Archive of Our Own ^beta

He’s a low-level chaos demon—a poltergeist in training—but his rank doesn’t diminish how much of a fucking nuisance he is. He’s the worst person you’ll never meet because he doesn’t normally show his face. He just wants to ruin as many people’s days as he possibly can. Not kill them but mess them up a little bit. Give them a couple years’ worth of trauma that therapy can’t fix. He likes to haunt, taunt, bully, and ridicule.

Hoseok can go anywhere and do just about anything he wants. No job or school to worry about. Almost nothing is impossible when you’re a demon. No money? Steal it! No apartment? Buy one with the money you’ve stolen. So on and so forth. It’s not like bank heists are even hard or entertaining to him anymore. He just walks in—invisible—shovels money into a bag and walks right out. No skill required.

Most of his days, he spends tormenting other people, occasionally starting fires, having lots of sex, and on holidays: all of the above.

Today he’s in the closest place he can possibly get to actual hell, which is of course a corporate office. The cubicles are made of grey fabric walls about 1 inch thick, and perfect materiel for you to tack on pictures of your family as if they’ve been ransomed. It smells like sadness and defeat. Hoseok loves it. Everyone is already so miserable, so the only thing he can possibly achieve here is more misery.

Hoseok sits on an empty desk and spills the now lukewarm coffee cup on it. When it tips, the immediate spill isn’t big enough to reach the computer but with a couple of seconds it just might. It may cause damage, or it may not. Hoseok doesn’t care. He twiddles with the red thread around his pinky and hears something in the office fall. Whoops. A few heads poke up, searching for the source of the sound, but no one cares to investigate. He hopes it was something valuable.

The coffee begins to drip down onto the floor. Hoseok watches the slow drip, drip, drip. He grabs the keyboard, unplugs it, and sets it right below the drip trail. That will piss someone off. Serves them right for leaving their desk unattended.

He climbs off the desk and straightens out his jumpsuit. He peers over the cubicles, looking for a good target. Everyone is engrossed in what they’re doing. The only sounds are typing, distant telephone rings, and the occasional cough or sneeze.

He walks between the aisles and spots a balding man glaring at a porn website when he very much should be working. Hoseok rolls his eyes, judges him for the porn he’s watching, and then judges him even more when he sees the man isn’t even touching himself. He’s just watching porn casually? On a work computer? This guy is even more fucked up than Hoseok.

Hoseok reaches over the man’s shoulder and grabs his computer mouse. The man doesn’t immediately notice anything has happened until the mouse opens a new browser on his computer and his eyes open wide in panic. What? How? He grabs at the mouse, but Hoseok just yanks it back. He laughs and goes about opening the man’s email. The man is really, really panicking now. Hoseok is dead close to hitting ‘reply all’ on a received email before the man—smarter than Hoseok gave him credit for, forcefully stabs at the computers off button. The screen turns black and Hoseok frowns. Bummer. There’s always next time.

From here, Hoseok wraps the red thread around the office chair of the bald man and then walks over to the cubicle across from his. The woman in this cubicle is at least looking at a spread sheet that is in some way associated with work, but she’s clearly not caffeinated enough. Hoseok can practically see the daydreams of her upcoming weekend. She’ll take a bath with all of the special soap. She’ll treat herself to wine and chocolate. Maybe she has a dog and she’ll take them to the dog park. She just has to make it through today and tomorrow and then she’s got those two blissful days off. Hoseok would feel bad for disturbing her monotony if he had any sympathy, but he doesn’t. He thinks he might have once, but it’s no fun to care about other people anymore.

He pulls the thread taut and just waits. Someone will pass by soon enough. While he waits, he looks over her shoulder at her computer screen. It’s all data things that he has no interest in. Boring. He’s glad he never had to get a real job.

Hoseok very intentionally breathes on her neck to freak her out. It works because she grabs at her neck and looks around, looking for whatever caused the warm gust of wind, but she sees nothing. She looks straight through Hoseok and sees nothing at all. He sneers. He pushes a few things off of her desk because why not? She looks very confused again.

He torments her for a little while longer. Nothing too serious because he doesn’t have it in him, but he makes her rolling chair shrink down to its lowest setting near the ground. Her keyboard also gets unplugged a few times. It’s whatever.

Hoseok almost misses it when a man walks past and obviously misses the red thread low to the ground. Hoseok turns just in time to see him make a catastrophic fall, yelp included, as he hits the ground hard. He never learned how not to catch his fall. Hoseok watches with something like delight as he puts his hands out to stop his nose from crashing into the ground. Unfortunately, there is no tell-tale sign of a wrist snapping in two. Shame.

Hoseok still laughs loudly at it, but of course, there’s no one to hear him. He could become visible any time that he likes, but what’s the purpose in that? Better to make the office workers think they’re being haunted. Because—for all intense and purposes—they are.

He watches the woman get up from her very low chair, concerned about her coworkers fall, and she rushes over to him to see if he’s okay. Hoseok cannot understand the reason why she’s not laughing at him. It’s funny! He tripped! He might’ve broken something. That’s funny!

Hoseok doesn’t listen to their words. He couldn’t care less what they have to say. He just watches her bend down to look at him. He also notices that the man sneaks a peak up her skirt as she looks down at him, and that’s one thing that really boils his blood. Hoseok eyes turn white like diamonds, and he kicks the man in the stomach. Enough to knock the wind out of him and really, really confuse him because there’s no actual source that caused the pain. Hoseok is fine with tormenting people, but he only does little things. He doesn’t condone creepy people being creepy.

The woman continues to worry over him, unaware that the man is gross. Hoseok doesn’t think there’s an effective way of communicating that to her, but at least he did his part. He looks around and sighs because there’s not much else for him to do. Mischief is mostly finished here. He’d just be pulling the same tricks and pranks on the office and there’s no reason to keep doing the same thing. He needs to find something else to do.

He makes towards the door and feels a not unfamiliar tugging on his red thread coming from behind the door. It’s not the exciting feeling of someone tripping over it, it feels like someone is actually trying to play tug of war on his thread, which is extremely unlikely because no one can even see him. Or maybe that’s why they’re tugging on it, because they can’t see him and want to know who it belongs to.

Not everyone has a red thread nowadays. It’s hard to say why. It used to be that everyone was born with one, but it seems like less and less people have them now. Maybe people don’t believe hard enough anymore, or maybe the world has too many people or too high a mortality rate. Hoseok doesn’t know, nor does he really care. He’s never gone looking for his soulmate before. He’d be curious to meet them, but he’s not going to lose sleep over it. He kind of pities whoever has Hoseok at the end of their thread. They’ll have to deal with him. Though, he has painted a picture of who he thinks is on the other end, and if he’s correct, they’re either a murderer or an arsonist. Possibly both.

Hoseok frowns at the thread looking limp at his feet. He knows it’s wasted on him. Someone who cares about love would do anything for this thread and yet here Hoseok is burdened to have it. It looks the same as it always does, but Hoseok feels something strange in his chest like something is wrong. There’s something simply not right here. He picks the thread up from the carpeted ground and turns it over in his hands. Nothing strange about it. He wonders if this is some sort of internal instinct. He would never mention it to anyone, but sometimes he swears he can tell that the person at the other end is in pain or is overjoyed. Only really extreme emotions ever come across. It might all be in his head, but he thinks they’re there.

In any case, the red thread is leading him out the door he came in. He picked a random office building, jumped the employee ID turnstile and wondered through the floor until he found this miserable little place. Even the coffee pot was already broken when he arrived.

When Hoseok opens the door, he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. Instead of the dreary hallway he entered through, it’s just black. Not like the lights are out, but like there’s nothing there at all. As if a game creator forgot to finish the level and what’s surrounding the office is just empty space. Hoseok takes a step back and looks towards the small, in need of a wash window. Daylight, blue sky. But then a door that leads to nowhere right in front of him.

He's never been one to stray away from danger, and he’s not cautious either. Instead of testing the space with one foot and then another, Hoseok jumps with two feet. The sensation of the space is new and surreal. Hoseok isn’t falling, nor is he staying still. He’s in another state of existence. And it’s so incredibly brief before he knows it, he’s looking around at a totally different room than the one he just left.

This isn’t in the league of what Hoseok has come to understand about the world. This isn’t possible. Sure, most people aren’t aware that demons exist, but that’s pretty much the extent of what Hoseok thought was supernatural. He’s almost positive he just stepped through a portal. A portal to fucking where?

He’s indoors, but only barely. He can tell that the walls are thin with no air conditioning, no insulation. It’s not a big room either. He can hear birds chirping, but it doesn’t sound right. The birds themselves sound normally but it’s the fact that it’s only birds that confuses him. He doesn’t hear the sound of cars or of people. It’s just birds and maybe wind. Is he out in nature? Instead of the sprawling city he stepped out of, could he be in a town or a village?

Hoseok turns to see the doorway he just walked through and knows immediately it’s a Joseon relic. Well, not a relic because it’s in good shape. But it’s not a modern doorway.

And behind him, the center of attention to this new place, there’s a man. Hoseok doesn’t know exactly what thought to think first when he notices him. He’s a King, that’s the clearest thing. If it weren’t for the exquisite black hanbok, it would also be the throne that gives it away. But that’s one of the big issues in Hoseok’s head actually. Why is he even dressed in hanbok?

He starts to really look at his surroundings before he fully takes in the man who can’t see him because Hoseok hasn’t allowed his presence to be visible. He’s in a very old room that doesn’t look old. Like, if Hoseok were to step into a place like this, he could only possibly be at a theme park. But he gets the feeling that these old things aren’t manufactured to mimic anything. These things are old-fashioned because that’s the world Hoseok walked into.

This is a throne room, but it’s not like one Hoseok has ever seen. There aren’t any bright colors in here. In fact, the light itself seems to have been urged away. There are beams of light from the outside that are breaking through windows, but aside from that, it’s a dark space.

Where throne rooms are usually big, wide, and grand, this one seems small and cramped. It’s dusty and unwelcoming. While the phoenix throne is gorgeous and the painting of moon and mountains behind it are both beautiful—the rest of the room doesn’t feel exactly the same. There’s sparse furniture but lots of clutter to make up for it. Hoseok thinks it seems like the kind of room that feels inherited or stolen. The King made do with what was there but didn’t know exactly how to do it. So, this is how it ended up. With all of the hopes to be intimidating and beautiful, but instead it’s gloomy and kind of a letdown.

So, Hoseok moves onto the more important feature of the room: it’s singular inhabitant. It’s impossible for Hoseok not to stare first at his face. It’s a beautiful face. Maybe the most beautiful of all the faces. He’s the palest man Hoseok’s ever seen, and he’s made up of a lot of soft lines. A little chub in his cheeks but none anywhere else. His dark eyebrows are startling on his face; they cut what would otherwise be cute into what Hoseok can only describe as menacing. Maybe the most prominent feature of the King’s face is the large scar that runs from above his right eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. It came from a blade, and while it doesn’t look brand new, it doesn’t look old either. Hoseok imagines that the King deserves it. From the look of him and his throne room, he would assume he’s right.

Everything about this King is extravagant and arrogant. Everything has gold. Every last piece of the King’s life is dripping in it. He has large, beautiful long earrings made of gold. The black hanbok is embellished in gold. He has blonde hair, in a knot at the top of his head with gold fastenings securing it in place. The throne itself is also detailed in gold. He has too much wealth, which makes sense for a King, but he’s too greedy. Hoseok hates that type of person—and empathizes with them.

He's incredibly intrigued. How the hell did he get here? Why is here? Hoseok steps a little closer to the man and investigates him. He’s fucking gorgeous. It should be illegal to have a face like that. What Hoseok wouldn’t do if they met each other at a club somewhere. Hoseok is confident in his own looks. Maybe more confident than he has the right to be, but he thinks this man could actually hold his own beside Hoseok. Hoseok also looks at the fingers holding lightly onto a book in his hand. Pale as the rest of him, but strong and masculine. And the red thread of course. The one that Hoseok recognizes before he even fully confirms it for himself.

Where Hoseok grew up, it was common to see someone else’s red thread everywhere you go. In grocery stores, offices, restaurants, and so on. They don’t get tangled so much—part of the magic—but they are certainly there. Here, however, that isn’t the case. There is one thread in this room. The one that starts on Hoseok’s pinky finger and ends on the King’s.

So, this is him, huh? Hoseok isn’t terribly upset by the revelation. This is a face he can accept. It’s hard to tell what sort of body is under there, but he’d very much like to find out. He can’t obviously do that if the King can’t even see him.

Hoseok pretty much only makes himself visible when he’s looking to get laid. He’ll pop up in a club or at a party, find a friend for the night, and disappear the next day. That’s his routine and he like it. He can deviate a little this time, but only for this person.

Hoseok smiles, and lets the veil melt away. He blinks into existence, a dark figure now in the dark room.

“Hmm, well what have we here?” Hoseok says. His voice is deep and fits the shape of the room so nicely. The King’s initial surprise is laughable. He jumps, scared of the sudden noise and he looks towards Hoseok with shock. He has quick instincts though. The surprise only lasts a fraction of a second before the anger overpowers it.

“How did you get in here?” the King demands, immediately standing up. He pulls an obviously ancient and expensive royal sword from the throne beside him and Hoseok smiles with interest. His sword is so close at hand. It has its only little stand. Does he not trust his guards to protect him? Has someone snuck in before? Whatever the answer, Hoseok muffles the air around so that no one can listen in. He has a conversation to start with this pretty little king.

Hoseok laughs at him. Actually, laughs at the King, which is something the King has never experienced before. Someone laughing at him? The fact that it must piss him off, makes Hoseok’s laugh drip darker and darker into the man’s veins.

“You have a death wish, kid,” he says to Hoseok and Hoseok’s eyebrows raise with bemusement and then another snort of laughter at the name. Kid. The King can’t be much older than him. He might not be older at all. The King unsheathes the sword and raises it towards Hoseok. There’s no doubt he’s skilled with it. In the matter of a second Hoseok reads that the King could slash him to pieces so easily, but there’s no way he’d ever get that close. Hoseok rolls his eyes and tugs the sword out of the King’s hand. He watches with excitement as the eyes of the King widen with disbelief. The sword is moving on its own! Hoseok is still five feet from him. He’s not touching the sword, and even if he was, the blade is sharp as ice. The sword levitates in the air for a second or two before Hoseok sends it viciously towards the wall. The blade stabs into the wood with a loud, metallic thud and it gets embedded deep enough that it probably pokes through the other side. Hopefully no one is standing behind it.

“What…” the King says, gasping with confusion.

“Neat trick, huh?” Hoseok says. That’s when he takes the thread around his pinky and plays with it for a moment. He makes a scene of wrapping it loosely around his finger. Can feel the King staring at him as he does so. He sneers and then he takes a long length of it and tugs on it for all it’s worth. The thread is of course stronger than diamond and has no risk of snapping, though it could break the King’s whole pinky off with the force he’s pulled closer to Hoseok with. It doesn’t even register on that handsome scarred face what trick Hoseok has used this time until he feels Hoseok’s hand wrap around his. Hoseok’s hand is bigger, and he’s not gentle with it. He grabs the King’s hand in a way that challenges his title and ancestry.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” the King says. He realizes he’s only a foot away from his intruder’s face and Hoseok can tell he likes what he sees, but that he hates his own thoughts. He doesn’t want to think Hoseok is attractive, but there’s no possibility he won’t.

“Go ahead,” Hoseok says. He looks at the red thread that binds the two of them together irreversibly and it pleases him to see the man on the other end. He’s so obviously the man that Hoseok expected but he’s not upset to be proven correct.

“Who are you?” he asks. By now, he’s certainly realized that Hoseok’s red thread and his are the same one. For his entire life, the thread has been a trail to absolutely nowhere, but now there’s a man dressed in the most ridiculous clothes standing in front of him with all the confidence in the world and the King hates him. And wants him.

“The name is Hoseok,” he says, and then chooses to tack on his profession as well, “Occupation is demon.”

“Demon,” the King scoffs.

“Don’t believe me?” Hoseok says feigning offense. He gives the King a show though, because he likes to prove people wrong. Hoseok flashes icy white in his eyes to replace the dark brown, and he can see the King take a step back with something like fear. Yeah, another good trick. Or a move that should scare him away.

The King is mad at him. Or maybe he’s just mad to begin with. The scar across his eye gives away to some of the sanity that abandoned him. He’s a puzzle broken into pieces, and he tried to put himself back together, but he forced pieces where they don’t belong. There’s something wrong with him. And Hoseok finds that sexy.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks. The nickname doesn’t match the tone of his voice. Hoseok sounds annoyed to be in front of him. Intrigued, definitely, but with an undertone like he got interrupted while he was doing something important. If making people’s lives slightly worse is important than Hoseok is incredibly busy at all times.

“You can just call me ‘Your Highness,’” the King responds. This answer seems to piss Hoseok off. He regains the step that the King took away, and it makes him cower. Hoseok and he both know it’s the first time in this man’s life that he’s ever cowered at anything. Hoseok feels powerful knowing it, but he doesn’t let the smile show on his face.

Hoseok grabs his jaw. Not enough to hurt him but enough to force their eyes to lock onto each other. Hoseok’s dark shadowed eyes meet harshly with Yoongi’s scarred ones. “I asked for your name. That doesn’t like a fucking name to me.”

The King purses his lips. He tries to take back a semblance of control. Maybe not control, actually. But he tries to hold onto his pride. No one has ever talked down to him before in his whole life. If anyone even attempted to, he’d have them executed. But he has a feeling it won’t be so easy with this man. “It’s Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” Hoseok says, tasting the word. Such a soft name for a sharp man. Hoseok doesn’t know what to think of it. Maybe he likes it. Maybe he wants to fill his mouth with all things Yoongi.

“How did you get in here without the guards noticing you?” Yoongi asks.

“Mmm. Demon,” Hoseok responds.

“Is this a trick too?” Yoongi asks, pulling on Hoseok’s thread. Hoseok’s hand falls against Yoongi’s chest and he grins at the contact. He can feel Yoongi’s chest. He might even feel his heartbeat.

“Does it feel like a trick?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says. Hoseok runs a hand along the King’s neck, and it makes him shiver. They both know it’s real. How could it be a trick? How could Hoseok fake the tingling in his fingertips? The King is probably so used to assassins or beggars that having someone here to see him is completely foreign. Of course, Hoseok does want things from Yoongi, but they’re different than what anyone else has ever asked for.

“What century am I in, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks.

“Century?”

“Year? Date? Lunisolar position?” Again, Yoongi looks at him questioningly and Hoseok feels ridiculous for talking to someone so ancient. This man was born centuries before Hoseok was and the world feels so primitive to him. Hoseok knows it’s rude and that’s why he doesn’t mind thinking it; he’s not in the game to be polite. Hoseok looks around at the ornaments of the palace around him. This is the King’s throne room, Hoseok kind of figured in the first few seconds. It’s beautiful, but dark and dismal. The King has let very little light in, and it smells musky in here rather than fresh like the grounds outside. Hoseok doesn’t like it, but it pulls his senses into the scene around him. Almost as if this is normal.

“Smells like sixteenth century to me,” he says, with very little justification to back his suspicion up. It could be anytime in the Joseon—he didn’t pay much attention in school.

“You’re not from here,” Yoongi says.

“Afraid not. I travelled centuries for you.” Hoseok’s so goddamn close to him. He’s using a low voice, even though they won’t be overheard. The deeper his voice goes, the more irresistible he becomes. Yoongi is taking in shaky breaths. Hoseok wonders if he’s turning him on.

“And what do you want with me?” Yoongi is just full of questions. Hoseok doesn’t want to answer all of them.

“This,” Hoseok says, gesturing to all of him.

“That’s not helpful,” Yoongi replies.

Hoseok places two hands on Yoongi’s neck. Watches as he gulps nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He tries to look away from Hoseok’s gaze but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t want to pull away. He looks at the thread around Hoseok’s pink and Hoseok can tell that Yoongi wants nothing more than to get closer, closer, closer.

“Where are the King’s bed chambers I wonder?” Hoseok says, right against his ear. His breath is hot, and it makes Yoongi swallow.

“You—you think you can fucking order me around? Think you can have your way with me?” Yoongi asks him. The gall of this man. Marching right into this sacred place with his dirty tongue and treasonous words.

Hoseok sneers, “Yeah. I rather think I can.”

“Fuck you.”

Hoseok laughs and gets further into his space. He almost connects their clothed hips but doesn’t quiet. He wets his lips with his tongue, agonizingly close to Yoongi’s eyes. One hand trails down Yoongi’s body teasingly. Doesn’t touch him inappropriately, well except for the fact that this man has laid his hands on the King. He just starts from his neck, down his shoulder, his side, and then lands on his hip. That hand, with its black and white nail polish, gripping his hip firmly but softly. Yoongi always gets to choose what happens to him. Always, always. And he isn’t going to let this time be any different. So instead of letting Hoseok kiss him first, Yoongi grabs the sides of his face and smashes their lips together. The kiss is incredibly angry. Both of them seem to be totally pissed at each other. Teeth clash a few times as Yoongi tries to win the kiss. Hoseok does too. He feels painted fingernails digging into his side through his hanbok and he growls with frustration. Yoongi puts two hands into Hoseok’s short dark hair and tugs. Maybe it hurts or maybe it doesn’t. He doesn’t really care either way.

The kiss is furious. Yoongi’s first kiss, and not at all what he would have expected from one, but he’s not mad about it. Hoseok knows what he’s doing whereas Yoongi definitely doesn’t. He’s learning quickly though. He refuses to let Hoseok win. Hoseok’s tongue is about as far into his mouth as it can go, and Yoongi is pushing back into his. Their noses bump a few times, but it doesn’t seem important, even if it does sting.

Hoseok hums something muffled into the kiss, and then he pulls away just enough to bite into Yoongi’s lip before he goes back for more. He doesn’t give Yoongi a reprieve for breath. Yoongi thinks his lips will be bruised by the end of this kiss, but he doesn’t know if that even upsets him. He’s just so glad to be kissing him that nothing else matters.

Hoseok starts to wonder about Yoongi’s body. He knows basically what he’ll find underneath all these layers, but he wants to see it for himself. He lets his hand roam around Yoongi’s chest. He feels strong but not too strong. And his thin stomach, Hoseok would give anything to touch it and kiss it and leave hickeys all over it. Yoongi probably has tiny thighs. Easy to grab onto and hold in place. Fuck.

Meanwhile, Yoongi is strategizing his plan of attack. There’s no way he’s going to let Hoseok take charge of him. He’s a fucking King. Hoseok is no one. With their lips still connected, Yoongi maneuvers Hoseok around expertly. Perfectly positioning him to push him away. Hoseok, surprised, stumbles back, and then he falls onto Yoongi’s throne carelessly. No one besides a royal has ever sat on this throne and lived to tell of it. Hoseok looks at it, surprised to no longer be on his feet. He landed well, only slightly askew on the throne. Hoseok grins to himself, for a very brief second forgetting Yoongi’s there at all. Wouldn’t he look glorious on a throne? He could be feared and revered the way he deserves.

But Yoongi’s climbing on top of him and it’s so sexy that Hoseok groans before they’re together again. Lips and spit and tongues as well as several hmms and mmms.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Hoseok says against his mouth. Yoongi is grinding against him, but he probably doesn’t know he’s doing it. He’s not the kind of man Hoseok usually takes home. He’s not an ‘experienced traveler’ so to speak. He barely knows what he’s doing at all. But Hoseok doesn’t care, because this is the man that he’s supposed to want, and he fucking does. God, does he want him. Hoseok can’t explain the unbearable urge to be with him, it’s just there. Even though Hoseok has always been a cynic about soulmates and fate, it’s undeniable that Yoongi belongs to him, and he will always belong to him. “You’re already so fucking hard, sweetheart.”

“You can talk,” Yoongi replies, but Hoseok wasn’t going to deny that at all. He’s been hard since Yoongi climbed on top of him. He’s been intrigued since before then.

“Goddammit,” Hoseok whispers when Yoongi pulls his mouth away simply to grind down hard on him. They connect and they’re both so hard and it feels so good but it’s definitely not enough. “Am I going to have you here, or in your bed, Your Highness?”

Yoongi groans but he makes his mind up quickly. “Bed.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Hoseok says. “Alright sweetheart, I can make you disappear along with me, but we have to be quick.” They don’t actually have to be quick. The magic will work no matter how long it takes for them to get to the King’s bedroom, but his state of desperation is what makes it so urgent. He wants to touch skin and feel all of Yoongi.

“Got it,” Yoongi nods. He has to get off of Hoseok and doesn’t help him up off of the throne. He just takes his hand, but not in an intimate way, because it’s more authoritative than that. Hoseok notices that it's the two hands connected by red thread.

These Joseon palaces, they’re not like the medieval European ones of stone and dark corridors. They’re actually a series of smaller buildings contained in heavily guarded fenced grounds. Hoseok would normally be at least mildly interested in looking around. He’d want to see what he could meddle with or destroy, but he’s seeing red. He’s filled with nothing but lust and Yoongi is leading him past royal guards dressed in just as authentic clothing as what Yoongi’s wearing.

And the path from the throne room to Yoongi’s bed chambers is not terribly long. Yoongi probably does all he can to avoid the sunlight for as much time as possible, so it makes sense that the two buildings would be near each other.

It’s a good thing that Hoseok can muffle sounds because there’s no chance in hell that the room Yoongi leads him to is soundproof enough for what it’s about to witness. The bedroom looks like what Hoseok has seen on dramas. The bed itself is not the kind he’s personally familiar with—a bed complete with bedframe and bedside drawers. It’s a traditional floor mattress, which is to be expected. It’s appropriately enormous, as it’s made for a king. The rest of the room is a little more impressive than his throne room had been. The walls are hand painted, little dragons and trees with blues and oranges and greens and reds. The furniture too is intricate and detailed, made of heavy red wood. Hoseok is sure there are other things of note for him to stare at, but he has no interest in them. All he sees is that large mattress on the floor. On top of which, he’ll make Yoongi his.

“Get on the bed,” Hoseok says. “And do what I tell you to do.” Yoongi does it. He hesitates, but he doesn’t stop. The King is so easy to control, Hoseok thinks. How has his kingdom withstood any attack when he’s like putty for Hoseok to order around?

Hoseok climbs on top of the mattress too, caging Yoongi in with a knee on either side of him. They connect again, still so achingly hard. Hoseok wants to break him apart so prettily. Wants to see that long blonde hair strewn across the sheets of his bed. Wants to destroy him, wants to create him.

Hoseok runs one of his fingers so gently across Yoongi’s jaw and then leans down. Yoongi seems to think he’s going in for a kiss, but Hoseok swerves away. Instead, he bends low to whisper right into the shell of his ear.

“Do you want me to stop?” Hoseok asks almost silently. It’s a genuine question of consent. Hoseok will stop if he tells him to get off. But the way he says it is so dirty that the King below him trembles.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Hoseok teases. “What if I were to ruin his royal highness?”

Yoongi scoffs. “Not fucking likely.”

Hoseok likes that answer. He doesn’t believe it, but he likes that Yoongi thinks he has the power to resist Hoseok’s charm. It’s cute.

Hoseok starts at his neck, has to pull or maybe tear the hanbok lower so that he can kiss the flawless skin. Yoongi curses and lifts his knee up to meet Hoseok’s cock, which is long past hard. Yoongi doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s fucking good at it. He finds Hoseok in a moment where he’s just weak enough that he doesn’t even feel Yoongi overpower him until Hoseok’s on his back, looking up at a ceiling with beautiful, exposed beams. And of course, there’s Yoongi there ready to devour his prey. His hair in the knot looks messier than it had when they first saw each other. Hoseok likes it. Likes the fact that they haven’t even done anything yet and he looks slightly debauched.

Yoongi looks at him curiously, as if he’s trying to negotiate how there’s a man underneath him. The man at the other end of the red thread he’s been curious about his whole life. Hoseok takes this as his opportunity to move the story along. He starts first with the headband around his forehead. If he saw sunlight more than once a day he might have a tan line underneath, but there isn’t one. Just pale skin like the rest of him. Next, Hoseok grabs ahold of the tight and intricately bound hair at the top of Yoongi’s head. A skilled hand brought his hair into the gold fastenings, but Hoseok isn’t skilled when he undoes it. Yoongi lets him, allows the blonde locks to fall all around his face, framing him beautifully, making the devil look like an angel. Yoongi looks down at him, like he’s angry. Hoseok is in awe of the length of his hair, wondering if it’s ever even been cut. Hoseok doesn’t stop to think twice how his hair is blonde and eyebrows ashen black, because Yoongi lowers himself and attacks his lips. His hair is getting into Hoseok’s face, so he takes a fistful of it and brushes it away, surprised at the softness.

They kiss for maybe years. Hoseok giving and taking, Yoongi taking and giving. Hoseok hasn’t ever kissed anyone for this long before. He usually gets straight to the point. He also doesn’t let anyone climb on top of him ever, and he has to force an end to the little novels he’s creating in his head about how good Yoongi is at kissing. He wants to write an epic about the way his tongue searches Hoseok’s mouth, and how his teeth just barely bite into Hoseok’s lip or how his nose is pressed right up against Hoseok’s cheek. But it’s more important for him to dominate Yoongi in this moment. So he uses all of his strength—and maybe a little bit of demonic magic—to push Yoongi off of him. He falls backwards with a soft thud, but the mattress is soft so he doesn’t get hurt. Hoseok touches his neck and imagines bruising it with his lips and teeth before he remembers a very key next step.

“You got lube?” Hoseok asks. Yoongi doesn’t understand the term. Hoseok tries to think backwards to a word that Yoongi might understand. “Lubricant? Oil?”

Yoongi nods at that, and points to the small basket beside his mattress. Hoseok sneers and inspects it, looking at a variety of Joseon remedies that make no sense to him. But he recognizes lube when he sees it, so he grabs the little bronze pot.

“How does the King make love to his concubines?” Hoseok thinks aloud.

“No one is worthy of the King,” Yoongi responds.

“No one?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Not even me?”

Yoongi gulps and scowls at the question. If this man is the other half of him, he shouldn’t be so loathsome.

“No one before you,” Yoongi mutters, even though he knows it gives Hoseok the advantage. Yoongi thinks it’s at least important to note that he’s too good for all that. Too good for everyone else. And also, probably for Hoseok—who is, after all, just a commoner.

Hoseok straddles him again and leans down to fix Yoongi’s hair to be less messy. “Ah, I see. The virgin King. What is it, sweetheart? Were you waiting for your true love? Waiting for the soulmate you dreamed of at the other end of this thread to come along and be your one and only? To lavish you with praise and adoration. Get on their knees for you and take whatever you give. Do you really believe in all of that?”

“Be quiet,” Yoongi says, and Hoseok laughs so horribly at that. So mean and malicious. Yoongi can’t say why it interests his cock, but he can’t help it. He wants to drown in this man’s presence. Despises him but wants to feel him, touch him, kiss him.

Neither of them lets the other say anything else—they just come together and kiss again. Hoseok likes the plush of his lips and the way he breathes against him. He’s never had a lover nearly so good at it, and Yoongi’s never kissed a soul before him. Hoseok is his first, but it makes sense that it would be perfect, because the thread that’s tangled around their two bodies now is the ultimate proof of it.

Hoseok begins undressing Yoongi quickly, and Yoongi attempts the same of him. It’s easier for Hoseok. While Hoseok has made history of Yoongi’s outer robe and vest, Yoongi is still struggling with step one on him. If he was just in a T-shirt and jeans it might not be too difficult, but Hoseok is in a signature black jumpsuit. It mimics a prison jumpsuit but in black to intimidate people who he shows his presence too. Yoongi manages to get the top of the jumpsuit undone, though he’s very thrown off by the existence of a zipper. Underneath that is a matching black shirt that he gets off of him as well. Yoongi stops to look up at him when he feels something unexpected on Hoseok’s chest. What he finds there are silver studs through his nipples. Yoongi hasn’t seen or heard of anything like that before. He touches the metal, which is warmed by Hoseok’s body heat, and he hears his least favorite sound in the world: Hoseok’s chuckle.

“Curious?” Hoseok asks. “Do you wanna know if I have any more?” He doesn’t. It’s just the nipples and the bridge of his nose, and he almost wimped out of both of them. But Yoongi doesn’t need to know that.  

And Yoongi very much wants to taste the metal under his tongue. Wants to roll it between his teeth, but he doesn’t show the slightest bit of weakness towards Hoseok. They both know that once someone drops the ball, it’s completely over for their reputation.

In the meantime, Hoseok has been busy disassembling Yoongi’s many layers of hanbok. There are more layers to Yoongi’s clothes than his own, but they’re not as tight. It’s rather suiting that they’re both dressed in all black. The garments that get tossed aside look like a pool of shadow despite the bright sun outside. Yoongi has pulled drapes over the windows, because this King prefers darkness. It’s apparent in everything about him. His personality even more than his skin.

Yoongi’s clothes are of higher quality than his. The material is silken and expensive. Black with gold detailing. The gold and dragon imagery are both gaudy, but the overall impression is subtle. He’s lying in only the remains of what Hoseok hasn’t pulled off yet, but they’re sleek and beautiful, just like the King.

Hoseok finally yanks off the loose-fitting trousers and he’s met with something of a treasure after all the layers. His cock is bigger than Hoseok would have expected. Bigger maybe than most people he’s been with, and Hoseok has been with a lot of people. He doesn’t have as much to show in girth as he does in length, but Hoseok doesn’t mind. He’s so hard that it must hurt. Yoongi’s cock is the only thing not white as snow about him. He’s red, with a fat vein running along the underside of his dick which is curved up towards his stomach. Yoongi’s from so many centuries before Hoseok—he’s uncut and Hoseok is learning he might be into that. Hoseok certainly can’t say the same for himself, and he has a feeling that’s another thing that is going to throw Yoongi off.

“At least there’s a part of you that’s not pathetic,” Hoseok says, he’s genuinely impressed, and he thinks Yoongi might be able to sense that. Truth is, he’d love to have it in his mouth. To taste Yoongi, and to make him melt. He’d like to make the King his and only his. But there’s no way either of them is going to suck the others dick. It shows too much weakness to be on their knees in front of the other. It’s something that they can maybe try out in the future when they trust each other instead of lust for each other.

Hoseok basically does a push up over Yoongi to pull the jumpsuit fully off of himself, and then his briefs as well. He needs more than anything to feel skin against his. Wants to rut up against Yoongi and touch every single part of the man that no one before him has ever seen. Yoongi is lanky, but with the whisper of muscles to make Hoseok’s brain short circuit for a moment. He’s like parchment and sugar, whereas Hoseok is honey.

It's instinct when Hoseok presses his cock right up against Yoongi’s. He has nothing to be ashamed of in his own body, he’s not much smaller than him, but even if his dick was tiny compared to Yoongi’s, he’d still know what he’s doing with it.

“Fuck,” Yoongi mutters when Hoseok grabs both of them and begins to jerk them off together with one hand. It’s perfect and feels so fucking good. Yoongi can’t stop his eyes from closing and his mouth opening around a silent ‘o’. He’s been missing out all of his adult life. He knows that now. He can’t suppress the ecstasy. He can barely hold onto the moans in his throat.

Hoseok reaches for the little pot of lube. Yoongi’s and his own precum make the slide easier, but he needs some more. He dips his hand in, is surprised by the quality being not so terrible, and then he reaches back between their bodies and swaps his hand with the wet one. It allows him the ability to speed up. It feels good enough that Hoseok thinks he could black out. It’s definitely the soulmate thing. It could never feel this good with any other lover.

He's brought back to earth when Yoongi digs his nails into Hoseok’s back. Hoseok gasps. The nails aren’t long, but they’re long enough. They don’t break skin, but he can feel the scratches start at his shoulder blades and then drag downward, as if Yoongi is giving him wings.

“Fuck baby, you’re a natural, aren’t you?” There’s a huge difference in the way that ‘baby’ sounds when Yoongi is used to ‘sweetheart.’ Baby seems almost like an accident, like he didn’t mean to be so soft with Yoongi.

Hoseok leans down and kisses Yoongi frantically. Lots of breath and tongues. Yoongi feels Hoseok’s chest against his. A silver chain with dog tags and other collected pendants still hangs around his neck, now tickling Yoongi’s chest. He can also feel the pierced nipples which make him leak a spurt of precum into Hoseok’s hand.

“Bet you’ve wanted to take someone for years, huh?” Hoseok says into his mouth. “Been waiting for little old me.”

“I could have had anyone I wanted.”

Hoseok wants to make fun of how pitiful and dumb it is for Yoongi to have waited for Hoseok. As he said, he could’ve had anyone. He knows a good man wouldn’t judge him, but Hoseok isn’t a good man.

Hoseok is bored with stroking them off. He wants to claim Yoongi as his. It’s not often he gets to have a virgin. He prefers an experienced partner, because they know what they’re doing better, but he’s not above teaching Yoongi how to fuck.

Hoseok gets a little bit more lube and slathers even more of it on Yoongi’s dick. He needs to be nice and wet. He’s reminded again of how much he wants to suck his cock. It looks like it would fill his mouth so well. He could get the King to do anything he asks; all he’d have to do is fill his throat with Yoongi and the man would crumble. Another time, he decides. Hoseok doesn’t usually come back for seconds, but in this case he just might.

Hoseok pulls himself up a little bit, but only to get into the right position. Yoongi’s legs are pulled apart just the slightest bit, Hoseok’s straddling him, preventing him from going anywhere.

“You sure you want this, sweetheart? Once I’ve taken your virginity, I can’t give it back.”

Yoongi looks frustrated with him, but it’s not Hoseok’s fault he’s a modern man who wants to verify consent.

“Just do it already,” Yoongi tells him. Hoseok would come up with something witty and rude to say if he wasn’t so impatient.

He has waited millennia in order to sink down on Yoongi’s cock. He’s literally travelled centuries for it. It’s all he can even do to keep his wits about him as he sits down on his cock, Yoongi stretching his rim, and he has to push down just the slightest bit to fully feel him enter inside. Hoseok moans immediately. Can’t even begin to handle how good it feels. Yoongi feels so big, and he’s not halfway in yet. Hoseok could get used to this. He just might have to.  

Hoseok grabs one of Yoongi’s hands and places it on his hip. He needs a second form of stability because his thighs are having a hell of a workout right now. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t care nearly as much how Yoongi feels in this moment. As long as he’s not taking anything from Yoongi that he doesn’t want, Hoseok couldn’t care less about anything other than his own pleasure.

But for that matter, Yoongi does feel amazing. Hoseok is warm and so extremely tight. He slips in quite well, and he can’t control himself when he bucks his hips up, tries to bury himself entirely inside him. Fuck, Yoongi waited for the right person. He absolutely did. Hoseok’s body is his paradise.

“Shit,” Hoseok says when he’s fully seated on Yoongi. He’s pressing far inside. Hoseok can feel him in his stomach, and he likes it. Hoseok doesn’t usually take a whole lot of time to adjust because he doesn’t have much else to do in a day besides literally fuck himself and figuratively fuck over others.

The two of them look at each other and try not to think of sweet words. Only poisonous tongues and pointed insults. But then again, Yoongi’s face is so soft and cute. Even the edge given to him by that long scar over his eye doesn’t take away from the dumpling cheeks and the small round nose. And Hoseok knows it’s not so hard to look past the bridge piercing and dark eye makeup either. Underneath all that, Hoseok is easy, imperfect features that come together to make a perfect face. His jaw isn’t strong and defined, but it’s gentle and welcoming. Yoongi wonders if he covers up his kind face with the makeup and piercings so that people will take him more seriously.

Hoseok decides whatever moment just happened is over. He doesn’t want to be cute and affectionate towards Yoongi. He wants to fuck himself on Yoongi’s dick and keep control of him. He rolls his hips on top of Yoongi, burying him even deeper, and then he groans openly into the air. He knows Yoongi likes it too, because he whines and digs his fingertips into the flesh of Hoseok’s hips.

“God, at least you’re good for something,” Hoseok says. He places both of his hands firmly on Yoongi’s chest and uses him as leverage to continue lifting his hips up and back down onto him. He’s leaning over enough that his cock rubs between their stomachs and it feels so good. He’s in no danger of cumming too soon, and he certainly plans on lasting longer than Yoongi. Despite that, he does feel so good he wishes he could scream.

“Big mouth for someone being fucked,” Yoongi spits at him. Hoseok supposes he deserves that, but it’s not like Yoongi has any power over him right now. Yoongi’s utterly controlled by the tightness of Hoseok’s body around him. He’s putty. He can’t do anything without Hoseok. Probably can’t even get himself off.

“Shut up and take what I give you,” Hoseok tells him. And he clenches around Yoongi before he slams down hard, the sound of their skin slapping together is very audible. Hoseok wonders if he should unmuffle the world around them. Maybe it would put him in his place if the King’s royal guards were to come in to watch him being dominated by a man. But he knows that would probably ruin Yoongi’s life, and this is the one person he’s come across who he doesn’t currently feel like destroying. It’s not love, it’s just interest. Curiosity. He wouldn’t get to have him if Yoongi were hung for his crimes of being with another man.

It's horribly homophobic, but it gives Hoseok a rush. This is a crime. They’re committing a crime. Yoongi’s buried so deep and it’s the very meaning of the word ecstasy, but it’s so, so illegal. Hoseok couldn’t possibly live under that type of rule, but it turns him on to be a criminal. It makes him value the risk Yoongi is taking to be with him right now. Not like either of them could have resisted the other.

“Fuck,” Hoseok gasps when he accidentally slams onto his own prostate so hard that his vision goes blurry for a moment. Fuck, it’s never felt like this before. He doesn’t just feel the rush in his aching dick and prostate. He also feels it in his fingers and toes. Feels butterflies in his stomach as well. He feels like he could do anything ever as long as Yoongi is with him.

Hoseok is going to drag Yoongi all over earth and time. He’ll find a way to have him everywhere. He wants to fuck Yoongi against his own throne. He wants people to watch him destroy the King with his dick, but simultaneously wants no one to ever get to see his Yoongi—his soulmate—besides him ever again.

Instead of sweating, the King seems to gleam. Hoseok sees long blonde strands of hair sticking to his forehead, but the look is everything. Down further, his chest is flushed. He’s breathing heavily, but Hoseok doesn’t want him to breathe anything but his own air. So, he leans down and plants his lips against Yoongi’s. He fucks Yoongi with his tongue, and the pace almost matches the way that Hoseok pushes down, and Yoongi pushes up inside him. Yoongi groans against his mouth and it makes Hoseok smile. He’s doing that to him. He’s making Yoongi feel so fucking good.

Hoseok closes his eyes and gasps when Yoongi unexpectedly hits something even deeper inside Hoseok than he ever knew about. Like, as if Hoseok has a secondary g-spot that he didn’t know existed, but Yoongi has suddenly found it because of course he has. He moans something desperate and completely out of character and tries to find it again, allowing the feeling of dizziness to seep through his blood, because it feels so unbearably good that he doesn’t know how to communicate with words anymore.

Hoseok is surprised, mortified, and totally blissed out when he accidentally cums between them. He quite literally can’t control it, because he’s suddenly just attacked with it, and it makes him collapse, almost elbowing Yoongi in the ribs as he’s met with a wall of red-hot pleasure. He thinks he’s suffocating, breaking, crumbling. He’s never lost control like this, but he’s not even in control of his limbs or his thoughts or his whines.

The orgasm is waves and waves of euphoria. Every other moment, he thinks the pleasure has stopped only for it to hit him again a second later and it’s better than any feeling he’s ever had. Better than he can even understand. He’s shaking from it all throughout his body, like jolts of electricity.

Hoseok has never cum first. He even had control of himself when he lost his virginity years and years ago. So this is new, and highly embarrassing. Yoongi has no clue just how big of a blow to Hoseok’s confidence this is. But he’s got maybe some sort of an inkling, because he’s able to throw Hoseok off of him. Enough that it hurts a little bit. Now he’s on the bed on his back, still trying to put himself back together, when Yoongi slides right back into him. It’s like a gut punch, because it hurts so much, but it feels so amazing.

Hoseok is limp. He’s boneless and not entirely present in his own body. He’s got warm, sticky cum covering his entire stomach, almost all the way up to his chest. And he’s so sensitive that even a feather would hurt him, but Yoongi doesn’t give a singular shit about that. He’s still chasing his own release, and Hoseok is his to play with. Hoseok thinks if he were to touch his own cock, it would fall off from sensitivity, but the feeling of his prostate getting pounded into still makes him feel like he’s on top of the world. It really, really, really hurts. And it feels even fucking better.

Now Hoseok is really lost. He doesn’t hear himself. He thinks he’s had to block out his own voice because he’ll never be able to live with himself again if he hears the moans that Yoongi fucks out of him. He’s nowhere and everywhere and he’s everything and nothing.

Yoongi isn’t forgiving. He’s going as hard and as fast as he can. One of Hoseok’s legs has been lifted onto Yoongi’s shoulder, the other spread as wide as Yoongi could get it. He looks down at where their bodies meet, and he smirks at how obscene it is. He’s inside of Hoseok. He’s making Hoseok bite his own lip and slam his hands against the mattress. He’s making Hoseok his. Carving a spot for himself inside of Hoseok.

“Fuck!”, “Aha!”, “Oh my god”, are just some of the things that spill out of Hoseok’s mouth. Yoongi knows he’s lost control, and it makes him feel stronger and more powerful. Hoseok tried so damn hard to keep himself in charge, but Yoongi has taken over and is asserting his power over Hoseok again and again and again. Using Hoseok as his plaything. The pride mixes with the pleasure to make Yoongi’s body sing.

He has to use one hand to keep Hoseok in the position that he needs, but with the other, he decides to carry out his curiosity. He tweaks at one of Hoseok’s pierced nipples, and that causes him to jump. Yoongi smiles and does it again, emboldened by the sensitivity of them. He thinks they’re sexy, though he can’t fathom why Hoseok would choose to do this to himself. It must be more common where he comes from, and Yoongi kind of understands why, considering how good it looks on him. Hoseok has a physical reaction every time Yoongi touches his nipple, so he keeps doing it as he continues to fuck him.

Hoseok’s trying to get hard again, but he doesn’t think he can. He needs at least twenty minutes before he’ll be able to get hard and that pisses him off so much. It feels so good, but he can’t do anything about it. Can’t even reach his peak.

Yoongi’s final act of conquest over Hoseok is when he cums buried deep, deep inside him.

“Ahh! Sh-shit!” Hoseok screams when he feels the warmth of Yoongi. Scorching hot and thick, inside his guts and Hoseok twitches as he feels the cum fill him up. It’s so debasing but it’s so hot and Hoseok doesn’t think he’ll ever live this down. He’s embarrassed. Embarrassed that it feels good, and embarrassed that he let Yoongi do it.

Yoongi’s nails are digging into the flesh of Hoseok’s thigh, which is bent all out of place because it slipped from Yoongi’s shoulder. He doesn’t know how he’s going to move on from this. He’s never had sex before, but this is what it feels like? He never wants to leave Hoseok again. Never wants to be anywhere but inside Hoseok’s tight hole.

Unfortunately, as Yoongi’s heart rate goes back down, his cock slips out of Hoseok, now spent and weak. He catches himself before he falls right on top of Hoseok. Stops himself on his elbows and then just takes his own sweet time to recover from the high he’s on right now.

Hoseok doesn’t cuddle after sex. He either kicks the other person out of his bed or he leaves them in the dingey bathroom stall. However… Yoongi is still above him, his forehead pressed to Hoseok’s and his breath falling on Hoseok’s face. It’s soft. The whole moment is soft. He’s never had that sort of feeling before. Yoongi’s hair is a curtain shrouding out the rest of the room. Hoseok can’t see anything besides Yoongi’s closed eyes. He doesn’t think he needs anything else.

Hoseok leans up and kisses him gently. He doesn’t know why; he just wants to. Yoongi doesn’t kiss back for a few seconds, but when he does, his lips are weak and unskilled.

It feels weird kissing someone after sex. This isn’t what sex is for. It’s for getting off, it’s not for anything romantic. Hoseok wants to do it again. But not just in twenty minutes and again in an hour like his normal marathon sex session would be. He wants to fuck Yoongi again tomorrow. Or the next day. That’s curious. He’s never felt that before.

Instead of working with those thoughts, Hoseok pushes Yoongi off of him. He doesn’t need to think about any of that stuff. Well, that’s the thought process until he realizes that Yoongi and himself are all completely tangled up in red thread.

“Shit,” Hoseok groans, when he has to try to untangle himself from Yoongi. Over a leg, through an arm, stuck in Yoongi’s hair, another leg, so on and so on. Yoongi is very disinterested. He watches Hoseok do all of the untangling and lies on his back looking up.

“I feel different,” Yoongi says.

“Good or bad different?” he asks, not really paying much attention. The thread is somehow caught across the room too, and Hoseok is still completely naked so he’s just walking around, with his analytical face, while Yoongi watches him and thinks about how that body was pressed up against his only a few moments ago.

“Not bad.”

“Good then?” Hoseok looks up.

“Powerful,” Yoongi says.

“Fucking typical. A King on an ego trip.”

“I’m action, not ego,” he says.

Hoseok rolls his eyes, but he begins to pull on his clothes now that he’s more or less untangled from Yoongi. “You ever killed anybody, Your Highness?”

Yoongi smirks, “A few.”

“That’s kinda hot,” Hoseok says. He’s really fast, Yoongi wonders why he’s even bothering to put his clothes on right now, until he realizes Hoseok probably has no intention of sticking around. Hoseok is already in his underwear and his shirt, so he steps into the jumpsuit and turns his back. He knows Yoongi is watching him, but he doesn’t want to see his face. Yoongi hasn’t made any move towards his own clothes or even to stand up at all.

“Are you going to go back to your century now?” Yoongi asks, when the jumpsuit is all the way zipped up and Hoseok is pulling his necklace to the front of his outfit.

“Hmm? Why would I do that?” Hoseok responds, annoyance in his voice.

“You got what you came for, didn’t you?”

“What I came for?” Hoseok frowns at him and rolls his eyes. Yoongi must be the dumbest person he’s ever come across. He almost wants to leave him by himself so that he’ll realize how stupid he’s being. But Hoseok has a soft spot for him. More than a soft spot really. He’s lured in like a magnet, and quite literally tied to him even if the thin red tether is almost invisible to the eye.

Yoongi looks at him and looks different to him now. He’s not as dangerous or cutting. He’s literally naked, wishing and hoping that Hoseok will stay with him. It’s not something Hoseok is used to. He’s not used to someone wanting him around. Maybe because he’s always hiding himself from the world. But he just feels different right now. There’s chalk inside of him and if he leaves Yoongi now, it’ll entirely overtake his body.

“My century doesn’t have you,” Hoseok says, shaking his head. “And I’m not finished corrupting your soul yet.”

Yoongi wants to laugh at the idea that he could have any type of soul left to corrupt, but he doesn’t get the chance because Hoseok climbs on top of him and kisses him like a mad man. Yoongi kisses him back passionately, but with little coordination. It doesn’t really matter though, because it’s mostly tongues. He could get used to this. And he’ll be so goddamn irresistible to Hoseok that he won’t ever want to leave.

“Who says I want you here?” Yoongi mutters into the kiss.

Hoseok rolls his eyes when he pulls away.

“Hmm. Fine,” he says, and immediately pulls himself off. Yoongi pulls together his eyebrows and looks up, watches Hoseok standing up straightening the fabric of his clothes. Yoongi stands up as well, annoyed with the hot and cold routine. Is he really going to play this game with Yoongi right now? Can’t he just suck it up and admit that he wants to stay? Or does Yoongi have to be the one to tell him to stay?

“What are you...?”

Hoseok grabs a pile of clothes and throws them at Yoongi. Yoongi only barely catches them, and he’s pretty sure it’s not everything he was wearing, but everything is happening very quickly right now so there’s no time to check it all.

“You don’t want me in your century,” Hoseok says, “Fine.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to speak but that’s when he sees what is easily the most evil sneer in the entire history of human life. It’s enough to make someone keel over. Yoongi actually feels a pang in his heart of terror for a brief second. Something is wrong with Hoseok. Maybe the same thing that’s wrong with him, but he’s never been able to observe it in someone else.

“Then I’ll just bring you to mine,” Hoseok concludes. His eyes flash bright white, as he grabs Yoongi’s wrist forcefully and drags him. There’s no saying where the portal even came from. Yoongi just knows he’s being hurdled into it. Hoseok chuckles, takes a deep breath, and dives in right after him.