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creatively--challenged · 4 years

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Making a Splash | College AU Tom Holland x Reader

Request “ Love your writing! Not sure if you take requests, but any chance you would do a smut one shot with frat cocky Tom? He's a known player, while y/n is a good student and she hates him. He's always trying to charm her, but she always denies him. But then she goes to a pool party, and he is there in his swim trunks, and he's all tan and his muscles are glistening. He works his charm on her, and then he makes her suck him off. She's gagging on him and he's dirty talking and boasting non-stop.”

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long! I had this half written and lost all motivation when this Coronavirus thing happened! Anyway, I’m not sure my dirty-talk is up to scratch but I hope you enjoy! x

Word Count: 7k Warnings - Seriously smutty, rough, oral both receiving, alcohol, swearing, and a lil bit of fluff at the end <3

“Get lost, asshole.” Y/N spat at the annoyingly attractive man leaning over her shoulder. She was attempting to take notes on what her professor was explaining at the top of the lecture hall but her arch-nemesis, Tom Holland, felt that it was his life’s goal to distract her in any way possible; today it was by leaning over her shoulder to read her notes, all the while brushing his fingers softly through the ends of her hair. She wouldn’t admit that his actions were having a very strong effect on her lower half. She wouldn’t.

“Now, darling, that’s no way to treat your fellow classmate. I’m just trying to understand the class. You wouldn’t want me to fail, would you?” He drawled in that heavenly, no – annoying accent of his, lips so close to her ear she could feel the heat of his breath on her.

“I know for a fact that you’re the woman to go to for any needs I may have…” Her eyes widened and she started to turn towards him in bewilderment. “Academic needs, that is. Don’t worry, I know you wouldn’t be up to catering to any other needs, thanks for the notes though.” He snorted and retracted back into his seat with a cocky grin on his face as he annotated his own notes with snippets of what he got from hers.

Y/N fumed in her seat. He had the audacity to tease her, make her feel things, and then insult her and use her for notes? Not that she’d be surprised. He’d done worse in the past. In their first year she had left her laptop on in the library while she went to find another book on the subject she was studying and when she came back she found her Word document that she’d typed 3000 words of an essay in was empty, all saved files deleted, with only the word “sorry” visible on the screen. She only had an idea of who it was until his essay was published for getting the highest grade in the class and when she read it she realised she was reading her own work, bar the odd change in phrasing.

Their rivalry had bloomed from there. He would constantly tease her for her academic focus and outwardly prudish image – keyword; outwardly. What she thought of inwardly or did in her own bedroom in the small hours of the night thinking about that stupid accented voice was no one else’s business. He was also a shameless flirt and despite his teasing, she felt his eyes heavy on her in almost every class they shared, which was most of them considering they studied the same majors and even shared some electives. At the parties her housemates hosted or dragged her along to he always seemed to watch her, almost like a predator observing his prey. She couldn’t understand why, other than the thought that she may be a conquest of his. A box to tick before he moved on to another helpless soul. Her first assumption was that he was waiting for her to make some colossal social blunder that he could exploit and tease her with, but then at the last party her housemates had thrown she had spilled a drink accidentally over some cheerleader that had been sitting on his lap while she tried to get her books from the dining room table that were being used as coasters. That had ended up with said cheerleader throwing whatever was left in her red solo cup all over Y/N’s head. She knew he had seen it and was waiting on the eventual onslaught of jeers but was surprised when she had caught him gently pushing the cheerleader off his lap and exchanging stern words with her before storming into the kitchen. Maybe he just didn’t want to piss her off completely before he had the chance to get her into bed. Yes, that was definitely it.

Her professor signalled the end of the lecture and Y/N packed all her stuff away as quickly as possible to get a good seat in the library. She always spent 2 hours a day after classes cramming as much study in as she could, especially with Finals coming up. She spotted her housemate, Ella, sitting in her usual spot and made her way over. Ella shot her a smile as she sat down and quickly scribbled a note on a scrap of paper before passing it across the table.

Planning a party to celebrate Finals this Friday. Get ready to make a splash ; ) x

Y/N chuckled under her breath and rolled her eyes playfully. The girls in her house had been talking about having a pool party for weeks but as soon as the weather began to pick up there was always something else happening on campus. It seemed they finally got their weekend.

“I suppose I’d better find a good Netflix series to watch and a pair of headphones good enough to block out all noise then.” She whispered to her friend and Ella scoffed.

“Absolutely not. It’s the last party of the year and it’s going to be a scorcher! You’re whipping out that body of yours and joining us. We might not even be living together next year, you have to enjoy yourself at some stage!” Y/N rolled her eyes again, less playfully this time. She opened her mouth to reply but caught the glare of the library assistant and thought better of it, ducking her head behind her laptop and beginning her study.

Two hours later, her and Ella were walking leisurely back to their house, arm in arm. It was still light out, tints of orange and pink rippling through the clouds as the sun began to dip in the sky. She loved the walk back from the library, it used to be her favourite part of every day. That was until she realised the walk took her by the house Tom shared with his friends and he was usually leaving his house at that time to go to some party or bar or whatever it was he did in the evenings. Tonight he seemed to be staying in as when they walked by his house he and Harrison, the blue-eyed blond he was hardly seen without, were lounging on their front deck with a cooler of beers between them, laughing obnoxiously at something or other.

“Hey, Y/N! I hope you have your bathing suit picked out. Or will you be hiding in your room making love to your notes on Friday night?” Tom shouted across the lawn, causing Harrison to spit his beer out and let out a howl of laughter. Ella froze up and looked at her friend with wide eyes, beginning to shake her head as Y/N turned her glare on her.

“You didn’t tell me he was coming! You know I can’t stand him.” She whispered harshly to Ella who was already rambling.

“I didn’t invite him! It must have been Holly. She’s been trying to get with Harrison all year and he won’t come without Tom!” Y/N groaned and flipped Tom off as she stormed past his house.

“Oh come on! That’s not very nice. I thought you were supposed to be the good girl?” He shouted after her and when she glanced back at him he sent her the cheekiest smile he could muster and a wink. His words and actions went straight to her nether regions but she dragged Ella back to the house regardless.

Once they got in the door she went in search of Holly and found her scrolling through her phone in the kitchen, smirking to herself. When she saw Y/N approaching she glanced up and a look of panic flashed across her face as she quickly hid her phone.

“I know what you’re going to say but I really need him to come so that Harrison comes! It’s just one night, pleaeeease, Y/N? He probably would have come anyway when he heard about it.” She reasoned and Y/N sighed, resting her case and telling the girls she’d try her best to ignore him and enjoy herself. She didn’t know how she’d do that, but she would try.

Friday came way too quickly for Y/N’s liking for two reasons. Firstly, she could definitely do with so much more time to study for Finals and secondly, the pool party was today and the girls were all aflutter trying to get drinks, snacks, and music sorted for the evening. Y/N had been dragged into helping set up the fairy-lights that scattered the pool area and organising tables with bowls of snacks and red solo cups. She was making an effort on her friends’ behalves. By the time everyone had started to arrive, Y/N and Ella were paddling in the pool and making their predictions for the night ahead.

“Holly is definitely going to sleep with Harrison. There’s no way he can resist that charm.” Ella assured her, taking a long sip of her drink through a looped pink straw. “But the question is… Are you going to shoot your shot with anyone tonight?” She wiggled her eyebrows. Y/N choked on her drink slightly, her eyes wide.

“What? No way. I have more important things to worry about. Getting laid is not one of them. Finals start next week!”

“Which is exactly why you need to let off some steam! How are you supposed to focus on your papers when you’re… distracted by a certain someone? Plus, you look way too good today to let that go to waste. You’ll have your pick of the lot, no doubt about it.”

A certain someone? There’s no way she could have meant Tom. He definitely didn’t distract her. Coincidentally, at that exact moment Tom chose to walk through the French doors that led from the kitchen to the garden and if she wasn’t trying to maintain the scowl on her face her jaw would have dropped. He looked incredible. Dark curls pushed back, sunglasses perched on his nose. His black shirt was unbuttoned, showing off his ridiculously toned body and the v that disappeared into his tight black swimming trunks. He already had a beer in hand and was talking animatedly to Harrison beside him. He caught sight of Y/N and stopped mid-sentence before collecting himself and flashing her a wink before continuing his conversation. She watched as he took up a lounge chair and 2 cheerleaders immediately gravitated towards him, begging for his attention.

“As I was saying…. You need to get laid if you wanna focus in your finals…” Ella told her in a matter-of-fact way, gesturing towards the brunet. Y/N scoffed.

“I wasn’t distracted by him, I was just thinking.” She defended, drawing a laugh from the blonde beside her.

“Yeah.. I wonder what about.” She mumbled under her breath and Y/N made her way out of the pool to get a drink. It was going to be a long evening.

As night began to approach, everyone started to make their way indoors to continue the party. Most of them were already half-cut, some were so drunk their friends had taken them home already, but the house was still flushed with people, nevertheless. Y/N had been chatting to a guy, Scott, from a seminar on Post Modernism that she had attended when the dining room began to fill up. They were idle friends, he had asked her on a date once or twice and even though she politely declined he always took it very well and continued to treat her kindly, even helping her study for exams.

She had retreated inside an hour or so ago. She could only take having her attention pulled towards the tanned, glistening abs of Tom Holland for so long. He had been teasing her all evening, getting out of the pool right next to where she was paddling her legs, sure to flex his muscles as he moved lithely, shaking the water from his hair, and smiling boastfully when he caught her eyes on his body. Each time she caught his eye he’d send her a wink and there were numerous times where she’d catch him eyeing her breasts or her ass, not so subtly checking her out, prompting her to cover her bikini clad body with a long, black lace kimono and a pair of denim shorts in an attempt to shield her body from his eyes as much as possible. He was infuriating.

She felt a presence behind her and knew immediately who it was even before she saw Scott tense up as he looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowing annoyedly. Scott pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and visibly suppressed rolling his eyes. He looked unsure as to whether he should leave or not until it seemed he was deciding to stay at Y/N’s side. Y/N glanced around and found herself almost flushed to Tom’s glistening chest. His hair looked almost perfectly styled despite hours in the water; curls perfectly out of place and falling over his unruly eyebrow, curling around his ears. He had thrown his shirt from earlier back on though it still hung loose around his shoulders, keeping his chiselled body on show. She fought with her eyeballs to stop them from travelling any further down his body.

“You haven’t run off to your books yet? Who are you and what have you done with the good girl I love to tease so much?” Y/N squeezed her thighs together at his words and he seemed to notice, glancing down ever so slightly before meeting her eyes again with an amused expression.

“Get lost, Holland. Don’t you have cheerleaders to fuck or beer-pong to play or whatever it is jackasses like you do?” His eyebrows shot up and he let out a breathy laugh.

“Oooooooh princess found some balls! How many of those have you had?” He asked her, gesturing to the cup of vodka and soda in her hand. Admittedly she’d had a lot more than she would usually though she had only been feeling pleasantly buzzed, just enough to give her some Dutch courage. He smirked and leaned down to her ear, his hand resting gently on her hip.

“See, your mouth is saying one thing, but your body is telling me a different story. Come find me when your mouth catches up with the rest of you and wants to be put to good use. Oh, and ditch the puppy dog.” He nodded towards Scott dismissively, and walked towards the hall without even a glance back, as if he knew she would follow.

She could feel the heat pooling in her underwear as various thoughts ran through her head, all of them beginning with her feet taking her out of the room to find the man who expertly got under her skin. She must have stared at his retreating back too long as she heard someone clear their throat loudly behind her. She turned quickly to catch Scott’s disapproving face.

“You know, you might consider yourself above reproach but you’re just like the other sluts who fawn over him on a daily basis.” He told her with an ugly scowl on his face.

“Excuse me? What do you mean?” He rolled his eyes.

“You know exactly what I mean, you lead him on and pretend you’re not interested so that he’ll keep flirting with you. I hate to break it to you, Y/N, but even dickheads like him get bored of the tirade very quickly so you should probably consider getting over yourself.” He told her dismissingly, turning to walk away. “I’m not interested in him and I’m not trying to lead anyone on!” She defended though he shot her a look that said ‘sure’ and disappeared into the crowd.

She felt tears prick her eyes and a lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry here, she was supposed to be having a good time! She scanned the room for her housemates, she needed someone to vent to, though she wasn’t sure which boy she was angry at the most. Her eyes caught crystalline blue ones leaning against the wall beside her. Harrison was holding two drinks, looking at her with sympathy.

“Holly’s just gone to the bathroom if you want to wait here for her.” He told her, tilting his head to the side. She shook her head, glancing up to the ceiling and putting her tongue to the top of her mouth to stop the tears from escaping. She definitely wasn’t crying in front of his best friend.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N, what he said isn’t true. I don’t know you very well but you don’t lead him on and you’re not a slut. That’s why Tom likes you so much. That guy’s just jealous.” Harrison slurred ever so slightly, he was obviously quite drunk but that didn’t stop his words from having an effect on her, her heart swelled appreciatively at his kindness but she was also questioning whether he really meant what he said because if he was serious about Tom liking her did that mean she had been taking him the wrong way this whole time? No, she couldn’t have. He teased her relentlessly, stole her work, and insulted her on a daily basis. He was just drunk, or maybe he was even in on Tom’s conquest. She decided the best thing to do was to stop drinking. She’d had enough of this night.

Y/N threw her cup away and made her way to the stairs, wearily taking one step at a time until she got to her bedroom door. Scott’s words had returned to her head and the tears had breached her eyes, slowly trailing down her cheeks. She absently wiped them as she stepped into her room, her lamps already on and… Strange. She hadn’t been in here since this afternoon and she didn’t leave her lamps on. She worriedly glanced towards her bed, hoping some horny couple didn’t decide to fuck in her bed. She could have sworn she’d locked the door! Except, there was no horny couple, just a brunet Brit who jumped up from her bed with a look of concern across his face as he tentatively took steps towards her.

“Y/N? You didn’t have to follow me if you didn’t want to. I was just teasing! I wasn’t trying to force you or anything.” He rushed, instantly losing the cool, unflappable exterior he usually portrayed. Y/N scrunched her nose in confusion.

“Tom? What are you doing here? What are you talking about? How are you in my room?!” Now it was his turn to be confused. He tilted his head at her, not unlike a puppy with those all-encompassing brown orbs.

“Wait. You’re not crying because of me? I told you to come find me and here you are. You don’t feel like I’m forcing you, do you? You didn’t have t—” It finally dawned on her why he thought she was upset and she gasped.

“No! No that’s not why – I didn’t know you were here!” He looked visibly relieved and then a little embarrassed.

“How and why are you here, Tom?” A little of the anger that resided in her from earlier had made its way back into her voice.

Why the fuck did he think he could sit in her room, on her bed, where she got herself off to thoughts of him on her bed? That bit wasn’t important but it was all she could suddenly think of. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and produced a key from his shirt pocket.

“Took it from the pocket in your shorts when I leaned down to you. I think you were too focused on my words to notice.” He started the sentence nervously but by the end he almost had his innate level of cockiness back in his voice. Almost. “I thought you’d assume I’d come here if you wanted to follow me, especially when you noticed the key missing. I was going to leave after 20 minutes or so, if you weren’t interested…” He trailed off and the nervousness was present once again. “Look, I’m sorry. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it. I’ll leave you alone.”

He made a move for the door but YN swung it shut and slowly stepped between it and him before he could get to it. He stopped in his tracks, eyes lifting from the floor to meet her eyes, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.

“I was upset because Scott accused me of fawning over you. Of brushing you off so you’d keep teasing me and flirting with me. He said that you’d eventually get bored of me. And you know what? I do fawn over you. I do brush you off because the feeling of being wanted and chased is so much better than giving into you, letting you have what you want before you move on to someone else. I was upset because he was fucking right and I’m an idiot. But if you’re gonna get bored of me eventually I want to at least let you have me once before you do.”

Tom’s face flashed through several emotions one after the other. Anger to sympathy to understanding and finally, to complete lust. His dark eyes grew darker, jaw hardened, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips, as he took two steps towards her and gently pinned her against the door.

“Looks like your mouth has caught up with the rest of your body.” He noted leaning down to her. His minty breath fanned her face as he tilted his forehead against her, hands gently squeezing her hips but not moving anywhere yet, as if silently asking permission. She tilted her face up to his, lips just millimetres from his, so close that when she spoke their lips brushed.

“Looks like it has. You said something about putting it to good use?” That was all the permission he needed. With a low growl in the back of his throat, Tom connected their lips hungrily, expertly moulding his mouth against hers. She whimpered slightly; this was so much better than what she thought it would be like. It didn’t just feel superficial either, it almost felt there was a depth to his kiss. She kissed him back with fervour and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue dominantly passed her lips, tangling with hers and exploring every inch if her mouth. His hands had begun grasping at her, almost as if he was unsure where to touch first. Like a kid on Christmas morning debating which gift to open first. They roamed her ass, squeezing and smoothing the skin through the denim, gripping the bottom of her cheeks that were peeking out from under her shorts. They then travelled to her exposed waist, one holding her there, revelling in feeling her skin, while the other journeyed upwards towards her bikini clad boobs, cupping one and gently squeezing before ghosting his hand over where her nipple was. The hand on her waist then dropped downwards and cupped her sex through her shorts before she could even register it leaving her hip. She moaned desperately into his mouth, her fingers threading through his locks, every gentle tug eliciting a soft whine from him.

She eventually found the courage to let one hand travel down his body, slowly over every muscle, nails trailing down his abs as he hissed in response. Their kiss was getting hungrier and dirtier by the second, teeth clashing, rough breathing, and both their lips coated in each-others spit but they didn’t care. Her right hand dropped to cup his length just as his hand expertly untied her bikini from around her back and pulled the offending material away to let her boobs free. He pulled away from their kiss, looking deeply into her eyes and he caught his breath, he pecked her lips once before dipping his head down to catch one nipple in his mouth, his other hand rolling her other nipple between his fingers. His teeth nipped slightly and her tongue swirled and sucked until he had left purple blooms all over her left boob. He then began tracing kisses to her other boob, showing an equal amount of care and appreciation. His hips began slightly bucking up as her hand slid into his swimming trunks to cup his now very hard cock. Her knees buckled slightly at the feeling of his teeth and tongue on her and the feeling of his dick in her hand, something she never ever thought she’d experience. He felt it and grinned at her cockily.

“Need you to do something for me, darling.” He pulled back, removed her hand from his trunks, and gently pushed downwards on her shoulders until she was on her knees in front of him. He gave her a second to back out but when she showed no signs of stopping, he pulled his shorts down to let his length spring free, nearly hitting his stomach in the process. Her eyes widened at the sight. She’d always imagined he’d be big, why else was he so popular with the cheerleaders? But he wasn’t overly long, just really fucking thick.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll help you fit it all in that pretty mouth of yours.” She thought there’d be a puddle on the floor under her at hearing those words but she tried her best to put her pleasure to the side for the moment and focus on him, surely he’d look after her later? She took his cock in one hand and slowly pumped it as she teasingly leaned forward and licked a strip from the base to the tip. He put two hands on the door in front of him to support him as he groaned deeply.

“No teasing, Y/N” He warned, voice dangerously low. Y/N wondered how far he could be pushed, after all, he did make it his life’s mission to tease her. Surely he could take it himself? She began sucking gently on the head, swirling her tongue, leaving light kitten-licks along the length, and almost taking him deep in her mouth before pulling away altogether before starting her process again. She didn’t get very far, he grunted and tangled a hand in her hair before forcing her head towards him, making her take as much of his length into her mouth all at once. She placed her hands on his hips and began bobbing enthusiastically on his cock. Sometimes he’d force her further down and she’d gag slightly, then he’d take advantage and buck into her mouth faster until he was practically fucking it.

“You like that? Like when I shove my cock down your throat? I guess you’re not the prude I thought you were, are you? Or is it just that you couldn’t resist me?” She could feel the spit leaking down her chin and onto her boobs but she wouldn’t stop. Even though she could feel tears streaming down her cheeks, she wouldn’t stop. It felt too good to have him thrusting roughly into her mouth, pulling on her hair. When she thought she was going to be sick from how deep he was thrusting she’d tap on his hips and he’d pull back slightly for her to catch her breath, before continuing his assault.

Suddenly he pulled back and lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her over to her bed.

“I know what’ll help you even more.” He placed her on the bed upside-down, head hanging off the edge and gently placed a hand on her cheek. “Open. Good girl, swallow that thick cock.”

She opened her mouth again as he thrust his length inside, hissing at the feeling. He was right, it did help her. The angle allowed him to fuck her throat deeper without it making her gag as much and he definitely took advantage, roughly fucking her face as his fingers played with her nipples. He’d pull away to let her catch her breath before picking up the pace again, going faster than before. She could tell he was close when his movements became sloppy, he was pulling away to let her breathe less often, desperately trying to get as much friction as possible until he thrusted one last time and shot hot cum all down her throat. He let out a long groan as he released and collapsed on the bed beside her. She swallowed everything he gave her and then sat up sheepishly. He had his arm thrown over his eyes, breathing heavily. She pulled her kimono across her body, trying to shield it as much as possible as she went to get his shirt and trunks for him until she felt a strong hand on her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going sweetheart?” She gestured to his things briefly and he laughed breathlessly. “Do you seriously think I’m not going to look after you? Come here, I was just taking a breather.” He pulled her back, rolling her over so that he was hovering over her.

“Fuck you’re beautiful. For the record, I was never going to get bored of you. I will never get bored of you, Y/N. I like you a lot more than I think you realise. I want you so much, in so many more ways than this.” He leaned down to press his lips to hers, passionately kissing her like she’d never been kissed before.

He began trailing his lips along her jaw and down her neck. Sucking lightly at the skin, slightly marking it though not enough to last. Just enough to show her than he meant what he said. He wanted her to be his. She moaned lightly, the sound coming out husky and wanton. He took this as encouragement to brush his hands down her stomach and pull at her shorts until she lifted her hips and helped him shimmy them off. He then ghosted his fingers over her mound through her bikini bottoms, making her shiver at his touch. He was so close to where she wanted him that she decided to speed things along and pull them down herself, shimmying when they got to her knees. He laughed musically in her ear but got the message. He inched his fingers closer to where she wanted them, over one lip, then away, then over the other lip, then away again. She whined loudly and rutted upwards, trying to find friction on his hand but he pulled it away from her.

“Oh so I’m not allowed to tease but you can?” She huffed and he laughed again, his glittering dark eyes appearing over her as he placed chaste kisses to her lips between words.

“Don’t worry, love. It will feel all the better in a second.” He quickly ran a finger up her folds, eliciting a gasp from her but not enough friction to relieve any tension. He put the finger that was covered in her juices in his mouth and sucked on it without breaking eye contact before releasing it with a pop and flashing her his signature dashing smile, though it wasn’t paired with teasing eyes this time, but rather with eyes filled with affection? She was sure it wasn’t that but… it sure looked like it. He moved himself down the bed until his face was hovering over her sex. She realised she was holding her breath in anticipation. He slowly hooked one arm around her hips to keep her in place and began ghosting his lips over her lower stomach, leaving little light pecks, before moving his focus to the insides of her thighs, nipping and sucking and kissing, all the while moving closer to her centre. Before he finally let his tongue delve between her folds, he surprised her by pushing a finger into her slowly. Just as she gasped at the feeling of his finger inside her, he ran his tongue up her folds and circled her clit, causing her whole lower half to convulse in pure euphoria. He chuckled lightly at her reaction before diving in and lapping all of her juices up while adding another finger to begin stretching her out.

“Fuck, your pussy is so wet. Is this for me, princess?” He asked huskily, meeting her eyes as he resumed licking lightly at her clit.

“Fuck, Tom. It’s always you.” She was playing with her own nipples now, appreciating the sight she’d up until now only imagined. He paused briefly, making her whine.

“You’ve thought of me like this before? Have you masturbated to the thought of me?” He asked incredulously. Her cheeks flushed red when she realised what she’d said and she tried to correct herself but it was too late. His eyes lit up and he smiled widely.

“Always knew you weren’t as prudish as you tried to seem.” He demonstrated this by adding a third finger and sucking harshly on her clit, causing her to squeal and thrust her hips up towards his mouth. This time he let her, allowing her to grind her pussy onto his tongue as he fucked his fingers into her. The hand that was holding her down then came up and he tangled his fingers with hers. She could see him grinding his hips into the mattress of the bed and the thought of him being hard again from pleasuring her was pushing her fast towards her climax. She began moving her hips in time with his fingers and he ran his tongue up and down her folds, swirling it around her clit and sucking harshly until she was fast approaching her orgasm. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers as he lapped furiously until she was coming apart on his fingers, a wave of ultimate utopia clouding her every sense, a feeling she could never achieve on her own. She was beginning to think there was no other person that could make her feel this way. Only Tom. He continued thrusting his fingers and lapping at her clit until she squealed and pushed at this head to stop him, the over-sensitised feeling overwhelming her. When she glanced up she could see a giant wet patch on the sheets underneath her as well as spurts of her juices all over Tom’s face and chest.

“Did I do that?!” She asked, wide-eyed. He laughed and nodded.

“You squirted and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He told her, holding one hand over his heart.

She laughed and he moved over her, nudging her legs apart to settle in the middle. She could feel his length resting against her entrance, hot and pulsing. He caught her lips in a searing kiss, one hand coming up to cup her cheek as he slowly pushed into her. Even though he had stretched her with his fingers, she still felt the white-hot ache as he pushed deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. He buried his head in her shoulder, breathing deeply as he restrained himself from moving too much until she got used to him, placing gentle kisses along her neck.

“Mm Tom, I need you. Please.” Y/N whined, nails scraping along his shoulders and down his back. He arched into her and groaned.

“M’all yours, sweetheart.” He kissed her mouth one more time, roughly, before pulling his hips back and snapping them into her again. He pushed into her relentlessly, rendering her a hot, moaning mess under him. She was sure that if there hadn’t been music playing downstairs then everyone would hear her crying out his name over and over again. Part of her wished they could. All of Tom wished they could. He was in no better position though, moaning loudly, grunting, groaning, and every now and then he’d let out a rough shout of “Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good.” She thought she was going to pass out from the sheer pleasure that was rippling through her body. She was holding onto him for dear life, like he was the only thing keeping her on Earth. He grabbed her leg and placed it over his shoulder, angling his thrusts so he went deeper again, if that was even possible. She cried out a mantra of his name, making herself hoarse.

The sweat was rolling down his temples, down his body, making his abs glisten in the soft lamplight. He suddenly pulled out but didn’t even give her a second to react before he had her flipped over on her hands and knees and snapped her hips back into his as he entered her in one go and continued to pound into her from behind until her knees were weak and her arms were about to give out. When her limbs did give out, he lowered himself down, effectively fucking her into the mattress. His hips had slowed, but they were driving deeper and longer. He wasn’t just fucking her, he was relishing her. Reveling in the feeling of her, appreciating every second. His hand wrapped around her waist and his fingers found her clit, circling slowly but steadily. His hips had begun to stutter, out of time, but his hand never faulted, as if he was putting her pleasure above his own. She felt his head near hers as he practically lay on top of her, gyrating his hips deeply. She turned her body ever so slightly so that she could turn her head and capture him in a kiss. He moaned into her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers.

“M’not gonna last much longer. Cum with me, darling.” He moaned into her mouth and his words were almost like a direct command to her body because as soon as he said it she felt the wave, ever increasing, crash down on her and she, in turn, clenched around his thick cock causing him to grunt as he shot his load into her, snapping his hips into her until he had nothing left to give. She could feel the heat deep within her and it nearly made her orgasm all over again, if she hadn’t had been absolutely spent.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing deeply; his sweaty torso sticking to her back as his chest heaved. She could feel him getting soft inside her and she couldn’t help but move her hips slightly into him, relishing in the feeling until he groaned and slowly slipped out of her, making both of them gasp at the feeling. She could feel his arousal leak out of her as she turned over and sat up. He was sitting up too, waiting for her, droopy eyes and soft smile that she matched. He ran a hand over her cheek as he connected their lips once more. A quick kiss, but a deep one.

When they parted, she watched as he glanced around the room, suddenly seeming nervous. He scratched the back of his head and moved towards the edge of the bed.

“I should probably go…” Her heart dropped. He was leaving? She just had the best sex she’d ever had with the person she realised she cared a lot for, and he was leaving?! A multitude of emotions crossed her face; confusion, sadness, and then anger. Tom seemed to follow all her expressions and gauged her reaction, his eyes looked hopeful?

“You’re upset. Does that mean you want me to stay?”

“Of course I bloody want you to stay! Why the hell would I want you to leave after that!?” His eyes widened at her outburst.

“Well because you never liked me before! I just didn’t want to presume you wanted me to stay!” She softened. The Tom in front of her was not the Tom she was used to. In fact, he hadn’t been since she’d came into her room.

“I meant it when I said I wanted you in more ways than just sex. I’ve liked you for so long. I know I didn’t show it very well but after years of teasing you it felt odd to suddenly treat you any differently. Especially when any time you’d see me you’d scowl and wish I was anyone else. I realised that the only kind of interaction I’d have with you was by teasing you. I know, it’s not right and I mean I could have tried to be nice but it was so tough to figure out my feelings for you when I thought you hated me with every fibre of your being.”

The Tom in front of her was insecure, even shielding his body away from her. No trace of a lie on his face, eyes wide with emotion, and head dipped in shame. She lifted a palm to his cheek and leaned into him.

“I think I’ve always liked you. Just didn’t want to admit it to myself that the guy who stole my English essay in First year was now stealing my heart.” She smiled and he let out a loud laugh.

“Oh fuck off. I barely knew who you were and I mean you left your laptop wide open!” It was her turn to laugh then as he engulfed her body in his arms and threw them both down on the bed, grasping for the blankets to cover themselves. He held her close as they shared a few blistering kisses under the covers.

“Hmm. Always knew you’d be amazing with that mouth.”

“Tom!”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom #holland #college au #smut #rough

459 notes · View notes

vminity21 · 4 years

Text

Apricot | pjm

Pairing: bestfriend!Jimin X female!reader, college!au, friendshiptolovers!au

Genre: fluff/smut/slightangst

Word Count: 5,244

Warning(s): language use, mature content, slight angst involving confessing feelings, unprotected sex, oral (m & f receiving), slight f!dom, rating: R/18+

Summary: You have been head over heels in love with your best friend Park Jimin for what feels like forever, but you are too afraid to tell him the truth. When your fears happen to tread into your dreams, you finally work up the courage to tell him how you feel, but does he feel the same?

Tapping the end of your pencil upon any form of a desk is a habit you have vowed countless times to break, yet with your focus solely upon the daydream spinning like a pinwheel, you hardly notice the coffee eyes peering over at you. “Hey,” the jab of a pointy elbow disrupts you enough, lightly jumping at the gesture just to find your attention returning to the monotone voice of the professor. To make sure the coast is clear, you then veer your gaze to see a concerned Jimin- orange strands glisten beneath the long, rectangular lights tickling the lateral canthus’ of his eyes, and you feel an overwhelming sensation of longing, but you refuse to make it known. “Are you okay?” He mouths, leaned comfortably in his seat; you rest your chin firmly in your palm as you hold his stare.

“Yeah,” you promise, almost dazed, nodding in confirmation. It takes absolutely no effort when the minute class ends, you scramble to scoop up your textbooks, exiting the room with your best friend by your side. Picnic tables are sparse along the campus, and finding one empty, the pair of you occupy it for a few minutes before going your separate ways to the next class.

“You must be out of it,” Jimin observes, breaking the brief silence before you turn to dig into your backpack for a granola bar you have not been able to stop thinking about. Peeling off the wrapper swiftly, you offer him a piece of the snack, him lifting a quick hand gesture in rejection.

“I was up late last night,” you admit, breaking off some of the bar and popping it in your mouth.

“Please tell me you didn’t turn in the music paper late-”

“I sure did,” you chuckle at the way Jimin shakes his head at you, though the way his plump lips break out into his infamous smile, your heart skips a beat as it always does, because how can someone be so beautiful? He runs a slow hand through his hair while his eyes move to watch the surroundings,

“You live dangerously I’ll give you that. I can’t survive unless I’ve had a solid eight hours of beauty sleep.”

“No wonder why you’re so flawless,” you muse, him abruptly shifting to look at you once more, snickering in disbelief at your comment.

“Don’t lie to me,” he kids, gradually standing to his feet before he throws his arms up to stretch them; Jimin lets out a long yawn, “I think I’m going to go check on Yoongi. He’s been missing Mo a lot lately, so I’m going to keep him company. Catch you tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Smiling, you are almost caught off guard from where he gently squeezes your shoulder, and the inward wish for him to stay envelops your senses much more than you want to confess, but you understand his wanting to go check on a friend who may need him. Plus, you understand how Yoongi feels because missing someone can be consuming and that is something you are remarkably familiar with.

Turning on a heel, Jimin treads to the sidewalk that leads to where his dorm room awaits, only making it halfway up the sidewalk, he spins to face you, stepping backward with a large smile he bellows, “Your birthday is coming up by the way. I know you’re not a fan of it, but you’ll have to get over it!”

“I won’t!” You lean to your side to get a better view of him, voices carrying in the light breeze.

“We’ll see,” he winks before jogging further into the distance leaving your fluttering heart in anticipation for what he has up his sleeve.

Palms along with the slight bend of your fingers clear within your vision, and your breaths slow in a strange wonder of why you are where you are. Bare feet planted along the cold, dark mush, yet there is no color to be noticed other than black and white, and you twirl your hands in awe of the dull gray painted upon your skin. Rattling trees are enhanced from the way your senses have heightened, and sporadic rumbles from the earth seem to emit in unison with flashes clouding your peripherals. The long grass of the field encompassing your frame sways, and whatever lingering shadows fade into the distance, you hardly notice anything other than that something is missing.

It does not rain, rather, lightning makes an appearance as if to signal the arrival of something… or someone. Furrowed eyebrows, you gather beyond the land a silhouette completely adorned with colors you have not been acquainted with, and as the figure no longer remains blurry, your heartbeat quickens at the sight. You watch him as he dances, leaving traces of color in his wake- every inch being shaded in behind him, completing the picture as if created just for you.

His arms are outspread, and within one of his hands holds a bubble blower which decorates the atmosphere, and upon instinct, floating bubbles hover to where you are; a giggle escaping your lips at the mere touch of one popping. Carroty tendrils gleam beneath the glowing yellow of what you see to be the sun, no sign of gray to be seen now that this soul has arrived. When he notices you, there is a halt- all is silenced, and even from what appears to be a short pace to be where he is, you have never been so fixated on the brown orbs that seem to reflect the same interest.

The two of you step to be nearer to one another, and for some reason, a nostalgia slithers its way to you exposing the urge to confess an undying secret, and as if he reads your mind, you raise your palm, him following suit before your hands press together simultaneously. Your gaze flickers to watch the way the pair of your fingers intertwine, goosebumps pleasantly spreading over your limbs, but what really captures your attention, is when you mouth,

“I need to tell you something,” because he mirrors the exact words you just whispered. His lips part as do yours, investigating each other’s gapes deeply. “I-I need to tell you something,” you repeat just to realize he is reflecting every movement you make. Stepping backward in shock, you frantically say it over and over again, “I need to tell you something. I-I need to tell you something!”

“Tell me what?” Jimin’s voice breaks through what happens to be a dream prompting you to gasp as you jolt up, pulling the covers tight to your chest. Your breathing calms as you flash a suspicious look at your amused friend, playfully reaching to shove his shoulder while the drowsiness from your slumber gradually dissipates.

“What in tarnation are you doing in my room? And, who said I had anything to tell you?”

“Listen,” Jimin chortles. “You have been talking in your sleep the past five minutes, and if I’m not mistaken, you have an urgent message to deliver to somebody.”

Scoffing jokingly, you roll your eyes, “It was just a dream. Now, get out. I need to get ready.”

Obeying, Jimin’s snickering at you as you wisp past him to prepare for your day ahead. Straightening your hair, brushing your teeth- twice, and caking on deodorant- you meet him out in the hallway, the two of you heading to your first class of the day. Little does he know, his presence always makes the pace of your heart quicken, and this is not the first time he has woken you up from sleeping. Of course, the subtle desire to wake up to him every morning huddles in the back of your mind. And as you ponder the dream you have awoken from, is it possible that Jimin has something to tell you, too? Or is it simply just a hopeless wish?

“And, Happy Birthday by the way,” Jimin’s steps slow just enough for you to notice the comical way he smirks at you.

“Don’t remind me,” you blow at a piece of stray hair that falls into your vision.

“Too late,” Stopping fully, you are astonished when his strong arms pull you into a tight embrace that the faint smell of his cologne reaches your nostrils. “It’s your birthday, and you are worth celebrating.”

“Says who,” your voice is muffled against his warm chest, your body easing into him before tightening your arms behind his back when you gently rock from side to side.

“Says me,” he cuddles you much closer, pressing his nose into your shoulder, and the way complete peace waves like an ocean over your heart, it feels indescribable, almost heavenly. But, does he feel the same, too?

“You’re going to make us late,” you murmur, although a tease, you honestly wouldn’t mind being late to class if it means being enveloped in his arms, but of course, reality hits, and he saunters behind you into the classroom when you finally find the will to pull away. If only the daunting questions didn’t produce fear, then maybe you would have admitted your feelings by now, or so you assume, but is heartbreak a risk you are willing to take?

When you reach your desk, coming down from the dazed high of Jimin’s hug, a soft gasp erupts past your parted lips, eyes widening in surprise. “You’rrre welcome,” Jimin leans into your shoulder, his smile so wide that his eyes disappear, and if you could kiss him, you would do it right now even as students start filing in to take their seats.

Sitting right at your desk enclosed in a plastic case appears to be a yellow frosted cupcake with rainbow sprinkles decorated on top. And all you can fathom is this- is this all a coincidence? Or do your dreams about Jimin have a deeper meaning that you are in denial about? Either way, you know you can’t hide your feelings forever. And as you settle into your chair, a few minutes before class is to begin, you bask in the glory of his voice as he speaks, longing for the day you can work up the courage to tell him how you truly feel.

In the middle of the meadow you stand, all hues washed away into the gloom of loneliness, yet the prickles of grass nicks your ankles, reminding you of the trees standing lifeless in the sense of no movement, hardly a sound is created. The fabric of a dress is clung between your fingers, the material scrunched in your palms, yet you loosen them upon realization that you are nowhere amid harm. Toes curl to feel the cold pad of the earth, but the air is stilled, calmed in silence, yet temperate enough to maintain comfort. You turn in time to notice a table, not far into the distance, eyeing what looks to be a small cupcake centered without anything else surrounding it.

Curiously, your slow footprints crunch the grass toward the strange discovery, and the thought of sinking your teeth into the soft dessert makes your mouth water in excitement. The crave is so strong, you wonder of the significance behind the treat, and colliding with the fossils of your memory, you cannot seem to find a reason; sprinkles sporadically embellish the swirled icing prompting you to swipe an index finger through to taste the delightful sweet of sugar now melting on your tongue. Closing your eyes, your intention is to reach for more frosting, and upon re-opening them, bewilderment overcomes you at the sight of colors blooming on every horizon, painting along to even reveal the deep mahogany of the table. Tilting your head, you notice something is missing, and unexpectedly, the blur of clementine strands enters your peripherals causing you to whip your vision to see the man you have met in prior slumbers, mischievously grinning at you.

Squinting at him in response, a mere smirk arises on your lips, wondering what he has in store, but he is not the only one who has a trick or two hidden away in his sleeves. Trailing down from his expression, you see that in his hands lays the cupcake, the wip of yellow frosting you pilfered evident from its once perfected layer. Wind happens to miraculously exist when you hear the subtle rattle of leaves, your hair tickling the backs of your shoulders where the tinge of sunrays are felt, and you find it endearing that when he is present, so is the world you truly seek.

He gestures the dessert to you, and instead of taking another bite, you catch him by surprise when you return the baked good to the table. Watching you carefully, the spark of another desire looms along your mind where your arms raise for your hands to place gently on his shoulders. Brown irises flicker to read your expression, and when he prepares to lean in, tip of his nose daintily brushing yours- you suddenly jolt, laughter reverberating throughout the atmosphere when he widens his eyes before leaning back to release the same boisterous sound, your running frame igniting him to follow suit. He chases after you playfully as you cavort through the land, sneaking glimpses behind you to see how close he is. He never misses a step, arms outreached to catch you panging frequent squeals of glee to escape from your smiling lips, but he misses every time as you dodge into the opposite direction, he least expected. A short time passes underneath the fervor of the sunlight resonating amongst the scene, the light of it all serenading the pair of you into a wonderland you never imagined would welcome you with such happiness.

When he manages to round his arms around your frame, your feet fly out from under you causing the two of you to tumble- rolling together down a lush hill until the pace slows. He hovers above you, each of your chests rising and falling with the same exhilaration before bursting into the same merriment that gifted the surroundings with joy. The tips of his feathery, orange hair tickles your forehead from how near his proximity is, and his expression softens in the hopes of continuing where it was originally left off. When he leans in, without warning, with what strength you have, you turn to pin him down, giggling at his startled, yet amused glance. His smile is the most beautiful smile you have ever known, him shaking his head at you for accomplishing the trickery he had not seen coming.

Gazing down at him, your hair falls from your shoulders to lightly touch the sides of his face, and you feel the comfort of his hands nestle on your back. Your fingertips glide to hold his face, his dancing eyes lighting your heart- everything about him finalizes you in every aspect- the missing puzzle piece you have longed for- the sunshine to your rainy day. And, no matter what, you will never look away.

Bubbles swarm the universe in a glistening cascade when your lips finally meet, creating the power of what the two of you hold for each other, and one thing rings mesmerizingly clear:

He is the rainbow that conquers every storm.

One thing you contemplated from the moment your eyes fluttered open to the gold tinged spin of your ceiling fan was whether you were going to refuse to move until the anxious weight over your shoulders disappears, or get your ass out of bed and finally tell Jimin how you feel. Now, the answer to the hounding question happens to be blatantly clear because in front of the door, you stand, heart profusely thumping. The door that your best friend, unbeknownst of your arrival, lives behind stares back at you as if it is laughing, taunting you to make up your mind. Mumbling profanities to yourself in frustration, you lightly pace from side to side, scolding yourself while you nip at your fingernails, begging inwardly to get a grip.

Uncertain of how many minutes faded into time, you shake your head, pausing to inhale deeply and exhale slowly, slamming your eyes shut as you try to steady your quivering hands. Feet planting in front of the door, you suck in your lips, before reaching to knock. It is only seconds when you hear the familiar bellow of Jimin calling to someone, most likely Yoongi, letting him know that he is getting the door. The anticipation is smothering even when you attempt to ease your breathing, and when the door opens you feel your heart leap.

Jimin’s eyes light up in sheer happiness when the recognition evident in his eyes sees that it is you, “[Y/N]? I didn’t know you were coming. Couldn’t get enough of me could you-”

“Jimin, I’m in love you with you.”

The words tumbled from your mouth before you even had the chance to comprehend it; Jimin’s stare enlarging along with his jaw that drops in astonishment. Clenching your teeth, you don’t even give him a chance to respond, rather, you dash past him, nearing to the bookshelf that holds an ungodly amount of college textbooks mingled with sparse figurines- the door to his bedroom only being a few feet away, holds memories of numerous homework filled evenings and crumpled paper balls the pair of you would throw at each other out of boredom. It takes an immense amount of bravery to collect the words you are not only wanting to say but needing to say when you finally spin around to meet his face as he slowly closes the front door behind him. His shoulders are tense while his thick lips rest in a straight line, but that doesn’t stop you.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you confess, your heart tearing at his face that remains unreadable, “I’ve waited so long to tell you this; and honestly, I never thought I’d see the day that I would, but here I am,” you gesture your arms swiftly in the air as if to signify your existence, “Jimin, I am so in love with you that I can’t even think straight. Literally, you smile, and I feel like I’m going to combust into the oblivion!” Wince. You have never been good at being cheesy because what is cheese without something to spice it up a tad; and what the hell is a confession of love without some questionable statements? “And, who gave you the right to be so sweet and thoughtful, and to pretty much have all of the qualities I’ve always wanted in a man. I see you almost every day, and yet, I miss you like I haven’t seen you in a month! We balance each other out so precisely that it terrifies me, and I don’t think there is anyone in this world I would rather be with. I mean seriously, Jimin, I would give the last half of my brain cell just so you could have a whole one!” You hate the fact that your eyes are welling with tears, but your emotions are pouring out, and at this point, forget the spice, “Even when my world is at its gloomiest, I’m reminded of yet another promising color you represent, it’s like you paint every picture around me so perfectly that there’s no such thing as flaws.” Because he has always accepted you for who you are. “And, for goodness sakes, even when I think I’ve had enough of you, you appear in my damn dreams, like I can’t-”

Jimin crashes his lips to yours not even giving you an opportunity to recuperate, his gesture so rapid, yet so potent, your back thuds against the bookshelf where sounds of trinkets swivel without plummeting to the floor, but either of you could care less. Deepening his kiss, your fingers slide to tangle with the plumy tufts of his hair while his remain cupping your face with not one plan of ever letting you go. The way your heart had gone from an intimidating beat to an effortless wave of soaring is beyond you, and when you dreamed of kissing him, you never thought you would ever really get to. Sparks igniting beneath your chest is more than an explanation, it’s a sensation you are finally experiencing, because the man you have been hopelessly in love with is completing the other half of your heart in this very moment.

Everything you have ever dreamed of is unfolding before you in the blink of an eye, and when he breaks the kiss, his forehead touches yours whilst he runs the tip of his thumb at the corner of your mouth. “I fell in love with you the moment I met you,” all emotion resonates from his brown eyes, “Plus, you’re fun to tease, I mean how could I resist?” You shove him as he snickers, you’ll show him a tease.

“Oh yeah?” You arch an eyebrow in attempt to challenge him, his face scrunched adorably, before your shoulders slump, “Oh! Goodness, Jimin, just kiss me!”

Chuckling into the kiss, it doesn’t take long before breaths are starting to increase, especially when his hands grip your hips in order to pull you closer. This time when you snatch his lips roughly, he sneaks a quick brush of his tongue over yours kindling the urge for you to graze his bottom lip between your teeth. “Shit,” he moans, and the mere second you feel his bulge against your stomach, the suppressed desires inside you start coming alive. No words are exchanged, both of your hands still bundling in his shirt, you drag him to his bedroom, him following without a second thought. Shutting the door, his cologne scent wafts in every part of his room, the fan blowing cool air above, you twist him around, him stumbling backward while your hands on his chest guide him.

His eyes never leave your face, even when you push him onto his bed, moving your knees on either side of him to straddle- his hands moving to grip your ass while you lean into him, him relishing in the feel of your breasts before you grasp his chin. A look of mere surprise fills his eyes while you seductively tilt your head, tracing his jawline with your stare, the gush warming your core causes you to grind your hips along his- with the way he feels about you, he will do anything you say.

“Mmm,” his grin moving to kiss your neck, “What have I gotten myself into?”

A hearty snicker leaves your lips, “How about you let me show you?”

“Oh, fuck,” his shoulders relax especially when you run your lips along his jaw, nipping his ear lobe, your warm breath causing him to shiver, his hair tickling your nose signaling to let the tufts tangle between your fingers, bringing your lips to his, holding his kiss before he parts them just enough to greet your tongue once again with the tip of his. Both hips grinding, the longing for the feel of his skin is what you want next. Lips locked, your fingertips trace from his jaw down his neck to carefully swirling along the tops of his shoulders.

When he moves to tug at the bottom of your shirt, you stop him, “Nuh uh uh uh,” you taunt, “I believe I want to see you first,” Jimin moves his hands almost immediately in mock defense which leads you to interlace your fingers with his, a loving look forming within his eyes, you laying him down just to steal a few more long kisses before jerking his shirt off- you rising to rest on your knees while he basks in all your glory. He is so toned, and you can hardly contain yourself, running your fingers along his abdomen, his chest rising and falling rapidly from just your touch. Gradually, you break the trance by giving him a toying smirk, running your hands along your body before lifting your shirt above your head, exposing your red laced bralette, his eyes widening at the sight, him nearly floored by the beauty he has yet to see. The next step you take is tracing the top of your jeans until your fingertips slowly unbutton, unzipping to reveal a matching lace thong, a soft moan escaping Jimin’s throat while his legs tense under you from the indisputable feeling hounding him below.

“You okay there, Chim?” Your voice so sexy, it can haunt any ones’ dreams, but in the loveliest way possible. He runs a hand through his hair though his back is still pressed against his pillows. “Need a little help there?”

“Oh, [Y/N],” he breathes, “I am more than okay,”

He can barely withhold himself from stealing your frame, tearing off your lingerie and sexing you right then and there, but he also is enjoying every bit of your movements, your dominant gaze, the way you hold yourself, pleasing him with the mystery you have yet to expose. Without another moment for him to ponder, you bring your hands to the button of his pants, replaying the slow way you unbutton them, unzipping them, and pulling them down his quivering legs- tossing his pants and underwear onto the ground where your clothes now lay.

Salivating at the view, your hands grip his thighs, him hissing in response. He wants you so bad, all it does is add fuel to the flaming yearn to please him. You begin. Sucking so hard, he lifts slightly, his breathing staggering while you lap your tongue along his tip, diving in once more, his taste lingering in your mouth, his hands moving to your head while you move up and down, his moans are music to your ears, and he could finish right now, but you’re not ready for him to. Lifting to rest on your knees again, you gesture for him to rise- him still recovering from the ecstasy of your mouth, he watches you- you letting him palm your bra, leaving tender kisses along your cleavage, his lips causing your heat to clench, especially when you kiss him again- this time unhurriedly- letting desire take over especially with the way his lips mold with yours- so lovingly, so passionate.

He wants to make you feel good, you can tell by the way his fingers move to slip into your underwear, gliding along your sopping entrance, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head with how turned on you are for him. “Ohhh, fuck,” he exhales, his forehead meeting your chest while you grip his shoulders. Him pumping his fingers within you, you run your hand to the back of his head, gripping the orange strands, but not to the point to cause any pain, you tug just enough to get him to meet your stare, his eyes squeezing from how much that mere gesture turned him on even more than he already is.

Slanting your head knowingly, you speak, “Wanna taste?”

He whispers, “So bad. So so bad,”

Pinning him down, his fingers released from your entrance, you whip around to where your back faces him, his heated hands smoothing along your ass, appreciating the thong flooding his line of vision, him then moving it out of the way so he can take in the sight of your drenched heat the moment you bend forward. Swaying your hips from side to side, you give him another minute – him moving his hands to grip the front of your thighs.

That’s when you hear it, the parting of his lips before the tip of his tongue swipes along your entrance. “Mmmm,” you moan, him spreading your folds in order to give another long lick before he hungrily flicks his tongue along your clit- savoring the taste he’s longed for the second you two shut his bedroom door. “Oh, Jiminnn,” your voice sounds higher from the way the shivers wave across your body- him sashaying his tongue relentlessly on your entrance, building the feeling to the point you can come at any time.

He nearly melts the moment you begin to pleasure him too, stealing his erection with your mouth, sucking while he licks simultaneously- the both of your moans drowning out the noise of anything outside the room. When you feel the brink of an orgasm about to take its course, you spring forward, grasping his area within your palm, you rise and fall to fill your entrance with all of him. He can’t even comprehend, he just lets you ride him, getting lost in the feeling of being inside you, his breath hitching at the sight of your figure dancing on top of him.

Though he is in love with your body, the perfection of your curves, your beautiful mannerisms, and your glistening eyes- nothing beats the fact how in love he is with your heart of gold, the way your smile lights up any room you walk into, your determination to complete any goal you have listed on your heart, or the way you stole his heart the second you were introduced to him. Jimin is in love with you.

Jimin is in love with all of you.

Every single bit.

His hands move to your hips, lifting you to move you under him. You’re astonished at first, him hovering above you, his hand cupping your cheek for his thumb to stroke it. Both of your pants are heard though the moment is nowhere near lost. “God, you’re so beautiful,” you murmur. Awe dawns his expression, him moving to rest his forehead upon yours, his hair shading his eyes, his bare legs tangling with yours, his heated skin soothing among yours. It’s clear the two of you have a chemistry that neither of you can put into words.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, pressing a tepid kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“And, I love you so much,”

Jimin kisses you- sultry and steamy- relighting the fumes of desire- your gasping breaths mingling with the whirling of your tongues until he brings his penis to your heat- thrusting in you whilst your fingers scratch down his back. Time passes before the climax begins, you muffle your screams into his shoulder, him releasing in you once both of you finish. The sensitivity reeling- he collapses beside you- your hand immediately finding his, intertwining your fingers before turning to flash him a musing look. “Sex like that, I don’t think I’ll ever leave,” you wink.

“If you keep looking at me like you want a round two, I don’t think I’ll let you,” he chortles. Slipping under the covers, your laughing smile buries partly into his chest, while you shake your head at him, but at the same time you are coming down from a solace you never thought could be possible. You let a few minutes pass by first, stifling a smile,

“Oh, um… Jimin?”

“Hm,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he peers down at you in concern.

“If you ever buy me a cupcake again, I will smush it in your face.”

Lips breaking out into a huge smile, he chuckles at you incredulously, “Bring it on,” and with that, his fingers tip your chin, pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth, completing you like the sun to the sky, the greenery to a meadow, the icing to a cupcake,

A rainbow after a long and treacherous storm.

235 notes · View notes

sugaxjpg · 6 years

Text

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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