BOTTOM JIN | One Shots

Guns, Knives, & A Delicate Rose | YoonJin

Nobody asked for this, but here y'all go anyway. Enjoy this f.ucked up masterpiece :)

Contains: gang leader, violence, top!yoongi, mentions of murder, light degradation, knife play (no cuts), angry sex, banter, mild violence

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A low, almost inaudible hum. The clanging of metal. Slow and measured breathing.

His hands jerked in his restraints, panic flooding his senses as his eyes shot open. Seokjin's heart threatened to burst out of his ribcage and his styled hair barely moved as he turned his head left and right to get a good look at what was holding his hands so tightly. To not much surprise, thick leather cuffs were wrapped around each of his wrists, a thick silver chain keeping him restrained to the bars of the headboard.

Seokjin dropped his head against the pillows, sucking in deep breaths in an attempt to calm his erratically beating chest. He knew where he was; of course he did. It was clear in what surrounded him. It was a large bedroom, with a flat screen t.v. directly across from the bed and expensive music equipment taking hope half the room. All of the room's walls and decor were monochrome, with a dash of colour here and there that stood out like a sore thumb against the black, grey, and white.

Looking down at himself, he was relieved to find that he still had his clothes on, aside from his shoes and socks. He briefly remembered the Gucci shoes he had worn the night before and hoped that, wherever they were, they were in good hands. Seokjin attempted to separate his thoughts and recall the series of events from the night before, but the door to the bedroom burst open before he could.

He flinched at the sound, eyes briefly closing only to open a second later. Seokjin's eyes glued to the man who had entered the room, kicking the door shut roughly. He didn't spare Seokjin a glance, simply ran a hand through his curly black hair and muttered to himself as he walked briskly over to his desk. At least, Seokjin assumed it was his desk.

The man yanked open several of the drawers before he found the right one, reaching in and pulling out a black gun with silver initials scrawled into the thick barrel; MY. Seokjin swallowed thickly, eyes glued to the gun, though he was confident it wouldn't be used on himself. No, whoever this man surely knew who he was, who he had cuffed to his unbelievably soft bed. The silence was deafening and Seokjin soon grew frustrated by the cuffs on his wrists, letting out a low sigh.

The man's head jerked in Seokjin's direction, eyes dark and calculating. He raised the gun in his hand, keeping it at eye level as he walked over to his bed at a leisurely pace. "You know," the man spoke slow and controlled, "I wouldn't be to eager to receive my attention. This isn't going to be fun for you. Well, maybe a little. From what I've heard, Jungkook certainly enjoyed delivering a few good blows when you two were off fucking."

Seokjin's cheeks flushed and his jaw clenched, breaking eye contact with the man and focusing on the black sheets that stood out strikingly against the white walls. The man laughed, a deep chuckle that came from somewhere in his chest. Seokjin gritted his teeth before he spoke, attitude laced in his voice. "I know you won't shoot me, so if you're trying to scare me with that gun of yours, it's not going to work."

"Oh, I'm not going to scare you with it. That would be futile. Jungkook conditioned you to this world a long time ago and he did well, too. No, I have other plans for this," he waved the gun around just slightly, approaching the head of the bed slowly, like a lion stalking his prey. "In fact, this is the same gun I used to kill him. I wonder how you would feel with this gun buried trigger deep into your ass."

His throat tightened as tears welled up in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. "Don't speak of him, asshole. What you did was unforgivable and if you so much as put that gun on my skin, I will order for you to be tortured until you die very slowly."