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sailoryooons · 2 years ago

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Hello my lovely friend 😌 I’m so so so proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished this past year! And thank you for letting me be a small part of your time here 💜

Also pls give me some unhinged urban fantasy Yoonmin to feed my sick soul 🙏🏽 I love you 😈 보라해

❀ Pairing: Half-demon!Yoongi x Demon Lord!Jimin��

❀ Summary: samsara [sɘm-sӓr-ɘ](noun) : the indefinitely repeated cycles of birth, misery, and death caused by karma. OR: Yoongi has made a terrible mistake that has bound Jimin to a life of endless grief.

❀ Word Count: 4,060

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, angst, smut, lovers to not?

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Vague world-building, mention of guns and Yoongi is restrained the entire time, angst!!!!, Yoongi has fucked over Jimin, references to Christian theology, mentions of scars, Jimin is mean, sexually explicit content including light blood play, restraints, spit play, no anal prep or foreplay, unprotected sex (anal penetration), ONE kiss even though I wanted to write more, very disconnected/angry sex, no aftercare, Yoongi and Jimin are fucking sad!!!! And distant!!!! Not a happy ending really? Just vague.

❀ Published: April 1, 2023

❀ A/N: Jai thank you so much for trusting me to write this for you. I know that the original picture is a little bit more … unhinged and I was planning to go far more unhinged with this, but somehow the poem really made me more angsty and I loved the bit about two-hundred and ten million years of desire wash through me and I really tried to channel that here. I at least still have the image of Yoongi being tied up with Jimin on top of him with a gun lmao. Thank you for being here and making me love writing in this community so much. ALSO THIS IS MY FIRST MEMBER X MEMBER FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN SO BE FUCKING NICE TO ME PLEASE I’M VERY FUCKING SCARED RIGHT NOW.

Thank you @here2bbtstrash for beta reading and making this perfect ily and I love our totally legit monogamous relationship

❀ 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 might be having a bad night. Really, he knows that it’s fifty-fifty. He can feel the weight of drugs making him sluggish, eyes too heavy to open. There’s a tight squeeze around his arms, which are pinned to his body. When he squirms, he feels the constriction of what he thinks are ropes or cables - it’s hard to tell through the leather of his jacket.

There’s definitely pain blooming from his skull, a throb that beats in time with his heart. It’s part of the reason why he keeps his eyes closed as he tries to suss out the rest of his scenario, tied up and drugged as he is. He can smell the sheets - his own, for sure. That’s his sage shampoo he smells and the soft rub of jersey knit against his cheek.

Tied up, drugged, and in his own bed.

It’s definitely fifty-fifty where this is going to go. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been drugged and tied up only to receive the best orgasm of his life. However, he has also had his ass beat after fucking up a contract for Hoseok, starting in this exact scenario.

Someone moves in the room. Yoongi keeps his breathing even and soft, feigning sleep as he listens. His hearing is sharper than most, but the footfalls of the other person are inaudible to him. When he hears a sound again, it’s something like a scoff. Purposeful.

They know he’s awake, and they know he’s listening.

Still, Yoongi’s captor doesn’t say anything. The bed dips near Yoongi’s feet. Not significantly, indicating his kidnapper is smaller- can he be kidnapped if he’s home? The soundless way they move rules out humans. Yoongi can’t even hear them breathe as they crawl up his legs, the sound of material scratching against material the only thing he can make out.

Fuck. They’re dressed, which leads Yoongi to believe this isn’t the kind of restraint that leads to fun. He’s a little disappointed, sagging into the bed as the weight of a person - or creature - settles on his waist.

He doesn’t move, waiting for them to make the first move. Yoongi runs through a list of enemies and internally winces. It’s long, and so many of them are recent that he thinks the weight sitting on top of him could be there to collect any number of debts.

Cold metal kisses Yoongi’s cheek. He shivers in response immediately, gut flipping as goosebumps break out up and down his arms. As a half-demon, he’s not as susceptible to temperatures as full humans are, and he’s not invulnerable like a full-blooded demon. But the metal against his skin tingles, vibrating at a frequency that he can barely detect.

Brimstone.

Fuck. The list of enemies that own a gun made with brimstone alloy grows shorter, but Yoongi is none the wiser.

“Come on,” the voice urges, barely above a whisper. “You gonna fucking look at me or what?”

That voice pulls Yoongi’s eyes open immediately, his head turning to blink away the swimming colors and whirling lights as his vision melts into place. His mouth falls open slightly as he looks up to see Jimin peering down at him, head cocked and frowning.

Yoongi’s heart thunders in his chest as he fights between trying to find something to say and drinking in the vision that is Jimin. He looks a little bit different. His hair is longer than it was last time, shorter on the sides than in the back, almost in a mullet but not quite. He’s a slip of a thing but heavy, indicating there’s weight on his wiry frame.

And his face. Hells, his face is devastating. Siren eyes staring at him, sucking the breath from Yoongi as he gazes and gazes and gazes. He could stare into Jiimin’s eyes forever, falling head over heels into their bottomless depths as he loses sense of the world.

Jimin smirks and presses the gun in his hand to Yoongi’s cheek hard enough that the metal is pushing uncomfortably against his cheekbone. Yoongi doesn’t care, gaze sweeping over the rest of his captor. Smug, full lips that are always a natural shade of rose, narrow nose with the perfect rounded tip, and an angry scar that vanishes into the collar of Jimin’s black jacket.

Yoongi turns his attention from the scar before thinking about it and then looks again, not wanting Jimin to notice.

But it’s Jimin. One of the many Lords of Hell. He notices, and the gun digs in a little deeper as Jimin’s face morphs from beautiful to terrible. “What?” Jimin seethes. “Don’t like seeing your work? You should admire it, Yoongi. True fucking art isn’t it?”

“You’re beautiful.” His voice comes out hoarse from disuse. He licks his lips which are dry and cracked. “With and without it.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

Yoongi feels the space between them so much at these times. The first few minutes of seeing him again are always the worst to navigate. Sometimes Jimin is so full of hate that there’s no crossing the rough waters between them. Sometimes Jimin is so full of grief that Yoongi capsizes in the storm.

They are best in the middle. Somewhere between hate and want.

“Why am I all tied up?” He wiggles at the rope. He’s starting to lose feeling in his arms, a soft tingle settling from his elbows to fingers. He looks down at the gun - a pistol, dark black and buzzing with the energy of a Hell-made weapon. “And why is there a gun pointed at me?”

“I thought about killing you.” There’s no sign on Jimin’s face as to whether he means it or not. “Didn’t want to do it while you were asleep, though.”

“A weapon like this would do it.” Yoongi feels his breath catch as something angry flickers in Jimin’s eyes and he feels the need to add, “Permanently. This would kill me permanently.”

“I know.”

It hangs in the air between them, the finality of Jimin’s admission. That he thought about killing Yoongi. Not for the first time over the years they have been playing this game. Sometimes, Jimin even conceded to killing Yooongi. Small deaths. Minor deaths. Impermanent. The kind that sends Yoongi to the edge of Hell where he at least gets to see Namjoon occasionally.

Those meetings are always awkward when the Guardian of Hell sees Yoongi standing in the corner, alone and not in line with others waiting to be sorted. Namjoon always gives him the same smile and pat on the back.

“It’s nice to see you,” Namjoon always says. “Alas, this one isn’t permanent. I’ll see you next time he sends you, yeah?”

Sometimes Yoongi just nods, toeing his boot in the gravel before Namjoon’s eyes go white with light and Yoongi is flooded with blinding pain as he’s sent back topside. Other times, he’s more talkative.

Now, Yoongi stares down the barrel of something that wouldn’t send him to Namjoon. It would send him straight to Seokjin, who has an empty cell waiting for Yoongi.

“Well,” Yoongi murmurs. He looks up to see Jimin watching him. He’s no longer expressionless. There is pain in those eyes - eons of it. Yoongi tries to figure out how to get Jimin away from his grief, how to walk him back toward the safe zone between hatred and… something else. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did it.”

“It wouldn’t fix this.” Jimin’s hand comes up to the rough scar on his neck, jagged and knotted red. “It wouldn’t fix me.”

It’s true. What Yoongi did to keep Jimin will never let him go, even if Yoongi dies. It had been done out of… desire, out of want, out of something that was so confused with love that Yoongi had sacrificed Jimin’s free will to keep him bound to earth, year after year, decade after decade. At the time, Yoongi thought that the word was love. He did it out of love.

Now he knows that love could not do something like this. Love cannot be responsible for Yoongi taking the knife to Jimin’s neck, spilling his blood over the sacred ground to taint it and make it an anchor point. Love could not have driven Yoongi, half-assed in magic, to bind Jimin to earth for longer than he was allowed.

Love could not have been responsible for Yoongi condemning Jimin to a life of recurring pain. To agony. All for one week of time with him. A single blip in the endless abyss of their lives.

Lords cannot walk topside, Jimin had gasped, that wet, death-rattle sound. You cannot undo this.

As a Lord of Hell, Jimin’s time allotted on earth was only snippets of hours. Too powerful to walk the earth, he and the others are only given tiny moments to walk among the living, to see the vitality of life pulsing through the streets.

Punishment for anything longer than that is endless torture at the end of Belial’s fiery whip. It is eons of time passing between eternal lashes and the snatch of one week that Jimin is bound to exist on earth.

It only took a collection of hours for Yoongi to want Jimin - for he cannot call it love, now. Stolen moments pressed so firmly behind Yoongi’s eyes when he sleeps that it makes him dizzy. Makes him sick, to feel and relive the memories.

But Yoongi is bad at magic, and now Jimin is bound to a week on earth once every year. Beyond his allotted limit. Beyond what is allowed. And thus, the cycles of Jimin’s life have been secured: A week on earth between years and years of punishment in Hell for breaking the rules. Eons of time passing differently from that on earth, with Jimin suffering for Yoongi trying to steal more than hours with Jimin.

But Yoongi is bad at magic and didn’t realize he bound Jimin to the earth. Not to Yoongi. So Jimin would live on in this hellish cycle even without Yoongi.

“I should do it,” Jimin murmurs. His eyes are distant and Yoongi knows that Jimin is weighing the consequences.

For one week, he gets to stay here. To do what he wants with his time. Sometimes he spends his week never leaving Yoongi’s bed. Sometimes he spends it inflicting as much pain and suffering on Yoongi as he can. Sometimes, he spends it trying to find a way out from Yoongi, from this.

“But I’ve been living this curse for this long with you. Perhaps I could do it a little longer.”

The words aren’t romantic, but Yoongi’s heart flutters. He watches as Jimin heaves a sigh, pulling the heavy weight of the gun from Yoongi’s cheek. There is a dull throb there, his sensitive skin bruising already as Jimin leans, shifting his weight to put the gun on the table.

Jimin’s movement creates friction against Yoongi’s crotch and his stomach flips, arousal shooting straight to his cock. He hates it, that something as simple as this with Jimin can have that effect. He feels flushed as Jimin settles his weight back on Yoongi, sitting directly on his dick where the blood starts to flow.

Yoongi’s fingers flex, needing to squirm somewhere. He doesn’t dare move his hips, but he needs to move, needs to fidget as the feeling sinks deeper into his stomach.

Jimin looks down at him and it’s the most beautiful thing Yoongi has ever seen. He wouldn’t mind if it were Jimin who sent him to that permanently reserved spot in Hell for him. Yoongi deserves it and has been evading permanent death for almost two hundred years now, as befits the bastard son of Hell’s prince.

Only Jimin can send Yoongi to that place forever, now. Only Jimin has the power and pull to do it without Yoongi’s sire stepping in.

Stupid boy, the Prince of Hell had whispered when Yoongi admitted it to his father, that Wednesday it was raining some time ago. Anchoring a Lord to this mortal plane. I will not let him go unpunished. Not for you, not for him. He will suffer like the others, and so will you, should he decide he’s had enough of you and your endless folly.

Yoongi always wonders when Jimin will decide he’s had enough. He hopes it’s not tonight, though. Not with the way Jimin’s face has softened, finally drifting away from grief and despair to something else.

“I’m tired,” Jimin admits. He drops his hands to fiddle with the hem of Yoongi’s shirt. Delicate fingers brush against hot skin and Yoongi can’t help but wiggle his hips this time. He lets out a sound between a sigh and a whine and the corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts as he watches Yoongi through half-lidded eyes. “Alright, then.”

Shadow fills the room. Yoongi looks to see that night has blocked out the window. Inside his room, it’s just Jimin’s pressing shadow and a single lamp glowing over by the door. Somehow, Yoongi feels comforted by the throbbing of Jimin’s shadow magic and the way that Jimin’s hands drift to unbutton his jeans.

Yoongi’s breath is stuck in his chest as Jimin’s small fingers work the zipper. Jimin has always been small, but mighty. A force to be reckoned with, a shadow storm beneath skin. It’s what Yoongi loved - admired - most about Jimin. How he moves through the world unchallenged and respected. How he loves when Yoongi fights him, challenges him, and questions him as no one else dares.

Now, Yoongi doesn’t think Jimin admires Yoongi’s challenges. It was Yoongi’s challenge to rules and fate that got them into this reincarnated week of hell.

Whatever was between them had died a long time ago. But there is still want, and as Yoongi’s jeans scrap down his thighs and he shivers when Jimin nips at his knee, the want is all he can think about.

It is in his blood, this craving for Jimin. This need, this desire, this unhinged aching feeling that claws at Yoongi’s belly. The same insanity that drove him to destroy Jimin for a single sliver of time and tie him to the mortal world.

Jimin doesn’t untie Yoongi. It makes Yoongi a little dizzy as Jimin shucks his jeans all the way off, leaning forward to bite savagely into the meat of Yoongi’s thigh. He cries out, both in pain and a bolt of pleasure. He’s hard now, cock throbbing as Jimin’s breath ghosts over Yoongi’s thighs. Jimin leans back, eyes locking on Yoongi as he sheds his clothes.

It’s a sight to see. Jimin had been an angel once, before that long one-trip fall. He can see the grace in Jimin’s beauty. Soft cheeks and lips, supple thighs and ass, ribbon curves like a dancer. But there’s shadow too, the hard cut of Jimin’s jaw, the sharpness of his eyes as they land on Yoongi, the powerful muscle corded in his compact body.

Yoongi very much feels like prey as Jimin kneels on the bed, naked. He’s beautiful, a rendition of Michaelangelo’s David but with a much bigger cock, thick and brown at the tip, dripping beads of precum. Yoongi makes a needy sound. He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out when he sees how hard Jimin is.

“Shut up,” Jimin bites out and Yoongi bites his lip hard. Doesn’t make a sound, though his feet dig into the bed and he’s hot all over, suffocating as he’s naked from the waist down and trapped in a jacket and shirt. He wants Jimin to take the rest off, to feel Jimin’s skin. “Don’t be a whore.”

Yoongi is dizzy. He wants to be a whore, if it gets him closer. If he has to act like one to get the damn clothes off, he thinks he just might. But he gets distracted, watching as Jimin fists his cock, pumping leisurely and tilting his head back, golden lamplight painting him, making him glow.

Golden boy, so full of pain.

Jimin stops stroking himself to crawl up Yoongi’s body. Yoongi holds his breath as Jimin cages him in, leaning forward so their noses are almost touching. Yoongi searches for softness in Jimin’s eyes, but there is none. Not for him, not anymore. Want, sure. Desire, sure. But nothing more than the craving for Yoongi in Jimin’s blood.

Jimin’s cock brushes against Yoongi’s and even the barest hint of skin on skin sends a zap of pleasure down his spine and he bites his bottom lip, trying to keep quiet like asked. He tastes metal and salt in his mouth, lip bleeding from the force of his bite.

“Just one,” Jimin says, more to himself than to Yoongi.

And then Jimin kisses him and nothing else matters.

Jimin’s tongue tangles with Yoongi’s in a lick of warmth and blood. Yoongi’s world spins as their mouths melt together, slow and heated. There’s no air in his lungs and he doesn’t care, lifting his head, sucking Jimin’s tongue into his mouth.

Yoongi’s neck and chest feel hot and the room is tilted on its axis when Jimin rolls his hips against Yoongi’s. He moans into Jimin’s mouth, his skin tingling as pleasure curls through him, cock leaking and sticky against Jimin’s as he continues to devour Yoongi’s mouth.

It feels like he’s in a shitty hotel room stealing a moment with Jimin again, frotting against one another in a rush of heat and borrowed time. He wiggles his arms, trying to free himself, trying to grab a hold of Jimin and feel him. He wants so badly to-

Jimin pulls away and Yoongi’s eyes snap open. Blood is smeared across Jimin’s mouth and he’s not looking Yoongi in the eye.

“Jimin-”

“No,” he answers, not looking up. He spits in his hand, fluid tinged pink from Yoongi’s blood in his mouth. He closes his eyes and leans back, stroking himself a few times with one hand as he pushes Yoongi’s thighs open with another. “I said one.”

Yoongi realizes what he meant now. One kiss. It was all he was allowing Yoongi to have. Or perhaps, all he was willing to take.

Grief threatens to take away the vibration under Yoongi’s skin from the feeling of Jimin against him, but he ignores it in favor of squirming when Jimin grabs his cock and prods Yoongi’s tight rim. He grinds his teeth, realizing Jimin isn’t going to prep him or stretch him wide before fucking him. Yoongi deserves the pain, he supposes.

Instead of begging Jimin to wait, Yoongi opens his legs wider. Doesn’t complain that he’s still tied up for Jimin to do what he wants, still half-clothed and unable to feel anything except the pulsing throb of his cock and Jimin’s tip breaching the tight ring of Yoongi’s ass.

The burn is intense. Yoongi holds his breath and squeezes his eyes shut, unable to think beyond the ringing in his ears and the way Jimin pushes into him. Yoongi tries to relax but can’t, his body shivering as it flips between pain and pleasure. Jimin is at least slow, the push of his cock against Yoongi’s tight walls both delicious and terrible all at once.

Yoongi’s vision dances in front of him, pulses black at the edges. He gasps, suddenly remembering to breathe as Jimin bottoms out, holding all of his weight where his hips rest against Yoongi’s ass, waiting and letting Yoongi spasm around him. His walls hug Jimin’s cock tight. His muscles twitch and scream at the intrusion.

It hurts but Yoongi doesn’t care. It’s good - better than good. He is so so full, Jimin buried inside of him, and he’s kicking his feet on the bed, needing more, wanting more. He doesn’t know if he says it or if Jimin is done waiting because he pulls back, cock dragging against Yoongi and he nearly passes out with relief.

Yoongi is seeing stars, fingers gripping the bottom of his shirt as Jimin starts to fuck him in earnest. Yoongi’s breath punches out of him with every snap of Jimin’s hips, as though the Lord of Hell can fuck the oxygen from his lungs. It feels like he is, hitting deep inside Yoongi where he swears only Jimin can reach.

Jimin is vicious, hands clawing the sheets as he leans forward and slams into Yoongi, the smacking of his hips drowning out Yoongi’s gasping breath. He feels like he’s being driven to the edge of madness, tight rim swallowing Jimin’s cock whole.

Shadows dance around Jimin. They curl at his collarbone, hiding his scar from Yoongi. They drift around his arms, and ghost over his flexing stomach. Both Jimin and his shadows don’t touch Yoongi though, and if he wasn’t so fucked out from the feeling of finally having Jimin back, he might cry.

Maybe he will later.

The burn lessens as Jimin jostles Yoongi suddenly. The contact is brief and cold - he realizes Jimin moved him with his shadows rather than with his hands. He swallows hard as Jimin pushes his sweaty hair back with one hand, never stopping the fluid roll of his hips fucking into Yoongi. Yoongi’s mind turns to white noise at the sight.

He goes to reach for Jimin and remembers he’s tied up. Yoongi notes he has no feeling in his arms but he doesn’t care, not when Jimin adjusts his stroke and fuck. His cock hits Yoongi just right, pressing against his prostate and Yoongi starts to babble.

This time, Jimin doesn’t tell Yoongi to shut up. He lets the slurred string of noises leave Yoongi’s mouth as Yoongi starts to go slack under Jimin, letting the pleasure drag him under. He feels lost in it, swimming in this feeling that ebbs and ebbs and ebbs until it’s a pulsing inferno that feels like it's going to corrode him from the inside out.

“Come on,” Jimin grunts, teeth clenched. “Come for me. Just like you know how to.”

Just like you know how to.

Suddenly, Yoongi is back to before.

When they were just Yoongi and Jimin, not meeting in this weekly cycle of endless misery that he has signed them up for.

When Jimin would catch Yoongi late at night, slipping in with his shadows to wake Yoongi up.

When Jimin would fuck Yoongi to desperation, sweaty chests pressed together and moving in the moonlight coming in from the window.

When Yoongi would come, cock pressed between the two of them, sticky and messy, and mouth tangled with Jimin, the slow push of Jimin’s cock making Yoongi insane.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter open. He wants to see Jimin. He knows he’s about to come, that fire inside of him ready to unleash. But he wants to see Jimin as he does it. As if that will make it better, this detached, feral thing that exists between them.

Jimin is a vision. He hovers over Yoongi, a being of shadow and light, stuck somewhere in between. He is so beautiful and impermanent. Yoongi only gets these moments in flashes, when their paths cross inevitably. When Jimin comes to find him, that one week of the year.

There is salt on Yoongi’s tongue when he comes with Jimin’s name shaped in his mouth. He realizes he’s crying. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Jimin doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything, chasing his high with a furious snap of his hips and a snarl on his face.

Yoongi fades. His eyes roll back as he drifts somewhere else, letting Jimin use him for his orgasm. He hears him growl once, slamming into Yoongi so deep that it pulls him just a little from the dreamless, listless haze of his comedown.

At some point, he thinks he falls asleep. Or maybe something like sleep, because he vanishes from the room, but he feels Jimin pull out. Feels the wet gush of his hole, feels the afterburn of Jimin’s visit.

But when he opens his eyes, there’s no one there. There are no shadows, there is no Jimin. The illusion of being able to have anything with Jimin shatters. Yoongi knows it will keep shattering, a mirror broken in an endless cycle of misfortune.

Yoongi is left alone and waiting for Jimin’s next visit. For the next time that Jimin is dragged from where he lay flayed, only to exist in the samsara Yoongi has shackled him to.

#bts smut #yoongi x jimin #yoongi x jimin smut #yoonmin smut #yoonmin angsy #bts angst #bts fanfic #halis milestone requests #demon jimin #demon yoongi

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