tail and such, and Yoongi knows where Taehyung came from after all, but after all this time together, it hardly felt like anything different from a regular roommate or partner. Yoongi’s been treating Taehyung like any other human he’s come to adore, but Taehyung isn’t any human. 

He’s someone from Hell, a demon whose soul is damned and whose presence is only here because of a simple mistake. And while Yoongi is absolutely grateful he had accidentally bonded with Taehyung, he suddenly feels like crying. 

-(🔒)-

“What’s this?” Taehyung questions, hands covering his eyes as Yoongi guides him through the apartment. Yoongi had tried to cover them himself, but he’d been just a bit too short to comfortably do it, so Taehyung had to swear up and down he wouldn’t peek. “I can feel the nervousness in you, you know.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

The demon scoffs, clearly amused, but he doesn’t say much else. 

Yoongi pushes open the door to the spare bedroom, his desk completely moved to the side and the extra bed tossed away. 

Since his bond with Taehyung is still new and fresh, they still can’t spend much time apart from each other. (Taehyung had promised that in a few more months, they’d feel the pull on each other lessen just a bit, but for now, for this, Yoongi made Taehyung hide away in the bedroom. He couldn’t come out whatsoever while Yoongi worked around the apartment.)

“Uh,” Yoongi stammers momentarily, wondering if he should regret this decision. But he’s already put in the work—there’s no turning back now. “Okay, open. Please don’t— actually, just let me know if it’s stupid.”

Taehyung opens his eyes, and for a moment, he freezes.

In front of him sits a brand new setup, the room almost split down the middle with Yoongi’s desk and sound equipment on one side, Taehyung’s side opposite of this. Easels and new drawers filled with paint line that wall, the easel facing the window so the demon could paint and look outside, much like he always likes to do. Natural sunlight fills this room well, and Yoongi hopes it’s enough light, but he’s already saved a few bright lamps on his phone’s browser in the event Taehyung needs more of it. 

Taehyung doesn’t speak. 

Yoongi’s heart is absolutely thudding wildly in his chest, but he knows he’s already committed.

“So, I figured this room would be better used as a workspace for… the both of us. The extra bed was unnecessary—we sleep together anyway, if you sleep at all. And—well—”

Taehyung’s tail swoops low on the floor, slow and methodical, like the demon is deep in thought. 

“You did all this?”

“After we talked about my music, you mentioned you were really passionate about painting, so… I figured we could work on our stuff together, or even separately of course. But, you know I only have so much place in this apartment—”

The ceiling comes into view all of a sudden, Taehyung’s weight on Yoongi’s chest. He doesn’t realize what’s happening until he hits the floor, his back colliding with the carpet with a loud thud. 

Taehyung sits on top of him, eyes brimming with tears, and Yoongi feels nausea settle in. He’s made a mistake—

But then he feels something else in his chest. 

Gratitude. And it comes from Taehyung. 

“This is—” Taehyung takes a deep breath “—the nicest thing anyone has ever done. I’ve done nothing but intrude on your home when you didn’t even want me, and our bond doesn’t even let us separate for long, and I’ve felt like such a shitty person for altering your life so much, and you just—you give me this—”

“Whoa. Hey,” Yoongi soothes, reaching up and resting his palms on Taehyung’s thighs. There’s a slight tremor there, and it’s clear the demon is holding in a lot of emotion. “Taehyung-ah, look at me.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung looks down at him with tears streaming down his face, tan skin flushed pink from the whole ordeal. His eyes are absolutely golden, hardly any black left in them, and it’s such a sudden change from the usual color that it almost makes Yoongi gasp. 

But he has more important matters at hand.

“You’re absolutely not a burden nor are you a shitty person. Come here.”

Taehyung doesn’t budge, but his long fingers reach up and wipe at his cheeks. With the way he keeps his back straight, Yoongi isn’t able to do that himself since he can’t reach. 

“I’m so happy that we’re bonded,” Yoongi admits despite the embarrassment that sits warm on his cheeks. “I’ve been a little lost and even more lonely, and you’ve made me forget all of that. I enjoy waking up to you, and I enjoy your company. I’m sure you can feel that here, can’t you?”

Yoongi reaches up and pulls Taehyung’s hand to rest on his chest, and the warmth that radiates from it reminds him that while Taehyung is a demon, he’s still alive and here . 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a laugh. “But, I can’t help it.”

Yoongi smiles, relieved in a way. “I know. But I hope this means that you’re happy with the surprise.”

Taehyung swats at Yoongi’s chest, eyebrows pinches despite the grin that sits on his face. “Of course I am. You know that.”

“Want to try out some of the stuff? See if the paints and brushes work out for you? We could always order more.”

“Mm.” Taehyung glances at his side of the room in awe, golden irises shifting over everything, over each shelf of materials, each container of supplies, and pulls his gaze back to Yoongi. “Soon. I think I really want to show you how grateful I am.”

Yoongi scoffs, but Taehyung is already bending down and pressing their lips together again. It’s eager and warm, and Yoongi absolutely melts underneath the touch. He feels how happy the demon is through their bond, and it makes Yoongi wonder why Hell would give him the luxury of such a thing. Why would Hell be okay with the joy and happiness Taehyung brings him?

They spend the rest of the afternoon in that room, Yoongi’s hands wandering over soft, bare skin, and Taehyung’s mouth on places other than Yoongi’s lips. 

-(🔒)-

2 months later.

“What a familiar tune,” Taehyung singsongs, fingers trailing over Yoongi’s nape. Yoongi smiles with a huff of laughter as the demon’s tail follows too, the weight noticeable from where it sits over Yoongi’s shoulders, holding him close. “Trying to call me over, darling?”

“Hard to call you anywhere when you’re never far away.”

“It’s called loyalty.”

“I’m sure it is.”

Taehyung’s eyes almost glisten at this, listening to the tones of Yoongi’s laughter as well as the notes of his song played over and over from the church organ. It feels a bit ironic—this song had felt like such a mistake all those months ago, but now Taehyung looks at the organ bellowing out the familiar notes with a level of fondness that Yoongi recognizes in their early mornings, Yoongi’s hair tousled around from sleep, Taehyung’s hands soft on his cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung muses, the point of his tail flicking Yoongi’s chin quickly. “I think you’re happy to have me here. You told me so, once.”

Yoongi smiles at him thoughtfully. “You’re right. I am happy to be bonded with you.”

Taehyung startles at this, and it’s easy to tell when he looks at Yoongi, as if he’s genuinely shocked to hear the words come from him at all. The demon stands frozen, and Yoongi soaks in the moment, fingers still hitting the keys he needs. The music still plays around them, a slow and sweeping melody that fits Taehyung’s overall demeanor so well—deep and timed beats that rise into melodious crescendos before it falls low again, and that’s exactly what Yoongi feels Taehyung is. 

“Yeah?” Taehyung tries, licking his lips. 

“Mhmm.”

“Come here, Yoongi.”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, letting his hands fall from the keys. He pulls away but follows easily, standing from the bench and stepping towards Taehyung who leans against the organ’s pipes. When Yoongi steps close, Taehyung reaches out and pulls him in, pressing a powerful kiss right against Yoongi’s lips. It’s desperate and deep, wet and so, so warm, and it absolutely steals Yoongi’s breath away. 

It’s different from the gentleness that Taehyung exudes in the quiet of Yoongi’s apartment, slinking into the darkness, highlighted by silver moonlight and starlit windows. Here, he feels so warm, so powerful, and it’s for the first time in a while that Yoongi feels absolutely putty in someone else’s hands. 

“Oh, fuck—” Yoongi gasps when he feels Taehyung’s nails dig into his cheeks, long fingers gripping his chin eagerly. When Yoongi’s eyes flutter open, he’s greeted with golden irises and a pleased grin with two incisors much sharper than they were before.

“I haven’t felt this happy in such a long time,” Taehyung confesses, tail slinking around Yoongi’s thigh, tugging him closer. “Let me show you a bit, okay?”

Yoongi’s mouth suddenly runs dry. “Here?” 

Taehyung looks at him innocently. “Why not?”

“It’s church.”

“We’re both already bound together by Hell,” Taehyung murmurs, tugging at the collar of Yoongi’s shirt, the top button popping open. “I’m sure God won’t care if we defile a surface. Plus, it’s a celebratory moment! We have to celebrate your new job at the new entertainment company!”

“Oh my god—”

“See?” Taehyung barks out a laugh before he ducks down and nips at Yoongi’s collarbone. “You’re using His name so improperly, yet you want to lecture me?”

Yoongi really does want to protest but the demon seems resolute in this, hands trailing down the front of Yoongi’s shirt, nails digging in where they can despite the cloth in between them. When Yoongi pulls back, the fingers that are still on his cheeks loosen up their grip, but they don’t leave completely. 

“You’re a cheeky one,” Yoongi muses with a huff, but it’s evident that he’s not going to object. He reaches up and timidly rests one hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, the other on the demon’s lower back. Taehyung looks thrilled.

“That’s what you like about me,” Taehyung says knowingly, leaning in and nipping at Yoongi’s cheek, a small brush of his teeth, but the sting reminds Yoongi of the sharp incisors that sit there too. “I promise you’re about to like me a whole lot more after this.”

That’s hard to believe . Yoongi feels like he’s absolutely smitten with the demon as it is, and it looks like Taehyung’s eyes flash gold a little more, picking up on what Yoongi’s feeling through the bond. They flash gold when he’s absolutely happy, and that always comes as a welcomed surprise. The moment weighs heavily on his chest and— well, Yoongi will probably drown in embarrassment about them later, but Taehyung looks absolutely happy with him anyway. 

The demon doesn’t say much else. Instead, he leans in and presses their lips together in something so much softer and sweeter than Yoongi had expected. It’s a deep, smooth kiss, something that makes Yoongi’s heart ache, makes his body sink into it so easily, and Taehyung lets go of his face to grab at his waist instead. They’re completely pressed up against each other by the end of it, Yoongi’s hands itching to reach up and wrap his fingers in Taehyung’s hair. 

But Taehyung doesn’t let him, just pushes him backwards until he’s pressed against the organ’s base, the solid part of the instrument keeping Yoongi up when his knees almost want to buckle. 

Taehyung nips at his lips, already a bit swollen and shiny, and pulls away with a grin. “Ready?”

“To defile the church? Sure.”

“That’s not a ‘no’ though, is it?”

Yoongi huffs. “I suppose it isn’t.”

Taehyung drops to his knees and this isn’t a sight Yoongi was expecting to see at all. Black hair softly sweeps around Taehyung’s face, as handsome as ever, and with golden eyes and a devilish grin, Taehyung reaches up and his long fingers begin to pull out Yoongi’s shirt from where it has been tucked in. As the material frees itself bit by bit, Taehyung’s eyes never leave his. The eye contact is so strong, yet every time Yoongi gets embarrassed and tries to glance away or let his eyes flutter shut, Taehyung makes a disapproving sound and taps on his belly to bring his attention back. 

Yoongi feels extremely vulnerable like this. 

“Relax,” Taehyung says with a grin. “Don’t shy away like that. You look good, you know.” 

Yoongi’s pretty sure if he wasn’t blushing already, the demon would’ve called him out on the new heat coursing through him. But for now, Taehyung unbuttons his slacks and pulls the zipper down so, so slowly, and Yoongi wonders if he’s going to lose his mind like this. 

He looks up at the double doors and sees how they’re still shut. Yoongi knows that right now, they’re the only ones on grounds, and even if someone were to walk in, they wouldn’t be able to see the demon he’s bonded to on his knees for him. A small rush of adrenaline pushes through him, low in his belly, and he finds himself gripping the organ’s console behind him, fingernails scraping against wood. 

Taehyung looks up at him through long lashes, running two fingers down Yoongi’s cock straining in his briefs. It’s a simple touch, but knowing that it’s Taehyung doing it, who’s looking at him with such a heated and golden gaze, makes Yoongi squirm a little, a bit too excited for the situation. 

This place is the start of it all. The start of their bond. The start of such a turning point in Yoongi’s life. 

And at the center of that is Taehyung. Beautiful, warm, incredible Taehyung.

“Stop thinking sweet thoughts,” Taehyung murmurs, pulling Yoongi out of his underwear. The air is cold from the air conditioning in the building, but it doesn’t settle the heat in Yoongi’s veins. “This is supposed to be sexy.”

“Stop feeling things from our bond,” Yoongi fires back, despite the warmth and joy he feels sitting in his chest that he feels from Taehyung as well. “I’m just— don’t make me say it, never mind—”

Happy. 

Taehyung smiles up at him like he knows the thought anyway, and Yoongi just huffs. But the demon doesn’t waste any more time. He wraps a firm hand around Yoongi’s cock and the tightness of it sends Yoongi’s fingers into Taehyung’s hair, not pulling, but for something to hold onto. 

“Tell me to stop if you ever need to.” 

And just like that, Taehyung wraps his lips around and the top and sinks all the way down, mouth tight but accommodating enough to slip down Yoongi’s cock with ease. The sensation is so sudden, so good, that Yoongi slaps a hand over his mouth as he groans into his palm, breathing heavy from the stimulation. 

“Fuck, Tae—”

The demon hums a little, looking up at Yoongi with a flush on his own tanned cheeks, and Yoongi feels his heart practically skip, feels the way it constricts and melts all at the sight. Taehyung sucking his cock, on his knees for him, really is an image he’ll try to recall every time he touches himself from now on. 

Taehyung works his cock some more, a tight slip up and down the shaft, and Yoongi’s whining so much, his knees weak enough that he has to hold onto the console again, and the demon groans around him in his mouth, probably feeling how good Yoongi feels himself. 

They’ve messed around before, sure, but this feels different, feels more charged and frantic and good, and Yoongi can’t help when he bucks forward a little, watching the way Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut when Yoongi hits the back of his throat. 

“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi curses, taking in a deep breath. “Baby, gonna—wanna come—”

Taehyung looks up at him with a sparkle in his eye, as if he knows how early it is for this. But Yoongi’s head is swimming like crazy, and all he wants to do is let go. But Taehyung slows down and then completely stops, mouth still warmly wrapped around Yoongi’s cock, nose brushing against the freshly shaven skin on his abdomen, but he doesn’t move.

Yoongi quite literally gasps to catch his breath, deep heaves that leave him feeling just as lightheaded as before. But one hand that’s in Taehyung’s hair slides to the back of his skull, lingering, just wanting to feel the intimate touch. 

Although, Taehyung groans deeply, and it comes as a surprise. When Yoongi looks down, the demon’s eyes are a little glassy, eager, and Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, curious. 

He thrusts his hips forward a little, feeling the wet slide of it, and Taehyung becomes pliant for a bit, letting himself be pushed and pulled with the motion of it. 

Oh. 

Yoongi, having fallen a little from the precipice of an orgasm, is still desperate for it, the heat low in his belly. He starts to move faster, the hand at the back of Taehyung’s head gripping the strands of hair underneath, soft, silky black bleeding through his fingers, and Taehyung’s golden eyes flutter shut, humming when Yoongi starts to move faster. 

It feels absolutely amazing, and Yoongi wonders how easy it is to get lost in this. Everything envelopes him, Taehyung’s low hums and groans, his hands reaching around to grip at Yoongi’s ass, encouraging him to move, the heat wrapped around Yoongi’s cock, the overall warmth and joy Yoongi feels in his chest. 

It’s all so much, and as he tries to tug the demon off, he hisses a quick “Gonna come, need you off—hurry—”

But Taehyung doesn’t relent, just takes control back as he sinks down quickly and it’s then that Yoongi feels the orgasm take over him like a dark wave. It washes over him instantly, crashes on him so smoothly, and everything swirls around him. His hands are tight in Taehyung’s hair, but the demon doesn’t seem to mind one bit, long fingernails still digging into the meat of Yoongi’s ass. 

“That’s it, baby,” Taehyung coos, holding Yoongi up by hugging his thighs, the organ holding most of his weight. The honorific is nowhere to be found, but Yoongi still can’t really fault him for it. “So good, yeah? Was it good for you?”

Yoongi wants to retort by saying you know it was, but he says it aloud anyway, figuring the demon wants to hear it himself. By the way Taehyung grins, he figures he was right. 

“I’m glad. Now please turn around.”

“What? But it should be your turn. Come—use my mouth too—”

“Don’t make me ask again, darling,” Taehyung sing songs in the way he does which always makes Yoongi freeze in place. “Turn.”

Yoongi is still too afraid to step out of his clothes in the event someone comes in, but he awkwardly follows the instructions, turning slowly with his pants and underwear still wrapped around his thighs. 

The demon hums happily, hands trailing up pale skin wherever he can reach. 

“I figured this might happen,” Taehyung says slowly, and for a moment, Yoongi hears a small pop. He tries to see what’s going on over his shoulder, but Taehyung is still on his knees and the view is difficult. But he feels the demon spread his thighs apart more, until they can’t stretch apart any further from the band of his pants digging in. “I’m going to need you to do me a favor.”

Something cold hits the top of Yoongi’s ass, and he jolts at the sensation. He doesn’t realize what’s happening until Taehyung’s finger trails from the cold spot down and down until it softly pets over his hole. Yoongi bows his head in between his shoulders and whines, gentle touches against such a sensitive spot making his heart ache. 

“You brought lube?” Yoongi huffs out, Taehyung slowly rubbing two fingers over his hole, as if this is the only thing that matters right now. “You know, somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Always prepared, darling,” Taehyung murmurs quietly, but the grin around the words is audible. “My nails are a bit long for this right now, so can you touch yourself for me?”

Yoongi suddenly feels embarrassed, a sense of humiliation swimming in him for a moment. It’s almost mortifying for someone else to see how he touches himself, just watching, but Taehyung slaps the side of his thigh when he takes too long. Yoongi can feel the excitement bubbling in between their bond, likely from the demon’s anticipation, and he supposes he should try to loosen up some. 

Yoongi reaches behind himself the same time Taehyung spreads his cheeks further apart, spreading him wide open to the air. It’s such a strange sensation, but Yoongi wonders if the demon is finally going to fuck him, and that makes his hands work a little faster. 

He slips in one finger and the demon hums lowly, a deep, throaty kind of noise, and it encourages Yoongi more than he had anticipated. 

He works himself open a little too quickly, the burn there, but eagerness getting the best of him. Taehyung watches up close with fascination, his hands tightening on Yoongi’s skin whenever he slips in down to the last knuckle, and the demon’s tail even wraps around his thigh again, tight and comforting. 

When Yoongi moves onto the second finger, Taehyung nips at the right cheek, sharp teeth leaving a stinging sensation from where it hurts. But Yoongi whines at it, the rhythm he’s built up faltering. 

“Good?” Taehyung asks, checking in. “Let me know.”

“Fucking good,” Yoongi gasps, moving quicker and with less finesse. He’s rushing it, he’s sure, but as long as he’s thorough enough it doesn’t hurt, he’s fine with it. “Again.”

Taehyung bites at him again, but this time, laves his tongue over the mark, warm and firm in a place so close to where Yoongi would love to have him again, but for now, it’s enough. 

He moves onto the third finger, and Taehyung’s grip on him tightens so strongly that Yoongi almost has to stand on his tiptoes to release some of the pressure. But Taehyung’s mouth presses against the inside of his thigh—close, so, so close to where Yoongi remembers Taehyung’s tongue ravishing all those weeks ago, and it comes a surprise, but Yoongi’s already fully hard just at the thought of everything. 

“You’re gonna fuck me?” Yoongi practically pleads, breath coming out in pants as he uses one arm to prop himself up on the console’s top. “Please—”

“Yeah,” the demon breathes. “Is that what you want, darling?”

“Come on—”

Taehyung simply laughs, but he pulls himself away, getting up off the ground. Yoongi feels the stark difference of all the touches on him slipping away, but he doesn’t look back, just lets himself be patient. 

He can hear the way Taehyung moves behind him, likely unbuttoning his jeans, and soon enough, the hands return to his body, the soft scratch of long nails trailing up his thighs. 

“Finally,” Taehyung murmurs, pressing himself against Yoongi’s back. Even with all of the clothes, the warmth is still noticeable between them. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

Me too.

Taehyung seems absolutely eager himself, because he spreads Yoongi again, his long tail wrapping around Yoongi’s right thigh again, and smoothly slips inside. 

Yoongi gasps so loudly he’s almost embarrassed by it, but Taehyung seems to be a little lost in it too, hands scrambling to wrap around Yoongi’s torso, pulling him closer.

“Oh, fuck, darling,” Taehyung practically slurs, pressing his forehead against the top of Yoongi’s skull. “You need to stretch yourself better.”

“Too impatient,” Yoongi excuses, swallowing dryly. He spreads himself just a bit more, shoe knocking against the small bottle of lube he still can’t believe Taehyung brought at all. “Come on.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to be in the mood to argue today, because he begins to move so slowly, but it’s still something at least. He lets Yoongi open up some more, the movements sluggish and deep, but slow enough to let him adjust. 

The demon feels so fucking good, and Yoongi hates that they’d never done this before. He feels like he could grow addicted to this feeling of Taehyung all around him, hands eager and cock thick inside him. He has no idea how he’ll never want this ever again.

After some time, Yoongi seems to relax enough that Taehyung starts to pick up some speed. 

It isn’t long before he’s going full-force, deep and long strokes inside Yoongi that make him clench his jaw, brace himself against the wood even as he sticks his ass out for Taehyung to use, but it feels fucking incredible .

“Just like that, yeah—” Yoongi whines, arching his back even more, Taehyung gripping at his waist even tighter to hold on. “Fuck, Taehyung-ah—”

The demon moves with purpose, and Taehyung really fucks like he knows exactly what Yoongi likes. The deep, heavy thrusts make Yoongi’s body shake with each one, the slick noises between them so audible that Yoongi swears would normally make him faint from embarrassment, but the demon seems to be losing himself in everything too. 

“God—” Taehyung starts, nipping at the nape of Yoongi’s neck. “You know how perfect you feel like this, darling?” Taehyung wraps a hand around Yoongi’s sensitive cock, and it feels like game over for him, the entire world shutting down just to let him feel this moment. “All pink and pretty, and I can’t wait to get you home—have you naked around my cock, take you apart, watch you squirm for me—”

Yoongi gasps, and Taehyung hits his prostate dead-on, and embarrassingly enough, Yoongi cries out, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. Everything feels so good, so overwhelming, and in the expanse of this room, their noises seem so much louder, Yoongi’s voice even coming back to him in a slight echo.

“More, more—” Yoongi begs, resting his forehead against his arm that’s still propped up on top of the console, letting his whole body be used and moved around in any way the demon deems fit. “S’fucking good—”

Yoongi reaches behind himself with his free hand and grabs at one cheek to pull himself wider, giving Taehyung a better view and more space. The demon takes it gratefully. 

“Come inside,” Yoongi begs once he feels the rhythm start to falter. Taehyung’s hand stills around his cock, lost in the way his hips move instead, and that’s perfectly fine with Yoongi, his body still sensitive. But he wraps his own hand around Taehyung's, moving them together quickly and sloppily over his cock. “Please, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung groans lowly, hands tightening from wherever they touch him, and Yoongi can feel how lost in everything he is through the bond. 

“Fuck, darling, going to fill you up real good.”

The words and rushed and quick and they send a sharp heat straight to Yoongi’s belly, and he feels himself come all over again. While he trembles through the shock of it, it’s then the demon bites sharply into Yoongi’s neck, fangs breaking skin with ease, that Yoongi cries out and Taehyung comes deep inside him, the warmth spreading in large spurts that make Yoongi whine and gasp for air. 

Taehyung is cursing over and over against Yoongi’s skin, fucking deep and throughly, just as frantic as Yoongi had felt too. So many good emotions and feelings flood his thoughts, and the bond really lets Yoongi pick up on it too.

The tail wrapped around his thigh unravels, and lightly bumps against the head of Yoongi’s spent cock. But the demon pulls away, turning Yoongi around with a weak grip. 

Taehyung seems absolutely satiated, hair tousled around, flush high on his cheeks, a bit of blood on the corner of his lips from where he had bit too hard, but Yoongi feels his breath catch, because like this, with the colored sunlight pouring through the stained windows pours over him in beautiful shades and hues, decorating his skin with gorgeous colors that really seem to suit him. His tail swings behind him lazily, flickering in the different lights, and the only thing that swims over Yoongi’s mind is:

Fuck, I’m absolutely in love with him.

The demon seems a little too fucked out to pick up on the thought that well, but Taehyung looks at him with those golden irises, bright and gorgeous, and he smiles so widely. 

“Let’s go home. I wanna sleep and cuddle.”

Home. Let’s go home.

Yoongi has no idea what’s in store for the remaining time they have left, but every single day that he gets to wake up and see Taehyung in his home, wrapped in his sheets, he feels more and more grateful to Hell in the first place. 

He’s not sure what those repercussions would be, feeling indebted to an entity that craves his soul, but for now, he ignores it. He chooses to focus on the here and now. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, still vulnerable and happy. “Come on.”