#(minyoon)

“Were you in any way prepared?” the moral-torn angel chuckles menacingly.

“I wasn’t,” Yoongi admits.

“You didn’t have to say so, I could already tell.”

“Well then,” Yoongi decides to accept his fate, plopping his exhausted self on the bed. “What’s there to do with you?”

“I can only torture you, people get depleted of their sanity when around me.”

“Aren’t I already tortured in life? I’m sure you have some telepathy quirk so you must’ve figured my perspective,” He curls into his frail body, looking down at the raw, narrow gash through his pale skin. He pads it experimentally.

“I have a few quirks.”

“Mmh. spite me, then.”

The man makes his way, with subtle entitlement, to Yoongi. Yoongi had to sit up since a climbing adrenaline shakes his entire body alive. The satanic creature carries a corrupted smirk, “I’m a fallen angel— a diabolic immortal that broke all unspoken laws under my former holy God, and has been expelled from the righteous place. The seven deadly sins poisoned my once saintly blood until it became a murky black, swallowing any righteous light—

“I am a creature that can give you the unpleasantly pleasant experience of every single sin,” His unrepentant eyes are drowned in a gruesome liquid charcoal like it was made to pollute what it gazes upon. Yoongi’s reflection is all it defines, at this very moment. “I can give you hell, but like falling victim to temptation, it’ll feel temporarily heavenly.”

Yoongi can’t help but wonder all the ways sin can appear. For this demon, it’s exhibited in the black leather attire that exposes the erotically sharp collarbone, the plump lips that curl into a defiled leer, the feline eyes that only radiate crooked temptation. He is—truly—the embodiment of sin in Yoongi’s eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Jimin,” he chuckles. “That’s all you wonder about me?”

“I really don’t care,” Yoongi lays back down and appears content rather than terrified. “I’m an individual of no morals, I’m an atheist as well.”

“Well that honors you dignity,” sarcasm drips from the demon's lips.

“It doesn’t, I’m slowly rotting in this empty place. Might as well have an audience. or someone to bring an artificial heaven to me.”

“What’s brought you to this resolution?”

Yoongi spreads his legs to stretch, and almost in a vulgar impression. “I’m a sinner, as well, I’ve fallen hopelessly victim to the lustful temptations of sex”

“Sex is natural, mere human,” Jimin scoffs.

“But I’ve let people in my bed, and I only experience the raw complications of my attraction. I draw to lust and cravings, but let there be guilt and sorrow that comes after…for I’ve let men touch me, and I’ve let them fuck me into a black desolation. It’s so good that blinking stars capture my vision for an amount of pleasurable time after I release,” Yoongi tilts his head back, showing the expanse of his neck. Jimin’s eyes draw forward at the other’s lovely facade. “I’m intoxicated by the masculine hands of a stranger, forcing me down and making me beg until depraved tears fall.

“My room still echoes reminiscent moans and cries,” Yoongi smirks. “It defines me, yet it draws me to a complicated blur, I’m guilty but will never beg forgiveness or break such a habit. It’s an addiction to feel. I might as well experience sin until my body numbs, since I don’t deserve remission under your former God,” Yoongi rubs his hands with an empty stare towards Jimin’s frown.

“You’re so depressing.”

“Thanks.”

“Heaven would spit at you,” Jimin chuckles darkly.

“I already figured, though I have no intention of crossing their gates.”

“Unfortunate how your words spite your own emotions. Men are a true gift to the world, I can admit.”

Yoongi closes his thighs together, thinking about being happily destroyed by a stranger for another night.

“They are,” he nearly moans. Jimin gets taken back by Yoongi’s transparency. He looks deliciously vulnerable to him, sprawled on his bed arching his back. No problem with the scarce protection of himself nor the diminishing sanity when sin chains him tightly. He’s a human with nothing left to drag him forward.

“My sad baby,” Jimin sweet talks. “It’s okay to be attracted to men. Men have a delectable body, personally speaking.”

“That speaks volume coming from you.”

“Fair enough, but when I tell you that it’s lovely to feel a man, I’m serious.”

Moonlight spills through the blinds, light stripes paint Yoongi’s button up shirt, but it also exposes the drained but lewd eyes of the human.

“‘Lovely’— not something I could describe really anything in my life.”

“Elaborate,” Jimin occupies his focus to Yoongi’s plants; they’re fairly well-maintained.

“Love is nothing but mere false hope,” Yoongi mumbles. “False hope that life is worth it when you fall into an intimate connection with another person. I’ve never experienced love, as you may tell by my pessimistic aspect.”

“Love and affection is life’s gratification for a mortal’s will to exist.”

“A luxury, that is,” Yoongi eyes the deathly figure sitting on the bed. The mattress dips, therefore solidifying the fact that he exists and not just a fantasy in Yoongi’s head. Jimin is incredibly attractive for a hell-bound demoniacal, it gives Yoongi an excuse for this growing desire in his chest.

“I’m deprived of love,” he finishes, trying to find that singular cue from the creature. He suddenly urges his legs together again to relieve some tension.

Jimin crawls toward the other with lidded eyes, giving an improper appearance of something vulgar but intentive, throwing Yoongi off. The innocently feline eyes barely masquerade the coarsely salacious manners that inhabit the male like an inner, quiet flame. The leather garment on his upper body drapes low to reveal a rugged chest.

“My Yoongi is lonely?” Jimin mutters under his rough throat, it voices a ripple effect in Yoongi’s veins.

Jimin couldn’t be any more attentive to Yoongi than now. The human looks like a doll in his loose wear, it reveals soft milky skin, and he’s now trembling as Jimin inches closer. Confidence seems like a false hope as much as Yoongi’s perception of love.

“I can give you love.”

Air thickens, Yoongi could barely catch a breath of obstinance in his attempted repression towards the demon. He instead feels an urge to yield to the other; he wants to experience yielding to Jimin’s seductive eyes—which is giving Yoongi whiplash. He gulps hard, swallowing really nothing.

“Yoongi looks troubled.”

“Don’t act innocent, your innocence is of mere blasphemy.” Yoongi spits, leaning back as Jimin proceeds toward him.

“‘Course you say that, and you’re right—I’m nothing innocent, but a dirty tease. I can play my way into one’s heart, and leave them crying for repentance.”

Yoongi feels so enthralled in Jimin’s attitude that rationality hits against his own temptations. Half of his thoughts are at conflict with the other.

“But you’re a little different. I play with pure souls like a game. You’re broken beyond repair. Nothing I can do but make you forget the pain.

“Plus, personally, I do find you so attractive, that it's boggling to hear you are neglected of affection,” Jimin quickly adds, sounding rather informal.

“Then do it,” Yoongi blurts.

“Do what,” Jimin smirks, knowing exactly what Yoongi demands. His claws reach out to curl Yoongi’s hair behind his ear, then strokes his cheek very lightly. The sharp claws grazing his skin sends a daring chill down his spine. He forces his eyes shut before they give away the temptations before he speaks them.

“Make me forget. I might as well experience the pleasures before I numb my way towards the end.”

“My human seems quite needy?” Jimin pursues, combing Yoongi’s hair back and lightly pushing him flat on the mattress. A huff of the human’s breath is heard clearly through the pointy ears of the demon.

“I am, should I remind you of why I never repent?” Yoongi inhales sharply when the body climbs on top of him, one thigh forcing itself between his own. Heaven won’t ever forgive him now.

“Nope, it still rings in my mind,” Jimin leers, leaning down to gently peck Yoongi’s cheek before padding the ear lobe. “Proud sinners arouse me, especially those that don’t believe in such things like demons. You must be terrified.”

Yoongi exhales a soft moan, hiking his hips up to join his crotch with Jimin’s own, but it was solely to feel the friction made from Jimin’s bulging thighs. “The—there’s no use to be terrified when we are living in a world of theory and approximation. Theory is just a falsification to maintain our sanity as people. Hell, we are just trying to be humans everyday despite an inescapable death approaching with no true, palpable understanding of its substance. I tried to believe that I was gonna reincarnate as a stray cat, but that’s just a distortion to comfort myself.”

“What’s your point now?” Jimin’s sharp index finger presses a slight indent on Yoongi’s bottom lip, dragging it down until it pops back up to its place.

“I don’t care anymore,” Yoongi mutters. “I have accepted that we just don’t know. I’m not even gonna be terrified of the inevitable truths. I’d rather not accept lies. So you shouldn’t be a thing that defies logic, cause we have no absolute logic.”

“I’ll make you afraid,” Jimin smiles tenderly but it barely disguises the wicked charm that’s magnetizing.

Yoongi huffs, finally sharing a smile of enticement. What’s there to lose?