#bangtan boys demon au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

belovedkingx · 5 years ago

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Exorcism | jjk

» Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

» Genre: Demon!au, exorcist!au, Smut

» Word Count: 4.0k+

✥ Summary: There’s nothing pleasant about your job, that is until you get a call to check out a house to find a very attractive surprise.

Warnings: unprotected sex (stay safe), face fucking, cunnilingus, fingering, light choking, dirty talk, dom!Jungkook, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex

A\N: Welcome to the first installment of my Nightfall series, there are three more that I'm in the process of writing and I'm trying my best to get them done as soon as possible. Until then I hope you enjoy this, let me know what you think by leaving a comment or you can shoot me an ask.

-Happy reading~

|| Masterlist || Part of the “Nightfall” series

— posted: 10.1.2019

You were seated at your desk with your legs propped up on it. You groan out of boredom as you looked up at the large clock on the wall that reads, 2:01 AM. You were really getting tired of your job, you work for the meadowlock church as an exorcist, the only reason you took this job was that this was the only place that had a decent paycheck in this small town.

And because father Han really wanted you to work with him, you feel that you owe him for everything he has done for you. He took you in when you were a teenager after you lost your mother, he treated you as if you were his own daughter and you can’t thank him enough for that. You aren’t the only one that works in this building as an exorcist, there are five others that work here and yet you’re the only one that has to stay until 3:00 AM. Apparently being father Han’s favorite means more work and frankly, you don’t like being the favorite.

You tilt your head as you continuously spin a pen around your fingers, suddenly your phone rings throughout the office, you lean up in your chair and grab your phone to see father Han displayed across your screen. “Father Han, what are you doing up at 2 in the morning?” You asked as you lean back in your chair.

“I just woke up and someone called, they sounded very frantic, saying it was after them,” You rolled your eyes because people always act so dramatic over something mild, it was most likely just a spirit that needed help crossing, nothing scary. “So I need you to go check it out,” He added. You let out a low sigh as you switched the phone to your other ear. “Okay, what’s the address?” You grab a piece of paper to write on. “It’s 3717 meadowlock hill.”

“Alright, I’m on my way,” You stand up, grabbing your coat from the back of the chair. “Call me when you find out what it is,” You agreed and said goodbye then headed down the stairs out to your car. As you drove you thought about what it could be haunting the house since they didn’t give much information on the matter, there wasn’t much that you could come up with.

You guessed you’d just have to determine what the presence is once you get there. You came upon a nice house that looked like it had been remodeled, It was a mini-mansion with stone walls. You parked in the circular driveway right outside the front door of the house. Everything seemed calm when you hopped out of the car until you saw an older married couple carrying two suitcases each out the front door.

The woman saw you and ran to you leaving her two suitcases for her husband to take to their car. “Oh thank god you’re here, it’s been keeping us up at night, breaking things and I think it’s been watching us,” The woman speaks fast as you tried keeping up with her words. You looked at her confused because yes it could definitely be a spirit but it’s something in the way the woman speaks that makes you feel as tho it’s not.

“Okay calm down, Ma'am.” You say as you put your hands on her shoulder. “Has it hurt you or your husband at all?” You noticed that she was slightly shorter than you as she looked up at you. “No,” She said shaking her head. “But it has tugged my hair and tripped us a few times, but it has never hurt us,” she added.

“Okay, I think you should get going and I’ll take care of everything,” she gave you a ‘thank you’ as you reached in your car window to grab a bag. You forgot something you wanted to ask her so you stopped her before she turned around. “One more thing,” she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Have you seen it yourself?” When you asked her, fear crossed her face as she came closer. “I only saw the eyes, there were like fire, fire-like eyes,” You nodded and sent her on her way, feeling a bit uneasy by the new information.

As you walked up to the house you came up with a number of things it could be yet one made you a bit alarmed but you thought it was highly unlikely to be the case. You did the usual house check that all exorcists have to do, you walked through the front door to see a double staircase with a chandelier spiral in the middle. You continued straight, passed the stairs, to the left was the living room and to the right was the kitchen.

You checked the kitchen first and then moved to the living room, you noticed a hallway at the end of the living room. You checked all the rooms down that hall, you then made your way back to the stairs and checked up there. As you checked the house you noted that it was way too quiet, You walked back to the kitchen and then heard a noise that was coming from the living room.

You slowly stepped in the direction of the sound, you looked around the slightly lit room and saw nothing, suddenly a lamp that was off to the corner of the room next to the couch turned on, revealing a man in casual clothing sitting there, staring at you. You almost jumped out of your skin when you saw him, for some reason people freak you out more than something supernatural.

“What the- who the hell are you?” You blurt out, clutching your chest. The man had his legs crossed as he turned his gaze elsewhere, smiling. “The real question is why did you interrupt my fun,” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Answer my question,” You said, feeling annoyed. The man looks at you and stared for a moment before speaking, “I believe I’m the one you’ve been looking around this house for,” If you weren’t confused before you sure were now.

“What? wait, how did you know I was looking for something?” The man stands up but doesn’t advance closer. “Cause I’ve been sitting here watching you,” You wanted to just be home but instead you have to deal with this shit and you were so over it. “I think I would have seen you if you were sitting there the whole time,” He walks closer and with every step he took, you would take one back, trying to keep the distance between the two of you.

The light from the hall that the two of you entered shined on his face, allowing you to see him clearer. You were stunned by his beauty, his skin, his plump lips, his body, and his eyes were so breathtaking. By the time you realized that you stopped moving and stared, He was right in front of you. “I would have thought so too,” He said with a smirk, clearly teasing you.

“So, why were you looking for me?” You know something was off but you just couldn’t seem to figure out what. “So, you mean that your the one that has been terrorizing the couple that lives here?” You asked with arms crossed. “Well I wouldn’t say terrorizing, just having a little fun, that’s all,” You shook your head, annoyed that all of this was because of some attractive, yet a weird man.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, all of this due to one human,” You muttered mostly to yourself. Once he heard the words escape your lips he quickly got closer, so close in fact, you could feel his breath fan across your skin. He leaned down to your ear and spoke. “Let’s get one thing straight, I’m no human,” You were cursing yourself, wondering what the hell was wrong with you for feeling the way you did at his actions.

“What, are you?” A part of you already knew the answer but you were just hoping that you were wrong cause if you weren’t, you would be in deep shit. “I think you know exactly what I am,” He looked into your eyes and only for a second or two his eyes changed into a bright orangish-red, like fire, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’s a demon.

You’ve read about them in books but you’ve never came across one in your life, it was quite rare for them to be in a small town like this one. “Ah, you finally understand,” He said as he sees you finally getting the whole picture. “Now that you know, what are you planning on doing,” He starts to walk back more towards the couch with his arms folded behind his back.

“Cause you can’t exactly expel me on your own and if you do we both know how it will end for you,” He added. He was right and you couldn’t do a thing about it, if you tried to do it on your own you would most likely die, it would take about three exorcists to perform an exorcism and even then it could be dangerous.

“You can’t stay here,” You said, not realizing that you spoke out loud. He smiles as he made his way back to you, he circled you a few times like you were his prey before stopping right in front of you. “I’ll make you a deal,” He pauses, looking you up and down before continuing. “I’ll leave and I won’t mess with the people of this town if you give me what I want.”

You stared at him, wondering what it is he could want from you. “And what do you want?” He walks behind you and whispers in your ear. “You,” He said licking his lips. your eyes go wide, as you realized what he meant, you were shocked at how calm and serious he was being. “W-what?” you stuttered.

"As soon as you step foot through that door, I could smell that sweet and enticing scent of yours,“ A wave of arousal washed over you, you couldn’t believe that your body was betraying you like this. "It would be a shame if I didn’t get a taste, so what do you say, little exorcist,” he added.

You couldn’t believe that you were really considering, you let a deep sigh as you finally came to a decision.“Deal,” You said lowly as you looked away as he smirked, looking down at you. "Good, now we need to make it official with a kiss,“ He gripped your chin, making you look up at him. "And I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that since I will be balls deep inside of you soon."

As soon as you felt his lips on yours, you couldn’t help but moan. The kiss was gentle and soft, sending shivers down your spine. His hands came to your waist, pulling you closer to him. As he pulled away your lips parted, panting heavily. When you opened your eyes you noticed that the room had changed. "Is this my room?” You asked looking around, confused.

“I thought you would feel more comfortable in familiar surroundings,” You Know that demons could teleport but the fact that you didn’t feel or even noticed him doing it is shocking. “Wait, how did you know where I live?” You asked, walking and looking around your room. “You don’t know much about demons, do you?” You turn towards him and see him looking around as well. “I know enough but why don’t you enlighten me.”

“Well, when you share bodily fluids with a demon, like, say a kiss then you’re sharing your wants and desires, who you are and what your feeling,” You took in his words, walking closer to him as he continued. “I know everything about you, so I think it’s only right for you to know who I am,” And it finally hits you, that you didn’t even know his name and you were about to fuck him. “Well done Y\n, well done,” You sarcastically thought to yourself.

“You can call me Jungkook,” He smirks as you sit on your bed. “So Jungkook, you really know everything?” He slowly walks towards you as he begins to speak. “I do, I know how I make you feel when you look at me, when you hear my voice, I even know how bad you want to be stuffed full of my cock,” You knew his words held truth, which made you squeeze your legs together.

As he reaches you, he taps your leg as a signal to scoot back more on the bed and you obeyed. He leans down, hovering over you as he trails his tongue down the side of your neck causing shivers down your spine, then sucking harshly. One of his hands founds its way up to your clothed breast as he grips your right boob, massaging it earning a low moan from you then notices that you don’t have a bra on.

“Not wearing a bra on the job, Naughty little exorcist,” He smirks down at you with lust in his eyes as you blush even though you know you shouldn’t. He brings his lips back to your neck, sliding his hands down your abdomen and grabs the waistband of your pants and panties, pulling them off. He slides two fingers between your folds, creating circles on your clit. You grip his arm that was holding himself up, trying to keep yourself from moaning.

The sensation of his mouth on your neck and the way his fingers are working on your sensitive bud was driving you crazy, and you had no doubt that he knew how he was affecting you. He slides his middle and ring finger down more until he made contact with your entrance, slipping them in started out with a slow pace. You bit your lip and Jungkook notices this, he knows you’re trying to fight the urge to let the pleasure take over and give in.

He picked up the pace, pumping his fingers faster and faster as the pleasure inside of you was reaching its breaking point. “I wanna hear you when you cum for me, cum for me, little exorcist,” he said before sucking on your neck harder, causing you to no longer resist the feeling and let out a loud moan as you came instantly. After you came down your high you laid there with a fucked out expression as he pulled his fingers out, licking them clean of your juices. “Such a Sweet little exorcist,” he says between licks.

He scoots down on the bed some, spreading your legs to sit on his knees between them. He leans down gripping your breasts, giving them a mini massage before suddenly grabbing onto your shirt and ripping it down the middle with his bare hands, surprising you. “Was that really necessary,” You ask with a raised eyebrow. “Very,” He replies as he leans down more before taking one of your boobs in his mouth, sucking. He teased your nipple between his teeth, causing you to grab a hold of the back of his head.

He started to travel down your body with his lips, biting, sucking and kissing until he got to where you needed him the most. Jungkook grabs ahold of your hips, pulling you closer onto his lap. He leans down but then stops, looking up at you through his lashes with a smirk before continuing.

He kisses you everywhere while deliberately avoiding your clit. He kisses, licks and plants light bites along your inner thighs, caressing you all over your body. He would lightly blow air on your pussy, causing you to tingle all over. He was teasing you, just waiting for you to crack and beg for him and at this point, you didn’t care you just needed him and needed him now.

You let out a groan of frustration as you gripped the sheets tight. “Dammit Jungkook, please stop teasing me,” You whined out, wanting more action. He smirks at your sudden outburst but never gives you what you want, just continues his teasing.

As soon as you were about to whine again you immediately moaned out, feeling his tongue against you, creating circles around your clit. You ran your fingers through his hair when he stuck his tongue in your warm entrance while he rubbed your clit with his thumb, causing you to cry out in pleasure. “O-oh my god, yes, right there,” You howled out. He pushed in and pulled out his tongue over and over, fucking you with his tongue, a string of curses escaped your lips as he moved his thumb faster.

You could feel your second release approaching as he continued, as you cried out that you were about to cum he pulls away completely, leaving you a panting mess beneath him as you whined out his name. You were getting tired of his teasing and he knew it, he loved seeing you get all frustrated.

“You’ve already cum once, the next time you cum it’s gonna be when I’m inside of you,” He said as he pats your outer thigh before getting up and standing at the edge of the bed. “But first come here, on your knees,” He demanded. You did as you were told and climbed down off the bed, getting on your knees in front of him. He unbuttoned his pants, slipping them off along with his underwear.

When his cock was freed your eyes wide at how big he was, you looked up at him to see a smirk dancing on his lips. He tangled one hand in your hair, bringing your head close to his veiny cock. You wrapped your hand around him, licking a stripe up it, from base to tip then taking him into your mouth. He tilted his head back in pleasure as you slowly took him deeper, once he felt the back of your throat he softly gripped your hair, pulling himself out of your mouth, letting you breathe then slipping back in.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he started to thrust a bit faster. You could feel tears roll down your cheeks but you didn’t care, you were enjoying the sound of his moans and groans. “Shit, your mouth feels so f-fucking good,” He added, feeling the vibration of your moans.

You hold the back of his leg to keep yourself balanced while you slide your other hand down your wet pussy as he face-fucked you, needing to feel some kind of friction. With one last thrust of his hips, he pushed deep into your throat and held his cock there for a few seconds causing you to gag before pulling out again. “You love sucking my cock, don’t you?” He asked with his head still tilted back. “Mmm, yes Jungkook,” you moan back breathlessly.

Once he calmed down enough he looked down at you with a grin as his chest heavily raised up and down. “Stand up,” you obeyed, standing up on your feet quickly. He gently placed his hands on both sides of your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “Are you okay?” you nodded, feeling quite surprised to see he had a caring side and you were liking it very much.

"Good, now on your back,“ he ordered as he guided you more towards the bed. You felt a bit excited knowing what was coming next, you laid on the bed, watching him climb on top of you. He leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips. "Just as sweet and soft as I imagined,” he spreads your legs then rubbed his cock against your clit a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He shoved his cock in, slamming into you, not letting you adjust to his size but you sure weren’t complaining.

“Oh f-fuck,” You cried, feeling him thrust faster and faster. He pushed down on your thighs, causing them to spread even more than they already were. He took one hand and rubbed your clit in circles as he fucked you, making you feel your second orgasm but you didn’t want to cum yet. You grabbed his wrist and the arm that was still on your thigh, pulling him down, closer to you. You wrapped your legs around him as he kisses and sucks on your neck. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jungkook groaned.

When Jungkook propped himself up on his arm you grabbed him again for the second time, placing his other hand around your neck. He smirked, immediately knowing exactly what you wanted, he lightly tightens his grip as he slows down his thrust but still fucking you hard. “You really are a bad little exorcist, aren’t you?” he leans down into your ear while he keeps his grip on your neck. “Allowing a demon to just fuck this tight pussy of yours, and now you’re gonna cum on my cock while I choke you,” the more he talked dirty into your ear the closer you felt to your climax coming.

“You like that, don’t you? You like the feeling of my hand around your neck as my cock stretches your tight little pussy,” you nodded your head repeatedly as you held onto his arm. Having his hand on your throat was pushing you closer and closer to the edge, fast. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten as you let a moan escape your lips before speaking. “Oh my god, I’m g-gonna cum,” Jungkook picks up the pace a bit as he replied.

“Don’t you fucking dare cum yet,” He pauses, groaning from the feeling you were giving him. “You’re not allowed to cum just yet, you can take it, just a little longer,” He added. You could feel tears rolling down your cheeks again from the pleasure and you knew you couldn’t hold it any longer. “I-I can’t,” you moaned. He was close as well, feeling your walls clench around his cock, he knew you were seconds from cumming. After you came Jungkook removed his hand away from your neck as he continued to fuck you to his own release, causing you to be overstimulated.

At first, it was painful but soon you felt the coil in your stomach again. “Your gonna cum again, already?” He smirked as his thrusts started to get a bit sloppy and you knew he was about to cum. He leans down to kiss your soft lips as you tighten your legs around his waist. He slightly pulls from the kiss with a loud breathy groan as he came.

“F-fuckkk,” he moaned, dragging the word out. Your mouth fell open as you once again grip the sheets and wrapped one arm around his torso as you came with him. Heavy breathing filled the room as he rolled to the side of the bed next to you. Both of you laid there for a few seconds catching your breath before he spoke up. “In all my demon years, a human has never made me cum so hard,” despite you feeling a little embarrassed at his words, a small smile crept its way onto your lips. “It’s like you were made just for me,” he added.

“Yeah, I guess I can’t say I’ve ever had someone make me cum 3 times,” even though you stayed staring at the ceiling as you spoke, you knew he was smirking. You were expecting to hear a cocky reply but instead, he leans up, getting off the bed and walking to the door before looking back at you. “You coming?” you look at him confused. “What, where?” you asked. He walks towards you, looking down at your naked body. “To get in the shower,” He says before he reached his hand out for you to take it.

You look at him for a second, a little taken aback before taking his hand. A part of you thought he would just leave right after, never to see him again but you were actually happy that he kept his end of the deal, with the frequent visits just for you, his little exorcist.

You guessed your job wasn’t all that bad.

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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[Previous] [I’m Dead] [Next]

Was it a dream

Pairing: Reaper!Jungkook x Reader, vmin, sope, namjin

Warning: Mentions death throughout.

Summary: Woken one night by memories of the past you meet a mysterious man on your balcony. He is cocky and charming and you find yourself swept up in something that is bigger than you can imagine. Why? Because he is death. And because your meeting is long overdue.

Tags: @samros95 @rebeccawoodrow @labellolo

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junghelioseok · 6 years ago

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forbidden.

↳ a dance with the devil under the pale moon.

◇ namjoon x reader ◇ smut | demon!au ◇ 6.6k [1/1]

notes: i have, quite literally, been sitting on this fic for nine months. i’ve carried this thing to a full-term pregnancy. it’s undergone two title changes and three rewrites and honestly i still kinda hate it but i’m tired of reworking it so here ya go!!! i’m gonna go crawl into bed and sleep for a week!!!

⇢ now updated with a lovely moodboard by the wonderful, talented @la-vie-en-tae! thank you, babe!

warnings: dirty talk, thigh riding, oral, some choking oops, dom/sub themes, light bondage aka your hands are restrained, joon’s literally the devil lmao

When you meet the Devil for the first time, it isn’t on some lonely, twisting back road in the middle of nowhere. It isn’t in a darkened bar or a pulsating club on a forgettable Friday night.

No, you bump into the Devil—quite literally—in the library on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, somewhere between science fiction and literary classics. The impact sends you sprawling to the ground, the scratchy carpet rough underneath your palms as you prepare to push yourself back to your feet with an apology ready on your lips. But the sight of the man standing before you leaves you breathless and gasping to recall the contrite words you’d prepared.

To say that he’s breathtaking would be an understatement. Tall and slender with ashy silver hair, he looks completely unruffled despite the earlier collision. He’s holding Dante’s Inferno delicately in one hand—which, in retrospect, is an exceptionally appropriate choice of reading material—and perhaps that should have been your first indicator of his true identity.

Instead, it takes a coffee date—instigated by him as an apology—and a conversation with your next-door neighbor, Seokjin, to convince you that the seemingly innocuous man from the library was, indeed, the Devil. Despite consistently erring on the side of paranoia, Jin’s knowledge on demonology cannot be matched. And when you tell him the name of the man you’d just shared coffee with, his brown eyes widen to almost comic proportions.

Namjoon? Did you say Namjoon?

Yes, I did. Why, do you know him?

It’s difficult to stop Seokjin from babbling once he begins, but somewhere between the frenzied bleating and cursing and countless ancient texts shoved in your face, you understand. Namjoon is a name that has floated down through centuries—but in countless iterations and every language, it has remained the name associated with the Devil.

Huh. So, the Devil likes lattes, then. That’s pretty quaint, don’t you think?

It’s not funny, {Name}.

Do you think he comes to Earth exclusively for the coffee? I can’t imagine there being good coffee in Hell.

Really not funny, {Name}! He could’ve killed you!

But he didn’t! I guess that means I still have some time left, which is reassuring. I still haven’t done most of the things on my bucket list… but hey, at least I can check off ‘date with the Devil’ now! That’s pretty neat.

Fuck, why are you being so blasé about this? Did you already sign over your soul, along with your brain?

Leaving behind an exasperated Seokjin, you returned to your own apartment that evening and immersed yourself in one of several books you’d checked out from the library. And you don’t think about Namjoon again—at least, not until two weeks later when there is a polite knock on your front door. Having ordered takeout about half an hour ago, you fully expect it to be the deliveryman and grab your wallet on your way to answer it—

—only to immediately drop it in shock, a yelp escaping your parted lips as you take in the figure standing on your doorstep. “Jesus!”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Namjoon replies with a smile, and you are too distracted by the dimples dotting his cheeks to realize that he’s all but confirmed Seokjin’s suspicions. It takes a few long moments for his words to sink into your brain, and when they do, you can only manage a confused stammer.

“O-oh? Oh! Oh, um…“

The sound of Namjoon’s soft laughter brings you back to your senses, the sound dulcet and alluring. “I’m guessing you already know who I am, then.” His face stretches into another smile, and you find yourself once again drawn to his dimples, admiring the way they crinkle as he speaks again. “Please rest assured, though. I mean you no harm.”

“Sounds exactly like what someone with harmful intentions would say.” The words are out before you can stop them, and you promptly slap a hand over your traitorous mouth. “Oh god, sorry,” you mumble from between your fingers, voice slightly muffled. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean that.”

Namjoon just laughs again. “Honesty isn’t something you need to apologize for,” he assures, tilting his head to the side and regarding you more closely. “Curious, though, that you don’t seem afraid.”

“I’ve been told that I have very poor survival instincts,” you admit, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

His eyes glint with amusement. “True as that may be, I wasn’t lying when I told you that I mean no harm. I simply thought to bring you some coffee.”

For the first time, you look down at his hands, taking in the two steaming cups tucked neatly in a little cardboard tray. Dangling from his wrist is a white bag emblazoned with gaudy red font, the contents precariously close to poking through the thin plastic. “Is that my food?”

A smile. “I happened upon the deliveryman in the elevator.” Raising the bag, Namjoon nods in the direction of your kitchen, just visible from the entryway. “May I come in?”

You glance down, taking in the sight of his perfectly shined leather shoes toeing the threshold of your apartment. You think back to Seokjin’s frantic warnings and Namjoon’s easy admission of his identity. You wonder, briefly, if he’s insane, and consider the potential dangers that could befall you if you spend any longer in his presence.

And then you step aside and let him in. In one smooth step, Namjoon is in your apartment, glancing around with a curious little smile. You watch him for a few moments, admiring the shimmery silk of his cream shirt and loose black tie before your gaze falls back down to the cups in his hand.

“Isn’t it a little late for coffee?”

Namjoon’s smile widens into a full-fledged grin. “I’ll admit, I didn’t exactly take the hour into consideration when I made my purchase.”

“You really should have,” you admonish, reaching out to take the coffee from him and turning down the hallway toward the kitchen. “I’ll never be able to sleep after drinking this.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to tire you out,” Namjoon says serenely, but you don’t miss the wicked note in his tone. His voice is low and soft, and you can tell from the proximity of the sound that he is following after you. Thanking every lucky star that your back is toward him, you enter the kitchen and shift the tray holding the cups to one hand. Pulling open the silverware drawer with the other, you pluck out two forks.

“Hungry?” you ask, offering him one without meeting his gaze.

Namjoon chuckles and accepts the proffered utensil. “Quite, actually. Thank you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, tamping down the urge to ask him whether or not he’d prefer human souls over Chinese takeout. Instead, you make your way over to the small dining table in the corner, perching comfortably on one of the chairs and setting down the coffee. Namjoon takes the other seat, placing the bag of food carefully on the table, and you are all too aware of his eyes lingering on you as you select a carton and tear into it. “Want some noodles?” you ask after a few seconds of chewing, awkwardly offering the box to him.

“I’m all right with chicken for now,” he replies, jabbing a piece of sauce-covered meat for emphasis. You can’t help but watch, transfixed, as he brings it to his mouth, plump lips parting to receive the food and throat bobbing when he swallows. “Why don’t we trade in a bit?”

“That… yeah. That sounds good.” Tearing your gaze from his mouth, you force your attention back on the carton in your hand, vehemently spinning your fork around the noodles. His presence is magnetic, stirring a very different kind of hunger in the pit of your belly, and despite your best efforts at suppression you know it’s all in vain when you catch sight of Namjoon’s knowing smirk.

When he speaks, however, his voice remains perfectly even. “Are you all right? You look rather flushed.”

Your cheeks grow warmer under his scrutiny. “I’m fine.” Picking up one of the cups, you take a quick sip, noting with surprise that the perfect amount of cream and sugar has already been added. It does nothing to quell the heat curling in your belly though, and Namjoon knows it as well, his wicked smirk growing. You watch, frozen, as he reaches across the table and taps your chin, gently tilting your face up as his other hand comes up to rest against your forehead.

“You’re feverish,” he murmurs.

“And you’re teasing me,” you mumble back, your mouth moving before your brain can caution it to stop.

Dark amusement glitters in equally dark eyes, mesmerizing and hypnotic. “That pretty little mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day,” he says conversationally as he rises to his feet, his larger figure towering over your seated one. You suddenly feel very small.

When his hand comes up to tap your chin again, you all but melt into his touch. Namjoon urges you to stand, his thumb trailing along your jawline until his open palm is cupping the nape of your neck and his long fingers are threading through your hair. For a moment, his hand tightens and the dull throb of pain that shoots through your scalp has your knees buckling, almost dropping to the floor. But Namjoon is quick to slide his arm around your waist and prop you up against his firm chest. The silken shirt he’s wearing does nothing to hide the hard planes and ridges of muscle, and you let out a soft sigh of appreciation as your hands find purchase on his broad shoulders.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?” he murmurs, hot breath fanning across your cheek. “What I’ve wanted to do since we met that day at the library?” His lips are at your ear, hand still twined through your hair, and already you are drunk on his spellbinding presence and dizzying proximity. Wordlessly, you shake your head, and you feel the way his lips curve up against your jaw.

“Would you like to find out?”

You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But your logic is dwindling with every passing second, and the simmering heat in your belly only grows when his mouth dips down to nip at the column of your throat.

Breathless, you nod your assent, watching as his smile grows to impossibly wide proportions at the simple motion. His arm tightens around your waist as he moves to guide you down the narrow hall leading to your bedroom, your anticipation growing stronger with every step you take. Yet Namjoon’s pace remains steady and unhurried, his strong hand firmly anchored at your hip.

It feels as if eons have passed by the time you reach your bedroom door. Ever playing the role of gentleman, Namjoon is quick to hold it open and allow you to pass through first, a guiding hand lingering at the small of your back. Vaguely, you hear the door fall shut behind you, but you hardly have time to register the sound before both his hands return to your body, pulling your back flush against his warm chest. Through the thin layers of fabric, you can feel every taut ridge of defined muscle, your fingers itching to reach out and touch him. The simmering anticipation in your tummy sharpens and coalesces into something more needy, begging for relief—and it seems he is just as impatient underneath that calm, collected exterior.

“Get on the bed for me, pet,” he murmurs, mouthing at the sensitive skin just below your ear. A shiver runs up your spine at the nickname, tingling and electric, and you immediately rush to obey his order. The mattress dips beneath your weight as you settle onto it, and you don’t miss the way his hungry gaze takes in the exposed flesh of your legs and skims up the rest of your body. “Clothes off,” he commands huskily, stepping forward until he is bathed in the wan, silvery moonlight shining in through the open window.

Wordlessly, you reach down to the hem of your shirt, sighing softly as you tug it up and over your head. Your skirt follows, landing in a heap on the floor, and Namjoon is beside you before you can even breathe in again, his tall figure looming over your seated one as he rakes over your appearance with glimmering approval. He lingers on your lace-clad breasts for a few long moments, seemingly memorizing the exact swell of each before moving down to the apex of your thighs, and your breath hitches when you see his eyes noticeably darken. You’re sure that there is a visible damp spot on your panties, and judging by his ravenous expression, you realize that he must have seen it as well.

“Stunning,” he breathes softly. “Absolutely stunning.”

You silently congratulate yourself on your lingerie choice, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you.” A deep breath later, you boldly add, “Sir.”

A satisfied smirk stretches across his face, one hand coming down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “On your back, pet,” he commands, humming in approval when you obediently lay down. The sheets are cool against your bare skin, and Namjoon raises an amused brow when you suppress a shiver. “Are you cold?” The mattress dips as he takes a seat beside you, perceptive gaze raking across your prone figure.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, tilting your head back and letting your eyes slide shut, unwittingly exposing the long line of your throat.

The smooth glide of Namjoon’s hand along your neck sends your eyes flying open again, seeking out the predatory gaze of the man hovering above you with his fingers wrapped loosely around your throat. “Are you afraid?” he asks softly, voice deceptively gentle.

This time, you hesitate. Namjoon is dangerous—this much you know to be true. Yet, you can’t deny that you are intrigued by what the night will bring. “No,” you whisper.

He smiles. “Good.”

I really do have terrible survival instincts, is your last thought before Namjoon leans down and presses his lips to yours. All at once, your eyes flutter shut, your mind going hazy as your mouth parts to receive him. Your heart takes off at an unsteady gallop against your ribcage, and when his tongue slides against yours it skips a beat entirely.

Perhaps foolishly, you’d expected fire and brimstone when your lips met, but Namjoon tastes vaguely of coffee and dark chocolate. You’re not sure what to make of the fact, and you aren’t left much time to dwell on it either. Namjoon chuckles softly as he pulls back to allow you a breath of air, his hands wandering down your stomach and along your hipbones. “So pretty,” he breathes, roving dangerously close to your dripping core. Experimentally, he presses the pad of his index finger against your lace-covered clit, a smirk curling his lips when you release a shuddery moan and arch off the bed. “My perfect, pretty toy,” he murmurs in appreciation. “Tell me, little girl, do you want me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” The affirmation escapes you in a whimper.

The man—no, demon—chuckles and straightens up, nimble fingers beginning to undo his belt. “No god can help you now, pet,” he croons wickedly, pushing his dark slacks down his hips to free his cock. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips when you notice the tip already glistening with beads of white, a pronounced ache settling in your core as you await further instructions.

For a few long seconds, Namjoon simply stands there. One hand drops down to wrap around his length, stroking along the shaft almost thoughtfully as he regards your figure splayed across the bed. You watch as his penetrating gaze trails from your toes to your crown, lingering on your thighs and the swell of your breasts before finally coming to a rest on your face. His lips curl up into an amused smile.

“Sit up, pet.”

You do as he commands, shifting into a seated position atop the mattress with your legs curled up beneath you. Namjoon’s hand comes down to curl around the nape of your neck, gently urging you to turn until you are facing away from him. Then he’s pressing you down, until your back is flat against the sheets and the crease of your neck is at the edge of the bed, your vision turned upside-down. Your breath catches in your throat as Namjoon lets out a satisfied hum, one long finger tracing the delicate skin of your exposed neck.

“Such a wanton little thing,” he remarks calmly, as if commenting on the weather. His hand trails up further, running along the line of your jaw before skimming across your chin to settle on your bottom lip. At his gentle insistence, your lips part, and Namjoon’s smirk grows as he slides his thumb into your mouth.

Immediately, you close your lips around him, sucking gently before running your tongue around the pad of his finger. Namjoon inhales sharply, and the dark glimmer of hunger in his eyes coalesces into something almost tangible—something hot and heavy that surrounds you like a blanket. Silently, he removes his thumb from your mouth.

A moment later, the head of his cock is prodding against your parted lips, urging them wider to accommodate his substantial girth. You allow your jaw to slacken as he pushes farther in, focusing solely on breathing through your nose as he hits the back of your throat. “You’re doing well, sweet thing,” he croons softly, reaching down to stroke your cheek. “So sweet, taking my cock like this. I bet you can take all of it, right, pet?” His hips rock forward, and tears spring to your eyes as the tip of his throbbing length slides down into your throat. Gagging around the intrusion, you almost pull back, but the hand wrapping around your neck stops you in your place. Still teary-eyed, you glance up at an amused Namjoon, one of his dark brows raised appraisingly. “Right, pet?”

His deep voice leaves no room for disagreement, so you nod as much as you can under the circumstances, with your head tilted back against the side of the mattress and his dick still lodged in your throat. Your vision is beginning to swim, the tears escaping your eyes and trickling the wrong way down your temples and into your hairline. But your acquiescence seems to satisfy Namjoon, who loosens his grip on your neck and surges forward once more, halting only when his hips are nestled firmly against your chin and your throat’s swollen with the entirety of his length.

You’re positively aching by this point. Heat curls at the base of your spine and flares outward, rushing through your veins like fire until you feel fit to burst. You are painfully aware of the frantic rhythm of your heart, beating in time with the throbbing of Namjoon’s cock in your mouth. Everything burns.

And then Namjoon begins to move.

The first thrust is shallow as he gets a hold of his bearings, but he leaves little time for you to adjust. Each subsequent snap of his hips has you gagging around him, and the tightening of your throat only seems to spur him on. “Look at you,” he croons. “Such a pretty little slut, choking around my cock.”

Pride wells up in your chest and instinct has you stretching out, relaxing and opening up more of your body for him to possess. In the short time you’ve been acquainted, you have discerned that Namjoon does not like losing control—not one bit. Every fiber of his being screams dominance and authority—from the mildly curious expression that betrays nothing of his true feelings to the ashy silver hair that’s so perfectly slicked away without a single strand out of place. He is the very picture of composure. So when you look up to see his face crumpled in pleasure, his dark eyes sliding shut and lips parting to release a low groan, it’s all the more satisfying.

Saliva pools in your mouth, easing the slide of his cock as he increases his pace. A thin trickle dribbles out of the corner of your lips, joining your tears and dampening your hair, but Namjoon is relentless and you find that you can no longer control your breathing with the way he’s fucking your mouth. Your vision grows hazy as your brain realizes its own oxygen deprivation and goes into survival mode, relaxing your muscles and letting your eyes flutter shut. You have no strength left—not even to raise a hand and warn your tormentor of your dire state.

Just when you are certain that you’re about to pass out, Namjoon pulls back. Instantly, you gasp in a desperate breath, almost choking on the stream of air rushing back into your lungs. Your throat is burning from his harsh treatment, but it’s nothing compared to the scorching fire in your core. There’s no doubt in your mind that your panties are soaked through, your legs rubbing together in an attempt to quell the ache in your clit.

Namjoon zeroes in on your movement immediately, chuckling lowly as he reaches down and spreads your legs open. “Now, now,” he chides, a wicked smirk curving his lips, “I didn’t give you permission to do that.”

When you find your voice again, it comes out as little more than a raspy croak. “I… please, sir.” Your gaze flickers down to his cock, still glistening with an unholy mixture of saliva and arousal, and Namjoon’s smirk widens when he sees what has caught your attention.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, cupping the back of your head and urging you to sit up on the bed. “Are you already that desperate for my cock again?”

Hesitantly, you rise up into a kneeling position, drawing your legs underneath and pushing up until you are almost level with him. Sucking in another deep breath, you try to ease your frantic heartbeat into a more regular rhythm. “Please,” you murmur, your voice little more than a warble. “Please.”

Namjoon straightens to his full height, forcing your head back so that you maintain eye contact. His other hand trails down to pull his pants back over his hips, and you bite your lip when you see the teasing outline of his erection against the dark material. “What makes you think you deserve my cock tonight, little girl?”

You flush under his scrutiny, watching the way his brown eyes rake across your half-naked form. “M-maybe I don’t,” you manage softly. Embarrassment rises up in your chest like a plume of smoke, but you tamp it back down and plow forward with a stubbornness you didn’t know you possessed. “I-I’ll work for it, if it’d please you, sir.”

Namjoon’s gaze darkens to obsidian, so shadowy and deep that you almost feel as if you’re drowning. His irises are unnaturally wide, and seem to grow until there is barely any white surrounding the inky blackness. “Work for it, hmm?” he hums, his thumb stroking along your temples. “Why don’t you come sit in my lap then, pet?”

The words send an electrifying tingle down your spine. Intrigued, you watch as Namjoon sits down and gestures for you to straddle him.

And then:

“One leg on either side of mine, pet, and grind against my thigh like a good girl.”

A groan leaves your mouth as you obediently climb into position, his thigh pressing up against your core. You’re certain that you’re soaking through the fabric of his slacks even with your panties acting as a barrier, and the thought sends warmth blossoming across your cheeks in a bloom of color that only worsens when he reaches around to unclasp your bra. The lacy garment falls uselessly to the ground, and you keen when he thumbs across your pert nipples, the sensitive buds hardening at the sudden exposure to the cool air.

Hesitantly, you roll your hips once, a soft gasp escaping you at the delicious friction against your clit. Namjoon’s hands slide from your breasts to your hips, fingers digging into the flesh with almost bruising force as he urges you to continue with your sinful movements. You whimper as he increases your pace, and when he flexes his thigh, pleasure rockets up your spine like lightning. “O-oh! Fu-uuuck, Namjoon!”

He raises a single, perfectly arched brow. “What did you just call me?”

All the air whistles out of your lungs at the palpable danger lacing his tone. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

Satisfied with your apology, Namjoon gives you an absolutely devilish smirk. “That’s a good girl.” His hands tighten around you, and you keen out a high-pitched curse when he shifts his leg to press against your clit harshly. You feel positively fit to burst, and it seems the demon underneath you knows it too. “Why don’t you let go and cum for me, sweet thing?” Namjoon murmurs, rubbing deceptively soothing circles into your skin.

It’s pointless to resist the allure of his words, and it only takes a few more rolls of your hips before you are shaking apart in his grip, one of his hands coming up to smooth comfortably along your spine as he murmurs hushed praises in your ear. He’s kind enough to allow you to continue grinding against him even in the throes of your orgasm, helping draw out every last bit of pleasure until you fall still in his grasp, your legs weak and utterly boneless.

Namjoon’s gaze is darker than ever, something wicked glimmering the unseen depths of his irises. “Oh, pet,” he croons, sliding one hand into your hair and angling your head so that his lips are mere millimeters away from yours. “You’re already such a mess, and I’ve barely touched you.”

You wriggle weakly in his grip, feeling the way his fingers dig a little more firmly into the small of your back. “S-sir,” you breathe. The thin lace of your panties is drenched by this point, sticking uncomfortably to your folds and reminding you just how aroused you are. “Please. Please, I need more.”

Namjoon grins. “She’s still begging,” he hums to no one in particular, sounding thoroughly pleased. “What do you need, pet?”

Hot embarrassment rises up again, but your lips form the words anyway. “Y-your cock, sir,” you stammer weakly, grasping at the silky material of his shirt. “I-I need your cock.”

The demon chuckles. “Be more specific, pet. Where do you need it?”

“Inside…” Your voice breaks off, and, swallowing, you try again. “Inside my pussy, sir. P-please.”

He hums, pleased. “Good girl.” Reaching for the tie knotted around his neck, he begins to loosen it, obsidian gaze never once leaving yours as he tosses the thin strip of silk carelessly onto the bed. His shirt comes off next, creamy material sliding off his shoulders to reveal the taut, tanned skin beneath. Anticipation swells within you, growing to almost unbearable levels when he reaches for his belt.

“Sir, please—“

Namjoon closes the distance between you in an instant, laying a finger against your lips. “Hush, pet. Back up against the pillows.”

Slowly, you obey, sliding back until you are sinking into the downy softness of the pillows at the head of the bed. Namjoon joins you, and in the span of seconds, he has his tie looped around your wrists and secured to the metal poles of your headboard. Leaning back, he surveys his work with a faint smirk dancing on his lips, dark gaze trailing from your flushed face to your heaving breasts until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

“So pretty,” he breathes. “Look at you, all nice and spread out for me.” Your heart stutters, and when his thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties it misses several beats altogether. The lace slides down your thighs easily, disappearing into the tangle of sheets below, and the flush blossoming across your cheeks worsens when Namjoon leans back to drink in the sight of you laid bare before him. “I can’t wait to ruin this delicious little cunt of yours,” he murmurs, gently running the tip of his index finger along your drenched folds.

You shudder at the insubstantial touch, toes curling at the pinpricks of pleasure suddenly dancing along the base of your spine. “Then don’t.” The words escape you in a breathy exhalation.

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Dangerous words, pet,” he chides, leaning down and grasping your chin delicately between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly—deliberately—he presses forward until his lips brush yours, the touch feather-light and fleeting. Your fingers twitch with the sudden desire to tangle in his ashy hair and tug him in for a deeper kiss, but the bonds around your wrists prevent any motion beyond an unsatisfying swing from side to side. Your tormentor watches you struggle with an amused gleam twinkling in his obsidian eyes and a smirk twitching his cheeks. “I’ll release you if you’re good,” he promises, his lips tilting into a fully satisfied smirk when you immediately cease your struggle.

And then he’s pushing his slacks back off his hips, the metal buckle of his belt clanking softly. You watch in rapt fascination as the dark material falls away to reveal a new expanse of honeyed skin, stretching across the taut lines of his pelvis and descending down to where his cock stands proudly, hot and leaking and achingly familiar. A thrill runs through you at the sight.

“You’re drenched,” Namjoon hums, perverse delight lacing every syllable as he leans down and lays a kiss on your inner thigh before pulling back and tracing a slow, deliberate circle around your sensitive clit. A hoarse chuckle escapes him when you instinctively raise your hips for more and he immediately splays a strong hand on your stomach. “Patience, pet,” he coos, kissing your jaw.

And then he slides his index finger inside you, your sopping entrance offering up no resistance to the intrusion. Every muscle in your body seems to contract around him, drawing him farther inside your willing body, and Namjoon obligingly slips a second finger in beside the first, digging up and in as he endeavors to find the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when a sudden rush of electric warmth bubbles up in your belly, pulsating in time with the rhythm of his hand. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing hard, insistent circles around the bud, and it doesn’t take long for your body to tense under the onslaught of pleasure.

“Fu-uck, sir,” you plead, trying in vain to wriggle free of the hand still splayed across your stomach. “Please.”

“I don’t think so,” he purrs, looking every inch the demon he is as he retracts his fingers, stealing away your orgasm and dulling the heat in your belly to a simmer. Glittering obsidian eyes lock with yours as he settles between your legs, gently pushing your trembling thighs apart to accommodate his body. You whimper when you finally, finally feel the head of his cock prodding at your soaked folds.

“Sir,” you entreaty, meeting his heavy gaze.

Namjoon chuckles. One strong hand settles on your hip, digging into the tender flesh and anchoring you in place as he begins to press forward, inch by torturous inch.

It feels as if an eternity has passed by the time he sheathes himself entirely inside you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he suppresses a hoarse groan. You can only keen at the surge of fullness, clenching around his substantial girth and fighting back the dull sting of pain that accompanies the breach. Namjoon is bigger than any partner you’ve ever had in the past, and you are certain that you’re being stretched to your absolute limit as your walls mold around every ridge and vein of his throbbing cock.

“You’re so tight.” Namjoon trails a finger up along your throat, and you swallow harshly as he traces the outline of your jugular vein before moving downward and refocusing his attention on the soft swell of your breasts. “So tight and warm and wet. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a human girl—I’d forgotten just how sweet your kind are.”

For a moment, you wonder just how many humans he has seduced before, but that train of thought is quickly derailed when he runs his thumb over your nipple, swirling around the hardening bud. His other hand remains curled around your hipbone, his grip tightening as he begins a slow rhythm. Your fingers ache to curl around his neck and pull him closer, but the silk tie wrapped tight around your wrists prevents any such motion. Instead, you can only wind your legs around his waist, your heels digging harshly into his lower back and your lips parting to release a low moan.

At the sound, Namjoon’s pace becomes even more leisurely, a smirk growing on his handsome face when you let out a protesting whine.

“Namjoon—“

“Patience, pet,” he purrs, forgiving your slip of the tongue with a deep chuckle and a finger rubbing teasingly against your clit. The sudden spike in pleasure has you gasping and writhing against your restraints once more, but the demon hovering over you just grins. “Why don’t you try begging again?”

All sense of propriety and pride evaporate in the wake of his taunt. “Please,” you warble weakly, wrapping your legs more firmly around him as if to urge him on. “Please, I need more.”

He gives you a terribly self-assured grin. “Be careful what you ask for, sweet thing.” You barely have time to process the warning before he rears back, retreating until only the head of his cock remains inside you.

And then he is surging forward, a strand of ashy silver hair falling across his forehead as his hips meet your skin with a resounding smack. The force of the thrust sends you sliding back against the sheets until your bound forearms are sliding against the cool metal grill of the headboard, and you are suddenly grateful for the silken material grounding you to earth as Namjoon abandons all semblance of self-restraint with a snarl. Every subsequent thrust pushes you farther backward, and it’s all you can do to curl your fingers around the metal bars as your secured wrists scream in protest.

“Fuck,” Namjoon growls into your ear, his voice so deep and cavernous you almost get lost in the sound. Your thighs tense around him as he picks up his pace, and somewhere between the keens and whimpers leaving your mouth, you manage to moan out something that sounds suspiciously like his name. Another growl ripples through his chest, a thumb and a forefinger reaching down to grasp your chin, and when your gazes meet it’s as if all the air has been snatched right out of your lungs.

It takes you a few seconds to realize that his hand has gravitated down to your throat, his grip unyielding as his stare continues to bore down into you. You’ve never felt more exposed—physically or mentally—and as your oxygen supply dwindles you wonder again if you’ll manage to survive this encounter. Terrible survival instincts, a reprimanding voice in the back of your mind sighs, already defeated. Absolutely fucking awful.

Black spots are beginning to cloud your vision, but still Namjoon does not release his grip. Your eyes flutter shut and your heartbeat slows to a whisper.

But then something warm starts to stir in your lower belly, bubbling up so suddenly that you are fully unprepared for the white-hot burst of pure heat that follows. Molten pleasure floods through your veins in a rushing torrent that washes every black spot clean away, your body shaking apart in spasms. The orgasm leaves you utterly boneless, and you barely register the feeling of Namjoon coming undone alongside you, growing impossibly before painting your walls in creamy spurts of white.

It’s only when a cool palm cups your cheek that you open your eyes again, realizing for the first time that you are aching with emptiness and that Namjoon is standing and fully dressed once more. “Sleep, pet,” he murmurs, his tone laced with something that could be akin to tenderness if you truly believed that the Devil could be capable of such a thing. “You’ll need it.”

Blinking blearily, you reach for his hand and discover that your wrists are no longer tied. Your fingers brush against the bony ridges of his knuckles, and he indulges the touch briefly before pulling away and straightening to his full height.

“Sleep,” he repeats softly, his ashy hair glimmering silver in the moonlight shining through the window.

So you do.

///

When you wake again, the morning sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon. In the warm golden glow of daytime, you almost convince yourself that the events of last night had simply been a fever dream.

But you can’t deny the tingling ache that still lingers between your legs, and when you glance over at your nightstand, you spot a very familiar black tie lying there in a neat silken coil. Slowly, you reach out to touch it, rubbing the soft material between your fingertips as the memories come rushing back.

Somehow, you manage to gather your wits about you enough to crawl out of bed and meander into the kitchen for something to eat. Upon opening the fridge, you are surprised to discover that your takeout has been stacked neatly inside, and the mental image of Namjoon taking the time to refrigerate your leftovers before leaving is absurd enough to leave you giggling haplessly, bordering on manic as you sink to the ground in hysterics.

The sound of your front door clicking open draws you out of your laughing fit, and you belatedly remember that you’d given your next-door neighbor a spare key in case of emergencies several months back. Staring up into Seokjin’s bemused face, you tamp down another bout of giggles and rise to your feet, greeting him with a small smile. “Morning, Jin. What brings you here so early?”

“There was a shift in the energy around our building last night,” your neighbor says, his eyes flickering around the room cautiously. “A major shift. Definitely demonic, and the strongest I’ve ever felt. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You shuffle your feet nervously, and Jin zeroes in on your uneasiness with razor precision and rising alarm.

“{Name},” he begins. “It… it was him, wasn’t it.”

You suck in a deep breath at his accusing tone. “I’m fine, Seokjin.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not an answer.”

“You’re right.”

Jin’s jaw drops. “Fuck, {Name}, what happened? What did he want? Did he threaten you? Did you accept anything he gave you? Oh, fuck, what if you handed your soul over to the literal fucking Devil—“

He goes on, rambling and ranting about possession and demonic contracts but you barely hear him. All you can think about is Namjoon and his soft command for you to go to sleep last night—and the five little words that followed. Five words that you barely heard as you drifted off, but are certain you didn’t imagine.

I’ll see you next time.

#namjoon #namjoon scenarios #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts scenarios #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #demon!au #demon au #bts fanfiction #rm #kim namjoon #bts #bangtan boys #kpop scenarios #lia writes

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thegirlwithluv · 5 years ago

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Jimin Devil Aesthetic.

#park jimim #bts jimin #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts army #btsarmy #bts are kings #bts demon au #bts aesthetic #chimchim #jimin hot #jimin x reader #bangtan #bts boys #bts chimchim

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sakuraseacreations · 5 years ago

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Moon Child, Tae and Demon King, Jimin.

I haven’t been on tumblr in a very long time so I decided it was time for a new account for some new art!

I currently have about 6 or 7 drawings in progress and I have a few finished ones to post too!!

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milkte-aa · 6 years ago

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" deal breaker! " (myg x y/n x jjk) 001

📍tags/genre ;; angst, satire, demon!au, prince!au.

📍summary ;; many many years ago, an ancestor of yours made a deal with two demon princes and never paid his debt. the demons, who lay dormant, have awoken and want their prize. and as a blessing and a curse, the prize is you.

📍author's note ;; the story is a bit mature, so chapters that don't have gore, violence, or smut, are still best for 16+ readers. but, of course, read at your own expense.

📍to find other chapters search #db-jjkmyg

"Come on, Jungkook! We don't have all year!!"

That loud voice resonated throughout the large, victorian styled manor. The dark hardwood floors were just a clean and shiny as they had been left, back when the victorian era was on the rise. It was a tragic day, when the manor was left behind, and that day would always be remembered as the day when the demons lost the great war. The two demon princes, who resided within this manor had fought and the front lines, and were forced into dormancy when they lost.

The heavy sound of footsteps could be heard at the home's entrance from deep within the many halls. Approaching every so calmly, Yoongi knew his call had been heard.

He gazed into the round mirror next to the coat rack that lay in the manor's entrance hall, fingertips brushing lightly over his cheek and jaw. The last time he'd seen his own face, was over 130 years ago, and there had been a long and deep cut that split his face in half diagonally. It was strange that they woke up, let alone come back completely unharmed or scarred. It left Yoongi to wonder why he was returned to his original state? Why wasn't his black hair matted with blood? Why was his skin left smooth and clean and not cracked, cut, and burned? Why was Jungkook so unhurt as he? He was greatful that his lover was back in the correct mental state, but why was it so?

"Weird isn't it? That we look brand new?" A chuckled rumbled across the entryway, taking Yoongi's attention away from his silvery reflection. He looked to Jungkook, the tall and handsome boy he'd had as a companion for centuries.

Yoongi nodded, looking back towards the mirror for a moment. He watched himself, quietly staring into his dark eyes. Jungkook cleared his throat in an attempt to get the other's attention, "So, hyung, why did you call my name?"

Jungkook had shoved his hands into the pockets of his blazer, with a coy smile on his face. Depsite them having come back so 'new', they were still wearing the same clothes. Black blazer's and slacks, dress shoes, and decorative silk shirts with matching chokers. Silver and gold adorned their fingers and ears, matching the outfit and the era they had left behind.

"Ah yes, we have some unfinished business to conclude." Yoongi turned again to the younger male, "Sadly, that war interrupted us."

Jungkook tilted his head. He was tired and confused, and quite frankly it took a second for him to even recall the very war that took place. But he caught on, remembering the crippled old man that had begged them to cure his only child of an incurable disease. They had done so, with promise that they would be able to collect whatever prize they wished from him when they returned—whether it be riches, land, or a soul. He nodded.

"Is there any prize to collect?"

Yoongi licked his lips. "I believe so. I looked into while you took a nap. The current family isn't rich, so I think we'll be collecting a soul. Unless something else takes our interest."

Jungkook liked the idea of a prize, even though the last thing he could remember was losing a great battle. Souls meant servants. Servants meant things getting back to normal.

Yoongi approached his companion, placing a palm on the younger's cheek. He still saw the condition Jungkook used to be in. The beaten and swollen image lingered in his memories. "I'm so happy you're okay..."

Jungkook smiled, setting his own hand over Yoongi's. "Mhmm, me too. Now, let's go get our well earned prize before it runs away."

"Yes, let's."

Your ancestory had always been a mystery to you. It felt like living in fog, and only ever seeing what was closest to you. You never met your grandparents, as they were all dead before you were born, and so you could never ask silly questions about what wars they lived through or where they grew up. Your parents wouldn't talk about it much, especially after their divorce when you were thirteen.

Though, despite all that you didn't know, there was always one thing that remained clear—your family was cursed.

The story was simple; over 100 years ago, a man in your family made a choice. Would he save his daughter from death or would he let her go and end her suffering? Despite what his little girl had wanted, he chose to save her from the clutches of death, and looked everywhere for the cure. But no books held the answer and no doctor had the time. He had lost hope. That was, until the man was approached by a mysterious creature and offered a deal. He took it without much thought, not caring to ask what the creature was or where it came from. Because of that, his ancestors believed him to have cursed the bloodline— due to making a deal with something that has yet to collect its end of the bargain.

If the family really was cursed, then maybe that would explain why you felt like nothing ever went right. All through highschool, you made mediocre grades and never seemed to impress your parents while simultaneously managing to never make any long lasting friendships. During the year between highschool and college, you had gotten fired at almost every job you took for extremely stupid things. And now, in university, depsite having finally made some good grades you're knee deep in student loan debt. You could hardly pay bills as it was, and soon enough the bank would show up a take you shitty car and even shittier apartment.

But what could you do about that? Nothing, really. Life is just a series of miserable mistakes and regrets, with the only promising goal being growing old and retiring right at the age when freetime is uncomfortable and impossible. Yeah, life is shitty. Life was so shitty sometimes, that it made you wish that the deal your idiot ancestor made would come back and haunt you because then maybe life wouldn't be so painfully drab.

Though, your catch yourself in that thought because demons, or monsters, or fairy tales weren't real.

Ring ring ring!

The distint chime of your cellphone rang at you from your bedroom, gently calling you to answer an important phone call.

"Who is it at this hour? Its almost 10 o'clock..." You pulled yourself up from the old cushions of your hand-me-down couch, eyes briefly passing over the screen of your tv, which flashed with commercials at the moment. With quick steps, you reached your bedroom, which wasn't really that far away at all, and managed to reach your phone before it quit ringing.

"Hello?"

Nothing could be heard from the other end, thought you were certain someone was listening to you.

"Who is this? If you're trying to sell me something just do it already and don't waste my time."

Nothing again, and with that you hung up— people these days were rude over the phone too. You huffed, turning your phone off and chucking it on the bed with a soft thud. Through your annoyed attitude, though, a strange feeling of coldness swept up your spine. It swarmed your brain, filling your mind with a ice so black and dark that it stopped you from thinking for a moment. But it faded, as it some sort of fire or heat had burned it away. Strange, you thought, and then you snapped back into reality.

The tv show you were watching echoed in the distance.

You walked quietly back to the living room, gazing down at your index finger and grumbling at the chipped blue nail polish as you did. You hardly paid attention to your surroundings in this moment, and ran into the couch, slamming your toe against its hard bottom.

"F-fucking hell! Bitchass couch, always in my fucking way!" You yelled out, squeezing your eyes in pain as you reached down to hold your throbbing toe.

A soft sound eerily similar to the clicking of tongue of teeth could be heard, and then...

"Well that wasn't a very ladylike set of words." The low grumble of words jerked you out of your pain, your eyes wide as the shot up to see a man sitting on your kitchen counter, his legs crossed calmly over one another. He was cold. That very coldness you'd felt just before you left you bedroom.

"W-who'er you?!" You scrambled backwards, nearly falling your ass in the process. "How'd you get in my house?!!"

The man chuckled, cleary amused with your prey-like display. His dark gaze raked over you slowly, and his tongue peeked out of his lips for a brief moment. He had black hair, brushed out of his face to show a subtle bit of the pale skin on his forehead. The rest of him was pale, all except his eyes and hair... and the oddly Victorian outfit he wore. "Who am I? How'd I get in? Those are your questions?" He scoffed, "Mortals... You never cease to amuse...."

He trailed off just as you looked to your left, spotting a large black dog towaring over your couch and gazing at you. It looked like a hellhound, but there was something oddly human about it. At closer look, the dog had black horns atop its head and rows of razor sharp teeth and a two-pronged tongue. Its tail swung around carfully, like a snake.

The man on your counter spoke again, "I am a demon, little girl, older than your bloodline and nearly as old as religion itself. This here is my friend, who decided to appear in this form rather than a human one...."

You scoffed, definitely by accident. The reflex in you to pass off stupid claims as symptoms of a low IQ. You regretted this immediately.

The man showed you his teeth, a flashy way to tell you to know your place. "I'm serious, girl. You can stand there all wobbly kneed a pretend that you don't know, deep down inside what we are, but I see right through you." He looked to the dog, that looked back at him and let out an impatient whine. "But... I will be kind and tell you the story, so that maybe then you'll show us some more respect."

You blinked several times, a feeble attempt as waking up from this nightmare. Demons? Imposible! Such a stupid idea. These are just figmants of your imagination. Maybe your family was cursed; but it would be cursed sooner with insanity that it would with demons.

"Once upon a time, during the Victorian Era, a young girl suffered from a bad case of of some very mysterious disease. Her father wanted her to live so very badly, and sold everything he had to find her a cure. But no doctor could care to help, and no witch had a practical solution. He poor, little girl was dying and each day the pale horse grew closer. But, one day, he found himself in the presence of two strange creatures that he passed off as extremely smart hellhounds. Whatever they were, he made a deal with them, selling his soul for his daughter's life. The 'creatures' were nice, and decided to wait until the man got to live a happy life with his daughter before they came to collect his soul and his life. But, those 'creatures' got caught up in a war and were left dormant for over 100 years. And now, they need to get paid for their kindness..."

You could out two and two together, you were mental, the 'deal' your ancestor made was real and it was with this man here and his... dog?

"So that's not really a dog?" You pointed to large mass of dark fur that starred at your with red eyes.

The man shook his head, "No, that's my partner-in-crime Jungkook. And I'm Yoongi. Glad to see you've found your common sense, little girl."

"So, um, Yoongi, what do I have to do with this deal? You can't possibly be here for my soul, I didn't make that stupid deal..." You tried to calm down, but it was difficult to say the least. You were starring death and its dog, er, friend in the face. Who could stay calm during that?

Yoongi looked to his friend, nodding subtlety before he adjusted his hair with a heavily jeweled hand. "I hate to tell you this, but a soul is hard to get once its dead, not unless we were there to grab it. But as I said, its been 100 years, and your great great great grandaddy is probably deep within the inferno. Jungkook and I hardly have the time to find him."

"So, you're going to kill me?" The wind outside your apartment's front door howled, a sign of an on coming storm before it happened. You could almost taste the rain in the air.

The room was silent for a moment, giving your thoughts time to catch up to the situation. You've been acting like this were a real situation. As if! Demons aren't real. Neither was magic or curses ir any of that other mumbo-jumbo. To even believe it for a second would make your insane. Maybe you were. Maybe you were in some sort of looney-bin hospital strapped to a white table and screaming like all hell was loose.

Then, the more fake than real, Yoongi spoke up. He cleared his throat, hopping gracefully off of the marble countertop. The slender man approached you, peering into your fearful and confused face before looking to his hound-shaped companion. The hound thing nodded.

"Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but we can't kill you just yet." Yoongi seemed pleased, a hidden emotion swimming in the dark pools of his eyes. "Remember that war I mentioned? Yeah, well it drained us of our power, and now we can't do something as simple as collect a soul."

Crazy, stupid, gullible girl! This isn't real! Stop responding to your hallucinations!!

You shook your thoughts away, saying nothing to Yoongi at all. He was definitely talkitive and would more than likey continue speaking on his own.

".... So, girl, that means that you're coming with us and will stay under our watch until we're strong enough to do such."

And so he proved you right.

"You don't believe me do you? You think your just a normal, everyday psycho broad who dropped her marbles somewhere and can't find them." Yoongi chuckled. "Do you want to know something? If you were dreaming or imagining this, then you wouldn't be able to feel pain or taste things. And I do recall you jamming your toe not too long ago."

Defiantly, you looked up at him, meeting him eye-to-eye in a show of boldness. "That doesn't prove anything. I could've started hallucinating between then and now. God, look at me, I'm giving into this whole brain fiasco and talking to you! And you're not even real!" You laughed, making this possibility of madness grow.

"Oh how amusing! I, the wonderfully boring and dull, Y/n, have finally gone absolutely insane. I see demons and hellhounds! What's next, fairies and unicorns? Will I begin to preach that I have seen God's true fac-" Your babblings were halted by the most violently pleasant burning sensation, accompanied by the feeling of lips against yours. The mouth against your's was soft, gentle even, with not a hint of malicious intent. You gave in, melt into the touch the snaked around your body— your demon has kissed you.

The moment didn't last long, though you wished it had, because suddenly your bottom lip seared with pain and the taste of blood filled your mouth. Those soft lips tugged themselves away, leaving you with a bloody lip.

"You bit me!" You accused, touching your fingertips to your lip. Yoongi licked his lips, an remnants of your blood disappearing. He grinned.

"Better yet, you would've liked that pain if I kept on with that kiss."

"Why would you do that?" Your ears and cheeks burned with embarrassment. He had done that on purpose, to prove some point more than likey. But the fact that you felt it—his lips, the pain—it meant that-

"This is real. I am real. So is, my very annoyed friend over there." He gestured calmly to the hound who was scrunching its face up, a low rumble emitting from its throat. Your eyes darted back to Yoongi, who was still smiling. "So, sweetheart, are you going to give in and come with us willingly or is he going to drag you?"

You added it all up in your head. Demons, hellhounds, broken deals, war, soul stealing, and ownership. This was crazy... but real. Maybe. The mind is tricky. You contemplated locking yourself in the bathroom and waiting for them to leave, but Jungkook would definitely tear the door down and rip you into ribbons. You could go with them too. Its not like you would be leaving much behind. Your poor parents would be so torn up about it if you just went missing out of nowhere.

Yoongi still stood relatively close to you, so you backed up a bit before you spoke. "I'll go with you, but... let me pack a bag and write a note in case anyone comes looking. Alright?"

You were insane, this was insane, but you had no real choices.

Yoongi nodded, satisfied with your response. "Alright, but hurry. We don't have all year."

And with that, you scurried to your bedroom with two pairs of knowing eyes burying themselves into your back. What had you gotten yourself into, Y/n?

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daebak-dreams · 6 years ago

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“Devilish” A Yandere! + Demon! Taehyung AU

Anon Asked: hello!~ i’m the anon who sent in the ask about the spirit! or demon! yandere! request for either jungkook or taehyung! thank you so much for replying!! my request was for either tae or jungkook in which they’re either a yandere! demon or ghost/spirit (whatever you are more comfortable with!) and it could rly be about anything! thank youuuu 💖 p.s. i absolutely ADORE this blog and i wish nothing but happiness and health on you and the other admins!!~

Here you go sweetie! I apologize again for taking so long for this! I hope you enjoy!~ Honestly i love both boys and ideas but went with demon! Tae :-) I hope that’s okay? thank you !! you’re so kind!!~

Rated: (M): For violence, and strong language.

Reader + Taehyung

“Of course he knew that a fallen angel wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a real angel. Or that’s what he thought to himself. You didn’t actually descend from heaven, but it might as well seemed like you did, from how perfect you were to him. He didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone else, but you. The usual him who loved seeing others in pain and misery, wanted nothing more but to see you safe and happy. Only, this infatuation, turned into love, a love so deep and burning that he was scared if he loved you any harder, you would break.”

That smile.

Those lips.

That body.

Taehyung watched from across the street at the usual place. A lollipop between his lips, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his crimson coloured eyes that matched the afternoon sky , on you, as he watched you from across the street, going about your usual routine.

He watched you, as you sat with your friend, as you usually did on a weekend afternoon, twirling a finger around your cup, until you brought it up to your lips and took a sip of the sweet liquid.

He switched the candy in his mouth from one side to the other using his tongue. He stared at your lips, longing to kiss them. He wanted to know just how you tasted.

Probably sweeter than this sucker. He chuckled to himself then sighed as he watched the waiter approach you once again. He knew that, in the mortal world, there were jobs where some served others, just like in hell. And you being of such royalty to him, it was expected. But he couldn’t help but itch at the sight of someone else giving you such attention.

He reached his hand from his pocket and popped out the lolipop, and twirled it between his index finger and thumb as he watched the man take away your things from the table and you got up from your seat, saying your goodbyes to your friend, before making your way to the entrance.

He let out a small sigh as he looked down at his hand and had wished more than anything that when he was sent back to earth, that he got to take all of his strength with him too.

After throwing the candy to the pavement, he watched with a blank expression as he crushed it under the heel of his shoe. He hated the taste of something so artificial, but after taking an interest in you, he wanted to quit his bad habits, and that meant his smoking was the first one out the window. So he tried to find and alternative for the deed, and that was candy. When did, he get to be this way?

The sound of the door chime, made him look up in time, to see you make your way out the door and down the street. He hurriedly followed close behind, but not close enough for you to notice.

He found himself following you, at the end of the day as you made your way home, making sure you got there safely. Even though, you never had any problems, he still found himself, matching his footsteps to yours.

He had never felt this way before. It wasn’t until he saw you one day that he was aimlessly, walking around downtown one night with your friends. You captivated him, like never before. Of course he had seen other things that heightened his heart beat; The sight of blood, the sounds of people screaming in agony whenever he took their souls. But this was a whole different sense that washed over him. It was the feeling of warmth. Warmth that felt like no other. Warmth that he didn’t want to go away. And this warmth wasn’t something that was scorched and painful like the fires of hell. Oh no, this was the feeling of something that he used to feel, whenever he was alive and on earth.

Whenever he was happy. Truly happy.

From that day on, he latched onto you. He fed off of your energy and it made him feel much more alive each time he saw you. That night, he lost you, and lost himself in a fit of rage, as you disappeared within the crowds of people on the street. But it was as if everything came together after he spotted you again, at a small restaurant, on the corner of his street, that was near where he was living for the meantime.

There you were, flashing that sweet smile, as you talked. He always wondered what your voice sounded like and longed to hear it. Little did he know he finally would be able to that night.

He pushed his hands into his pocket again as he pulled out another lolipop and started to peel off the wrapper, his eyes staying on you as you kept walking, down the street, and turning the corner which made him raise an eyebrow.

“Where are you going...” he asked in his head as he knew this wasn’t your usual route.

You kept walking until you crossed the street and came to a corner store that seemed desolate. After popping the candy in his mouth, he waited a few seconds, before crossing and stood at the corner of the other street, waiting, until he felt was a good time to follow again.

“Maybe, it’s best I just wait here..” he thought to himself once more as he watched you make your way inside and greet the cashier back, before walking towards the area where the drinks were stored.

He let out a soft sigh as he tilted his head back and looked at the sky that was once full of color, now dark and quiet.

“Just like my victims..” He said quietly as he thought about the many people who’s lives he took, as he watched them being full of life, drain to something limp and quiet. “Huh..”

He looked back towards where you were, as he shifted the candy around in his mouth, then spit it to the ground as he saw you through the window, still looking around, but was now being watched by someone else who was walking around the store. The strange man scanned you from head to toe, as he loomed behind you. You didn’t seem to noticed, and if you didn’t you tried not to pay too much attention to him, as he walked around him and made your way towards the other aisle.

Taehyung started to panic, as he couldn’t see you anymore, from the way the view was set up from across the street. He hurriedly made his way over there, his eyes never leaving the window as he watched the man follow right behind you. He absentmindedly made his way past the door and started to walk around, with an expression as if he were lost, but he gained his cool again, and started to walk ever so slowly, down one aisle, and turning into the next, seeing you grabbing at a bag of something that looked like some kind of flavored chips from the rack, with the man standing a few feet from you, but pretended to be interested in something on the other rack.

You looked up to see him standing there. You couldn’t help, but blush slightly and didn’t quite know why. Embarrassment maybe? There was this strange man standing there in the middle of the aisle, just starring at you. Though, he was very handsome. His ashy locks of hair, fell over his amber colored eyes. He seemed to be young, yet there was something mature about him that stuck out to you, and it wasn’t his outfit, to which he was wearing dark slacks, with a tattered button up to match, and suede shoes to finish off the look.

All you could do was smile politely before going back to switching out your snack for a different one and making your way towards the front counter to pay and leave. You never did like that side of town, but there was no other place that was open that was selling goodies, for your late night cravings. You just wanted to get out there and back home before it got any darker.

The minute you smiled his way, he felt as though he had gotten the wind knocked out of him. He didn’t know how to react and just stood there in shock as he watched you walk away. As much as he wanted to say something, he was too hypnotized to do anything.

He snapped out of his daze, as the man that was there, looked at him in an odd way, then went about his night, as he went to the other side of the store.

He dropped his shoulders , but they went back up in surprise as the store clerk shouted out to him as he rang up your things.

“Hey buddy! Are you going to buy something? If not, get out! There’s no loitering here.”

Taehyung looked his way and sneered before walking towards the front and grabbing another package of lolipops along the way, and stood behind you. He felt his chest tighten as he took in your scent. He smelled sweetness from your hair, assuming it was your shampoo mixed in with the fruity combination of your perfume perhaps. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to keep his eyeballs from rolling back. He gained his composure again and pressed the tip of his tongue against his cheek as he watched you give the cashier the money, and took the bag of your things, before breathing out a “thank you”. This made Taehyung look at you for a moment, longer, as he was caught off guard again.

He finally got to hear you speak, and it was just like he imagined. Soft and harmonious. He felt his hand move, as he wanted to grab your shoulder and keep you from going, but he stopped himself and let you go. He couldn’t do that out of no where. You would for sure freak out and a whole scene would be caused. He had to remember that he was on earth, and he couldn’t just do things that you pleased. There were rules here.

“Hey! Are you going to pay for that?” The cashier’s annoying voice sounded in his thoughts once again making him look over at him with an arched eyebrow.

“You know what? You’re really fucking-” He hissed, but stopped himself from going any further from fear of loosing his temper, as he tossed the bag onto the counter.

“Fucking what huh?” The cashier crossed his arms in a daunting way.

“Nothing..”He muttered as he took out his wallet. “How much?”

As the cashier grabbed for the bag, there was a sudden crash outside that made Taehyung stop and look towards the door.

“It’s probably those damn strays again, knocking things over.” The man muttered to himself as he rang it up. “That’ll be 3.25.”

Taehyung scanned the store and noticed that the man who was following you was no where in sight anymore. “W-where’s that guy?”

“Huh?”

“The guy- that fucking guy who came in after that girl. Where did he go?!” Taehyung became erratic and started to yell which made the man take a step back.

“Whoa. What the hell are you talking about? I don’t know!”

He ran out the door, leaving the candy and expecting the worse, and as soon as he turned the corner, he saw it. There you were thrashing about on the pavement near the side of the building as man who was following you, was hovering above you and hand a firm grip on your throat. He watch in horror as no sound came forth and your thrashing started to dim as your limbs grew weaker and weaker.

Something stirred inside of him, and he flared with anger, as he used all of his strength and grabbed the man off of you, flinging him into the wall. He was startled and fell down to his knees, trying to get a sense of what had just happened. As he was down, Taehyung went over to him and towered above him, as he starred at him with a blank expression. He knew what type of person this was. The type of person that got pleasure out of seeing others suffer. He could tell by the way he smiled up at him, and let out a laugh as if to say that he got what he wanted. To hurt you. But Taehyung would be having the last laugh as he got his foot, and slammed it against his chest.

“You get sick kicks out of hurting innocent people huh?” He growled as he kicked him in the chest again, knocking him back into the wall. He thought, the impact would scare him, but all he did was let out another laugh.

“You’re laughing now. But you haven’t seen true fear.” He sneered with a grin as his eyes changed their hue from the amber shade to a maroon in color. “You’re just an armature, thinking that the world is their playground.”

He kicked him another time, this time with much more force than the last.

“Well it’s mine!” He said as he shoved his foot against his body with all of his force, sending him flying back into the concrete wall, making him hit his head and knocking unconscious.

He spat on him then shook his head as he brought his foot to his head and applied pressure. “Scumbags like you shouldn’t be allowed to live.” Before he could crush his skull, you called out to him.

“Stop...Please.” You pleaded as you stood there, watching with worry.

He looked back at you and it was as if he couldn’t move. He was angry for this person, almost killing you, but he didn’t want you to be tainted by watching him kill someone, so he lowered his foot and turned over to you.

“I-” You opened your mouth to speak, but you choked up as you felt your eyes flutter, while your legs gave out from under you, but before you could end up on the ground again, Taehyung caught you in a swift motion and heaved you up in his arms. You were still light-headed from the lack of oxygen and felt too weak to even stand on your own.

He noticed and held you close, as he carried you towards the store entrance, opening the door and peeping his head in.

“Hey asshole.” He called out to the cashier. “Call the police. There’s a guy that’s outside, that just attacked her.” He said gesturing to you who was passed out in his arms.

“What?” The man looked up and walked around the counter, “Shouldn’t you take her to the hospital? “

But Taehyung had left the store, without another word. He kept his eyes on the road in front of him as he walked, glancing here and there at you to make sure you were still breathing, while he made his way towards your place.

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He finally came to the last step of your porch, and starred at the door. He didn’t want to break in, but he wasn’t sure of where your house key was, and didn’t want to startle you by feeling around you. He looked down at you. His eyes tracing your lips that were slightly parted as you soundly breathed. He finally got to see you up close and started to study every aspect there was to you. The hues of each strand of your hair, your eyelashes that protected those pretty eyes of yours, your warm skin.

He shook his head, knowing right now wasn’t the time to be fantasizing and taking you in. He grunted as held most of you in one arm, while he took his other hand and looked at his claw-like nails, choosing the longest one, before putting it through the key-hole. He toggled with it, until he heard that clicking noise, letting him know that it was now unlocked.

Your house was cold, and lonely. You lived alone and there wasn’t much too it besides a few pieces of furniture scattered about, here and there. For the first time in many years of existing, he finally felt sorry for someone. He couldn’t shake this feeling of dread. He too knew how it felt to be alone. He lived in a one bed room apartment, and this was no exception.

He made his way around, and down the hallway until he came to a room that seemed like it was your bedroom. He gently placed you on in the comfort of your bed and grabbed the blanket from nearby. As he started to unfold it, cover you with it, he stopped as he found himself starring at you again.

Your lips drew him in, as he started to lower himself, placing his face close to yours, and stopped just a few inches away. He could feel your soft breathing against his lips. His heart-beat quickened and he licked his lips, trying to keep himself composed.

Suddenly there was a noise from behind him which made him jolt and quickly pull away.

It was that sound of growling coming form a dark corner of the room. Suddenly, a medium sized dog emerged, barring it’s teeth towards him.

“Huh? Where did you come from?” He questioned and stood as if waiting for an answer, but of course got nothing back and decided to drape the blanket over your body. He gave you one more long look, before looking back over at the dog who came closer, but was obviously afraid.

He feared that the dog would start to bark, in which he did a few times, but he was afraid he would get louder, and wake you up in the process. He knew he needed to leave, and hoped that when you did wake up, you would think that it was all a dream. As much as he wanted you to remember him, he didn’t want you to like that. As someone violent.

A monster.

The dog let out another gurtled bark that made Taehyung stand straight up and take a few steps back. “Okay, okay I’m going, you mangy mutt.” He whispered in a harsh whisper as he made his way towards the door. “I really hate dogs.”

He gave you one last look, hoping you would be okay through the night. He sighed as he showed himself out, making sure to lock the door behind him.

You started to move around and slowly opened your eyes. You put a hand to your head feeling as though you had hit your head the day before.

“That was a really bad dream.” You shook your head as you sighed to yourself, pressing your palm to your head as you starred up at the celling. You then felt around the bed with your other hand, as if you were looking for something that was missing.

You heard the sound of your dog, ___, huff from the end of the bed as he stood on the hardwood floor.

“Oh ___, there you are boy. What are you doing down there. I thought you were sleeping up here.” You smiled with a small laugh as you could see him from the glow of the window caused by the streetlamps dim lighting.

But after a few minutes of watching him, stand there, motionless and tense your smile faded and you started to feel uneasy.

“Boy?”

He starred into the pitch black on the corner of your room from behind the door, before starting to loudly bark.

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as you sat up, knowing there was someone or something , there in the room with the two of you. As you adjusted your eyes to the darkness, you found yourself, starring back into those amber colored eyes, the ones from before.

I hope you liked it! (-:

-Admin Bonbori

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our-kpopreact · 7 years ago

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Black haired Jimin... I SUMMON YOU

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darlingtaetae · 6 years ago

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Demon /’diːmən/ - noun

“an evil spirit or devil, especially one thought to possess a person or act as a tormentor in hell.“

Thank you @bunjunggukie and @applejoon for bias moodboard! I decided to unleash my inner goth with this one (plus i just watched a horror movie don’t judge)

I tag @mozartae @smilegguk @joonhobi @honeydewtae @needmeagucciboy @bamfyoongi @8blondtaeswhore and anyone else who wants to do it (feel free to ignore this)

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sugaxjpg · 7 years ago

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devotion; m

⤷ As an angel questioning your place in Heaven, the last thing you needed was for someone like him to appear.

✓ Couple: Jimin x Reader | Angel!AU and Demon!AU

✓ Filed under: angst, smut, horror

✓ Look out for: violence, death/murder, torture

✓ Words: 16,463

Author’s Note: imma be the first one to say that this fic made me so nostalgic lmaooo I remember posting this back in the ol’ days of 2016 and, as much as my writing style switched a lot since then, I still hold this story in a very dear place! pls enjoy~

EDIT: March 4th, 2019, fixed the dialogue punctuation.

Above your head, the cosmos opened gently; a burst of stars lethargically waltzing in front of your eyes. Covered by diaphanous passing clouds, the moon watched the city with tranquility, never annoyed by the music’s reverberation, no matter how frequently it broke the stillness of the night. Below you, an effervescent pub stood asymmetrical in the middle of the quiet street, its neon resplendence shining with an almost futuristic look; its grey walls encompassed by a line of impatient people. Many meters above that gelid asphalt, your legs danced beside the rooftop of that residential building, your body being gracefully wrapped in the cool breeze that blew through the neighborhood streets.

Your chaotic thoughts contrasted with the homogeneity of the night, eyes minutely scrutinizing the humans in front of you. You were tired of them, could not comprehend their actions. You did not know how you could have been predestined to love them unconditionally when they did not even love each other, nor did they know how to take care of their own kind. You were promised improvements and assurances that they would move away from the darkness, but, after endless centuries, the most you noticed was the considerable decrease in the number of black plague cases. Humans were still as putrid as when they started constructing complex sentences, still murdering and torturing their own blood; egotistical and narcissistic beings, masking their faults behind false and convenient devotions to ethereal beings they have never even seen—

“—What a lovely night.”

An unfamiliar voice scared you out of your daydreams, causing your line of thought to break abruptly. Trying to disguise it the best you possibly could, you turned around gradually, gaze discovering the outlines of the silhouette that shone against the achromatic moonlight.

Oh no.

The primordial element that struck your cognizance was his aura: permeated by negative energy, it was a vortex that seemed to suck all your strength into a black hole. You felt as if you were being wrapped by insubstantial cold arms, which pulled you towards that oddly familiar man. His hair, a tone that bordered on silver, immaculately took in the luminescence of the moon above you, giving him an almost spectral — yet frighteningly beautiful — semblance. The stranger wore dark clothes that matched his obsidian eyes — so profound and wise — which flashed demonically as he took small steps towards your figure, head slightly tilted back so he could observe the scintillating stars above.

He chuckled as his gaze lowered to the line of humans in the street. “They look so small from up here,” the man pondered, almost as if he was speaking to himself. Meanwhile, you kept your mouth shut, turning your head to look back at the mortal creatures beneath you.

The sounds of his shoes whispering against the concrete only stopped when he was already by your side. Then, the redolence had already reached your nostrils — the unmistakable stench of putrefaction and blood. You had never learned how to get used to it, especially because you rarely allowed yourself to be so close to such grotesque creature without it being turned into dust. Which, of course, could be quickly arranged.

As if reading your malevolent intentions, the silver-haired man looked at you as if he were noticing you for the first time in that delightful night. A charming smile effloresced on his ruby-colored lips. “What is a pretty little kitten like you doing in a place like this?” he then inquired, clearly amused.

It had not occurred to you that a flinching reaction was precisely what he desired to get from you. “Don’t call me that,” you said before you could stop yourself. Almost instantaneously, you perceived the traces of disgust that ornamented your sentence, which caused you to feel some sort of shame — truly, you needed to have a better grip on your demeanor, and not present vulnerable emotions to such beings. Only the Lord knew what they could use against you.

“Oh, so the kitten can talk,” he replied, satisfaction almost palpable in his silk-like voice. The creature crouched down and sat down beside you; soon after, his legs were swaying next to yours. For a moment, you considered pushing him down and going elsewhere, but had no motivation to do so.

“I thought I was clear,” was your response, trying to present an irritation you were not truly feeling. Beings like that rarely managed to awaken something in you besides the purest disgust. And, may the Lord forgive your sins of judgement, his mere presence was sufficient for you to reach closer to the edges of your self-control. “Put yourself in your place,” you added.

“And she also has claws.” He allowed himself to drop a low chuckle, unbothered by your claims. You had not even turned your head to look at him, but he could already tell that your presence would be simply delightful to endure. “So, do tell me. What are you doing here, dear?” he tried again. “You seem quite lost.”

You thought for a second, considering whether it would be worth answering. “Watching,” you told him, timbre carrying nothing but impassiveness.

He hummed, deep black irises following the movement of a specific human — a ginger woman in an exceptionally short dress entered the building, the fire in her hair mingling flawlessly with the indigo and rose of the lights above her. “Watching? That’s interesting,” the hellish creature remarked.

You were not aware why he even bothered to construct a dialogue with you. You knew exactly who he was, and knew you could be severely punished if your superiors found out you were getting involved with beings like that — yet, you still gifted him with an answer. “And why is that?” your reply came out in a monotonous, disinterested tone.

But of course, he was wishing for that special inquiry to depart from your petal-shaped lips. “You said watching, not guarding,” the man promptly pointed out, waiting for your reaction expectantly. When it did not come, your beautiful face remaining inexpressive, he could not disguise the disappointment that irradiated throughout his moonlight-bathed features. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, love, but you are a guardian angel. That is what your heavenly duty consists of.”

You did not answer. He was getting somewhere.

The creature’s smile germinated in his perfectly sculpted lips, satisfaction painting his smirk with traces of victory. “What are you watching?” he mumbled, tender voice caressing the nocturnal breeze.

“Them,” you practically spat that word, wishing to get rid of the nauseous aftertaste it left on the tip of your tongue. You should leave, get out of there before you gave that hellish being an opening he could use against you. You had heard of him — sincerely, there was not a single angel in heaven who did not know his disgusting little name.

“Humans?” he questioned, leaning his head slightly to the side. From the corner of your eye, you could see that he had turned to look at you with infinite attention. “Oh, dear, but they can be so boring, don’t you believe?” inquired the man.

Again, no response from your part. You two had gotten into a tricky subject, and it would be the right time for you to disappear from that forsaken rooftop — the last chance the Heavens would gift to you, in fact. Why did you stay, then?

Moreover, your silence was also a confirmation to the man: he knew well that you could not disagree with him if it meant you were lying.

“Dear, you don’t need to pretend around me, I am fully aware that you agree with my humble point of view,” he spoke out, voice as tender as the softest silk. His presence, once massive and menacing, now gradually turned into something almost comforting. Maybe you were just getting used to it — pathetic. “Humans are not immaculate beings made do be protected, and I believe you are fully aware of that,” he elucidated.

The man met the silence once more. A breeze blew against his pale face, disheveling his silver hair. In his lips, the phantasm of a shy smile still lingered. “I was once where you are right now,” he continued, patiently. “Nothing but a lost little angel with a lot of unanswered questions. Quite sad, if you ask me.”

“I am aware,” you replied, stiffness clear in your voice, “and that’s why you were sent down.”

And then, much to your dismay, he laughed. A laugh of amusement, a chuckle of one who had heard that claim so often that it was starting to border on the hilarious. The action was so unexpected that you looked at him in pure disbelief, unprepared for what you were going to find. It was odd how one single action could snowball into the primordial error of the night.

Sanctified — that was what the stranger appeared to be. As ironic, and borderline blasphemous, as that comparison was, that was the only imagery that permeated past your nebulous ponderations. The pallid illumination that oscillated on his features embraced each and every detail with a graceful, cherubic-like semblance. Obscure, the neon-filled darkness permitted for his features to undulate in the scalding oceans of dim fire; his infinite eyes sucking in each fragment of warmth that germinated from its luminescence. Irises like the ones on saints in a chapel: serene, patient; filled with melancholy. And so, so dangerously hollow.

Until that moment, you had not truly absorbed the reality of your own words, but his melodious laugh and harmonic features were enough to make you realize that he was once as ethereal as you. Or perhaps even more, if you were to tell the truth.

Jimin was his name. A mere group of letters and syllables that held a connotation so dark — so absolutely diabolical — that for a long time you avoided even thinking about it. Angelic creatures being casted down from grace was already an unusual occasion, but an archangel? One of the Lord’s most beloved squires? No, no, that was different, absurd, panic-inducing. How could a creature made of loyalty and benevolence hold a spirit so corrupted by evil? It made no sense. He made no sense.

Awakening you from your brief episode of trepidation, his tranquil tone dragged you back to substantiality. “Oh, no, I was not precisely sent down.” He smiled, clearly amused by your look of pure confusion. “You see, kitten, you could say that it was my choice.”

“What?” you inquired, bewildered by the mere hypothesis. Trust no word that comes from the Devil’s lips, someone once had told you, and you could tell that it was absurd to even consider them — still, why were you there by his side? It was past the time to go. “No one chooses to fall, that is… that is preposterous.”

“That is what they told you, then.” Jimin’s smile did not subside. Quite the contrary, even: you thought it even increased by a few millimeters. “Of course they would tell you such thing, kitten: the idea of an angel wishing to leave that madhouse is terrifying enough on its on. Imagine if you all knew that the outcome not as bad as they make it out to be.” He chuckled.

The velocity of your thoughts was almost overwhelming to accompany, your mind trying to comprehend the explanations he presented to you. Part of you thought that his perfectly-built sentences were nothing above a lie, a cheap trick; but another part took his words as the only logical explanation for his position: an archangel would not be corrupted unless it wanted to.

You swallowed dry. “What are you saying?” the words left your lips before you even thought about the consequences they could bring along.

“I am saying,” he continued, shifting his penetrating gaze back to the humans below you two. Now the line that waited outside the pub was already smaller, but few were the ones who actually entered the construction. “That there is a myriad of positive points about not being an angel that Heaven does not tell their workers about. For starters, there is this thing called autonomy. Don’t believe you are familiar with it,” the creature teased.

Even if you managed to camouflage your outrage fairly well, Jimin could tell — from the tiniest eye flicker to the rapid movement of your lips — that his words had resonated within the strings of your soul. “Autonomy?” you echoed, and he nodded. “Of course I am familiar with that, we have it as angels.”

“Oh, but do you, dear?” He elevated one eyebrow, staring deep within the veil of your skeptical eyes. He was challenging you, biting back on his own eagerness as he pushed you towards the edge of your made-up excuses.

Your confirmation came within a heartbeat, “Yes.”

In a realization that appeared within your mind like lightning — quickly rupturing the sky of your certainties, its ephemeral glow not lasting longer than the thunder that soon followed — your moral code was challenged. Suddenly, you were not certain of your own words, and Jimin was prepared to bring them down.

“Then please answer me this: if I were to go down there right now and snap that bodyguard’s neck...” He pointed at a man in a black shirt, arms crossed, in front of the large, illuminated door. The image appeared clear in your mind: that creature appearing like a charcoal mist beside the poor man, wrapping his slender, cadaveric fingers around his neck and, with minimal force, ripping his head from his neck. Just the prospect was enough for a shiver to run through your skin, your body instantly becoming alert. “What would you do to stop me?”

“I’m not…” you started, but he was not really expecting an answer. So, when your sentence trailed off into the night, the demonic creature was ready to fill the quiescence.

“You cannot intervene without orders from your superiors.” Jimin sighed, leaning his head on his hand. He knew what you were going through — even more than you could understand yourself — and you were in a very dangerous position to get carried away by his words, stuffed with artificiality. He was a fallen angel, a creature of darkness, and you could not forget that; could not forget that he was trying to manipulate you.

But, even so, you could not help but hear what he had to say.

“You cannot do anything without being told before, am I mistaken?” he continued, not getting an answer from your part. “Not even when you are guarding your own souls, you cannot save them, cannot even help them. You are merely an expectator, you just watch. And that is not quite fair, is it?” The man suspired, staring up at the stars one more time — as if he expected the answer to come from them instead of you. “You lack free will, that is something heaven does not allow you to have. It is not your fault, kitten. ”

“Jimin, listen—” you began, suddenly feeling suffocated by his presence.

When his name poured from your lips, however, he did not even bother to disguise his reaction: his head turning quickly to look at you. Something that you could not quite characterize burned deep within his eyes, and you realized that staying there had been a terrible mistake. “—Jimin! Then you know who I am!" he exclaimed contentedly. The previous calm of his voice had been replaced by a peculiar excitement. You despised it. "That brings us to my other point: recognition. Angels, demons, you name it, they all know who you are, especially if you are a fallen.”

“I don’t care for fame,” you vocalized a little faster than you probably should — he would catch any minor slip in demeanor. Even worse, though: were those words your own, or had you merely been programed to verbalize them when the correct time came? It terrified you that you could no longer tell the difference. “I’m not doing this to have my name known,” you made sure to add.

From the manner he hesitated for the first time that night, something within your spirit screamed out that he had achieved what he desired. “That may be true.” He shrugged, speaking slightly slower than before. “But you do care about being heard, taken into account as an individual. How many times have you questioned the ones above you? How many times have you been shut down?” He paused. Your silence was all the confirmation he necessitated. “My apologies, kitten, but you are merely a guardian angel, after all. Disposable. You have no voice in heaven.”

The shadow of a frown was casted down upon your features, “That is—”

“—The truth,” Jimin interrupted your sentence. Mattered not how hard you tried, you found yourself unable to decipher his abstract expression, “And I believe you know that,” he added.

A pang spread through your chest as you considered the possibility of being watched. To agree with his claims would be equiparable with a direct treason, and you could not take that. “This is not what I have been created for, don’t you understand? I follow orders. I might not have a voice, but I...” You hesitated. As much as you would never admit that, you were unaware if you were attempting to justificate your position to him, or to yourself. “I also saved souls, and that is something that you can never do.”

Much to your anguish, your claims had no effect on the demonic being, “How many souls have you saved, dear?” Jimin spoke calmly and patiently, as if he already knew the answers before he even uttered his question. “Besides, who said that I cannot do such thing? If anything, I can save more humans than you ever will. Have you not heard my first point, kitten? Autonomy. Even for good actions. For whatever you wish.”

"Blasphemy,” you threw back. Deep in your mind, it sounded more like a prayer than a fact.

“Why, dear? Because you deeply wish it to be?" He smiled amiably, getting closer to you. Your reaction was immediate, and you jumped away from him. “Because you were taught that anything that is not celestial is negative? We are not followers of the light, but the darkness is not as one-dimensional as you perceive it to be.”

As if a colossal wave had just crashed upon your mind, you stood up and moved away from him — since when was the world so awfully suffocating? — a couple steps that resounded against the concrete and set your soul ablaze. It seemed as if you had just woken up from a profound trance, as if reason struck you in a single, painful hit. You were not only talking to a fallen angel, but getting carried away by his words. "Stop trying to trick me.” You breathed out.

Subsequent to a suspire, his response came. “I’m not, all I’m saying is the purest truth.” The man turned around lethargically, watching the beautiful silhouette that stood in front of him — from the manner your hair took in the glow of the moonlight to the way your clear dress swayed around your body with the light breeze that enveloped the city. Jimin could almost taste the fear hidden in your gaze, the confusion that monopolized your mind. Duly, he once was where you were now, and knew how could it be a fragile, vulnerable situation. But oh, so deliciously confusing. “But I suppose it is far too easy to just talk. Let me show you what you have been missing down here, kitten,” he proposed.

“Show me?” You laughed, not believing what you were listening. “Please, who do you think I am? A human you can trick into selling my soul? There is nothing you can show me, demon.”

For the primordial instance that night, Jimin appeared to be truthfully taken by surprise. “Human? Never, my darling. I simply believe you are a lost little angel questioning your beliefs, but far too terrified to do something about the rage that is being born within your essence,” he answered your first question, internally amused by the way you had stopped masking your emotions. That would make your interaction much simpler. “And, fortunately, I also believe that I can assist you with those issues.”

Instead of all the protocols of behavior that resounded in your head — most of which begged for you to depart from that place — you found yourself growing intrigued by his words. Even if you did not believe that there were any sort of veracity within them, you thought it would be quite entertaining to experience his arguments, especially if it was to prove him wrong. “And how exactly would you do that?” your question sounded like a challenge, and he accepted it.

“Three small tests.” Jimin turned his figure around on the edge of the roof to his torso could face you, laying his shoes on the concrete and crossing his hands on his lap. His demonic features had been outlined by the faintest of excitements, permitting for a minimum grin to irradiate through his lips. “If you can even call them that. I will show you what you will be able to achieve if you chose to join me.”

It was nauseating how deeply he was able to get inside your head, enunciating the perfect words to entice your curiosity. “What is the trick?” you questioned, forcing yourself to focus: he was a diabolical creature, not your personal savior. Jimin was a twisted being, and that was why he lost his grace.

“Dear, I need no tricks,” the man assured you promptly, giving you another amicable smile. “And, regardless, the final choice is always yours to make. If you want darkness, I shall give you darkness. If you want heaven, I shall leave you alone. How does that sound?”

Progressively, your eyes fell to the concrete beneath your feet. Your figure, being insubstantial, was unable to cast no shadow over its monochromatic substance, and yet you felt as if you were fully immersed in penumbra. Jimin’s proposal was almost too good — almost benevolent — to be true, and yet you discovered yourself being magnetized towards accepting it. You sighed. “It sounds like a monumental error.”

Jimin stood up slowly, his slender figure rupturing the nocturnal air like an arrow. “So, do you accept my offer?” he pressed further, taking a couple steps so he could stand right in front of you. Again, the aura surrounding him seemed to expand around you, curling up like roots at your ankles and pulling you against his nefarious presence. Your ears buzzed with the alarming proximity, his body only inches away from yours. “It is not like you will be missing a lot here, there will always be humans for you to watch. Let’s have fun tonight, shall we?” he inquired.

Courteously, the demon held out a hand to you, waiting for your final response — he was certain of what it would be. Jimin had surrounded you so well that you found yourself with nowhere to run; no desire to escape from his malevolent atmosphere. You could not tell if he had done something to you, but, when you reached out to touch his hand, you did not feel any kind of regret. Accepting his peculiar invitation only awakened in you the deepest of curiosity.

And so, you two disappeared into the veils of darkness.

Around your figure exploded a world of consolidated heat. Dense, the air was impregnated by the awful redolence of sulfur and blood; echoing on with the panic-inducing cries for clemency of tortured souls. From the black walls emanated an unbearable heat and, if you dared to look closer, you could perceive small lines of orange within its cracks; openings which moved around as if the entire ambient was breathing in and out; magma pumping through its veins — may the Creator have mercy, it was like an unholy living creature.

From what you could perceive, the two of you were in an obscure, narrow hallway. With a rapid turning of your head, you could that it stretched endlessly towards both sides, drowning in the same tenebrosity that overtook your presence. In front of your trembling figure, one corroded metal door stood patiently. Near its top, a small opening allowed deep screams to echo through the passage, reverberating around you.

You swallowed dry, fingertips growing numb underneath the tides of your nervousness. “Where are we?” you questioned, even if the response was clear. Some part of you wished that you could be mistaken, perhaps he had taken you to a better place than—

“—Hell,” he responded simply. Jimin must have seen the panic that spread through your eyes, for he soon tried to comfort you. “Worry not, kitten, you are with me. You could not be safer than what you are currently,” he guaranteed.

Still, you were not convinced, “I don’t trust you,” you told him.

“That means you are not stupid.” The demon smiled. In the background, metallic sounds made your trepidation increase in force, soon followed by a resounding yell, “besides,” he continued, unbothered. “I am not asking you to do so. Even if it would make our adventures a bit more… interesting.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded, even if your attention was placed elsewhere. The small square-shaped opening was not sufficient for you to see what occured beyond that door, but the momentary glimpses you caught were enough for you to feel sick. “Care to tell me what are we here for?” your voice was slightly shaky, but he did not seem to notice it.

With a prolonged suspire, his gaze trailed the same path as yours, falling upon the islands of rust that ornamented the metal. “Open the door,” Jimin told you, nodding toward the passage.

Against every fiber of your being, you took a step closer to it. Hesitation controlled your every move, an odd gelid sensation exploded at the tip of your fingers as they slowly moved towards the handle, soon curling around its asperous surface. One deep breath, one long exhale — with a terminal movement, you did as you were instructed.

When the door was open, the image that greeted you was enough to push your panic into almost human-like levels. For a instant you considered turning around and running away from that atrocious view, but Jimin was standing right behind you and, when you took a shaky step back, his body blocked your way. You felt his chest moving as a small laugh dripped in between his lips; his firm hands curving around your arms, moving upwards, and resting on your shoulders, forcing you to look at what was unfolding before you.

A male human was tied to a metal plank, his feet and hands fastened with heavy silver cuffs. Profound dahlia-colored cuts decorated his pale skin, bathing his naked body with the deepest scarlet tone. Tears blurred his grimy face, trickling down his dirty features until they found his mouth, which was eternally open in terrifying screams. Randomly and without any warning, the surface bent at an angle of ninety degrees, causing the man’s bones to crack with a horrible noise. When he returned to the starting position, his members were already healing, ready to be broken again.

For the first time you were face to face with the eternal torture of Hell. Of course, you were aware of what was done in those lower levels, but it was still a nightmarish experience to see it so closely — no stories from the higher Angels could ever compare to that circus of horrors; that putrid smell, that frequent cracking of members. “What...What is this?” your voice trailed off, terrified.

With ease, your companion walked around your body, slowly taking steps towards the human — his black shoes were slightly stained by an odd mixture of dirt and blood, but Jimin did not seem to take notice of it. “Mr Cooper was given to us after he did some bad things, isn’t that so?” Jimin smiled as that inquiry remained trapped in the static air. Behind him, the door was gone.

When that poor soul saw the silver-haired demon, his frail body began to spasm, locked limbs in vain trying to break free in the purest explosion of panic. The human’s mouth moved around ferociously, but nothing but meaningless screams left his bloody lips. “Silly, you cannot talk! It’s fun watching you try, though.” Jimin’s smile only grew. He was truly taking pleasure from something so excruciating, and you had no idea how.

“Why are you showing me this?” you inquired, taking that instant to look around the torture chamber. The cubicle was tiny, able to fit just that horrendous machine. It did not seem to have any source of light, but the room remained dimly illuminated, as if an invisible flame was shining all around — most likely coming from the cracks in the walls, if you had to trace an hypothesis. “Watching souls being tortured is not going to change my mind about Heaven, demon. If anything, it will only make me despise your work even further.”

Laughing out freely, the devilish man merely disregarded your opinion, “Oh, but he is not being tortured, he is getting his payback.” Jimin knelt in front of the human, holding his chin delicately. The stranger’s eyes seemed to be about to jump out of their sockets, awfully red and open in sheer, hysteric dread. “Mr Cooper here killed himself, but not before murdering his entire family. Can you tell my lovely friend why?”

I am sorry — he mouthed, but nothing came out. He could not speak.

The response, instead, came from the same person that placed the inquiry, “Because his wife was cheating on him.” Jimin’s smile did not waver, it seemed like he was having the time of his life. He turned to you — were his eyes always that alarming shade of sanguine? You found yourself unable to recall. “But, between you and I, it was not a surprise. He used to beat her a lot. Isn’t that right, Mr Cooper?” He turned back around and patted the man’s face gently, “Was it worth it? Watching your kids scream as you killed them? Did your wife’s death change what she had done? What you did?”

I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Please! — he mouthed once again in unbearable silence. You felt sick.

Pouting, the demon leaned his head to the side, blinking a couple times as the incandescent shade in his irises withered back into twilight. “No, I believe it did not change a thing.” Jimin sighed, standing up again and letting go of the human’s face. “It is what we always say down here: the blame of the act shall always be placed upon the actor. Matter not the moral justification behind it: a sin is a sin; a life is a life. Violence against your brother is a direct act against the Creator’s work.”

For a second you were taken aback by his words: you could recall them, for they were one of the most basic, fundamental rules of Heaven’s judgement. The Archangel that Jimin once was sometimes peeked through the cracks of his serpentine demeanor, and it often caught you off guard: it was one thing to disregard a demon’s opinion when the immoral is all they have ever known, but a completely different position when you were facing someone who truly existed amongst your equals. He had the taste of the immaculate and the altruistic and, yet, he had chosen the path of the corrupted ones. You could not comprehend it.

Jimin’s tone was velvety as he spoke out again, this time looking deeply inside your eyes. You could be telling lies if you said that the man was not extremely beautiful, but you could also perceive a veil of dissimulation that twisted his features around. There was something off about him. “See, kitten, this is what you can do: justice,” Jimin told you slowly, measuring your responses as he did so. “You can make a difference, show corrupted souls what they have done wrong and make this world a little bit better—”

“—Creating demons,” you completed without a second of vacillation.

“What? No, we do not create demons!" Jimin counterclaimed. Your legs felt absurdly warm, throbbing with the pressure around you. In your lungs you felt as if the air could not properly get in, making you dizzy. “They are forged by their own willpower. No torture can turn someone into a demon if they do not wish to. Want to see?” he asked, not waiting for your answer. Jimin intertwined his fingers in the man’s blood-soaked hair and pulled his face upwards, placing it absurdly close to his own. "Mr Cooper, do you wish to be set free? The only price is that you will work under my command, collecting souls.” He pouted. “We have already had this talk, I believe you know the deal I am presenting you.”

No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!

“Really? What if I say that you can get your life back?" Jimin pressed on, his delicate voice contrasting with the metal noises echoing in the background. Chains moved around like vipers surrounding their prey; the metal plank trembled as if it awaited for its master to move away so it could continue its job. “We can make it perfect this time. You can get everything you have ever wished for, with the small price of your perverted soul.”

Never! Never! Never!

Jimin appeared to be slightly let down as that unspoken response was ever so eagerly mouthed. "See, kitten? There is no demonic future here.” The demon sighed, letting go of the human's head. His fingertips were colored by splashes of vermillion, which only added to the macabre atmosphere of his presence.

“Still,” you almost whispered, somewhat shocked. Guardians angels should remain tranquil in situations like those, but you were about to combust in pure horror. You were trapped in hell with one of the most evil and powerful beings you could find, and he was showing you how to torture a soul. There were limits not even ethereal beings could take. “This is not for me. I cannot watch this any longer.”

Subsequent to a hum, his answer came, “Oh, I understand.” He ran his hands through his silver hair, lightly soiling them with the blood of the still struggling man. The surface bent again, and the sound of something breaking found your ears, followed by a horrible scream. Jimin remained impassive. “I thought it would be necessary to give you the other side. Though, that will require a bit more of hard work from your part,” he mumbled, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

“What precisely is the other side?” you had the chance to inquire, but the world around you was already fading out of focus.

Once your eyes were open again, you found yourself in an ambient even more peculiar than the sulfuric lands of Hell. What resembled a suburban household expanded around your figure with delicacy; the terminal evening rays of the run dripping down the half-closed curtains, bathing the wooden kitchen cabinets in a honey-like glow. Around you, the carpeted floor of the living room was stained by splotches of blood and ornamented by pieces of broken glass; the couch turned over.

Regardless, what caught your attention was the man behind it, knife still in his hands.

The world was, quite literally, frozen in time. The humans that existed in that theater-like scene looked like dolls, completely immobile, interrupted in the middle of their actions. Mr Cooper, you came to recognize, was in the middle of a run, polo shirt decorated with carmine dots that stood out in the midst of the bluish lines of the fabric. His arm was raised, weapon being held with enormous force, making the tip of his fingers turn white in fury. His face was no different: even without moving, you felt the same anger as if he were screaming profanities to your very face.

Your eyes moved to the woman in front of him. Quickly deducting that it was his wife, you observed how she stood with her arms raised in front of him, shielding her face as her mouth remained open in a reticent scream for mercy; red lipstick stained and covering her cheeks like a bizarre wound. Her dress was torn out in numerous places, revealing the deep cuts on her caramel-toned skin. Even in standstill, you could tell that she was absolutely exhausted.

On the stairs, two children ran for a place to hide.

“Here we have the scene of the crime,” Jimin’s voice pulled you away from your momentary trance. The demon looked comfortable as he sat on the one of the living room’s chairs, hands buried deep inside the pockets of his ebony pants in a casual, relaxed pose. “There is Mr Cooper, Mrs Cooper, and the little Coopers running upstairs.” He pointed, fighting back a smile — how delightful was the taste of carnal hysteria! “When I snap my fingers, they will start moving again, however,” he emphasized, as if he were reaching the apex of his speech, “you, my dear kitten, can save them. If so you desire, of course.”

With the verbalization of that possibility, your shock was ruptured instantaneously. “What?” your incredulous question echoed through the emptiness of the static universe. “No, we cannot change the past like that. There are rules about the universe’s progression, demon, even you are aware of that.”

“Kitten, we can do whatever we want to.” Jimin smiled openly, finding diversion in the trails of your despair. He took one hand out of his pocket. “Now, think fast, my dear. Time is running out.”

And, with a snap of his fingers, the universe began to move.

“No, wait—” you called, desperate. Mrs Cooper staggered, stomping on the shards of glass and falling to the floor with a horrible scream. The man leaned over her, ready to attack, “Jimin, stop this!” you pleaded.

The demon chuckled. “Me? But I am not even here.”

You turned to him, but he was already gone. Feeling the panic begin to spread through your veins, you turned back to the couple, only to realize that, in those few seconds of hesitation, her throat had already been cut open, bathing her skin in a fountain of throbbing scarlet waves. Mr Cooper seemed to be possessed by an inhuman rage, for he struck her body one more time before turning to the stairs. “Kids, come down here!” he shouted, standing up again. His limbs had small spasms of adrenaline. Even his voice sounded animal-like. “I just want to talk!”

In a natural action, your hand reached out to stop the human, but it went right through his flesh, disappearing like a phantasm before being pulled back. “Oh, please, Lord, no,” you prayed, walking behind the man with rushed footsteps. The smell of fresh blood was so strong. What were you doing? What could you do? You could not interfere, you did not have the permission to do.

The human’s sanguine-covered shoe found the first step of the wooden stairs as he dragged the red-colored knife on the polished railing. You felt like you could faint from the despair that thumped through your ethereal body. Another step.

“Father, please!” you called out, defeated. “Is anyone there?”

And another.

Then something occured that you could not immediately comprehend: there was no response. No immediate negation or confirmation, not even a slight signal your words had been sent through the levels of Heaven. There was no other presence to guide you, no protocol sent for you to follow. There was only white noise; ignored phrases. There was only you. May the Lord show you clemency — there was only you.

And you needed to do something.

Mr Cooper was already halfway up the stairs when you finally ran after him, passing right through his body and heading towards the upper floor. It was odd how your entire essence appeared to be working in automatic motions, even the most ephemeral of ponderations deeply aware of each step you necessitated to take to change the horrid nightmare that unfolded right before your eyes — and so you did. No questions asked, no permissions taken.

As your feet met the floor of the second floor, you stopped and concentrated in the energy that curled around the ambient. Where were the kids? How strongly was their panic sending signals for you to follow? You could discover their hiding place much faster than the man that stomped behind you, for their naive spirits could shine brighter than any evil that came their way. You just… had to...

There — your eyes snapped open. You could hear whispering behind the door at the end of the hall.

Within a second you were bursting through the wooden passage. You barely had an instant to absorb the details of their room — from the baby blue painting of the walls to the glow-in-the-dark stickers that decorated them; the legos thrown around the ground to the unmade beds — before your attention was magnetized towards the inaudible mumbles. They came from the closet doors.

“Kids?” Mr Cooper called from the hall, followed by the sound of a door slamming. He was looking around the other rooms. “Answer me! Don’t you have respect for your father?”

Another door — their whispers grew louder, quivering in panic. You had not received any answers yet. Where even was Jimin?

Another door, closer — you could not watch something so brutal, you just could not.

And another.

But you also could not allow for it to happen.

The bedroom door opened with a violent movement, slamming the blue wall and leaving a deep gray mark on the painting. Mr Cooper entered the room like a tornado — now, where are those two brats hiding? — knife swinging between his bloody fingers in sheer anticipation. With slow steps, he moved towards to the closet as if he already knew the location of his children, a sadistic smile emerging on his cracked lips. He did not look human; did not look as if he even had a soul.

The murderer paused before the blue closet doors, his blood-covered hand slowly reaching out to touch the doorknob. In the other, his fingertips held his knife with more force.

At last, you could not control yourself anymore, “Pause!” you commanded.

And the universe paused.

In one of the most human-like emotions you had ever experienced, you saw yourself falling to your knees as the trembling adrenaline morphed into fragile alleviation. The pandemonium that unraveled in your mind was far too chaotic for you to measure your next actions and, before you could censor yourself, your mind traveled back to hell, where the man once screamed for mercy. This time, nevertheless, you were unable to experience any sort of compassion towards him. Mr Cooper had just murdered his own wife, and was about to do the same with his children. Right or wrong, you were completely isolated in that static world, and you had to do something.

Right or wrong, the blame of the act is placed upon the actor.

Before you could further analyze your choices, you took the knife from the man’s hands, landing it on the ground and away from him. With delicate fingers, you opened the closet door, finding the two small humans in there, crying and trapped in a faithless hug, the older no more than nine years old. Taking a deep breath once more, you picked them up with little to no force — you did now know how you could touch matter suddenly, but the inquiry did not even cross your head then — and headed for the bedroom door.

You only stopped walking when you were already in front of the neighboring residence, placing them in front of the door.

Still locked in that immobile cosmos, you felt as if the pretty cream-colored door was mocking you, the vague aroma of baked pies curling around the atmosphere in infinite sweetness. If not so terrible, the prospect that a murder could be occurring next to such pleasant residency would have been almost hilarious to conceive. Human beings were so, so strange.

You could acknowledge, even if still somewhat numb, that an explosion of tenebrosity appeared in the scene. “How does it feel, my kitten?” Jimin murmured behind you, so close that his breath hit the back of your neck. If his intention was to startle you, it did not concretize.

How did it feel? Lord! Everything was unreal to you. It was a weird mix of conflicting feelings, relief and guilt battling mercilessly inside of your chest. Never in your life have you done something like that, never on your own; never with your own decisions. And that was delightfully pleasant.

“Strange,” you whispered back, lacking emotion in your timbre.

“Freeing,” the demon corrected, watching the children in front of him with no trace of affection — how annoying were those panic-struck eyes of theirs, those irritating tears that traced down their flushed cheeks. “I think that is the word you might be looking for, dear,” he continued.

You took a deep breath, disregarding his sentences. “What now?” you asked, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

Behind you, Jimin chuckled — oh, he was looking forward to that. “Now, we move on to the second part.” He touched you shoulder and, once again, everything morphed into twilight.

Past the large rectangular windows came a deep ruby glow, a phantasmal illumination that dripped past the translucent glass and into the room, tracing fragmented shapes over the large maroon rug. It was possible to trace parallels between that ambient and a victorian mansion, for both its dark wooden floors and golden-ornamented wallpaper seemed to belong in centuries past. As much as you could still perceive the small orange cracks emanating heat, you also felt that is was not as unbearable as aforetime. It was almost comforting, in the most peculiar of ways.

Right before the windows, a couple marble steps lead its visitors to a slight elevation, where a large desk stood. Jimin sat down in a large silk chair, legs crossed and hands patiently resting on the surface in front of him. Underneath the crepuscular luminescence — combined with the fire of a candelabrum that was placed next to him — the remnants of his celestial side shone in the heat of the flames; sculptural lineaments being bathed with auriferous beauty.

Your initial shock dissipated soon after you came to terms with your surroundings. “I see that we have returned to Hell,” you spoke out.

Jimin nodded slowly, his silver hair glowing with that rufescent aura — like a saint covered in blood. “I see you are getting familiar,” he said, almost fondly so. “Already feeling like home?”

“Don’t waste your time,” you warned. He just chuckled.

“Forgive me, kitten,” the demon apologized, even though his words were obviously artificial. "Your face looks especially beautiful underneath such warm lights, I could not help myself.“

You thought the best attitude would be to ignore that flirtatious remark, for it was obviously constructed to get a reaction out of you. "So, what are you planning?” you inquired.

Even if you could not be completely certain, you swore that the orange glow that ruptured his irises did not come from the flames before him. “To show you fear,” Jimin leaned back in his chair, speaking with little to no emotion — amusement, perhaps? You could not characterize.

“Fear?” you echoed. Images and baseless hypothesis ruptured your mind, bringing you to conceive terrible pictures painted by horror: mayhaps you would have a taste of what human beings had. Perhaps you would be tortured.

Regardless, the man was quick to soothe your mental preoccupations. “The only way to be respected, my love,” Jimin assured you. Within his eyes laid the answer you were seeking for: you would not be the one to be experiencing such emotion.

“It is not the only way,” you countered instantly. The lack of arguments in your head to back up that claim worried you deeply.

“Oh, is not it?” he examined you, leaning his head to the side. Every time he did that, you felt like a helpless prey in the clutches of a patient lion; perhaps that was precisely the case. “Do you follow your superiors because you love them deeply? Or maybe because you are best friends with the Archangels? Had some intimate conversations with the Creator himself, per chance? Believe me, those leaders are not exactly the kindest beings in heaven.”

He laughed, somewhat nostalgic. Good times.

When your answer did not come, Jimin continued, honey dripping from his tongue — how could such malevolent creatures have such way with words? “You are afraid of them, dear, afraid of the consequences of your acts, and rightfully so.” He paused, gaze falling down to the desk before him. “You have been brainwashed to construct responses that way, after all. It is only expected.”

“I would be a fool not to be afraid of someone more powerful than me,” you told him, expecting that he would read between the lines and put himself back in his place. Jimin could have been a powerful Archangel once, but now he was far below you in the hierarchy. You should remember that as well.

“Oh, so you do admit being afraid of them,” he noted, happy that you were accepting the hard truth of your position. “And yes, I agree with you. But, once again, I ask you to recall my previous point: if you fall, you have your own set of powers, and you can even rival them if you wish to do so,” he spoke slowly, presenting you with rivers upon rivers of magnificent possibilities.

Ephemerally, you comprehended why so many humans sold their soul. Never could you explain why someone would sacrifice their entire afterlife for the glory of a few years on earth: it made no sense. But of course, those serpentine devils were masters of manipulation and negotiation; who were you to claim that Jimin was not, in fact, treating yourself as an ignorant human? The least you could do was not act like one. “I am not planning to do such thing,” your voice was firm, but he did not feel any certainty embellishing your words. “Unlike you, I am not that immature.”

“That is perfectly acceptable,” Jimin assured you, not minding the astringent comment you threw his way. His complete disregard for the levels of purity that segregated the two of you was too much for you to take in, completely outrageous; his arrogance was getting to you. “Brushing these frivolous conversations aside, let’s move on to our next test, shall we?” the man said, moving around on his chair. “Let me present you the infernal equivalent of a guardian angel: contract workers.”

There was no doubt that his sole intent was to offend you with that infamous comparison. Perhaps Jimin had not ignored your commend as easily as you primordially expected. "What for?” you questioned.

Placing his hands over his knees, Jimin paused for an instant. Behind him, the supernatural glow seemed to grow more intense, causing for his silhouette to become darker against its radiance — the penumbra that was his essence dripping past the cracks of his elegant demeanor. “Do you wish to rule by my side?” his question caught you off guard, enunciated with so much delicacy that you could not help but grow skeptical at its premise.

“Rule?” you echoed that world, utterly cynical of the connotation it carried. A laugh ruptured upon your curled-up lips. “Please, demon, you are no king,” you told him with endless detestation. What a presumptuous little creature he was.

Still, his audacious posture did not falter. “I am not,” he agreed, almost humbly so. “Nevertheless, I am the… president of my own small… segment of the afterlife, if you can say that.”

Before you could say anything else — most likely a cascade of mockery — Jimin snapped his fingers, and the heavy desk moved to the side with a prolonged whine against the wooden tiles, pulled by an invisible string. With another snap, a second chair appeared next to his own, just as luxurious. “Come and sit here, darling,” he tenderly requested.

With hesitant footsteps you did as you were instructed, moving upwards the marble steps. Meekly, your eyes scanned the chair before, at last you sat down. Jimin found himself entertained by your lack of trust, a part of him even sympathizing with your situation. Not that he would ever admit that, of course.

“Now, let’s work.” He snapped his fingers again, and the table returned to the previous place with an even louder noise, almost trapping you against the silk-covered seat. You could not help but think that the man was becoming more excited by each passing second, and you did not find that relieving at all. On your back, the red phosphorescence felt like it was burning as intensely as the midday sun. “Come in,” his voice echoed across the room abruptly.

For a moment, there was only quiescence. Soon after, your momentary puzzlement evanesced as the grandiose door on the other side opened with a low clicking noise. In the room entered a human-looking boy around his twenties, so handsome he could be a model; with an aura so viscous that he could surely pass as a demon more powerful than his supposed position.

Next to you, Jimin appeared almost bored, “What do you have for me?” he inquired.

The creature’s response came as he took steps towards the center of the room, the sound of his movement soon muffling as his black shoes met the emerald rug. “Three v-virgin souls and…” he mumbled, clearly anxious — that was quite an unexpected personality to be faced with. He stopped walking, “Eight-t murderers—”

“—Nervous, demon?” Jimin inquired, holding no bitterness in his tone as he did so. Contrary to what you foresaw, your companion did not laugh at the worker’s misfortune, but remained impassive.

The other boy swallowed hard, playing with his fingers in front of his body. He looked like a child being confronted by an abusive parent; you thought that there was a chance he had been recently turned into part of Hell. “No, sir…” he looked down at his feet, attempting to find the forces to continue his speech. “I am sorry.”

As if a thought had been sent directly to your own mind, you came to understand that what you saw was not solely nervousness, but glimpses of respect and adoration — the young malignant spirit did not want to disappoint his leader, no matter how much he humiliated himself in the process. Some way, you related to his position.

With a suspire, you were brought back to reality. “Do not apologize. You worked well," Jimin guaranteed, signaling that he could leave.

"What?” you questioned impulsively. You hardly realized that word had departed from your mouth until you noticed the way the room seemed to have frozen around you, the two men staring at your direction expectantly — one with consternation, the other with enchantment. You cleared your throat, thinking that vocalizing your thoughts would be better than facing that excruciating silence any longer. “I apologize for my interruption, but did he really work well?” you tried again.

“You do not share the same impression as me?” Jimin’s tone remained velvety, but you noticed remnants of doubt in its background, along with something you could not identify.

You paused for a second, reflecting on your words. If you had already committed the mistake of verbalizing your confusion, you might as well go into detail. “How long did he have?” you asked Jimin.

He pondered, “About a month or so.”

“A month?” you repeated, incredulous. Jimin raised an eyebrow, clearly interested in your reaction. “We caught demons that stole more souls than that in a single day.”

Your counterclaim was immediate, yet hardly considered. Somewhere amidst your contemplations, a part of your mind begged you to remain logical — this was not a mere joke, you could not share singularities about Heaven with an individual so powerful. Remember the hierarchy.

“Oh, dear, then it looks like I might be mistaken.” Jimin gradually transitioned his gaze back at the other demon, who was shaking in front of the large entrance. If the young-looking boy was not a creature of the shadows, you would feel some sort of pity towards his awful position — however, since that was not quite the case, you brushed those ponderations aside. “What would make it better, besides the quantity?”

The inquiry by itself was pathetic, but even more comical became the clear manner Jimin expected you to gift him such information. “I am not planning to sit here and share with you everything I know,” you were quick to speak back, crossing your legs.

Jimin smiled as if that was precisely his desired reaction, running his hands through his silver hair, even if there was no strand out of place. You noticed that the bloodstains had disappeared, but you did not mention anything. “I already have my answers, regardless of your collaboration,” he said with endless conviction, and you knew that was precisely the case: he had once seen much more — discovered much more — than you could even begin to imagine. Of course: he was merely playing with your loyalty to Paradise. “In simple terms: the purest the souls are, the better,” he smoothly enunciated. Correct.

As if waiting for his cue to remind the two of you of his presence, the younger demon begun verbalizing his defense. “B-But those are so much harder to get,” the boy replied, stammering. To a demon like him, Jimin should be the one of the most horrendous, intimidating images they could dare to conceptualize; his unnerving presence being sufficient for them to forget how to formulate the simplest of sentences. It was lamentable. Amusing, but lamentable.

“If that happens to be the case, I suppose you should work harder. After all, you are here to serve Hell, and not the other way around.” His response came within a heartbeat, followed by a prolonged suspire. Your gaze automatically fell to the pouty motion of his lips as the air broke in the middle of them, intrigued at how perfectly-shaped they were — angelical; Jimin still managed to be terribly angelical. “Out of my face,” were the words that shattered your enchantment, followed by a hand gesture by his part.

For the first instance glad to follow an order, the demonic boy disintegrated into a cloud of stygian dust, leaving you two alone once anew.

Staring at the devil by your side, your mouth parted slightly so you could say something. However, before your voice could reverberate in the compressed space that existed amongst the two, Jimin moved swiftly and placed a finger over your soft lips. His touch, contrary to what you expected, was warm and inviting, endowed with so much electricity that you instantaneously jumped away from the contact, surprised by his sudden courage.

“Did I give you permission to touch me like this?” you blurted out, offended.

Regardless of the outrage that his misdemeanor incided, the fallen remained trapped in an atmosphere of diversion — you could never tell if he was manipulating you, or if he truly saw something different, familiar, waltzing in the background of your actions. “Kitten, you are too fun. Do not take my jokes so seriously,” he presented you with a low chuckle, leaning back against his chair. No apologies this time, not even forged ones, “This time, you should talk a bit more,” he proposed.

You turned back around, trying to ignore the tingling that hung on your lips. Before you, the hellish room felt much more suffocating than ever before. “Why is that?” you inquired, glad to perceive that your tone came out neutral, unaffected.

“Dear, do you not see it?” Jimin asked back at you, not expecting a response. “They are terrified of you. Use that in your favor to teach them a lesson.”

“On how to collect more souls?” you almost laughed, not believing what he was sharing with you — you could not comprehend how that filthy creature truly believed that you would fall into the temptation of Hell so quickly, perhaps even awakening your desire for justice in the path. Punishment was not on you or any part of Heaven: in fact, that was why the demonic presence was even allowed to exist. “Who do you think I am? A traitor?” you asked.

“Not on how to collect souls, but to scare them. As humans say: a taste of their own medicine.” He snapped his fingers. The door promptly cracked open — why a passage was even necessary, when they could transport past matter, you did not know. “Next! It is quite delightful, though. Kitten, you should give it a try.” Jimin playfully advised.

For your second guest for that night, it was a girl who appeared. Like owning a flame of her own, her long red hair wrapped her slender body, falling down upon her short dress like a scalding cascade. Jimin drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, split between bored and glad to see a familiar face — actually, from earlier that night. Still, only his detachment reached your perceptions: you realized that he should do that constantly, and was probably beyond tired of going through the same procedures over and over. “What do you have for me?” he asked.

She was notoriously more confident than the previous boy, perfectly enunciating her finds with a raised head. “Twenty-one murderers and rapists; three devotees.” she told her boss. If the woman had noticed your presence by his side — which was quite inevitable — she made no mention of being overtook by it. You could not tell if that was a good sign or not.

Subsequent to a low hum, the man by your side turned to you. “What do you say, my love?” Jimin inquired, thoughtful. “Be honest, there are no innocent feelings here for you to hurt.”

“I think…” You cleared your throat, conflicting feelings rapidly monopolizing your thoughts. However, it was impossible to deny that you liked that position a bit more than you should, for the moment the girl’s eyes met yours, she lost her composure immediately, lips opening in complete disbelief — perhaps she truly had not noticed you aforetime. “I think twenty-one is a pleasant number, but three devotees? I am not sure about those.”

“Why is that?” the man asked, showing no reaction to your words.

Lips falling shut for a second, your gaze trailed its way back to the woman’s, feeling the translucent panic that begun burning beyond her clear eyes. You did not know what it was, but that mere image of despair was sufficient for a dose of courage to be injected in you, a dim sense of pleasure spreading across your chest — amusing, lamentable; human. “Speaking from the perspective of someone who has seen the judgement of these spirits, I can comprehend why murderers and rapist would sell their soul, probably to cover up their crimes,” you started, and Jimin hummed in agreement. “But devotees that sell their soul? Does giving up eternal delight for ephemeral pleasures sound right to you?” you asked him. Still, your eyes were locked on her. Her fear; her lack of words.

“No, it does not,” the man agreed, slowly turning back to face the ginger girl, who was trying not to show the trepidation that was taking hold of her — to no avail. “Are you distorting your words, demon?” he asked. For the first time, you swore you could notice traces of disgust hanging at the tip of his tongue. Ironically, Jimin did not like being played with; lied to.

With the impact of that inquiry, her demeanor was shattered. “No, sir, I swear!” she assured her superior, speaking a little louder than before. Her tone did not vacillate, but her grandiose hand gestures showed that she had been struck with a change of adrenaline. “That is what they told me. I swear I would never lie to you,” she continued.

You did not know if Jimin had a response, for an incredulous laugh erupted on your chest. “And you believed them? Humans? What kind of naive demon are you?” you wickedly inquired. Back then, you did not realize the dim sentiment of superiority that begin germinating within your soul.

Jimin laughed at your reaction, gently placing his hand on top of yours — once again, the touch was almost electrifying, sending currents of sheer power up and down your skin. “Calm down, love,” his mellifluous voice bordered on a whisper, somewhat intrigued that, this time, you did not pull away from his caresses. He turned back to her. “I must admit that my darling has a valid point. Were you fooled by the words of humans?”

“Yes, I mean— No! I—” the girl mumbled, seeming to be confused by her own discoordinated words. At last, she took a second to close her eyes, rearranging her mercurial thoughts. “I don’t know, boss.” She breathed out.

“Why is she... so scared?” you murmured, leaning closer to the man.

“Dear, you look simply terrifying.” Jimin grinned, his fingers moving to caress yours. You liked the sensation. “An angel criticizing a low-placed demon? That is quite the nightmare fuel for a mere contract worker like that.”

Your gaze flickered towards the demon girl for an instant — even bathed by the reddish luminescence of the room, she appeared to be much smaller than before, shrinked underneath the ponderation of her despondence. “Did I… get carried away?” you questioned him. You did not care for her well-being, but more about the manner your personality had so swiftly changed.

“A bit.” The man chuckled, almost whispering the next part. “But you never looked hotter,” he confessed.

Choosing to ignore his insubordinate speech, you turned to the other demon, who was still waiting for her superior’s orders. Compared with other heavenly beings, your presence probably would not be so excruciating, but, in the eyes of a low-slung demon, your aura should be the most frightening thing she had ever encountered, especially if combined with the fallen angel sitting at your side — a duo that ever so minutely analyzed every word thrown in their direction. Strangely, you found yourself finding pleasure in that situation, the possibility of making your own choices and correcting the mistakes of others appearing more seductive than ever.

Mayhaps Jimin was correct, after all: maybe fear was the only manner to be absolutely respected. Even more so: heard.

Next to you, your companion came to perceive that the creature was still there. “You should work more on manipulating pure souls. Do not return until you have true benevolent humans in your hands." Jimin waved, wanting to get rid of that damn demon as soon as possible. His patience was far gone with those little worm-like things. "Get out of here,” he spat.

The girl bowed in agreement and, like the first, seemed relieved to burst into a cloud of obsidian smoke. Right after you were left alone, the man spoke again.

“How do you feel when you are finally being heard, kitten?” Jimin asked softly, his hand still caressing the back of your own. Lost amongst your asymmetrical ponderations, you had not let go of his touch, and now you realized that you did not desire to do so. “Does it feel good to be respected? Feared?” he instigated your response.

“It… does,” you hesitated for a moment, the words coming out of your mouth as if you were in a hypnotized state. “I guess it does.”

You suspired. Yes — it felt deeply pleasant.

Jimin’s lips slightly curved upwards in satisfaction, which was quickly hidden as he moved to stand up in front of you. The absence of his touch was immediately felt, and you realized that his aura had stopped annoying you for some time now. “Well, then... I believe we shall move on to our final adventure.” He told you, raising his hand for you to take it.

Unlike the first time, you did not hesitate to accept his invitation.

As twilight morphed into gold, you found yourself surrounded by a magnificent bedroom. Ivory could be discovered in the luxurious floors and the delicate bed sheets, matching the damascus-colored lights almost exquisitely. Above your head hung a medium-sized chandelier and, on the wall besides you, a large glass window stood behind long alabaster curtains, presenting you with a immaculate image of a bright city, many meters underneath.

“Where are we?” you verbalized that question yet again, looking around with a certain dose of admiration. Even the aroma of the room seemed gentle as a vernal breeze, sweet as vanilla, yet with vague traces of cinnamon.

Jimin was by your side, and his response soon reached your ears. “A five-star hotel in Dubai,” he said. The confession made you stiffen up a bit, suspicious of the sudden change of atmosphere. You did not know what he was planning to achieve by taking you there, and it made you uneasy. “Do you like it?”

“It is quite beautiful,” you admitted, looking around with dreamy eyes. The demon saw scintillations of purity shimmering in your eyes, and he swore it was the child-like gaze he used to see all the time when he was still part of Paradise. He missed it, in a way. “Jimin, why was this your choice?” you questioned, breaking his reveries at the spot.

After a low shuffle of his shoes against the marble floors, his voice sounded dangerously close to you. “Because...” he murmured, touching your arm slowly. You turned around, only to realize that his face was inches away from yours, so close you could feel the luciferous heat emanating from it; the caresses of his breath against your smooth skin. “There is one last part of your test that I am afraid I have not yet mentioned,” he disclosed.

An instant of silence followed his words as you swallowed your disquietude dry. “Does that require for you to be so close?” you asked almost timidly, but made no mention to step away. You liked his proximity.

“It does.” He glanced at your lips as he said so, a flame of hidden concupiscence burning in the depths of his dark eyes — conflagrant, scalding. “Kitten, have you ever had the taste of carnal desires?” the man breathlessly questioned.

“Never wanted to,” you answered quickly — too quickly — not even ruminating about the connotation that dwelled in the hidden corners of his question. The truth of your position was as clear as a beautiful sunny sky: you were an angel, how could you surrender to something so… human? Mirroring the mistakes you so despised? No, of course not.

Jimin, however, was able to see past your mask. “Oh, but I think you did,” he whispered, giving you a brief laugh. The man was suddenly serious, focused on every minor movement your body made. “But, just like any other angel, you pushed it to the back of your perfect little mind.” He turned his head to the side, leaning in closer and planting a small kiss on the line of your jaw. His lips were gentle and soft as petals of a rose, and the small contact suddenly did not seem to be enough for you. “Allow me to remind you, my dear kitten,” he proposed.

Taken aback by the tides of your surprise, your voice almost failed you. “What... are you doing?” you asked, feeling his arms wrap around your waist. Jimin pulled your body against his torso, the nefarious vortex of his energy pulsing around the two of you; locking your figures together. He lowered his feathery lips, kissing your neck, his nose touching your skin.

“I could have chosen to show you the rewards of greed… the confidence of pride, but no,” he mumbled against your warm skin, his hot breath making shivers run through your figure. Why could you not find the forces to get out of his embrace? You would regret it, no matter how fantastic the sensation was. “No, no, my dear, you deserve something more special than that. You deserve to feel the flames of lust.”

You attempted to sound confident, but your voice betrayed you. “I-I will not,” you struggled to blurt out.

He managed to notice your nervousness instantaneously. “Oh, but you will. In fact, you already felt it,” he assured you, giving your skin a light suck — a moan perished between your closed lips, and you convinced yourself you had not allowed it to resound between your bodies. “Allow me to show you what you have been losing; all the incredible pleasure you can feel… all you have to do is say yes, love.”

“Jimin,” you called his name, trying to lock yourself back into reality. Your hands rested on his shoulders in an attempt to push him away, but you found yourself without strength — above that: without the will to do such thing. You did not want for his caresses to resume, for you were drowning in every second of it. “I cannot.” You breathed out.

“Have you not learned yet, kitten?” Jimin left your neck, slowly climbing back to the direction of your jaw, and then to your cheek. “We can do anything we wish for.” His nose brushed against yours lightly, his speech reaching your half open lips in small clouds of heat. “You can rule by my side, you can be my pretty little angel.” He hugged your body tighter, making your arms wrap around his neck in an unexpected instinct. “We can be feared by everyone, we can show them our side of the story. Do you not want that?”

“I don’t know, I—” you found yourself unable to speak, your mind only focused on his lips: painted by a pallid shade of carmine and slightly swollen. You did not know why you were feeling that unwavering desire to surrender to his charms; decay into the temptation of his perfectly articulated movements. But you could not, you simply could not.

As his following words departed from his mouth, his hands navigated upwards on your back, finding the zipper of your loose white dress. “I can have you all for myself,” Jimin’s voice was so slow, so engulfing that you found yourself unable to escape its claws, sinking deeper and deeper into his presence. It was a mistake; a trap that, once you entered, you could never escape. “I can make you feel good whenever you want to, take you wherever you desire me to.”

And — may the Creator have mercy — there was nothing else in the universe that you wished as strongly as that. “Jimin…” what was meant to sound like a warning came out more like a prayer. You were already suffocated by his charms; manipulated by temptation, and he knew that as well as you. The man had given you a taste of a whole new universe, a reality you did not want to leave behind — you had nothing to lose, only to gain.

“Dear, I love you when you say my name like that.” Jimin moved even closer, placing your foreheads together. You could tell he wanted to dive into carnal needs as much as you did. “So, let me ask you one more time, all I need is a yes…” he trailed off. The enchanting man was so close that his lips brushed against yours, slowly and painfully marking his territory on your mouth, “Can I kiss you, kitten?” he whispered.

You took a deep breath, feeling the ponderation of that response before it even left your throat. “Yes, please,” you finally agreed.

Then, there was no turning back.

Jimin joined your lips to his with such ferocity that you permitted for a small exclamation to resound in between your mouths, your fingers rising to curl into his soft hair. You felt as if you were floating, completely ignoring the guilt that weighed down in your stomach — ignorable underneath the butterflies that waltzed there. Decorated in every corner of your spirit there was the certainty that, as much as you knew it was wrong, the man was what you hungered for.

Nothing seemed sufficient then: you needed more of him, needed more of what he had ever so softly promised you. You wanted Jimin, and every painful flame that accompanied his presence; craved the poisonous power that ran through his veins and dripped from his fingertips; you perished underneath the venom of his tongue, tasting death and revival every time his kiss grew more intense, lascivious.

He grunted softly as your tongues met, not hesitating to pull your zipper down fully. The thin straps of your dress ran down your shoulder with the fluidity of water, and soon your clothing was already on the floor, a puddle around your feet. Jimin’s hands slid down your naked back, curving around your waist and positioning themselves behind your thighs, pulling you up in a single precise movement. A soft moan escaped your lips when legs curled around his waist, the man effortlessly leading you to the large round bed.

Laying your body tenderly on the soft mattress, he left your lips once more, migrating to your neck and then to the valley of your exposed breasts — which rose and fell with every breathless suspire from your part. Emotions danced within your essence in an uncoordinated symphony, an endless mix of curiosity and amazement at every small touch of his. It all was part of a completely unexplored, unknown world.

Jimin’s palms massaged your body with almost torturing patience, slowly caressing your breasts, only to then run towards the curvature of your waist, tracing the outline of your form as his lips delineated an insubstantial path down your body, heading toward your center. The man wasted no time in undressing you from your last piece of clothing — a cotton underwear, also colored in white — and soon he was positioning himself between your legs, opening them delicately.

“Kitten, look how eager you are,” he commented, voice as low as if he were speaking to himself; constructing hollow philosophies about the beauty of the being before his eyes. Before you could respond, one of his digits moved from of your opening to your clit, making circular motions on the sensible place. You bit your bottom lip, not knowing how to react to being experiencing so much at once. “No need to hold back your voice, love, we are alone,” the man told you.

Some part of your logic thinking still vocalized for you to get away from his grip, the same piece of your ego which felt contaminated, completely vulnerable and manipulated. Regardless, when his hooded eyes met yours, temptation pouring from them, you did not care about any of it, “Jimin, I’m—”

“—You are sensible, I know,” he completed your sentence, applying a bit more pressure on your sensitive spot. A small moan slid from your lips, and he grinned at the result.

There was something about seeing a being so virginal and unblemished sinking into sin that Jimin profoundly loved. Something about the manner your eyebrows were knit together; how a dim choral hue was already taking hold of yours cheeks; about the way you discreetly lifted your hips, silently asking for more. There was a hidden aspect about that corruption the demon adored, something tragically beautiful that enveloped his very essence. “I want to you feel each second of this, I want you to know what you can have,” he mumbled.

His finger slipped back to your opening, teasing and causing a weak tingling sensation to spread through the region. It was not long before you were holding down to the golden sheets, blissfully unaware of how perfectly your hips rolled upwards, moans and whines rupturing the equanimity of your lips again and again. “Jimin, please—” you called out, not knowing where you were heading with that empty phrase.

Even unspoken, your desire was clear. Addicted to every small sound of pleasure you presented him, the man lost no time in moving away from your center, ready to accept your every command. “Dear, I cannot refuse when you ask so nicely,” Jimin playfully said, kneeling down in front of your body.

With tranquil movements, he took off the pieces of his clothes — his black tie; his dark blouse and trousers — at last introducing you to his statuesque figure. From the outlines of his abs to the manner his silky, silver hair fell over his obsidian eyes, you could tell that the man was absurdly enticing, every minor detail of his form seemed to be sculpted by the best artists mankind could discover. Then and there, you swore you could envision the ethereal transcendence of Heaven and the putrid tantalization of Inferno dancing together in the background of his nebulous gaze, shimmering inside his smile and dripping in between his scarlet-painted lips like ambrosia.

Jimin emanated so much energy that you could feel something ringing slightly in your ears, anticipation running through your veins as he undressed, then rested his hands on either side of your head, leaning closer to you. His terminal remnants of self-control were fading, his eyes drowning in pure salaciousness. He was the very own image of Lust then — nothing more, nothing less. He was what he had promised you, and what you had ever so gratefully accepted.

An exclamation of pleasure echoed past your hard-bitten lips as you felt the way he positioned his member between your folds, slowly swinging his hips so that he caressed your center at an unbearably delicious progression. “Can you feel what you are doing to me, love?” Jimin whispered, overwhelmed by the tides of his own craving.

Jimin leaned in, kissing the curvature of your neck, deep grunts leaving his throat as he grinded against your wetness, but never entering you — you were aware that he wanted to hear you beg, one last confirmation that he had your permission to stain your spirit. “Please,” you impatiently asked, almost as if in a trance.

“Are you sure, kitten?” he asked against the warmth of your skin, clear desire in his deep voice. Your fingers were curled in his silver hair, and they yanked its strands lightly as the friction found your soft spot — it felt marvelous, but you needed something more. “You cannot go back from that,” he warned.

Still, you would not change your mind. “I am sure, please,” you repeated, defeated. In the depth of your mind — which was almost fully taken by carnal needs — you felt horribly human underneath his mystical touches, but you could not care about it any longer. All you wanted was him, and all that he could give to you; all the filthy power that came along.

Like a judge’s hammer decided your fate, his voice came to accept your decision. “As you wish,” Jimin told you.

The man entered you slowly, taking all the time in the world to get accustomed to the incredible way you enveloped his member. There was no pain from your part, only the most absolute delight and satisfaction; the assuagement of finally feeling everything he could give you. “Oh, love— You feel amazing, kitten,” he moaned out, gradually starting to roll his lips against yours. You whined, curling your legs around his waist as your body moved up and down in the same rhythm as his. It was the most wonderful sensation, a delicious numbness that gathered at the base of your spine and spreaded throughout the expanse of your body, combusting in your chest and weakening your arms and legs. “You feel just perfect. Just like an angel should be...” he trailed off, absent-minded.

“Jimin—” you called for his name yet again, closing your eyes and concentrating in the fantastic rhythm of his precise movements. Your fingernails descended to his defined back, marking his muscles with thin red lines; inducing for a grunt escape his swollen lips.

“Take control, love,” he murmured against your ear, making a shiver run through your skin. Before you could fully comprehend his words, he was already spinning your bodies around, making you sit on top of him. The new angle caused for him to reach deeper inside you and, before you knew it, your hips were automatically moving against his, rising and falling in an intoxicating cadency. Jimin held to your legs tightly, traveling up to yours hip and waist; lower body and breasts. He seemed to want to touch every part of your body all at once, his dark eyes watching you as if you were the most engaging being he had ever encountered in all his existence. “Yes, just like that—”

The man groaned below you, rolling his hips against yours, lifting them in pure bliss. With his eyes falling shut, he threw his head against the achromatic pillows, a long moan leaving his parted mouth. Jimin was approaching his climax, his touches growing stronger as pleasure increased inside him. He bit down on his lower lip, opening his eyes to meet yours, his gaze burning in a mixture of desire and submission beneath heavy eyelids. “Keep going, kitten,” he whined, guiding your movements more accurately. “Come on, love, you are doing so well…”

You threw the weight of your body forward, resting your hands on his chest and going faster. Your own relief seemed to be approaching as his name became more and more constant on your mouth, that pressure reaching much higher — excruciating; sensational — levels. Your thoughts were gradually morphing into puzzled contemplations, simplified by the need within you; erased by the whimpers and cries from your part.

Jimin closed his eyes tightly, throwing his head back again as his breathing grew shorter and heavier, moans interrupting words you could not quite grasp — but, at the same time, resembled fragmented praises; overwhelmed compliments and bargains. With a few more desperate thrusts, he was coming undone beneath your figure, and you soon followed. Your apex hit your body all at once, making you call his name again before you felt all that expectation crumbling around you, metamorphosing into sheer satisfaction — legs shivering, palms growing weak as you rode out the afterglow of your climax. Until, at last, you could not go on any further.

You threw your weak body next to his own with a minor bouncing of the bed. Closing your eyes and concentrating on the delectable sensations that still took over your body, the vague sensation of your pleasure slowly creeping up into nothingness. In your chest, an unknown heat started to pulsate, spreading all the way to your back. It felt good — right, even.

However, your bliss was short-lived.

The same comfort that such heat provided soon became a thumping noise in your head, a scorching, throbbing feeling that begun to frighten you. What just before was a vague weakness turned into a horrible vertigo, the disequilibrium of your own soul starting to weigh down over your chest — suffocating you with what you thought would protect you, “Jimin, I feel a bit strange…” you managed to verbalize, forcing your head to turn towards the man. Your vision was so, so dark.

Amongst the tenebrosity of your sight, Jimin responded, “I believe that you are falling, my dear,” his voice sounded muffled in your ears — why could you no longer feel your limbs? — and it was the final aspect of that world you heard before everything shattered around you.

Eclipse — light, then darkness.

In a monochromatic kaleidoscope, you found yourself fighting to keep your eyes open in an ocean of passing clouds; the agony that pulsated in your back aggravating every time the night air entered your lungs. The stars passed like blotches of pallid luminescence in your blurred vision, the neon phosphorescence of the citylights approaching at a frightening pace. Your frail figure traced uncoordinated pirouettes in the air, limbs reaching out for a salvation that would not come.

Everything felt as cold as ice, but it embraced you with the heat of hell.

At last, your pain reached its peak. Brutally and remorselessly, your wings were ripped from your back, moving much slower than your free-falling silhouette. They stood behind in the nocturnal air, gradually swinging amongst opaque clouds and soulless stars as you continued your path towards the city.

You are falling, my dear.

The liveliest, most gruesome shade of cardinal surrounded your body as you woke up on the concrete. Even if your nude body was intact from the fall, you were aware of the source of the blood, aware of the precious thing you had lost so quickly, mercilessly — the two holes at the back of your figure that burned with the anguish of a billion tortured souls; the openings in your flesh that would never let you forget the ponderation of your errors.

Even with a dizzy perception, your blurred eyes could see that you had landed on the same residential building from earlier that night; now awfully quiet with the lack of music. Underneath the light of countless stars, you forced your gaze to focus on the world around you; your touch becoming cognizant of the wet sensation beneath your weak, trembling palms. Angels did not bleed.

Like a gunshot rupturing the tranquility of night, you heard footsteps moving closer to where you laid. Blinking a couple times, you moved your stare just a couple centimeters, meeting a figure wrapped in ebony. The man was standing besides you, expensive shoes only a few inches from where your blood wetted the asperous ground. He was dressed exactly like the first time you saw him and, for a moment, you considered that you might never have left that place.

Of course, only empty hopes.

Your dry lips quivered as they parted, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth — covered by the taste of iron. “Jimin, hel-help me,” you stammered. You did not know what to do, your brain seemed unable to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening. “It h-hurts...”

Gradually, his gaze moved downwards. Against the dark sky, you could barely see the way his emotionless eyes fell upon your figure, utterly phlegmatic. “Why should I help you, my love?” he inquired, tilting his head to the side and analyzing the way your fingers were already tinged with crimson, immersed in the warm liquid. “There is nothing I can do.”

The cuts on your back throbbed mercilessly, making you moan in pain as you attempted to get up from the ground — with oscillating arms, you fell back to the puddle of sanguine, splashing your chest and torso with the cooling liquid. “W-What have you done to me?” you inquired, your voice coming out like a frail whisper.

“Me?” Jimin smiled, amused by the lack of hope that ornamented your situation. The story repeated itself throughout the centuries: it was always the same denial, same shock. “I showed you possibilities, and you made your choice. Just like what I told you: you wished for darkness, now I am giving you darkness. I am a man of my word.”

You swallowed dry before continuing, “My wings—”

“Yes, I am afraid that they are gone.” The demon suspired, briefly analyzing the openings in your skin, as deep and black as the sky above you. As much as his eyes were dead, the frown that overtook his features was quickly noticed. “I believe I will miss their presence too. Angels are particularly delicious to play with,” he lamented.

“W-What?” You gasped, resting your elbows on the cement — you despised the splashes that resounded underneath your chest; grew to hate the trails of tears that begun rolling down your flushed cheeks. “Was I just your plaything?”

For the primordial instance that night, Jimin appeared to be truly enchanted by the infantile hope that you still held tight to — either you were still pure, or you were just an idiot. “But of course! What else?” the demon exclaimed. He squatted, lowering his body to your level. His touch, once so warm and tender, was now gelid as he brought one of his hands to your wet cheek, caressing the place gently. “Dear, you did not think there was anything else going on, did you? What kind of naive angel are you?”

Had you been foolish enough to believe in someone like him? You felt completely hopeless. “I am… I am not—”

Before you could even finish, a shadow of sheer hatred was casted over his features, silencing your words at the spot. For that second, Jimin was the most demonic he had ever looked. “—You angels are just ridiculously innocent sometimes, it disgusts me.” He grunted, rising again to his feet. He would have spat on you, but you did not deserve even that. “However, you were a fun one, at least. Easy to corrupt.”

Sentences, before so natural, now fought to depart from your lips. “I have not been corrupted, I—”

“—Oh, but you have,” Jimin interrupted, smoothly turning away. Above you, the stars shone with less force than ever before. “The first test, you intervened, even knowing what I was showing was not real.” He took a glimpse back at your incredulous face, letting out a small laugh then. “Don’t dare to act surprised! I am not the big man upstairs, I cannot fix what already was, and neither can you,” he emphasized that last part with special taste, then moved on. “The second test was even more simple: you could have stayed with your pretty little mouth shut. But no, you liked being taken into consideration, didn’t you? It is almost worthy of pity how badly you needed attention. You guardians are so fragile. Practically begging to be torn into shreds.”

His speech had barely evanesced into silence when you vocalized your frustration. “I will… I will tell my superiors!” you threatened, again failing to sit down. An unfamiliar anger began to bubble inside you. It was all a lie, and you fell for his every word. You had been so stupid.

The demon suspired. “Firstly, you no longer have superiors to run to.” He turned to you, now much more distant. Jimin just wanted to get it over with, but you did not seem to comprehend what you had done oh, so terribly wrong — amusing, lamentable; pathetic. “Second: they were the ones who contacted me in the first place,” he disclosed.

“Blasphemy,” you spat that word for the second time that night. “You only tell lies.”

Another suspire. “Again, my dear, I need no lies,” Jimin assured you, “You know, the first step to be promoted in heaven is to start questioning orders, something you were already doing quite well,” he explained, impatient. “Nevertheless, questioning is not enough: you cannot make impulsive calls in the name of one single human; you cannot seek power and control over other beings, and.” The man paused, looking even a bit disappointed. “You cannot give into carnal desires. That is what divides an archangel from just a pathetic little… rebel.”

“Was I going to be…?” you babbled, incredulous.

“Maybe so.” Jimin shrugged, putting his hands inside his pockets. His timbre seemed to be in dissonance with the words he was speaking, all you wanted was for his voice to be pulled into tune, to be devoid of that boredom, that disgust. The same nauseated enunciation you had once shown him. “It is not that simple, but you would have been on your way there. Regardless of those hypothesis, I am afraid you failed all the tests, and that cannot be taken back,” he assured you.

Utterly lost in a chaotic sea of disconex thoughts, your anger spoke louder than your reason. “No, no, you controlled me!” what was meant to come out as a certainty sounded more like a faithless request, bargaining. “Manipulated me! You are a demon, a fallen angel: that is what you do best!”

“As much as you would like to use that as an excuse, I did not,” the creature told you with endless honesty, his hair getting a bit messy because of the cool breeze — it was truly a beautiful night, if he could say so himself. “There was no need to do such things, especially on the third test.” A small smile appeared on his lips — you felt like you were about to throw up. “Kitten, you begged for me to be inside you, and you loved every second of it. There is no denying that. It is so simple to grasp that even your silly brain can understand: you fucked a demon, and you fell from grace,” he concluded.

Flickering towards the blood-bathed concrete, your eyes broke your stare the second your lips fell shut, devoid of excuses. The demon paused and embraced the image before his gaze: if not terribly melancholic, he would claim that your blood-covered body was tragically enchanting. A shame, to say the least. “Regardless of the outcome, I must say that it was a pleasure meeting you, kitten,” Jimin confessed, looking one last time at your direction. “You know where to find me.”

And, with that, he vanished, leaving you alone in a city that was slowly beginning to wake up. Behind your quivering silhouette, a pallid shade of rose broke the indigo horizon: a brand new day began, welcoming you into a brand new life.

Above your head, red-painted feathers begun falling amidst the clouds.

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