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sailoryooons · 6 months

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Shadow | myg x pjm (m)

❀ Pairing: Faerie!Guard Yoongi x Faerie!Prince Jimin

❀ Summary: Yoongi’s life has been sworn to Jimin’s since the moment he was born. He was bred, crafted and trained to be Jimin’s shadow, his greatest protector. Jimin loves just how much Yoongi can never refuse him.

❀ Word Count: 6,539

❀ Genre: Dark fantasy

❀ Rating: 18+ anyone discovered to be interacting with this content under 18 will be immediately blocked from this blog.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, toxic relationship, allusions to abuse, references to Jimin hurting Yoongi multiple times in the past, references to Yoongi only existing for Jimin, references to Jimin’s masochism, power dynamics, predator/prey, chasing, sadism/masochism relationship, rough sex in the literal dirt, Yoongi being referred to/treated like an object, blood play, biting/licking, spit play, humiliation, pain play, orgasm control, unprotected anal sex, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, bottom Yoongi/top Jimin, Jimin threatens various types of bodily harm to Yoongi, Yoongi Has Zero Self Preservation sometimes, there is reference to Jimin cutting a chunk out of Yoongi previously Ed Gein style, allusions to subspace and subdrop if you really really squint, zero aftercare. This content is marked as Dead Dove.

❀ Published: August 20, 2023 (originally)

❀ A/N: This is a repost from Hali After Dark that was done as a filled request and is a part of merging the few selected items I had there, over here. I will not make a habit of moving any other mem x mem works over to this blog, but because this was a requested item from a mutual, I didn't want it to vanish when I deleted HAD. I DO NOT DO TAG LISTS FOR DD CONTENT.

❀ A/N 2: If mem x mem isn't your thing - literally just don't read it. It is that easy. This is not me being a shipper - it is fiction and I do not believe in shipping people in a real-life setting. Thanks.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Yoongi doesn’t want to be here. The breeze has an icy bite to it, filling the boughs of the trees with wind as it sweeps through the forest. He pulls his cloak tighter, dragging his gaze around the shadowed wood. This late in the evening, everything is cast in an eerie black-green light. There’s no sign of anything worth hunting, which Yoongi told Jimin several times.

There’s no telling Jimin no. The prince is as stubborn as he is vindictive, a lethal combination for Yoongi who has grown up at his side. The more Yoongi says no, the more Jimin says yes. The more Yoongi tries to use reverse psychology, the worse Jimin makes it.

Jimin is a prince with gluttonous tastes. He likes to take but never give, to force but never ask. As a child, Yoongi often wondered what had to have been wrong with Jimin to make him this way. As an adult, Yoongi knows that Jimin is far more complex and haunted than the prince would ever reveal.

Still, nights like tonight remind Yoongi that he is often the subject of Jimin’s attention. Being sworn to him has always meant that Yoongi’s life was Jimin’s to own and command. He just didn’t expect the prince to enjoy it so much.

“You’re mad at me,” Jimin sighs, looking over at Yoongi. “Why are you mad at me, Shadow?”

Yoongi grinds his teeth. Jimin is the only person who manages to get under Yoongi’s skin. As Jimin’s personal guard, it’s his duty to protect the prince at every moment, against every enemy, and at any cost, including his life. What he had not anticipated was most of the threats made to his well-being came from Jimin himself.

He looks Jimin up and down. He’s in all black this evening, his clothes tight-fitted for hunting. There’s a spiked, silver necklace around Jimin’s neck, the only sign that he’s of renown in the Court of Thorns. His dark hair is damp from riding through heavy mists when leaving the castle, hanging limp in his beautiful face.

Jimin has always been the most beautiful faerie Yoongi has ever seen. He has high cheekbones and an angular jaw, his siren eyes dark and gaze heady. With lips like pillows and rounded cheeks, Jimin shifts between looking sweet and lethal on command, wielding his unearthly face to his advantage.

Countless fae have fallen to that face. There’s no one who can say no to Jimin, especially when he purrs in their ear in his velvet soft voice, the smell of his honey and mint irresistible. Even Yoongi has a hard time saying no at that point, which delights Jimin more than anything else.

“I’m not mad,” Yoongi finally says. He chooses each word carefully, each conversation with Jimin a well-choreographed dance. “We’ve been out here a long time and I did not rest well last night.”

“Hmm, I should report back to Namjoon to let him know the palace’s most prized guard is tired.” Yoongi’s face remains impassive. Jimin isn’t going to report Yoongi to the head soldier and he knows that Jimin knows Yoongi isn’t tired. “Perhaps they’ll whip you for your inability to perform your best.”

“As they should.”

“Would you like that, Shadow?” Yoongi’s hands squeeze the reins of his horse at the nickname. Jimin has called him that since they were boys in school together, rubbing it in Yoongi’s face that his sole purpose in life was to be Jimin’s shadow and protector, nothing more. “Want to be whipped in front of your peers?”

“If it’s what I deserve.”

Jimin stops his horse. Yoongi sighs and pulls on the reins, stopping so that he’s in front of Jimin and facing him. The prince’s bottom lip juts out and he bats his lashes as he crosses his arms. Yoongi’s eye twitches in annoyance. Jimin does look cute when he makes that face, but Yoongi knows better.

“You’re being annoying.”

Yoongi bows his head. “I apologize, my prince.”

A scowl contorts Jimin’s face. In a flash he’s gone from pleading prince to twisted faerie, his eyes darkening and jaw ticking as he regards Yoongi. Jimin remains silent and Yoongi can almost see the wheels turning in Jimin’s mind. This is when Jimin is most dangerous. Yoongi knows he’s coming up with his next move, wavering between violence and jesting.

For his entire life, Jimin has been unpredictable. He has killed in the middle of telling a joke, he has kissed Yoongi square on the mouth in the middle of punishing him, and he has laughed in the middle of crying. He is made up of conflicting emotions, two sides trying to gain the upper hand. It’s often a tossup of which side will win, but after a hundred years together, Yoongi can usually predict which Jimin he is going to get.

Today, Jimin has driven Yoongi out into the cold evening, demanding a hunt. He wasn’t playful about it, commanding the guard with the steel that the prince so rarely uses. The ride from the castle, through the briars, and into the wood was silent, Jimin’s mood dark and hard to read.

Yoongi thinks about the day before, when Jimin returned from a meeting with the king and queen, a laceration still healing near his eye. Today, it’s pink and nearly gone, a shallow wound for what is sure to be a shallow reason. The queen's desire for pain is not like Jimin’s. There are no rules to her indulgence in pain and violence, no laws by which she operates.

Now, as Yoongi watches Jimin, he sees a twitch in the prince's mouth. Yoongi’s stomach flips, knowing that his neutrality to Jimin’s mood has pushed the prince from sour to angry, and angry to sadistic.

“You didn’t want to come hunting today, Yoongi?” Yoongi grimaces. The use of his formal name sets off alarms. Yoongi licks his lips, trying to think on his feet, trying to work out the right answer. He doesn’t know where Jimin is going with this, but he can see the cunning in the prince’s face. “Speak, guard.”

“There is nothing to hunt, my prince. Anything worth hunting is in hibernation.”

“Get off your horse.”

Yoongi pauses. “What?”

“Get off your horse.”

Heavy with trepidation, Yoongi slowly dismounts. The leather of the saddle squeaks under the shifting of his weight and his horse chews on the metal bit, the sound of grinding loud in Yoongi’s ears. He lets go of the mare and then steps away from it, looking up at Jimin.

“There.” Jimin points at Yoongi with a slash of a grin. Yoongi doesn’t understand, furrowing his brows and shrugging as if to ask what Jimin means. The prince’s grin spreads and the hairs on Yoongi’s arm rise, a tingle spreading down them. “Something worth hunting.”

Fuck. Yoongi realizes his mistake, clenching and unclenching his fists as Jimin drops the hand pointing at him, pulling the heavy crossbow from the saddle. Jimin sets the weapon across his lap and pats the top of it happily, looking up at Yoongi with his brows raised.

“Well,” Jimin urges. “I’ll give you ten minutes. Go on.”

Swearing under his breath, Yoongi pulls his cloak off and tosses it on the horse. Jimin laughs as Yoongi tucks his silver necklaces into the collar of his shirt to dampen the noise as he throws Jimin a scathing look before taking off. Jimin gives a shout of glee as he watches Yoongi tear off to the west, moving toward the castle at a diagonal angle.

Yoongi’s mind jumps into action as he runs. He’s fast. It’s colder now as evening turns into night. The air he breathes in is winter-sharp and the mist has made the ground damp and slippery beneath his feet. Yoongi can easily run over a mile in ten minutes. They’re at least seven miles from the briar wall, which Yoongi would reach faster if he ran straight back the way they came.

Jimin will surely catch him if he goes straight back, though. Yoongi’s goal is to put as much distance between him and Jimin as possible. Jimin, of course, has horses. Distance doesn’t mean much when Yoongi is at such a disadvantage, but the west of the woods is filled with gullies and dells, much harder to navigate on horseback.

As he runs, Yoongi is careful not to leave tracks. He is light-footed, even for a faerie. Most of his life was spent learning weapons skills, behavioral analysis, and court politics. He’s not much for espionage or assassin business, but Yoongi was trained by Hoseok for enough years to develop skills in the art of not being found, and for being hard to trace.

Every one of those skills comes back to him now. He’s careful not to let the fabric of his clothes snag on trees. When he approaches dips in the land, he pauses to walk down them instead of sliding. He knows this eats away at his time to escape, but the evidence of his direction is worse than precious seconds lost to carefully picking his way downward.

There is also the possibility it’s all for nothing. Jimin is one of the finest hunters in the court. His lack of interest in scanning their surroundings as they rode and not following hunting trails should have been the first sign that Jimin was off today. Yoongi had been so focused on trying to ignore Jimin’s prickly mood that he hadn’t gleaned Jimin’s purpose.

Ten minutes pass. Yoongi is well into his run, lungs full of cold air, mind focused only on getting to the briar wall. Jimin, of course, has not said when this chase ends. There is no guarantee that Yoongi will be safe once he reaches the briars, but Jimin’s games always have rules.

The most important rule is that he doesn’t do this to Yoongi in public. Above all else, the prince is smart. It does him a disservice to embarrass his personal guard in front of anyone, lest they think Yoongi is weak and by association, Jimin.

Power is what makes the world go round in the Court of Thorns. Everyone Jimin comes in contact with is a reflection of the prince, who should be like a thorn: beautiful, but deadly. Yoongi must be fatal and strong. It serves Jimin no purpose to subject Yoongi to his madness where eyes can see, so the prince keeps these deviances in the shadows.

It’s this most important rule that Yoongi clings to as he runs for the briars, which are visible from the castle towers. By now, Jimin has begun his chase. Yoongi feels Jimin’s aura like iron pressing down on his senses, burning and eating away at his magic the more he thinks about the prince.

Minutes tick by. Yoongi is not yet tired, driven by adrenaline and a little bit of a thrill. Hot energy courses through him. He wonders if he can outrun Jimin and get out of the woods before the prince finds him. He smiles thinking about Jimin’s face if he beats him.

What bothers Jimin most in the world is losing to Yoongi. In the rare instances that Yoongi outsmarts Jimin or slips from his snare, the prince is venomous for days. It’s worse when Jimin fails to get a rise from the guard, no matter how much the prince goads him. Yoongi’s apathy has earned him more pain and rage-laced pleasure from Jimin than anything else he does.

“Run faster, Shadow!” Jimin’s shrill voice echoes in the wind.

Yoongi pulls up short, turning to look over his shoulder. He has perfect vision, even at night, but Jimin is nowhere to be found. He slows his breathing and closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds of the forest. He can make out normal sounds of crickets chirping and rabbits scampering back to their nests, but there’s no sound of hoofbeats.

A metallic click followed by whistling catches his ears. Yoongi inhales sharply and manages to step back just in time as a bolt fired from the dark of the forest whistles by him and hits the tree behind him. The arrow doesn’t go in far, which means Jimin took the shot from a distance. It also means Jimin is on his feet, and difficult terrain means nothing now.

Cursing, Yoongi takes off again. Jimin’s laughter seems to echo around him, chilling him to the bone. He loses his grip on fear as he moves north instead of northwest at an angle. He no longer cares about tripping Jimin up. Yoongi needs the path of least resistance, jumping over fallen trees as a frantic energy thrums through him.

He doesn’t know what the rules of this game are. He doesn’t know what limitations are on the table, if Jimin is willing to maim him or kill him. Yoongi never knows, and it makes it all the more terrifying when he can’t come up with a sure answer. All he knows is that Jimin hasn’t killed him yet.

Yet.

As if sensing his thoughts, he hears Jimin fire the crossbow again. Yoongi ducks as the arrow shoots wide and over his head, vanishing in the misty night. He swallows, sensing that the arrow had been aimed to kill. Anger flares through him and he tamps it down. No matter how angry he gets, Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Not earnestly anyway. And at least he knows a new rule: killing and maiming are possible.

Yoongi’s life shouldn’t be this. The thought slips in between his focus on running and sliding under fallen trees. He’s one of the best fighters in the Court of Thorns and he is unnaturally intelligent. He should have a higher position at court than being the shield to a bloodthirsty brat, but Yoongi has bent and broken to the whims of Jimin for years now.

What’s another hunt through the woods in the face of hundreds of other games?

Part of him loves it. If Yoongi wanted to turn around and let Jimin pick him off, he could. He flirts with the idea of pausing his run. Of stopping in his tracks and waiting to see if it’ll happen, if Jimin will put the arrow through an eye socket.

Yet he keeps running because he knows that Jimin will keep chasing. Jimin has always chased Yoongi, a cat who can’t leave and let its dinner die yet. Jimin gives Yoongi special attention, and it makes Yoongi preen. No one else gets this. No one else is the sole object of Jimin’s ruthless attention.

When they were younger, the queen thought that it was unseemly for the prince to be so obsessed with his guard. Jimin couldn’t leave Yoongi alone, pinching him on the soft of his thighs, cornering him and demanding to teach Jimin how to kiss, ordering Yoongi to stand outside of Jimin’s chambers while he fucked other courtiers, learning the arts of the bedroom, murdering anyone who so much as brushed an arm against Yoongi.

It keeps Yoongi guessing. He never knows what the day will bring, the Jimin who covets him or the Jimin who tortures him. Sometimes, it’s a mix of both, which is Yoongi’s personal preference.

An arrow whistles. Yoongi steps to the side, but just barely. He feels the sting of the arrowhead grace his cheek, opening up a shallow cut. It doesn’t hurt much, but it does startle him. His foot catches a root and Yoongi shouts as he trips, sliding downhill into a dell as he goes.

Leaves and damp earth make his descent fast. As soon as he falls, he’s at the bottom, buried in leaves and surrounded by the scene of earth and pine. The ground is cold, leaching him of his warmth as he gets up to his knees. He could use magic to warm himself, but it makes him easier to find, his energy light a beacon to the magic-sensitive prince hunting him.

The crank of the crossbow makes Yoongi freeze mid-recovery. He looks up the hill to where Jimin stands at the top, weapon aimed at him. Yoongi’s heart pounds in his chest. Jimin is small and built like a panther, all sleek angles and muscles. He doesn’t blink, staring down at Yoongi, a small finger on the trigger.

This is what the god of death looks like, Yoongi thinks. Jimin is in all black, a terrible cruelty on his face. Suddenly Yoongi feels like the ant underneath Jimin’s boot. He only knows fear in moments like this, where Jimin’s eyes are so black that Yoongi thinks he will fall into Jimin’s gaze and let it swallow him whole.

Yoongi thinks he’s going to do it. It was always going to end like this anyway. Yoongi knew it would always be Jimin who killed him when Yoongi lost one of Jimin’s games or finally failed to entertain the prince. This tortuous cycle has a shelf life, and every road leads to Jimin finally doing it, finally pushing Yoongi over the edge.

Instead of firing the crossbow, Jimin grins wickedly and lowers it, tossing it to the side. The weapon clatters heavily. No sooner than Jimin disarms himself is Yoongi running away. The prince snarls and takes off after him, swearing.

“You little bitch!” Jimin seethes, sliding down into the dell behind Yoongi. “I’ll put you down like a fucking dog!”

Jimin is not heavy or large like Namjoon, but he’s fast and strong. When he tackles Yoongi at the waist, Yoongi feels a bone crack. He doesn’t know where in his body the break is, but pain makes his vision flash as they slam to the ground, Jimin moving to pin him immediately. As delicate as Jimin looks, he’s still a warrior with years of training with Namjoon, a beautiful weapon but lethal all the same.

Yoongi goes down face first. The shock of the pain makes his ears ring, the air leaving his lungs. He gasps and gets all leaves and dirt into his mouth as he maneuvers his arms from under him, intending to push upward to throw Jimin off. Jimin growls and digs his knee into Yoongi’s back, pressing down right on the spine as he reaches forward to pin both of Yoongi’s hands to the ground.

Rearing his head back, Yoongi connects with Jimin’s face. The prince lets out a loud noise and Yoongi grins, wriggling under Jimin in hopes that the pain blinds him long enough for Yoongi to work a hand free.

Jimin’s nails dig into the top of Yoongi’s hands, biting sharply into his skin. “Cease, Shadow. You’ve lost.”

The fight leaves Yoongi immediately. He’s entirely boneless, a puppet waiting for its master to pull his string. Jimin puts all of his weight on the knee pressing on Yoongi’s back, making the guard wince. Jimin’s kneecap is agony against Yoongi’s spine, pressing the air out of him slowly as Jimin lets Yoongi suffer against the ground.

Finally, his weight shifts. Jimin straddles Yoongi’s waist, still holding Yoongi’s wrists to the ground as he lowers his face, panting against the side of Yoongi’s face. The guard feels a shiver go through him, Jimin’s breath is hot as his tongue snakes out to brush against the shell of Yoongi’s ear.

“Much better than a stag,” Jimin whispers, voice like velvet and smoke. He nips at Yoongi’s lobe, teeth sharp against the soft skin. “What should I do with my prize, hmm?”

One of Jimin’s hands lets go of Yoongi’s wrist. Jimin’s touch is delicate and slow, dragging his fingers up Yoongi’s sleeved arm. Even through the fabric, Yoongi can feel Jimin’s hot touch, chasing away the cold of the ground. He squirms and Jimin bites Yoongi’s cheek hard. He goes still and Jimin licks the fresh teeth marks, the ache in Yoongi’s cheek immediate.

“Should I take your body and mount you on the wall?” Jimin’s hand reaches Yoongi’s shoulder and dips down to grab his face, turning him to the side. Yoongi looks at Jimin from the corner of his eye, but he can only see dark hair as Jimin presses his lips to the corner of Yoongi’s mouth and asks, “Or should I just… mount you?”

Yoongi trembles as the prince’s tongue snakes out to lick messily from the corner of Yoongi’s mouth towards the bleeding, burning cut on his cheek. Jimin tsks, running his tongue over the cut. Yoongi wines, the rough drag of Jimin’s done making it burn more. Jimin ignores him, tongue laving back and forth over the wound, the tip of his tongue prodding.

“Did I hurt you?” Jimin coos. He speaks with his mouth pressed to Yoongi’s skin, smearing spit and blood. The switch from threatening to endearing makes Yoongi’s head spin. He is no longer a lethal guard of the Court of Thorns. He’s Jimin’s plaything. “I’m sorry, Shadow. Your face is so pretty, I shouldn’t do anything to harm it.”

“It’s not deep.”

“Hmmm.” Jimin presses sloppy, spit-slick kisses down Yoongi’s jaw. Yoongi closes his eyes, letting the prince do what he wants. All instinct to fight has left, leaving only a blank canvas for Jimin to paint. “You’re right, Shadow. It’s a very shallow wound. You can take so much more pain than that, can’t you?”

Yoongi nods. “Speak, Shadow,” Jimin commands.

“Yes, my prince. I can take more than that.”

“Of course you can. You’re made for me. Designed for me. You can take what I give you, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

Jimin bites Yoongi’s jaw, his sharp canines pinching soft skin. Yoongi’s fingers dig into the soft ground. “You bleed when I want you to, you take it when I want you to.”

Jimin’s scent makes Yoongi too dizzy to reply. His body blazes as Jimin pulls at Yoongi’s clothes, his hands greedy. Jimin mouths at Yoongi’s neck, his jaw. Yoongi’s breathing is unsteady, unable to string together enough thought to help Jimin take Yoongi’s shirt off.

The craving to be pinned down and marked over and over until his skin can’t take it and until there is nothing left swells. The shame of Yoongi letting himself be used like this is white-hot, but the pride of being Jimin’s prized possession soothes the burn.

“Mine,” Jimin growls as he reaches into Yoongi’s pants, gripping Yoongi’s already hard and throbbing cock. He bites Yoongi’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Yoongi succumbs to the pleasure, his hips canting in the dirt, the pain shooting him into deliria as Jimin continues to tongue at him. “My Shadow.”

Jimin’s hands aren’t gentle. He squeezes the base of Yoongi’s shaft firmly, slowly stroking upward. The friction between Yoongi’s stomach and the ground isn’t pleasant but isn’t terrible as Jimin sucks at Yoongi’s neck, mouth taking whatever the prince wants.

“Get up on your knees,” Jimin whispers, removing his hand from Yoongi’s cock. He gets off of Yoongi, giving the guard space to move.

Every limb feels like lead as he does. It feels like the world has flipped upside down, making Yoongi unsteady as he gets on his hands and knees. Cool air kisses his skin, making the laceration on his cheek and bite on his shoulder burn. The pain only spurs the pleasure further.

“Take your pants off,” Jimin says. He doesn’t touch Yoongi, happy to watch the guard fumble on unbalanced limbs. “Do it right or I’ll skin you like a fucking bear and bring you back to the seamstress to fashion myself a new coat.”

Yoongi can’t tell if the threat is empty or not. He thinks about the time that Jimin cut a small rectangle out of Yoongi’s thigh to give to the tanners to turn it into a small coin pouch. The coin pouch is probably still tied to Jimin’s belt now as Yoongi sits up high on his knees and unbuckles his breeches, taking them down with trembling hands.

Free of his pants, he dares a look over his shoulder at Jimin. The prince is shirtless, his perfect skin gleaming in the haunting moonlight filtering through the trees. Jimin is a testament to his father’s heritage from the Court of Moons, an ethereal creature stitched with moonbeam threads and filled with shadow watercolors.

Beautiful. Cruel. Hateful. Affectionate.

Yoongi can’t ever recall where it felt like Jimin loved him. Cherished him and admired him like a beautiful piece of porcelain, perhaps. Mistified and awed, even, when he could break Yoongi down and mold him into any shape he wanted, like clay.

Now, his gaze is thunderous. His pupils are blown wide, and when a cloud reveals the moon in full, Jimin looks like a demon from the worst of Yoongi’s nightmares. Still, Yoongi doesn’t run. He turns to face forward, slowly bending over until his elbows are on the cool earth, his ass up in the air.

Yoongi’s cock is heavy between his legs. The first time Jimin worked him up like this, Yoongi had been a shell of himself for days. Didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that being broken and split open into something that felt less than sentient made his arousal swell.

Jimin’s nails scrape against the curves of Yoongi’s ass. He sucks in a sharp breath. Goosebumps spread on his skin, his entire spine tingling as Jimin’s nails turn to claws, prying him open and digging into the softness of him.

Cool wind makes Yoongi clench. Jimin tuts and shuffles closer to Yoongi. The heat of his body is against the back of Yoongi’s thighs, the contrast of hot and cold making Yoongi spin. When cool spit hits the edge of Yoongi’s rim, he moans audibly. He feels the slide of Jimin’s saliva drip further down his ass. Yoongi’s breath comes out in pants and Jimin’s nails dig in.

“This is mine,” Jimin mutters. Yoongi can barely hear him over the beating of his own heart and the roaring of blood in his ears. He scarcely notices the way his cock aches, beads of precum oozing from the tip as Jimin blows air onto the thigh ring of muscles. “Hmm. You’re all tight, Shadow. You gonna let me in, huh?”

Yoongi nods. His head drops and presses against the earth. He smells damp leaves, sweat and Jimin’s honeysuckle scent, too sweet for the demon it belongs to. “Yes, my prince.”

Jimin spits in Yoongi’s hole again. Yoongi bites his bottom lip, trying to control himself. All he wants to do is press his hips back. If he does that, he won’t get fucked at all. He has to be the perfect little puppet, only doing what Jimin asks, speaking only when told.

One of Jimin’s hands dips between Yoongi’s cheeks. He tries not to sigh when Jimin presses a finger against his rim, the pressure so good. Jimin plays with Yoongi’s asshole, tracing the edge before pressing his finger in just a little. It’s both heaven and hell, the intrusion such a relief that Yoongi doesn’t hear what Jimin asks him.

He immediately regrets letting himself drift too far. Jimin bites Yoongi’s ass cheek so hard that Yoongi screams, rearing back his head. In Yoongi’s experience, there are two levels of pain he receives at the hands of Jimin: good pain and scary pain. Jimin’s bite verges on the edge of scary pain, punishment for not answering and a warning that next time, he’ll take flesh.

“I said,” Jimin growls. “To lay all the way down with your hands out in front of you.”

Yoongi complies immediately. Gone is the guard who commands Jimin’s entire personal security team. The sword-wielding warrior who has killed in wars, in protection for Jimin, and for petty squabbles is nowhere to be found.

In his place is a pliable medium. Pressed entirely flat on the ground, knees high, face in the dirt. He lays his hands out in front of him, clasping them there. It’s comforting to hold onto something, even if it’s just his own hands.

Pleasure expands in Yoongi’s stomach as Jimin begins to work his fingers in properly. The stretch makes the eyes roll back in Yoongi’s head. He tries not to get too lost in the feeling, remembering to be on edge for Jimin asking a question or telling him to do something. It keeps Yoongi right on the cusp of insanity, a difficult and rewarding task as he fights succumbing to the way blood rushes through him.

Fuck he wants to cum. Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek, drawing blood as Jimin works his fingers in Yoongi's ass, the press so good. Jimin firmly brushes up against Yoongi’s prostate, making him go dumb. Yoongi’s mouth is slack as he pants, knees and thighs trembling, keeping his ass in the same exact spot for Jimin.

“Look at you,” Jimin coos. “What would everyone think if they knew my personal guard was such a little fuck toy? If they knew he was incapable of doing anything but submitting?”

The question is rhetorical. Yoongi always plays a guessing game of when Jimin wants a response, but this one, he knows.

Jimin fucks Yoongi with his fingers harder, stretching him open. Yoongi whines, feels pleasure cresting to an unbearable amount as Jimin hammers Yoongi’s prostate. The prince laughs, not giving Yoongi the command to come, but rather watching the guard fight it instead. Yoongi’s muscles lock up as he resists the urge to squirm. He stops breathing, squeezing his eyes shut, jaw clenched as he fights it, trying to think of anything but the fact that he’s so close to his orgasm he could die.

If Jimin keeps going, Yoongi’s going to come. If Yoongi comes without Jimin explicitly telling him to, Yoongi is going to experience the scary pain.

Every nerve in Yoongi’s body feels on fire. It feels like he’s burning, burning, burning, like he’s never going to stop. He tastes the iron and salt of blood in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, feels the way his heart hammers in his ribcage, and starts to shake so much that Yoongi thinks he’s going to come out of his skin.

Yoongi realizes Jimin isn’t going to give him permission. The weight of reality crushes him. Yoongi begins to sob into the dirt, trying to hang on to any shred of control he has. Jimin wants him to come without permission, wants to unleash hell on him. Yoongi claws at the dirt, desperately trying not to cave, to let Jimin milk it out of him.

Jimin’s warm mouth presses to the back of Yoongi’s neck. He puts his weight on Yoongi, smothering him, keeping him still. Yoongi thinks this is it, this is when he lets go. He prepares for the oncoming violence like a storm in the distance.

And then Jimin tells him to come. Yoongi’s brows scrunch together. He opens his eyes, trying to look at Jimin. He can’t see the prince’s face, but Jimin must sense Yoongi’s confusion. “Don’t make me tell you again,” Jimin murmurs against Yoongi’s neck.

It’s like a damn breaking. Yoongi shatters, coming hard. His entire body seizes up, the sound coming out of his throat guttural and loud. His vision pulses black on the edges and he closes his eyes, squeezing them hard as an explosion of colors flashes behind his eyelids.

He can’t think. He can’t breathe. He succumbs to the sensation, pins and needles taking over as he shakes through the last of his orgasm. He is somewhat aware of Jimin behind him, pulling his fingers out and running his cockhead against Yoongi’s hole. He mewls, not ready for another orgasm. Jimin doesn’t care, pushing past the clenching muscles and pressing into Yoongi.

The stretch and pressure pull Yoongi from his drooling daze. If he was sensitive before, it’s nothing compared to now. He’s flayed open and raw to every stroke of Jimin’s cock pulling him apart. Oversensitive. Exposed, sparking wires.

Yoongi hurts. The bite in his shoulder throbs, his cock hurts where it’s squeezed between his stomach and the ground, his cheek stings, bones ache, wet hole throbs as Jimin bottoms out, spearing Yoongi all the way through.

It makes him vibrate, eyes fluttering as Jimin begins to snap his hips, hands gripping Yoongi’s waist and slamming him back. Every thrust threatens to break him in half, his face and body dragging against the ground.

Jimin rakes his nails up Yoongi’s back, breaking the skin. Yoongi keens, toes curling at the biting feeling, sinking further into the heady mix in his head and gut. Jimin’s fingers wrap in the sweaty hair at the back of Yoongi’s neck. He knows what’s coming next but he still yelps when Jimin yanks, lifting Yoongi from the forest floor to his knees.

Everything feels off-kilter. Yoongi gasps for air. Jimin claws Yoongi’s scalp, making his eyes water as Jimin fucks up into him. Jimin pulls Yoongi’s neck back painfully, holding him by the hair, and presses his lips to Yoongi’s cheek. It’s more teeth and tongue as Jimin continues to abuse Yoongi’s hole.

He bites Yoongi’s cheek and laughs. “Such soft cheeks,” Jimin hisses, punctuating his words with the snap of his hips. “Such a soft fucking boy, huh? So delicate, so breakable.”

“Yes,” Yoongi agrees because it’s true. Yoongi feels made to shatter. Feels better when broken under the small hands of the prince. Feels whole when he’s splintered. “Yes.”

“Can’t even speak right.” Jimin slides a hand around the front of Yoongi’s throat and squeezes. Yoongi’s air supply is cut short. He feels the slow drip of the bleeding welts on his back, stinging as Jimin’s sweaty front rubs against the wounds. “What are you good for?”

“Only you,” Yoongi chokes out.

Jimin’s grip tightens. “Don’t be smart, Shadow. I won’t go any easier on you for flattery.”

Yoongi knows this. He wasn’t saying it for Jimin’s benefit. Because that’s the thing about whatever this violence between them is. It makes Yoongi feel whole, makes it feel like as long as he and Jimin have this between them, he’s made for something.

Without it, Yoongi doesn’t know what he is. A faerie bred by two warriors to give the king and queen’s child a protector to grow with. Whose only reason for existing is to serve. Who has no goals of his own, who has no life outside of the prince. Without it, he’s not Yoongi. He isn’t Jimin’s.

So Yoongi doesn’t say it for his benefit. He knows Jimin won’t go easier. Won’t fuck him softer or let go of his throat. He says it because he means it and he doesn’t want Jimin to let up anyway. He could die like this, no air in his lungs, mind detaching from his body.

Between the pain and the feeling of Jimin’s cockhead pressing up against his prostate, Yoongi loses himself. He becomes a thing made only for Jimin’s pleasure. He becomes no one and nothing, suspended somewhere between life and death, only alive for Jimin to use.

This is where Yoongi loves being most. Here, he doesn’t have to worry about protecting Jimin’s life every hour of the day. He doesn’t have to worry about navigating Jimin’s moods. He doesn’t have to calculate every word out of his mouth at court, doesn’t have to wonder what waits for him if - if Jimin ever tires of him, if he ever loses his position, if he ever becomes anything other than Jimin’s, if he dies.

If haunts Yoongi so often that he wants nothing to do with it. Nothing to do with anything outside of this, as Jimin lets Yoongi’s throat go, Yoongi’s lungs filling with air so quickly that it’s too much, snapping him right out of subspace to the present, where Jimin grabs Yoongi’s head and slams him forward again.

Yoongi’s hips collapse this time. He’s prone under Jimin as the prince chases his own orgasm, feral and rough. It hurts, but Yoongi comes dry anyway when Jimin tells him to, feels the helpless snap of pleasure inside of him. He loses the reality of it for a moment, feels the world run between his fingers like blood.

When Yoongi comes back from wherever it is his mind goes in moments like these, he sees stars. The night is a watercolor of blue-black and lights above him. He hurts everywhere he can imagine. It burns his throat to breathe and his skin is chafed and irritated, covered in dirt and cum and blood. He feels bruised like aged fruit, and the puffy rim of his asshole feels ruined and swollen.

A shadow blots out the sky. Yoongi blinks a few times, realizing it’s Jimin leaning over him. Demon. God. Prince of the Court of Thorns. His dark hair is damp with sweat, pushed back out of his face to reveal dark, alien eyes. There is clarity in them Yoongi only sees after Jimin’s fucked or killed, the calm after a storm.

Tilting his head to the side, Jimin studies Yoongi like a gardener would inspect an insect. Suddenly, Yoongi feels too exposed and soft all over, breaking eye contact as he chooses to stare at the boughs of the shadow trees instead. He feels the water leaking from his eyes, the tears that come sometimes during. After.

Jimin brushes a thumb across Yoongi’s cheek. The guard flinches on instinct, but Jimin ignores it. “Get up.” The command is soft, but Yoongi will find no comfort here as he struggles to keep up with the turmoil inside of him. “I want to go to bed.”

Nodding, Yoongi tries to sit up. His limbs are still shaking and he feels disoriented. Jimin doesn’t help him, already fully dressed in black as he looks up at the night sky. Brushing himself off, Yoongi slowly pulls himself together. Slides back into The Guard, hides away just Yoongi.

Jimin doesn’t rush him. Doesn’t jeer or lash out at him. He allows Yoongi this time of quiet to glue together what Jimin has shattered.

When Yoongi is standing, albeit unevenly on his feet, Jimin turns to look at him. His face is impassive and beautiful. “You broke easy today,” Jimin notes. No reprimand. Just a sheer fact. Yoongi hesitates before nodding. “We’ll fix that, Shadow.”

Yoongi’s mouth twitches at the corner a bit as he nods and follows Jimin as the prince heads back to the horses. Yoongi keeps close, his footsteps mimicking the prince’s, forever his shadow.

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