Work Header

the light is coming (to give back everything darkness stole)

Work Text:

The worst part was removing the fake blood from the walls.


It was not like he needed the fake blood for the whole scene to work, but the drama added by it was a nice touch to his masterpiece. Sure, cleaning chunks of candle wax and charcoal from the floor wasn't exactly what a dream Saturday looked like for most people, but there was a healing element in throwing the last evidences of his most recent hookup away that Jimin enjoyed a lot, thank you very much. Getting rid of the remains of his scene only reminded him why it was necessary and helped lessen the sadness a bit.


But if he were to be pretty honest to himself, the pain was still rooted in his chest anyway.


The first time was more an act of vengeance than anything else, two years prior to that. Jimin knew like the back of his hand the many fears his boyfriend at the time had - he liked to use the lightest of them to tease the boy to no end - and there was this one that topped all of the others. Little golden boy was irrationally afraid of demons and being possessed by them, his house full of lucky charms and pots of kosher salt, fake crystal gems hidden in the most absurd of the places. So when he caught dear pumpkin eater cheating the night away with their bulky neighbor, there was no doubt about how Jimin would get back at him.


He planned the whole deal in one afternoon, a phone call separating the man from seeing his asshole ex shitting his pants. "Come here, one last time, let's say goodbye to this in a good way," he sang in his most sultry voice over the speaker, getting a gasp and a "Give me five minutes" from the other side. Thinking back now, Jimin should've recorded it. He should've recorded the high pitch scream that left his ex's throat when he found the blond shorter man in the middle of his living room, dark clothes and white contact lenses, sitting gracefully in the middle of a pentagram, candles all around him. The sweet maniac smile on his face had been rehearsed again and again in front of the mirror so the semi-darkness of the place couldn't ruin it. Back in the day there wasn't fake blood on the walls yet, but it didn't ruin his little theater of being possessed by a demonic entity. It worked better than he expected, that lying face, excuse of a man never crossing his path again.


That was also the night Jimin promised himself he wouldn't let himself fall in love ever again. It was not worth the time and the pain.


But yes, he still wanted sex and going to the movies and making out late at night after having loads of ice cream, so he still did it. This time, though, whenever his heart would start having stupid ideas and growing attached to the subject of the moment, he'd play the "possessed by a demon" card again to end thing simply and abruptly. No hard feelings, bro, but the devil inside my head doesn't want to bone you anymore. Easier than risking an actual conversation and having to face all the things that went wrong inside of him.


Simple scheme: meeting, dating, heart going boom-boom for no reason, possession impersonating, never having to see each other again. It worked, and he would still do it, again and again.


Even if it meant spending a ton of cash in scentless candles and charcoal remover. Unfortunately for Jimin, there wasn't such a thing as a perfect plan.




Meeting Min Yoongi was like the first night breeze after a long summer day. He had dark eyes and dark hair and glowy skin, and a smile so wide his gums showed in the most adorable way. The fact they were the same height was also a nice change in his "tip-toeing to get kissed" routine, and his hands... his hands should be illegal. Arrested and put away forever in the prison that were Jimin's hips.


The first time his eyes found him, his silhouette was covered in black under the golden lights of Namjoon's glass and wooden porch, sipping on cheap beer and frowning at some bad joke Seokjin was telling loudly for the fifth or sixth time. There was just this something about him, a shiny aura that enticed his body and his curiosity, Jimin making sure to glue himself to Hoseok's side and pry for information about the new flesh swinging awkwardly in his boyfriend's weekly get-together. "Joonie's rap friend. Yoongi, if the description you gave me is accurate," was everything he could drag away from the orange-haired man before he whined about being too far away from Namjoon, swaying his way into his lover's arms soon enough.


Some asked him, if Jimin didn't miss that kind of thing, that annoyingly sweet domesticity his friends shared. The warm bed at night and the breakfast together thing. All that left his mouth were lies: no, I'm fine like this. Love the bachelor life. Sometimes, if the man was drunk enough on his sorrow and some bad cherry vodka Taehyung made him drink, he could even lie to himself. Eating his heart from inside out every day of the week was not as fun as he managed to convince everyone it was. More misery business than the Paramore song.


And that was why he filled his bed with all those familiar strangers, the ones who kept him entertained enough till it was too dangerous, the lion growling back at its tamer. Having Yoongi fill the new blank space in his list of hookups was the goal he wrapped his dizzy mind around, a whole seduction plan already cooking up. Surprise was on him when the dark-haired man approached him first, flustered cheeks and sly smirk, looking into his eyes like he could devour his soul with that motion only. There was this scent he was pulling off, something spicy but honey, like Medusa mixed with strong cocoa nibs and something lying underneath, brewing just for him. The deep tones of his voice could make anyone's knees turn into goo, and Jimin was no exception to that, holding tightly to the rail by his side to not embarrass himself.


"Seokjin says you're a doggy doctor," the other started, leaning his back on the wall casually, "Would you charge me for a brief set of questions?"


" Doggy doctor does not cover entirely what I do, you know," Jimin decided to play along, chuckling in a way he knew others found adorable. There was fun in it, in acting the cute, innocent part, knowing that it was all a facade ready to be torn apart when the lights went off, "I also care for cats. And birds. And snakes. So watch out."


"Fine, fine," his hands were in the air, a fake peace act that fooled no one  "So, will you charge me or not?"


"Depends. Would you charge me if I asked for some freestyle rap thingy right here, right now?"


"Definitely," and there it was, the first shadow of lust clouding his dark eyes, the tip of a pink tongue running on his bottom lip, "But I can think of a currency hard to reject for this transaction."


Yoongi never got to actually ask whatever dog-related question he had in mind, the cringey pick-up lines more than enough to guarantee the press of their bodies together against the porch windows, leaving the shape of Jimin printed on them. Yoongi kissed with a thirst, moved his lips like they were syrupy poison, the cause and cure of the blonde man's addiction to them. And Jimin felt it all over, molten lava in the pit of his stomach, a symphony of his most secret sounds spilling all around them.


The first luscious night bloomed unquestionably into lazy early mornings and quick afternoon breaks, into evenings by the clear ocean and on a sofa covered in take-out boxes, time like a rabbit winning a race against them, never enough to truly satisfy. Jimin discovered Yoongi had a silly type of humor that only showed up when the man was feeling really comfortable, and a dog named Holly who had its own mini bed in the living room. He explored the curves and planes and crevices of his lithe body, the delight of seeing purple galaxies showing up where his mouth made residence on the man's skin, how he could also learn how high and how low his voice went whenever the blonde grazed his teeth over a sensitive spot.


And Jimin felt. Felt read like a precious book, soft touches that turned into long fingers sinking on the supple flesh, drawing patterns over his stomach, massaging the muscles on his ass. Felt appreciated like art, every single word he said drank by the other man, tasted on his lips, replied with attention. Felt protected, wanted, devoured body and soul, like never before. When their eyes met on those few minutes during twilight when the orange turned to purple in the sky and their breaths mingled through open mouths apart by inches, Yoongi pounding into him slowly like they had all the time in the world, Jimin felt it.


Felt like it could be what forever tasted like.


Two months after that first time Jimin knew it, knew he was dreadfully postponing the end. He was waking up and promising that'd be the day his customary trip to the mystic shop downtown would happen, but ending up too busy with anything else. Fuck his Eisenhower Matrix, right. How harmful could one more day be when things were doomed from the beginning? It didn't matter it was the best sex of his life, orgasm after orgasm building inside him and washing all his sanity away like a tidal wave. Didn't matter it was the late night conversation and the texts, the laughter and the promising of no judgments and understanding.


There was no running away from it, not after that one warm night in Yoongi's apartment where they had been drinking red wine in a mattress in the balcony, naked under the moonlight hoping that it was high enough nobody would care about them. There was no running away when Jimin found himself in Yoongi's lap, holding him by the shoulders, lungs filled with pepper and cocoa and the short strands of dark hair from the man's nape tight in his grip, no running away when he rode him lazily, plump lips finding the pulsing point on his neck and devoting everything he had to it, no running away when Jimin's mind realized cheesily that was not just fucking anymore. That was making love.


It was too late when Yoongi asked him to stay for the first time, whispering in the most comforting tone the other man had ever heard, and everything in Jimin's reach were the warmth from his body, the way the man's chest went up and down under his head, arms wrapped around him like he felt Jimin was about to disappear.


Rain was pouring outside when he left the building in the same clothes he wore the whole day before, but it didn't matter when an Uber was waiting for him by the sidewalk, ready to take him to the small shop that smelled like cinnamon incense and heartbreak.




In the little horror show Jimin liked to put on, there were two kinds of spectators: the bed-peers and the annoyed skeptics. The first were his most coward flings, those easily impressed by a bit of make-up and the Psycho soundtrack that left the man's apartment amidst screams and cries. And the second... those were the worst. Those were the guys who stood before Jimin with disappointment on their faces and a tired sigh leaving their lips. Those were the guys who just turned on their heels and asked the vet to delete their numbers and never reach them again.  


Kneeling in the middle of his dark pentagram - lines perfected by the years of practice - Jimin didn't want to think where Yoongi would fit between those categories. Either of them would fill Jimin's night with regret drowned by alcohol anyway.


The silence in his living room was only broken by the constant tic-toc of the clock, the Spotify playlist reserved for those occasions forgotten in his cellphone, the whispers and secrets from the city slipping through the cracks on the windows, perhaps his subconscient trying to ground him, remind him the real world was still out there. Everything was where it should be, arranged in the smallest details, from the blood crystals hanging in thin white lines from the ceiling to the shadows cast over him, Jimin in his white unbuttoned shirt and black slacks scratching the top of his thighs, anxiety a venom that consumed him from the inside.


It was just a matter of time now, the door leaning open just waiting for the climax followed by the ending credits nobody was ready for.


He had texted Yoongi earlier that evening, inviting him to stop by for dinner and drinks and something else. The answer he got promised him desserts and kisses, not knowing that he was actually about to get a free ride on a impromptu haunted house.


Perhaps he already knew by heart the sound of Yoongi's heavy boots on the hallway floor, perhaps he made sure to check if his neighbors were around before setting things up. One way or another, there was no doubt who was the figure standing outside his door, knuckles knocking softly even if the man knew he was already welcome without any ceremony. Jimin took a deep breath in the spare second left before it all went down in ashes.


" Honey, I'm home." Yoongi sing-sang, dropping a paper bag on the nearest counter, a pink box coming out of it, heavy with something sweet. He looked good, Jimin thought, in his faded jeans and black Iron Maiden sweatshirt, a red plaid coat coming off his shoulders and on an old wooden chair that belonged to his grandma once. The man looked exactly like himself, exactly what Jimin's happiness should look like.


One glance now and...


At first, Yoongi didn't move, taking in the whole scenario in front of him, the gurgling sounds emitted by the blonde's throat like a curse, the way he blinked over the white lenses expecting it to be gruesome. The only signal of acknowledgement from his lover was the one eyebrow Yoongi lifted, a sly smile taking the shape of his lips before he approached the other.


Yeah, some of them played it off as a joke in the beginning, only to have anger take over them later. Second group it was. That was going to hurt as well.


None of the ones that came before him did that simple move he was pulling, though. Most of Jimin's exes didn't even step in the middle of the room, taking their distance in case something darker could happen - like being possessed by a demon wasn't dark enough already. But Yoongi, sweet, stupid, beautiful, astonishing Yoongi, did none of that, no. The man simply kneeled in front of the pentagram, inspecting whatever was going on there.


"How funny," he whispered even though there was no one else in the room, "I don't remember possessing you lately."


That... was not exactly what Jimin was expecting to hear. In fact, many different sentences went through his head, each one worse than the one before, but nothing like that little joke that made Yoongi's eyes shine in mischief. Jimin didn't prepare for that, there wasn't any previous experience to mirror now. Yes, it caught him a little off guard. A lot off guard, if he were pretty honest with himself. But they didn't call him improvisation king in college for nothing. The script in his head was still doable. The show must go on, right?


"Come on, pretty boy," all the air in his lungs was put to good use now, words scratching his throat in a way that would hurt later, " The Devil is looking for you. He's calling your name."


Generally, it was enough to make the "victim" flinch, maybe even taking away some color off their faces.  He was expecting at least some discomfort, but there was no sign of distress in the other's face. No, Yoongi's smile only grew bigger, the white of his teeth flashing under the few lights in the room, and somehow it was Jimin the one who got goosebumps, a cold shiver going down his spine and making his neck shrink in the direction of his shoulders.


A few months later, Jimin would still have dreams regarding the scene that followed next.


"Oh, really? And what is Dad saying?"


See, the problem was not the mocking tone in a voice now so familiar to him, no. That Jimin could handle. The problem was Yoongi's dark warm eyes turning to bloody spheres, black shadows heavier than smoke embracing the man like they were part of him, the smell of pepper and dark chocolate thick in the air, almost easy to touch. There was something to Yoongi's skin that was hard to define, like it was suddenly covered by a thousand tiny silver textured tattoos, moving up and down in irregular lines. The only thing left to paint him the classic of demon tales were the pair of horns, but if they existed, the man was keeping them well hidden.


If Jimin screamed his organs out and fell back on his own trap, well, nobody could blame him, not when he was about to pass out from how dizzy he got with the whole outburst.


Heart thumping loud in his ears, Jimin and his stupid, mushy brain did the best they could pull out at the moment: the man stuck his body behind the armchair his grandfather gifted him, as if that was protection enough against a condemned being. It didn't seem like a joke, a prank well played on him, no. Jimin knew what a prank looked like, was an expert on them. That was bigger, more dangerous than anything he'd seen before.


"Well, well, well, what's this?" Yoongi - fuck, was it still Yoongi? The face and body matched, the way of acting... not so much - laughed, not moving further, nails tapping on the cold floor, "Why is Hell's favorite worshiper suddenly so shy? You've been flooding our system with crying babies shitting their pants because their boyfriend had been possessed... thought we wouldn't notice? Not gonna lie, you're Underworld's favorite pastime. Better than many telenovelas."


"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please... " what he was pleading for was difficult to rationalize, but begging seemed pretty much like the best option. Fat warm tears rolled down his cheeks and what a scene it must have been, his white orbs externalizing the fear that made his body its hostage. Jimin was shaking, from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, face buried on his slacks and fingers grabbing his knees till his knuckles hurt. "Please, please, please..."


"Jiminie," the voice called again, and it sounded so much like the Yoongi he knew - the Yoongi he had feelings for, for fucks sake - it hurt, fear turning into sadness, sadness turning into panic, "Jiminie, hey, I'm not going to hurt you. We just need to talk, can you come here?"


"You're trying to fool me," the man whined, crying even more, throat clogged and palms transpiring, every fiber of his being too scared to function, "J-just kill me already, okay? Take my soul and play frisbee with it in Hell, or whatever torture you chose for me. P-please, don't make me look at h-his face, be considerate. It's the only thing I ask, j-just end this quickly."


"Him? No, no, Jiminie, it's me. I'm still Yoongi, still myself. Shit, I thought you'd take this differently, guess I'm not that good at reading humans at all," were demons good actors? Because there was a part of the man keen to believe in the honey words. Was it how they killed, lulling the victim to let go of it all and just fall off the cliff? Damn, if it worked. "I took it too lightly, right? Shit. You must be scared as fuck. Jiminie, please come here. Let's talk. I promise you nothing is going to happen, okay? Let's just talk."


Upsetting a demon wouldn't do any better to his case, the man thought blurrily, trying to gather the rest of the energy in his system to crawl back to the center of the mess. His muscles were rigid with fright, jaw still trembling with everything but comfort. The floor was rough under his touch, cold to the bone, and perhaps that shock of temperature was a blessing rather than a curse, clearing his foggy mind so he could look up and digest what was happening.  


Kneeling in the middle of the pentagram was Yoongi as Jimin knew him, warm careful smile and dark eyes, smooth skin and bittersweet scent, nothing like the creature wearing him as a costume before. That only made the man cry harder, if it was possible. He wanted to run to his arms and just breathe in, feel that Yoongi was real and that was just a bad dream.


"Let's take those  lenses off before we talk, right? I want to look at those cute eyes of yours," the other whispered, making half a move to get closer before cutting himself off, smiling apologetically.


"Y-your eyes were red just now," Jimin accused, even though all the sobbing made it uncomfortable to keep wearing the white mask on his orbs. He just wanted to rub on his eyelids to calm down like he did as a kid in mornings where his mother couldn't stay with him at home. So if he followed the demon's request, well, it was for himself, right? Right.


"I know. I'm sorry, baby. Should've taken this more seriously, but... when I saw you there I just knew what was going on and it seemed so funny I got carried away," and yes, he was getting closer, fingers reaching for Jimin's knee in the most careful way he managed to come up with, "You're scared, but I promise I'm still me. Still your Yoongi."


"This isn't a nightmare, right?"


"No, baby. It's just life, as real as it could be," to the sight of the blond man shaking, Yoongi touched his cheek with the pad of his fingers, like he did so many times before. This was different, though. "I'm not going to hurt you, you need to understand this, ok?"


" How? Why?," the words left his lips like a river, his heart pumping them out in a rush, " How is it possible, I mean a-and... w-why me? You knew about my...?"


"Yeah," he shrugged, biting his bottom lip, " How is difficult to explain. How I am real? How I ended up here? How the universe balances energy? Long talk. We'll have time for that, I swear. What you need to forget now are the rumors and stories about demons and Hell and everything else. That's bullshit. We're not evil... What's even evil? We're just the rougher part. The balancing factor. So don't be scared... why, well..."


The way Yoongi licked his lips was a reminder of other nights, under the covers of warm beds or the fresh spray of water in the shower. Something rumbled inside Jimin's chest, urgent and homesick, bittersweet nostalgia on the tip of his tongue.


"Perhaps the only thing you humans got right about us was how to request our presence. All of this, this process of drawing and gathering crystals and candles... It works. We can listen, like a lullaby out of tune inside our heads. Not too comfortable, but it doesn't happen often. But you... you kept asking for me."


"I wasn't..."


"I know, I know it wasn't your intention. But you kept using my colors,” the demon pointed at the hanging crystals and the red scentless candles, "Spooky, right? Every time you broke things off with one of your boy toys you called for me without even noticing it, so it was hard to ignore. I got curious and yes, I know it's a bit stalker-ish, but I had to understand why this cute boy kept requesting me, so I... showed up here. You couldn't see me, but I observed your little act, the before and after and it was kinda endearing because deep down you didn't want them to leave. It was written all over your face, your emotions spiking out of control. You wanted one of them to shake you off your bullshit."


"Did you become friends with Joon to get to me?" his voice was a lint, strained and thin. He felt like that too, almost a ghost standing on the place of himself.


" No. No, trust me, I didn't know you were going to that party. It was a surprise. Yes, I was attached to you and your antics, but I didn't have any plans of acting on it... until that night," it was like Yoongi was whispering all his secrets away, and he probably was. The lion inside of Jimin's chest meowed, wanting to find his place back in the man's arms again. The cricket in his conscience didn't let him. "Until you looked at me and your soul... I could see your soul through your eyes and it sparkled stronger than anything I had ever seen. You looked at me like I was an enigma to you, something you wanted to unravel... so I allowed myself to act on my desires. I'm a demon, but I'm not reckless. It was supposed to be just a one night stand but I couldn't..."


Jimin didn't need to hear the rest, even if the other said it out loud. He kept his gaze away, afraid of acting on impulse if he met those dark eyes that meant too much to him. The man needed time to think, time to understand, to swallow the madness and hear his brain instead of his crazy stupid heart.




"You realize you just dumped on me the existence of powerful beings I thought were just myths and that the guy I was sleeping with is probably older than everything I know, right? I need... time to go through it all. I can't say anything right now. I might have even peed my pants, who knows. I got scared as fuck."




"I got it, you thought that since I do all this shit I'd find it funny like ' OMG! I'm banging the real deal'. It's okay, really. No hard feelings. Well, maybe some but.... Just because I play with it to try to save my heart doesn't mean I'm not scared of it, okay?" and Yoongi nodded, which was good. At least he was listening to what he was saying. "And sure, I'm curious to ask you a bunch of questions like, does the Devil actually wear Prada? But for now... I just need to be alone for a bit. Cry for a few hours. Reevaluate my whole life and all the knowledge I have of the universe. Probably wet my bed with a couple of nightmares where you devour my eyeballs or something but... Yeah. That's it."


"Sure, I can... understand it,” Yoongi passed his long fingers through his hair, unable to sit still. He did that sometimes, Jimin remembered, the biting of the meat of his cheek, his nails tapping softly on the top of his thighs. Apparently demons got nervous pretty easily too. "Do you need help cleaning up before I go or...?"


"No, thanks. Cleaning is relaxing. It's mundane. I-I'll do it,” he sniffed, cleaning his tears on the sleeve of his shirt. Yoongi was back on his feet, hands on the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in the middle of the living room. Yes, Jimin was curious and tired and scared of being alone after so much, but at the same time... it was good to have the prospect of not needing to measure every word he said. Not needing to say anything at all. "I'll text you, okay? I promise. Just... wait for me."


In any other occasion, the image of Yoongi walking through the door would drag a comment from him like "hate to see you leaving, love to watch you going", but that night all Jimin did was curl into himself, letting the tears fall free from his eyes in the the only way he knew how.



Jimin really wanted to say he took things carefully and spent long weeks analyzing all the information he got - on the internet and with his acquaintances back at the mystical shop - to finally decide if he wanted or not to pursue whatever was going on between Yoongi and him. He wanted to say he spent weeks on his couch late at night mulling the pros and cons, trying to accept the new reality that was shove on his face. Oh, captain, my captain, how hard it was knowing he got the demonic  dicking and liked it. Liked it so much. Good dicking. A+ dicking. 10/10 would recommend on Hell's Craigslist.


So yeah, Jimin really wanted to pride himself on the fact that two days later Yoongi wasn't sitting cross-legged on his favorite armchair in Jimin's apartment with his mouth full of chocolate, but he couldn't. Because that was exactly what he was doing. Exactly what they were doing. Sitting apart because it still felt awkward somehow but talking over a marathon of Nailed It in their pajamas like an old-married couple.


Twenty-six hours. It took the man twenty-six hours pacing around his bedroom before he texted the... object of his affection again.


Because... how much could their relationship change after that? Like, Yoongi promised he wouldn't eat his lungs with barbecue sauce or disappear into the shadows out of nowhere or use his asshole as a target for some weird golf practice, so... What eyes can't see heart can't feel, right? Fake it till you make it! That's what he kept telling himself over and over again. It was all like a foggy dream he had. Collective hallucination. His hot date could literally set fire to the curtains with a blink of his eyes, but life was still the same. No big deal.


He just missed Yoongi too much, life philosophy of not getting attached thrown out of the window after he realized he was already three feet deep in Hell for the man already.


No pun intended.


Where there should be fear boiling in his stomach there was only a nice warmth, his toes curling with affection watching Yoongi's long fingers dealing with the remote control,  his elegant gestures trying to find something on Youtube while babbling excitedly about glitterful jell-o and crunchy slime like he was a toddler, and not a powerful being a thousand years old who could manipulate the darkness. Nice.


"Stop judging me,” Yoongi whined, licking his own lips before pouting in the cutest way he could manage. Low move. "You like to watch blackhead extractions. I heard you calling it 'ASMR for the brave'. Let me enjoy my much more adorable, less gross guilty pleasure. Look at that, Jiminie. Look at how satisfying it is when they cut that heart-shaped soap."


"You are a demon,” he laughed, more because of the surprise on the other's eyes at the mention of the elephant in the room than anything else, "There are thingies moving under your skin when you get all... devilish. You possess people, and you have the audacity to guilt trip me because I subscribe to Dr. Pimple Popper's channel?"


"It's not like that. Those are my thingies under my skin. I love them. They are cute. I named this one Cookie,” he grumbled, pointing at a dancing mole on his forearm, "And I don't simply possess people. Only when it's necessary, like, for safety reasons. And if they allowed me to. It's all about consent, Jiminie. Consent is hot."


"Have you ever thought of possessing me?"


That did not came out exactly how it was supposed to. It was a pretty innocent question, right? Why did it sound so dirty after leaving his mouth? Sure, it was a physical effort not to get up and spread himself all over Yoongi's lap, his rightful place ever since the two met. He was trying to control himself, still too  early to go back to old habits, right? But the smirk on the other's face made his blood boil in desire.


"Why? Have you thought being possessed, Jiminie?"


A full body flush, that was what he was sporting, probably. Jimin felt hot all over, shrinking himself in his armchair to avoid further embarrassment. Yeah, it was not his intention to lead the conversation towards those subjects, but who was he to neglect the part of him that ached for Yoongi's touch again? It was ridiculous. He was probably bewitched, body and soul, but fuck, did he want to stay that way forever.


The demon didn't even wait for an answer before whispering sultrily.


" Naughty boy," the shiver down his spine was the most delicious kind of thrill, dangerous and enchanting all at once, begging him to give in. Perhaps it was Yoongi messing with the atmosphere of the room, making it suddenly hotter, the smell of pepper and dark chocolate wrapping him in a cloud of want, dim lights trembling around them once the TV was off. There was nothing in the world, not the city bubbling in life outside or the neighbors playing karaoke two floors downstairs. It was just them, staring at each other's eyes, a mute conversation larger than everything else. "You want me to possess you, Jiminie?"

" Yoongi," the whine left his throat higher than he intended, as if he were not about to set himself in flames right there, mortified but so, so aroused, eyes glassy with the prospect of the one point he could perhaps enjoy about his lover's newly found abilities.


"It's up to you, baby. Just say the word and I'll give it to you."


Jimin was not proud of his hushed "yes, please", but the lust Yoongi held in his gaze and his own greed spoke louder, his entire self ready to get up and jump on the other, but the diabolical grin directed at him was indication enough that the demon had other plans for him. Now that he'd got the blonde's permission, everything was possible, Jimin's limbs trembling in pure anticipation.


At first, nothing happened, and it was kind of disappointing, if the man were pretty honest. He was about to complain, to rearrange himself in his seat, when he realized he couldn't. It was like all his muscles were made of stone, unable to be moved, melting slowly into the softness of the armchair. His body didn't obey him anymore, all commands dead ends, the only things still working being his mouth and eyes. And Hell, if Yoongi wasn't feasting on it, relishing on the idea of having the other to himself again.


Then his hips were on fire.


It was like the hottest touch, sinking slowly on his flesh on a tight grip, eliciting a gasp from the man, his breath as quick as hummingbird wings. Jimin felt it, sliding against his abdomen, scratching the skin in circles, like it was a real person and not some ghostly trick. It got worse, his neck attacked with the feeling of demanding lips, making him wonder if hickeys would bloom later on, the probability of it making him shudder. Having his body at someone's mercy like that never really crossed his mind, but now... now he could see himself getting addict to it, to the impression of being naked even with all his clothes on, of being held and cherished, drinking gulps of Medusa and cocoa like he needed it to survive.


On the other side of the room, Yoongi watched him hungrily, hands resting on his lap, pretending everything going on in that place wasn't his fault. Jimin moaned, to the thought of it and to seeing how clearly aroused the other was, not trying to hide the bulge of his pants at all. Possessing people turned his project of boyfriend on. Another thing he thought he'd never have to write down in his kink book, right next to being possessed by a hot demon.


When the deep voice he knew like the back of his hand whispered in his head, but the lips it belonged to didn't even move, Jimin knew how fucked he was.


" You're enjoying it much more than I thought, baby."


And there was an invisible bite to his collarbones, his legs being spread open with the strength of someone else and Jimin rolling his eyes at the feeling of his hair being pulled, his lips being licked, a hand that teased his sensitive nipples, pinching on them with vigor, a wet dream coming true and making the room blurry. It was like suffocating, a feather like touch covering the inside of his thighs, a hot mouth tracing his jaw, discovering the path to his favorite spots. Yoongi knew them all, prided himself in mastering how to make Jimin melt under him, pliant and satisfied with everything he gave him, and that time was not different from the others. Jimin could feel pre-come staining his underwear and his balls being massaged slowly, all the control the other had in his body avoiding to give him the stimulation he truly needed.


Yoongi, the demonic  bastard, was having the time of his existence, and damn if Jimin didn't spill all his sweetest sounds between them when noticing the demon had his cock out, fisting his length in a controlled pace, teasing under his head the way he knew the other liked to do to him, not hiding his satisfaction in every action he took.


Jimin's own dick twitched with the scene unrolling in front of him, loving to watch the man he had feelings for pleasuring himself to the picture of him. He closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip to suppress another shameful moan when the phantom touch circled him rim, applying pressure timidly in the beginning, until the sting of being penetrated by two fingers hit him, pre-come pooling on his briefs. It was all building up inside of him, making his toes curl and his mouth water, ignoring the specifics of demon-possessed-sex - the fact he was being deliciously stretched without any lube already confusing his mind enough. Jimin could feel the tears streaking down his face as the massage on his prostate became more intense, the width of the whatever demonic energy inside him resembling Yoongi's cock now, thrusting into him fast and hard.


He couldn't stop shaking, not when there was also something wrapping around his neglected dick, pumping him lazily, pressing onto his slit now and then. The voice inside his head kept mumbling obscenities straight into his brain, making him drool, too much of everything washing over him. Jimin wanted to scream, throat scratched by the rasps and gasps of  his voice, droplets of sweat rolling down his temples.


It was almost like he could see the light, the pit of his stomach in a tight knot, begging to be released. He could feel himself almost there, and if he didn't come yet was because Yoongi wasn't allowing him, entertained by the mess the man was.


"Let it go, baby, c'mon. Cum for me," the voice ordered, squeezing him once more, catching the skin of his neck on his invisible teeth.


Maybe he took pity of him, or his orgasm had made the demon more condescending, but suddenly Jimin felt it, his hole clenching painfully around nothing, each cell of his body exploding in pleasure, making him numb and blind, waves drowning him in the most intense feeling he remembered experimenting in his life. It didn't matter that he was still wearing his clothes, now soiled by cum and sweat and tears, it didn't matter he was in love with a creature of darkness and shadows. Nothing mattered, no, because...


Because Yoongi was there for him once he started to get his conscience back, knowing that the other had slipped away and wasn't inside him anymore, control now given back to him, even though his limbs were too tired to answer properly. Jimin hummed contently when the dark-haired man pulled him into his arms, setting him comfortably on his lap while he took a seat on the empty sofa. Jimin nuzzled on his neck, still overwhelmed, but relishing in the fact that Yoongi was there, exactly where he wanted him to be. Yoongi was there, whispering praises on his ear and rubbing circles on his back, keeping him warm and sated, promising him a world he knew he could provide.


"Now that I gave you a taste of the perks of having your own personal demon, are you gonna pretend to be possessed by an angel to make me go away?" Yoongi teased, chuckling happily on his lover's shoulder, "Or perhaps you are going to find an exorcist to hire to get ridden of me?"


"Do you plan on going somewhere that is not my bed?" Jimin yawned, clutching the fabric of the white sweater under him between his fingers, wanting nothing more than to take a long nap with the demon under him.


"No, I don't think so."


"Then shut up and cuddle me."


"Anything for you, angel."