Thread by @glossminiie

#yoonminau #yoonmin

“Alright kid, fun’s over,” Yoongi says from the top step. “Get lost.”

Jimin turns his head and frowns. “Kid?” He scoffs. “I just dismembered this dude for you.”

“And now there’s blood all over my goddamn floor because you were so incompetent doing it.”

tw// blood and kinda squeamish descriptions (g0re)

there may be canon mentions but don't take em seriously alright? *smiles in jimin*

and also face-off was my saving grace for this open.spotify.com/track/56tf3cHQ…

Jimin’s mouth falls open and he darts his gaze back to the body on the floor.

Or the parts of it, rather.

Then he glances back at Yoongi, eyebrows pinched tightly together. “What the fuck were you expecting?” He asks irately. “Julienne pieces of human flesh on a gold platter?”

Yoongi scrunches his nose at the obscene way he speaks, as well as the petulance of the chaebol covered in blood on the floor. He’s been coloured in red, with the liquid matted on his expensive Dior sweater and streaked across his pretty face.

“Remember your manners.”

“I’m very well-mannered, thank you,” Jimin answers. For the sake of pissing him even more off, he digs the metal rod into his victim’s chest. Untouched flesh tears at the seams, making another mess.

"Oh, you fucking bitch," Yoongi grumbles, and clogs his throat with more smoke.

Blood squirts out from the new opening, splattering on Jimin’s face with accompanying droplets on the floor beside him. It's worse when he giggles.

Yoongi groans, thinking about the deep stains that won’t be easy to clean off his pure white marble as he scratches his brow.

It won’t just be a job of mopping it up; there’s the job of extensively disinfecting and polishing because a bratty idiot like Jimin decided to do his killing without plastic film or special clothing.

There's so much he needs to learn.

But then, maybe he does it on purpose.

A massive red puddle surrounds him, spread out from the black plastic he’d had enough courtesy to place before getting busy. It’s laid underneath the huge mass of severed limbs, barely covering half of the body, crumpled and too small to fit all of it on.

Just amateur.

That leaves it as another job for Yoongi’s cleaning team, who have been dreading having Jimin over these days, because the spoilt brat clearly has no respect for those who always clean up after him.

But Jimin doesn’t care.

Something Yoongi ironically enjoys the most about him.

And it shows in the disgruntling way he kills.

That’s a story for another day; recounting how Jimin had found the huge, broody, fear-inducing man who had stolen Yoongi’s uncut merchandise, then brought him over to the boss's mansion to torture in his living room +

is headache inducing on it's own.

Now, having to scrutinise the history of /that/ and presently deal with Jimin at the same time is asking for way too much.

He drives Yoongi crazy enough; sometimes he could go without all the details.

But this–this is just incredible.

The pristine figure that is Park Jimin sitting beside someone slain by his own hand.

At least, what’s left of that someone.

Body mutilation at its finest.

Deep cuts and stab wounds on the skin, one disembodied leg crossed over the other, and the torso with its upper half still intact minced with carvings of Jimin’s art; hearts and smiley faces drawn on his belly.

“I was expecting something a little more artistic from you,” Yoongi murmurs. Making his way down the stairs, he ambles closer to Jimin, who’s head tilts back once the older male towers over him. Yoongi flicks the cig at the display on the floor. “This is just a mess, kitten.”

“Oh, so /now/ I’m kitten?” Jimin asks with that pout he makes when trying to be intimidating. “Just a minute ago I was ‘kid’, and yesterday I was ‘the scum under my shoe’.” He narrows his eyes at Yoongi who stares at him. “Kitten? Really?” Another scoff. “At least be original.”

Yoongi lowers himself onto his haunches, at level with Jimin who’s on his knees. The stringent scent of blood comes off him in waves.

Firm fingers thread through blood dampened hair and tug lightly. But his hair is still soft, peach shampoo wafting over the metallic scent.

Yoongi curls the roots of his hair in his fingers, angles Jimin’s head. He smirks, “Aren’t you Kitty Gang?”

His shoulders tense. “I’m not.”

Yoongi glances over at the body, scrutinising the name Jimin carved in. “Kitty Gang trying to leave scratches on everything he touches?”

“You’re reading too much into it. I was just playing around.”

Yoongi chuckles. “You think people are going to respect you if you have an alias?” He asks, tightening his grip on Jimin’s hair. Jimin winces a little and, with the rod still in hand, grabs hold of Yoongi’s wrist.

“What?" Yoongi pulls his head back, hard. "Wanna be like Agust D?” Another chuckle, but it’s grunted and bitter. “I’m here to tell you that Agust is a pathetic fucker; you don’t wanna follow in his footsteps.”

“I’m not trying to,” Jimin hums it, not scared one bit.

“LJ said its cute though.”

Yoongi releases his head with a slight push. “You’re far from cute,” he says and rises. “Far from it.”

“Now you’re just lying,” Jimin adds for himself. “Right out of your ass.”

“You talk about originality but lack it entirely,” Yoongi says flatly.

“But you had an alias before you became this big, cocky boss you are today,” Jimin attempts to counter. He’s staring up at Yoongi, who casually fits the end of his cigarette between his lips. Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. "What about that?"

Yoongi exhales his smoke.

“That’s why you lack originality," He answers, making quite a show of it by taking another drag. "You want to be taken seriously but you’re walking in my shadow,” Yoongi shakes his head in mock pity. “Agust D was building an empire at your age. What do you have?”

"Your parent's fortune?"

“I have a dead guy in the foyer of the most feared person in Korea. Blood and guts all over his precious marble floors,” Jimin clears, and he sticks out his tongue for good measure. “I have your bitchy ass wrapped around my finger, that’s what I have.”

Yoongi inhales deeply, jaw ticking.

But he doesn’t deny it.

He’s walking over to lean against the railing as he says, “Besides, I asked you to finish him off in the basement.” He rests his elbow on the metal pole and turns on his heels. “You need to learn how to listen. Being pretty and fuckable isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Yoongi says that by withholding the vicious secret that Jimin as himself is enough to get him many places, especially with Yoongi.

Because as the days pass and the bodies stack up in response to Jimin weighing out his loyalty for the boss, Yoongi’s interest for the kid grows.

And for someone like Yoongi, interest turns into infatuation, infatuation into obsession.

But he can't dwell on it too much.

Overthinking ruins the fun.

Jimin pouts and whines. “But he weighs like ten hundred pounds. Do you think my cute, tiny self would have been able to carry him?” Yoongi notices the emphasis Jimin puts on ‘cute’, and frowns. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it!”

“You would have,” He says sternly. “Easily.”

“That’s why I’m pissed.”

The phrase makes Jimin roll his eyes and throw his weapon aside. Then, sitting cross legged like a child, he takes his scolding.

“Because you know your potential and you’re choosing to waste it on flirting with dense politicians at charity events.”

"I flirt with you hypocrite!"

Cigarette nearly reduced to grey ash, Yoongi presses the remains of it in the ashtray on the antique table beside the staircase. Rolling his sleeves to his elbows, he says, "If that so-called flirting had any effect, I would have fucked you by now."

For the second time, Jimin's jaw drops. Yoongi smiles at how his plush lips part open and his skin tints red—much better than the blood.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and waits for him to close his mouth and blink at least, giving Jimin time for the shock to settle.

Jimin scowls, "Always switching narratives. You literally said I'm pretty and breedable."

Yoongi chokes but regains himself. "I didn't say breedable. I said you're pretty and fuckable." He corrects.

"So, you /would/ fuck me. You're just stalling because you're a pussy."

Yoongi holds his finger out and wags it. "You're fuckable by society's standards," And when Jimin squints he points at himself. "Not to mine."

"How come you're always checking me out?"

"I'm not. I'm examining the way you work and move."

"The way I work and move my ass, noted!"

"You're putting words in my fucking mouth."

"You know what else I can put in your mouth?" Jimin cups his face in his palms, not minding that the he smears blood on it. He flutters his lashes. "I can put my dick in it. But you're going to have to beg for that."

"I don't want your dick in my mouth."

"Ah, because you want my ass," Jimin nods humbly. "I always knew you wanted me to sit on your face. You're so ungracious, Min Yoongi, so ungracious."

Yoongi pushes off the railing to say something in his defence, putting off the fact that suddenly the room is hot and his collar is tight around his throat. Jimin falls back on the bloody floor and giggles, kicking his feet out in excitement, ready to be chased.

"Listen—"

"Sir."

Yoongi's head snaps sideways, menacing eyes pointed in the direction of the person who called him. He feels the tension in his eyebrows, the way his facial muscles flex as a grimace forms on his face.

"What?" He sneers.

The guard gulps. "Mr Kwan wants to see you."

He clutches an envelope, tense as nerves and anxiety cling to him. Yoongi doesn't care, snatching the envelope before dismissing the guard.

He forgot about Kwan.

It's easy to forget the intensity of his position whenever he spends just a quarter of his time with Jimin.

"You should at least pay me."

Yoongi drags his gaze up from the pages pulled out from the yellow envelope. "What?"

Jimin jumps to his feet, black boots leaving red tracks on the gleaming floor as he sways to his favourite person in the whole world.

Yoongi glares.

Jimin grins.

"You said you agreed on my mode of payment,” Jimin puckers his lips and pushes his face forward. “So saddle up baby girl and gimme a kith.”

Yoongi can’t say he’s impressed with himself for finding Jimin’s lisp cute. Standing there with his hands on his hips, chin held up.

Yoongi rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

He has important things to do—a business meeting with an important investor travelling across country to see him.

But he has to debate a fucking kiss with an insufferable boy who sullies his expensive Dior with blood for fun.

“I wonder what your father’s going to say when he learns you killed a man to get a kiss from his biggest enemy.”

Jimin shrugs. "He'd probably be proud of me for doing something other than leech off his money."

"And when I'm the cause of your ruin before his eyes, what then?"

Giving no response, over it, with blood on his palms, Jimin grabs Yoongi’s cheeks and yanks his face forward. He instantly presses his lips on the other pair and hums in delight at the feeling.

He tastes of cherry lip balm.

Smells of blood.

Fitting right in, Yoongi's detriment

With his hands held around his waist, pulling him in until the nuisance that he is is pressed flushed against his body, taking what he can get.

Telling himself that it's only temporary, and only part of the deal, Yoongi doesn’t reject Jimin, kissing him back.

Obviously.

honestly, idk what this is and where it's going (if it's going anywhere at all lol) but for now here’s my question box tell me if you likie,, also to give me suggestions on what to do with this??? curiouscat.me/malwrites

and also for the first time in my life i’m trying ☕️ so if ur into this and want me to watch dday doc you can pls tip me :D lmao no that’s a joke but do tell me abt the prompt in cc and i'll just link the digital caffeine ko-fi.com/malianewrites

AND LILAC LIEUTENANTS 🫡 spotify.link/CTngDMHGazb