No Face | myg (m)
➳ PAIRING: demon!yoongi x reader
➳ GENRE: supernatural!au, smut
➳ WORD COUNT: 11k
➳ WARNINGS: mentions of hoseok in a car accident and in a coma, mentions of jungkook overdosing, blood, choking (not sexual lmao), fingering, dirty talk, wet dreams, voyeurism, masturbation, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, creampie, Yoongi’s dick... has ridges :)
➳ SUMMARY: Desperate to save your comatose brother, you make a deal with an ancient demon who wears the faces of his previous masters. When you refuse to wish for anything else, what does a demon do when he no longer has orders? He learns how to be human.
➳ A/N: this is my @bangtanarmynet partner collab w @softjeon!!! As always lemme know what you think!!! Maybe now y’all can get over hades yoongi lmao
—
The woods this time of night should be petrifying in the harsh dead of winter. Darkness entraps everything in the forest. You've been wandering through the desolate woods for an hour now, trying to find the exact location you were told about. The tree you’re in search of has been rumored to be a site where people's wishes can be granted for a steep price. Only meant for those who are brave enough to sacrifice everything for one wish.
And you are dumb enough to sacrifice everything.
You have to do this. Even if it means sacrificing your soul, your life, to save someone else's. You have to save your brother, Hoseok, and you’ll do anything—absolutely anything.
That’s how you stumbled across Jimin, an expert on all things supernatural, in a desperate attempt to find a miracle.
Of course, you thought the eighty dollar price for Jimin’s absurd secrets meant it was a hoax, especially when he started explaining how this deal you were about to make works.
“A demon,” the man said cheerfully, plopping down the thick book in front of you.
“A demon?” you echoed, becoming more and more wary of the man. “Like… Like the devil and stuff?”
If you weren’t so desperate and had exhausted all your ideas of helping Hoseok, you would have run out once he said demon, calling him crazy.
Jimin nodded, excitedly flipping open the book for a specific page. “This demon grants wishes. Anything you want, as long as you’re willing to pay the price.”
That sends chills through you. You look down at the yellowed pages, skimming through the text, none of which you understood because it was all written in a different language. “What kind?”
“Ten years. That’s all it gives you.”
You had a feeling after ten years nothing good would happen. Jimin flips the page and on it is an ink drawing of a haunched creature, grotesque claws, and the face was nothing but a black smudge.
“After ten years the demon will consume your soul and steal your face to make it its own.”
The whole time you wander through the woods, boots crunching against the thick blanket of snow, pushing aside dead branches. The day has come to rest over the horizon and the moon rose over the valley, you feel like you've ventured even deeper into the void and there's no going back to safety now.
The deeper you wander into the abyss, the more you feel something eerie watching over you. Its eyes crawl over you, stalking your every movement like it wants to steal you away and trap you in its grasp. It must be the demon watching over you, hoping you must be foolish enough to come looking for it.
The tree Jimin told you about is supposedly easy to spot. Twisted branches, ancient text carved into the trunk of the tree that was all dead language. The area around it is untouchable not even the freshly falling snow can touch it. The tree is timeless, years will pass and it will remain the same even as generations live and die.
Your boots sink deep into the snow with each stride you take, pulling you deeper into the forest.
There is a low hum, a haunting call echoing through the trees and ringing in your ears that guides you towards the edge of a steep ledge. At the bottom, you get a glimpse of the twisted branches, scarred trunk scrawled with carvings, a perfect dark circle around the tree that remains untouched by the snow.
You carefully move down the slope to the tree, nearly sliding down and falling in the fluffy snow below. Once you step into the circle it’s warm, almost like summer heat. You look back at the blanket of snow, taking off your glove and sticking your hand outside of the circle to feel the cold biting your fingers. The drastic change in temperature is startling. This is definitely the right tree.
The backpack on your shoulder slides off and you crouch down to retrieve the knife you brought along, carefully tucked away in the pocket of the bag. The intimidating silver blade gleams and reflects beneath the moonlight as you inspect it.
Should you really be bringing a deadly weapon to meet a demon?
It doesn’t seem like the brightest idea, but then again none of this is a good idea. You’ve gotten this far, so desperate to save Hoseok you don’t even care right now if the demon will take your life in the end.
"Here goes nothing," you say, taking a deep breath in before running the blade across your palm. The burn of your open wound is temporary, stinging at your flesh is cut open and blood flows freely and meets to open air. Red blood pools in your palm, your other hand wiping away tears that have sprung in your eyes. "Fuck this. Fuck all this shit."
The tree seems to glow, sensing the new sacrifice about to come. You hesitantly lift your bloodied palm, blood freely flowing down your wrists and dripping off your elbow, tainting the dirt ground below.
There's no going back if you choose to press your hand against this tree and tie the demon trapped in it to you, but you won't let that fear hold you back from saving your brother.
You press your hand against the trunk, wincing when the rough wood touches your open wound. Blood drips down the wood, sinking into the slits and crevices. Your hand tingles with warmth and you no longer feel the pain in your palm. When blinding light emits from the tree, it forces you to clench your eyelids shut and turn away.
Soon the light fades and you're left in the chilling darkness, but not alone. The hairs on your arm begin to stand as a warning. You're afraid to open your eyes and be met with whatever creature you've just summoned.
"Why so afraid, master?" The voice, not a singular voice, more like multiple distorted voices speaking at once, calls out to you. "You're trembling. Is it because of the cold or are you just afraid of me?"
You bring your hand back from the tree, still refusing to open your eyes. "The cold."
"Liar," the creature says, monotone voice lowering to your ears. "You're a liar."
"No," your voice betrays you by cracking and you wince, afraid that its volatile personality will snap at you.
"Then look at me, master.”
The oil lamp flickers in its glass case creating an ominous atmosphere surrounding you. You force yourself to peek one eye open, seeing the tree bark stained red with your blood. Slowly, you turn your head, met with the horrifying creature. The face you're met with is no face at all. Just a black abyss looking back at you. It takes everything to hold your tongue and not scream out.
"Are you afraid?" It asks again.
"No." The wavering in your voice remains the same and the no faced creature scoffs.
"You’re a liar, but then again, they all are."
You cross your arm, refusing to let the creature control your feelings. "Maybe I am a liar, b-but you’re supposed to answer to me.”
The creature stands taller, mimicking your crossed arms. "You're right, master. So what is it you want?"
You wet your lips, "I need you to save my brother."
"Save?" It sneers. “I’ve never had to save anyone.”
You find the strength to explain, “M-My brother, Hoseok, he was in a car accident. The doctors said he might not…”
You didn’t need to hear the dreadful news from the doctors when you went to first visit Hoseok. You could see him through the glass window at the hospital hooked up to wires and tubes and it was clear to you that he was on the brink of death. He looked so lifeless. You could hardly stand the sight of your brother that way. You were too afraid to go into his room—afraid you’d feel death lingering by his side waiting to take him away from you forever.
The demon inches closer, curious now.
You resist shutting your eyes to block out its dark ghostly face. You’ll never be able to stand in the dark without imagining it lingering in the corner, watching and waiting to drag you into the darkness with it.
“Fine,” the demon sighs, lifting its hand. A hand that looks so real, not the grotesque claws you saw in Jimin’s book, if you hadn’t seen its face you would have believed it was human.
You flinch in fear it will grab you, steal your face early, or rip you to shreds. Instead, it snaps its fingers. You don’t feel muscles being pulled to shreds, your insides boiling, or anything physically painful happening to you.
“He’ll wake soon,” it says, dismissively shrugging its shoulders. “So, when are we going to have real fun, master? What do you really want? Money? Power? Name it. I’m dying to know.”
“I don’t want anything else,” you say resolutely.
“Nothing?” it says, despite the distorted voice, you can tell it’s shocked. “You’re a liar. There has to be something. All you humans are greedy, pathetic creatures.”
“I won’t make any more wishes.”
It shakes its head, moving to the edge of the ring. It looks down, although you can’t see its face when it sticks out its hand to feel the snow for the first time in years you sense that it is remembering what it feels like to be free of its cage.
“Let’s go.”
It steps out of the circle and into the fresh snow, looking as its feet sink in. You trail after it, as it glides through the snow with ease while you’re lagging behind, trudging through the deep snow. You feel out of breath trying to keep up with its fast pace, nearly falling over a few times.
“C-Can you slow down a little?” You call out.
It turns its head, unsettling inky darkness looking back at you, teasingly saying, “if you can’t keep up why don’t you wish for better speed?”
You grimace and don’t reply. Luckily, it stops walking to let you catch up to it. You try and run through the snow to get to it faster because the feeling of that darkness staring at you is frightening. Running blindly through, your foot snags on a branch buried beneath the white blanket and you nose dive right into the freezing banks.
The creature laughs. Its laughter hauntingly echoing through the woods with its distorted voice.
“Poor human,” it mocks.
You look up from the snow, your entire face numb from the cold. You’re beginning to hate this demon.
You pick yourself up with no help from it, wiping off the snow and marching on as if nothing happened, quietly simmering behind the sauntering demon. You walk behind it once again, staring curiously at the back of its ‘head’. It’s not really a head, just darkness shaped like a human head.
"Is that your… normal face?" You pipe up.
"Yes. Does this face frighten you, master?” The demon stops, turning around to face you. “Would you like a new one? I have taken many over the years, and soon yours will be added to my ever-growing collection."
The thought of this demon taking your face and using it to cause harm is unsettling.
"Maybe you'd prefer a sweet innocent face," the demon says. His face begins to smoke and a real human face appears in a matter of seconds. The doe-like features of the young man would almost make you think this demon was an innocent human. "You might recognize this face.”
You’re surprised to see a familiar face. One that was plastered over billboards and television screens daily, a world-famous star that died suddenly.
“J-Jungkook?”
A roguish grin appears on the star’s face—one you never thought you’d see up close.
Jeon Jungkook was a household name, a boy that seemed to come out of nowhere and shook the world with his talents. You were a fan at the start of his career when he was just a humble musician that rose to stardom through the Internet.
“Ding ding ding,” he laughs, an all too familiar laugh you heard through the television during interviews countless times. “Bet you never thought you’d see this cute face again.”
“B-But you… you’re not him, right?”
It’s impossible. He died nearly three years ago due to an overdose, at least that’s what the media said.
“Yes, I’m not the golden boy you knew. He’s long gone.”
So the demon is just wearing Jungkook’s face.
“He made a deal too?” You couldn’t understand why he would want to make a deal with a demon. He had everything—the talent, personality, looks. It was hard not to love Jungkook.
“Do you think that video of him singing would have gotten recognition without my help? He wanted to be a famous singer so I gave him everything he desired. He was humble like you at first, then he began wishing for drugs, alcohol, and lovers. By the time I took his soul, it was like there was nothing left of it. He was too consumed by his own greed and became an empty shell.”
You know Jungkook’s story, the downfall of one of your favorite singers, publicized by the media. Not a day went by without hearing about Jungkook caught up in some drug scandal. You had no idea it was all because he wished for it.
Near the end of his life, you could tell how tired Jungkook was through the screen, he was no longer the energetic, lively kid you saw on talk shows. The dark circles under his eyes and bar fight bruises couldn’t be concealed with all the makeup in the world.
It broke your heart to see him that way. All because he couldn’t stop wishing for more. The circumstances of his death become clearer to you now. It wasn’t an overdose, he made a deal with a demon and paid the price.
What if that happens to you? What if you become too greedy? The thought of being consumed by selfish desires scares you. Who would you be in ten years if you were to continue making wishes? Just an empty shell like Jungkook, making wishes to fill the unfillable hole in your chest.
“I wonder what sins will eat you alive, master."
You shake your head, “No! No, I won’t be like that. I don’t want to.”
The demon scoffs, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘sure’.
“I guess, his face won’t do out there anyway. Too recognizable, I don’t want to cause a frenzy. Think of the headlines: Jeon Jungkook risen from the dead?” He laughs again.
It’s unsettling to see Jungkook’s face, knowing how tragic the end of his life must have been. Now he’s being used as a puppet by a demon who’s laughing as if his death was something to joke about.
What you’re really looking at is a mirror. This will be you in ten years time. The demon will take your soul, your face and parade around, wreaking havoc. A chill runs through you.
“Let’s try Yoongi’s face, shall we? I haven’t worn him in centuries.”
Soon the beloved singer, Jeon Jungkook, molds into a stranger. You watch in amazement as his features morph easily. Even his hair shifts colors, dark brown roots bleeding into bleach blonde hair.
“How about this one?” His voice is different—lower, much more mature. But whoever’s face he takes on doesn’t change what he is. He is still a demon. You can’t forget that no matter what face he wears.
“He’s fine,” you dismiss. You just want to get out of the forest and back to someplace warm. The cold is beginning to numb your fingers and bite at your cheeks.
“Yoongi it is.”
—
Your eyes dart nervously around the bar. It's not so busy tonight, unusual for this bar, but you're glad there are no roaring voices. This chance gives you time to think about what you've done.
Before you even got out of the woods, you received a phone call from your parents, tearful voices exclaiming that your brother woke up from his coma. Yoongi really had given your brother a second chance. But as soon as your joy had worn off, the realization came crashing down around you.
Sitting here, staring into a shot glass, you dare to glance over at the lounging demon haunched over the bar with his own drink. You're not sure what he ordered, your thoughts a bit clouded at the moment, but his glass is tall and filled with a clear teal liquid and topped with a maraschino cherry.
His finger drags up and down the stem of the glass, a bored sigh escaping his mouth. You eyes move from his hand and hesitantly drag up to his face. You nearly jump out of your chair, hairs standing up on the back of your neck when you realize he has been staring at you the whole time.
His eyes are brown, nothing like the vermillion red color they frequently flash whenever he feels up to no good.
"So," he drawls, picking up his martini glass, having a small sip. "What's on your mind?"
There are many racing thoughts going around your head right now. You've just signed the rest of your life away to a demon, saved your brother, and are currently sitting and having a drink with the demon that's going to end your life in ten years.
"Nothing," you lie, turning your head back to your drink.
"You really like to lie to me, don't you?"
You don't reply, glancing to the side and catching the eye of the bartender staring at you. He looks away, flustered that you caught him staring, continuing to wipe down the counter.
You, in a sort of dizzying state from alcohol, are keenly aware of how cute the bartender is. Your eyes trail down the name tag on his shirt. Taehyung, it says.
Eventually, Taehyung reaches your side and casually wipes down the area next to you.
"How's it goin' over here?" He asks.
"Good," Yoongi answers gruffly before you have the chance to open your mouth to answer.
You attempt to laugh Yoongi's curtness off, "Oh, yeah, everything is great."
"Well, you look lost in tonight, just wanted to see how you were doing."
"I'm just feeling a little conflicted."
From the corner of your eye, Yoongi looks betrayed that you chose to confide in the bartender instead of him even though he asked you the same question just two minutes ago. In your defense, you'd rather speak to the cute bartender than the demon who eats souls and steals faces. What kind of advice could a demon offer you?
"Feel like talking?" Taehyung asks, throwing the rag over his shoulder and leaning against the bar.
"Hey, cutie," a drunken slur comes from behind you and takes a seat to your right.
You involuntarily lean closer to Yoongi to get away from the stranger's alcoholic breath, grimacing when he smiles and winks in a sad attempt to flirt.
"Hi," you politely respond, turning your head to look back at Yoongi's now empty martini glass, the stem of his maraschino cherry sitting on the counter. You try not to give the stranger the opportunity to talk any further with you, but he's persistent.
“How you doin’ tonight?” he slurs.
“Great.” You offer him a close-lipped smile and that’s all he gets out of you.
You do your best to ignore the stranger continuously pestering your right ear, turning to occupy yourself with the Taehyung and Yoongi. Now, you'd rather talk to the demon on your shoulder than some creep at the bar.
It’s clear the stranger doesn’t appreciate you ignoring him.
“Hey,” the man barks, reaching over to grab your arm. You flinch away, consequently pressing yourself against Yoongi who instinctively wraps an arm around you.
"She said she's not interested," Yoongi interjects, holding you closely. He's more annoyed than he was with the bartender and the energy radiating off of him is burning. If he wanted to he could decimate the man with a snap of his fingers, but he doesn't. He doesn't even let his gaze waver as he stares down the drunk.
"What you gonna about it?" the man challenges
"Look, buddy," Taehyung says, "How 'bout one more drink on the house and then I call you a cab."
The man mumbles a disgruntled 'fine' and Taehyung pours him another drink. He slides off the barstool with his complimentary drink and stumbles over to another undeserving girl minding her business.
You let out a relieved sigh, "God, I wish guys like that would just drop dead. They’re so annoying."
"Interesting." Yoongi smiles and you blanch, sensing exactly what he’s about to do. He brings his hand up and snaps his fingers.
Easily, the man that you had just been talking to crumbles over, groaning in pain, eyes clenched shut. The agony on his face terrifies you. You wished for him to die and now Yoongi is granting that wish. You're the one who's killing the man.
You shouldn’t have let your words slip out so easily. You didn’t mean it literally. A note of carefully phrasing your words better is placed in the back of your mind.
Taehyung immediately runs around the counter, calling out for someone to call the police as he goes to aid the man.
You grab onto Yoongi's shoulder, shaking him and try to plead with him silently. "I didn't actually want him to die! Don't kill him, Yoongi!"
"This is what you wished for though," he says calmly, watching in amusement as the man suffocates on his own tongue. "I'm only granting your wish."
"I take it back! I wish he wouldn’t die!"
Yoongi rolls his eyes and already the man is taking his last breath, face turning a light shade of blue from lack of oxygen. You cling onto the smallest shred of hope that Yoongi will spare the man's life. You wished for him to live so he should obey, right?
"But I didn't really like him that much either," Yoong shrugs, "maybe I want him to die."
"You can't do that," you nearly shriek, "Y-You're supposed to do what I tell you!"
Yoongi sighs, eyes rolling over to the gasping man. “I hate when they say that,” he mumbles, but you can hardly hear it over the choking and patrons screaming for help.
It takes a full second before he snaps his fingers again and the man takes a deep breath, the air finally returning to his lungs and color bringing his face back to life.
Your shoulders slump, face clasped in the palm of your hand. Your hands tremble against your cheek, despite relief flooding your system, you know the man's fate could have turned out worse.
"You seem to care a lot about whether or not a scumbag like him gets to live to harass another girl."
"It's not like that," you whisper, "I-I can't kill someone."
Your thoughts are conflicted. Maybe Yoongi is right. Maybe the man will go on to hurt someone in the future and this is your chance to stop it from happening. But you can't kill someone because they might be guilty. You can't know if this man would go on to do despicable things or if he was just some old drunk in a bar. You don't want to play God and decide who lives and who dies. You shouldn't get to choose. This power that Yoongi gives you is too much.
“Let’s kill him, master, make him suffer."
"No." You won't take a life. You already told yourself won't make another wish ever again.
Yoongi frowns, disappointed in your choice. “I was so sure you’d ask me to kill him.”
You slide off the stool and grab your bag to fish out money. "Well, I won’t be like all your other masters. We're leaving."
—
You both arrive at your apartment near eleven while the moon is slowly falling towards the horizon. It was a quiet ride on the bus. You tried your best to sit as close to the window as possible while Yoongi lounged lazily in the orange plastic seat, a content grin on his face.
He quietly commented on the city as it passed by in a blur, the subtle scent of musk, and how he preferred this mode of transportation over teleporting. He spoke as if the mundane parts of life were a luxury to him.
You didn't speak once, letting him ramble to himself while you were lost in thought. You didn’t seem to care much about how much the demon seemed to be enjoying the peace.
When you reach your house, you head straight towards the couch.
"You're too quiet, master," Yoongi notes, looking around your apartment and comparing it to his previous masters'. He must have seen much more lavish looking ones than the humble one-bedroom apartment you own.
"I don't feel like talking," you mumble, moving to throw yourself onto the couch. You grab a decorative pillow and bury your face in it to muffle a sigh. The familiar smell of fresh cotton eases your nerves until Yoongi falls down next to you. Too closely for your liking.
You remove your head from the pillow, surprised by how bleary your vision is from the tears building up.
"I think your face will be a wonderful addition to my collection."
You gulp, shifting away from the demon lounging too close for comfort. You're glad he is wearing a face and it's not just a black abyss you were first met with. Somehow the handsome face he is currently wearing lessens your fear, but it brings you anything but comfort.
Yoongi slouches into your couch. "I haven't been able to relax like this in centuries. My previous masters always had orders, something they wanted and couldn't wait for. I was a dog at their beck and call."
You shy away from the arm that slings itself over the couch, holding your breath as his fingers loop through your hair to entertain themselves with the loose strands.
"I’m sure you had to grant bad wishes but I don't want anything else from you. So, you can relax as much as you want.”
"Oh, you will want something. I guarantee it," he says confidently, "maybe not today or the next five years, but eventually, you'll give in."
The plan was to get help for Hoseok, that's it and you got your wish. No way you're going to let yourself be tempted to ask for more.
But maybe one thing won’t hurt. Paying off Hoseok’s hospital bills would be a big help. Maybe even paying off your college debt. It doesn’t sound too bad…
No! That can’t happen. The more money you ask for the more you won’t be able to resist begging for more.
You push yourself off the couch and away from Yoongi. It feels as if the more you're around him, the more you feel the desire to succumb to those deep desires.
“I said no!” you yell, unaware of the demon’s rising temper.
Yoongi’s hand darts out to grab your wrists, pulling you back down eye level to him, eyes turning the deep shade of red. You twist your arm, but he refuses to let you go. His anger radiates through the air, you can feel yourself begin to sweat.
“Stop denying what you want, you foolish little girl,” he snaps, “just make a wish, go ahead, ruin your life! Just like they all did before! You’re already going to hell, make the most of your dwindling years.”
You don’t want to stand here and listen to him remind you of how long until you’re going to die. Instead of fighting, fearful he might lash out further, you speak curtly, "I want to go to bed."
He releases you and you nod goodbye, skirting off to bed, worrying that the demon will follow.
Lucky for you, he doesn't move an inch from the couch, remaining there for the rest of the night even as you toss and turn in bed, whimpering from the nightmares plaguing your dreams of a faceless demon.
––
When the sun rises promptly over the horizon the next day, it's Yoongi who hovers over you silently waiting for your eyes to open.
"Good morning," the demon coos, surprisingly softly as if he were trying to wake a child from a nap.
"M-Morning."
"Any wishes today?" His lips curl into a devious smile, taking any softness he held away. His finger runs down your chin and traces your collarbone, touching your skin gently.
"N-No," you answer, hoping this question doesn't become a daily occurrence. You swat away his hand, getting off the bed.
He moves away from the edge of the bed, letting you get up and start your morning routine while maintaining a safe distance. He quietly stands in the background while you brush your teeth and wash your face, but doesn't leave the room when you change. You settle for making him turn around while you strip into work clothes.
"I can snap my fingers and make you rich. You’ll never have to lift a finger ever again. Don’t you want me to help you? Isn’t that why you sold yourself to me?" he says, eyeing a spoonful of golden cereal flakes.
He asked if he could have some of your breakfast so you poured him a bowl of cereal. You're not even sure he needs to eat it. He's more curious if anything.
"I-I didn’t sell myself to you!”
He makes it sound so scandalous.
Yoongi smirks but doesn’t say anything else.
“I don't want anything else," you groan. "What do you want me to say? After you nearly killed a guy yesterday, there's no way I'm going to make another wish. Like you said most of your masters were awful people who became greedy and selfish and I-I don't want to become that."
You stir your milk around, watching as the leftover, soggy flakes of cereal swirl around the ceramic bowl. You promised yourself you'd never make another wish, no matter how badly you want to. If you ever became as sick and twisted as Yoongi's former masters, you'd end your contract early and have him kill you.
You look up at Yoongi who has been quiet for a while now, odd for him to sit and not taunt you about something. Staring at his face, you wonder about the person he’s wearing. Yoongi isn’t the demon’s real name, just the name of the person whose face he’s wearing. You wonder if Yoongi, the human, felt pain when he died.
“How will you do it?”
“Hm?”
You swallow, letting your spoon go and watching it sink into the milk. “In ten years, when you have to… take my soul, will it hurt?”
Yoongi blinks, cocking his head a subtle amused grin on his face. “I don’t know. They never scream if that makes you feel better.”
It doesn’t.
“So, you’ll wear around my face after that?”
"I will,” he says. The reply is short and you’re not sure you want to hear more about what he’s going to do once he has your face. And after that, he adds, “this cereal is really good.”
Blinking, you gape at him, not expecting that. "Uh, yeah, d-do you want some more?"
"Mhm."
Yoongi follows you to work—in fact, he follows you everywhere. He never leaves your side, always glued to you and making comments about your mundane life and how he can make it more exciting if you just make a wish.
“Why do you never leave me alone?” You ask, finally fed up with the sound of his footsteps pattering behind you incessantly. You feel like he’s doting on you. Without any orders or wishes to grant, he has nothing to do. He can’t entertain himself by wreaking havoc because you won’t allow it.
Yoongi sips on his fruity beverage, blinking at you tiredly. He waits a beat to answer, “I have to protect you until the day you die. Your soul is mine to have and no one else’s.”
His words are heavy on your shoulders. It doesn't make you feel better. You'll never get away from him, huh? You'll always be reminded of the clock counting down on your life.
Yoongi moves past you as if the brief conversation was nothing to him.
“Come on let’s go visit your brother. I’m dying to meet him.”
—
"H-Hi, Hoseok," your voice barely comes out as a whisper, afraid you might break down and cry if you speak any louder.
"Hey! You finally came!" Hoseok smiles brightly, opening his arms wide to gesture you in for a hug. He’s sat up in his hospital bed, light blue gown on and disheveled orange hair. You're startled for a moment. The last time you saw your brother he had a tube stuffed down his throat and IVs running through his arm that all connected to beeping machines.
Pale and cold, that's how you remembered him and how you would have remembered him if you had let him die. He was on the brink of death, but you brought him back. Now he's returned to the brightest ray of sunshine you always knew. The hand you touch is warm, full of life, just like his smile.
The cost of what you did for him will always be there, lingering in the back of your head. But you'd save Hoseok again in a heartbeat no matter the cost. There is no price high enough that would make you give up your brother.
"You weren't here when I woke up and you barely answered up my calls and texts," he pouts and another pang of guilt hits you. He must think you were neglecting him. "I think you owe me an explanation. And..." He pauses, eyes darting over to Yoongi lingering near the sliding door. "Who's the guy?"
Hoseok is asking too many questions and he always has a way to get you to spill your guts. If he finds out you made a deal with a demon, he'd try everything to reverse it. You're not sure how he could, but you don't want to risk it.
"Just… just," you struggle to find an explanation for Yoongi.
"Her boyfriend,” Yoongi speaks from his place near the door.
You can’t believe the words that just came out of Yoongi’s mouth. Where the hell did that come from? You certainly didn’t prompt him to say that.
Hoseok’s brows raise, his lips form an ‘o’ shape. He looks between you and Yoongi. “I missed a lot, didn’t I?”
“Yeah you did, but I’m here to see you! I wanna know how you’re doing!” You try and divert the conversation away from Yoongi. If he starts asking how you met him, you’re going to let something slip.
You pinch his cheeks, laughing as he swats you away.
“Come on,” Hoseok chuckles, “you don’t visit me for almost two weeks and then turn up with a boyfriend out of the blue. I gotta know what my little sister has been up to.”
“Forget him, Hobi, seriously,” you groan, stepping into his view of Yoongi. You wish that the demon listened to you when you asked him to wait in the cafeteria or the hallway, but he always insists on staying close to you.
It’s like he watches every detail of your life closely, mimicking the way you speak to others, do things like ordering food or going about your day. You assume he’s trying to learn about life.
“Can I at least say hello?”
You begrudgingly take a step aside and gesture Yoongi to come in. The demon crosses over the threshold with a wry smile.
“Hi, I’m Hoseok,” your brother greets your ‘boyfriend’, extending his arm out for a handshake.
“Yoongi,” the demon says, “I’m glad to see you getting better. It’s like a miracle.”
You laugh awkwardly, ignoring Yoongi’s last comment.
“I know, I’m so thankful to be alive right now. And glad ___ is finally here to keep me company.”
“You’re lucky to have such a dedicated sister, Hoseok. I hope you never forget that.”
Yoongi sounds far away, raw and more… human that you’ve ever heard him. The longing in his eyes, now disguised as a warm brown, burns dimly, but it’s there.
You wonder what the demon with no face yearns for.
—
You came to the conclusion that if you only have ten years to live your life, you were going to live it to the fullest. You try and go places you’ve always loved and end up taking Yoongi places he's never been, and for an immortal being that has existed for centuries, there are a lot of places he's never been.
You first start with the amusement park where he discovers cotton candy for the first time. His sweet tooth is automatically attracted to the sugar coating his tongue and he continues to buy more and more. You can't help but smile at the joy in his eyes when he receives his fifth bag of cotton candy and he can't help but smile back.
And when he takes your hand to pull you towards the ferris wheel, your heart beats a little faster.
Even on casual days when you stroll down the street with Yoongi while he follows you to the grocery store and ask him if there’s anything he wants which causes him to stall. You were the only one of his masters that had ever really cared about him and it gave him a weird feeling in his gut. He can’t remember a time a human bothered to ask him what he wanted.
He was only meant to serve, nothing else. He helped others indulge in their selfish desires, but what about him? Here he is, given the chance to be free, to do what he wants without human orders controlling his every move. And he finds that all he wants to do with this freedom is spend it with you.
On a separate occasion, you have a day off and choose to stay up till midnight watching Titanic with him. When Yoongi sees you crying over the human sacrificing himself to save his lover, he feels an ache in his chest and wonders why you would willingly watch a movie that makes you cry.
He just doesn’t understand it. You tell him that it’s because it feels good to cry sometimes, that it’s cathartic. He can’t say that he’s had much experience with human emotions, but he knows that he doesn’t enjoy seeing you cry. It makes his chest tighten when he sees the way tears streak down your face and the way your nose reddens when Jack sinks to the bottom of a freezing ocean, leaving his lover behind.
Sacrificing yourself for someone you love to live.
Where has he heard that story before?
It doesn’t take long until he looks back at you to realize. You sacrificed yourself to save Hoseok and he was just the iceberg that ruined everything.
“Stop staring,” you chuckle, wiping away the falling tears. You can’t help, but cry every time you watch this movie and Yoongi being here to judge you doesn’t make you feel any better.
You hold your breath when his hand reaches out to brush a tear away. His hand cools off your heated skin as he tenderly caresses your cheek.
“I’ll always be a monster, won’t I?” he mutters under his breath, a sigh following after. "I'll never really be like you—no matter how many faces I take, no matter how many souls I consume."
It never occurred to you that the demon with no face longed to be human so badly.
"Yoongi..."
"I accepted it a long time ago," he brushes it off.
Yoongi knows he shouldn't, but he moves closer, pulling you into his chest. He wants something—someone—to hold. He desperately wants to be human and feel normal—to allow this pain in his chest to be normal.
Your heart hammers in your ears. Normally you’d pull away from his touch, but now it only brings you comfort. You stay like that through the end of the movie where Jack and Rose reunite once again in the afterlife. If there is an afterlife, would you ever be able to meet Yoongi there?
He rests his chin atop your head, sighing, "yeah… I've accepted it."
Somehow you doubt that.
—
You visited Hoseok once again where he continued to grill you about your mysterious boyfriend. You never let anything slip, letting Yoongi take the lead on explaining how you two met and fell in love. The tale he weaves together is surprisingly romantic and you wonder if he’s been watching romcoms without you to better understand humans.
The air once you step out of the hospital is a refreshing break from the strong sanitary odor of medical supplies and the lingering chill of death on your spine.
You said goodbye to Hoseok, making a promise to visit him again soon. After tonight’s visit, you feel… good.
“You seem happier,” Yoongi notes.
“You know what? I am.”
“You should,” he says, pulling his hoodie over his bleach blonde hair.
“This is all I could ever wish for. Hoseok’s happy and healthy thanks to you.” You pause, letting Yoongi take a couple of steps further before he realizes you aren’t next to him. “You know… I never really thanked you for saving him.”
His brows raise, furrowing when he realizes what you’re saying and how genuine you sound.
“Thank you?” He repeats as if he’s never heard the words or spoken them. “No human has ever thanked me before.”
You’re not surprised to hear it. You’re not sure what crazy person would ever thank a demon. But you can’t help but feel thankful for him. He brought your brother back to you, and no matter what price you’ll have to pay in the end, you’re glad to have him.
“Then I’ll be the first.”
“That makes me feel…” he looks to you expectantly, silently asking you to fill in his blank.
“Good?” You try.
He mulls the word over in his head as if trying to remember what it means and what it would feel like. Then he smiles, “yes, that’s the word.”
“All I’ve ever done is cause pain and suffering. I’ve always expected my masters to ask for selfish things, but these past few weeks I’ve learned what it’s like to be human. To not have orders.”
Yoongi looks up at the stars, shining in the darkness. He’s looked up at this unchanging sky so many times throughout his existence. It stays the same just like him.
“I like this freedom. I like what you’ve given me. Thank you,” he smiles at the stars. “Thank you, ___.”
—
“Goodnight, Yoongi,” you say, retreating into your room, waving at him awkwardly as he settles down on his usual spot on the couch. You don’t know why you feel so different. He thanked you tonight. Something he’s never done before, you never thought he would. You had no idea he felt that way. You were both thankful for one another which sounds impossible, but it’s true.
“Goodnight, ___, sweet dreams,” Yoongi replies, falling onto the couch with a content sigh.
You disappear into your room and settle into bed.
That night instead of the usual nightmares about a faceless demon ripping your soul away, you find yourself lost in sanguine eyes, rich as wine and a raspy melodious voice echoing your name and writes fire across your skin.
The heat in your core ignites at his slightest touch over your bare chest. You have no idea how you got undressed or why you felt so breathless in this darkened bedroom. A face comes out of the shadows, the features you know all too well.
“Yoongi,” you say, but it comes out as a whine, so desperate and wanton it hardly sounds like you.
You say his name again, but it’s muffled by his lips, soft and gentle. It’s not what you’d expect, but you don’t fight it. You simply melt under his touch and his hands do the talking.
His fingers brush the underside of your breasts, admiring the shape before fondling one, fingertips coming to pinch your hardened bud, rolling the tip between the rough pads of his fingers. You bite your lower lip, taking his hand in yours, pausing his motions. You slowly begin to lower his hand, allowing it to press against your navel, hoping he’ll understand what you want.
It’s so hot, your body is on fire, scorching as he touches your skin and ignites it even more. You just yearn for him—his touch, his body. It’s like an addiction and you have to have him now.
“I’m here to serve you, master, to please you in anyway I can. What would you like me to do?”
He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. Your pleasure is too heightened to care. You want him, you want every sinful part of him that he can give you.
“I want it all. I want you. Please, Yoongi,” you beg, looking into his deep red eyes glowing with ardor.
“Anything for you.”
Yoongi uses both hands to part your legs, spreading you open for his eyes to feast upon, a hungry predator starving for a taste. His finger runs up and down your folds first, gathering up your wetness, teasing a finger past your lips.
“Yoongi,” you whine, grasping his hand and guiding him deeper between your folds. He allows you to use his hand to get yourself off without resistance. Your hand pulls his fingers into your clenching walls.
The intrusion feels like three fingers instead of one, you aren’t complaining, it stretches you so good and fills you up nicely. “Mhm, Yoongi,” you moan, releasing your grip to let him continue pleasuring you on his own. Your hand moves above your head where you clench the sheets beneath it, almost writhing.
Yoongi remains eerily quiet while your moans fill the room, crescendos of your helpless cries echo in the dark. He continues to assault your pulsing cunt, drilling his fingers deeper with each rough thrust. Every motion has you hurling towards a quick end.
Your breathless voice rasps his name, nothing else on your mind but him and his fingers. You shut your eyes, focusing on the feeling. Your back arches, hips grinding against his fingers.
“Wake up.” The voice sounds like Yoongi. What is he saying?
Your brows furrow, but your eyes don’t open, ignoring the voice to focus once again on your pleasure.
“Master,” his voice teases, “you must be having a pleasant dream.”
Dream?
Suddenly the hands on your core fade into nothing and you’re left empty, just on the edge of orgasming. When you open your eyes again, you’re in the dimly lit bedroom, sanguine eyes hovering above you. The sheets damp with your sweat. You can feel the heat and slick between your legs that pooled from your dream and an ache in your core that was never relieved.
Oh god, that dream.
Yoongi blinks, red eyes flashing at you and reminding you of whose fingers made you so wet while asleep.
“You were moaning,” Yoongi states.
Your cheeks burn from embarrassment. You bring the blanket higher to cover half your face. You’re praying you hadn’t let his name slip out in your dream state.
“Care to tell me what your dream was about?”
You lick your chapped lips, finding the courage to speak, “I-It was you.”
Perhaps you’re still feeling the effects of your dream, that desire manifesting itself right now, hoping that the true version of Yoongi could finish what dream him had started.
Yoongi cocks a brow, taking a seat on the side of your bed. As it begins to dip under his weight, you shift and sit up, ignoring how your shirt dips too low over your chest.
“Explain.”
His hardening gaze makes it difficult for you to think about anything but the way he looked at you in your dream, ready to devour you. A rush of arousal goes straight to your core and you cross your legs.
“Y-You were in it and you were t-touching me.”
“Touching?” He echoes, his eyes drift from your face down to your low neckline. “Touching you how?”
You really don’t want to explain it in detail. Doesn’t he get it already? Does he really not understand or does he want you to say it out loud?
“Well,” you wet your lips, “I was naked and you were above me.”
“Oh.” Is all he says. It doesn’t sound disappointed nor disgusted, that’s good at least. He nods his head as a sign for you to continue.
“A-And then your fingers… your fingers…they…” You clam up, suddenly recalling how deep and real they felt inside you, filling up your walls and making you scream.
Your eyes cast down, unable to look at him anymore, but that’s a mistake. His hands rest against the bed, propping himself up. The blue veins that run across his hands and slither up his arms, catch your eye. That hand, those fingers—your legs clench beneath your blanket.
“I should stay with you tonight,” his voice raspier than before. You’re not sure if it’s what you said that brought this on. All kinds of elicit thoughts run through your mind. In the same bed, beneath the same sheets, those veiny hands roaming your body once again. You’re dying to know what it feels like for real.
“It could be an incubus plaguing your dreams.”
And suddenly the fantasy is cut short.
“Incubus?” You've never heard of one.
“A sex demon that preys on women while they sleep.”
Well, that would explain the dream, but why would it appear as Yoongi? Did you really want Yoongi so badly a demon had to take the form of him to trick you?
“O-Oh, you really want to stay with me?”
“I won’t let anyone else have you, especially not another demon.”
With that, you allow Yoongi to stay with you for the rest of the night. The throbbing and want in your core never subsiding. He lays down next to you and suddenly you feel shy, scooting to the very edge of the bed until you’re threatening to tip off.
You know he doesn’t need to sleep, so you’re wondering if he will just lie there the whole night listening to the sounds of your steady breathing, or possibly more moaning if the dream returns.
“Did you enjoy it?”
Your entire body tenses, “y-yes.”
You don’t dare to turn over.
“Did you cum?”
“No.”
The bed shifts, his body moves to press against yours, molding together, fitting like a puzzle piece. His warmth envelops you, calming your erratic nerves.
What is he doing?
“Would you like to?”
Yoongi’s fingers sneak around your abdomen, trailing down slowly to cup your heat. His middle finger brushes against your clit beneath thin shorts and underwear. You chew on your lower lip, fighting back the urge to rub your legs together and whimper.
“I liked hearing you moan. I almost didn’t want to wake you. But now I wonder, what do you sound like when you cum?”
He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, hot puffs of air emphasizes every word he lowly whispers.
“Will you let me hear those sweet little whimpers again? I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart, I promise.”
“O-Okay.”
He takes his hands away to allow you to willingly roll onto your back. You watch as he moves to hover over you, his knees on either side of your thighs, his finger intertwined with a strand of your hair.
“Don’t be nervous, ___,” he whispers, oddly comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”
Those words remind you of his promise.
“I’ll protect you until the day you die. You’re mine to have and no one else’s.”
Your shoulders relax under his words like a spell cast over you. His finger releases your hair to drag down your face tenderly.
“You’re already wet, aren’t you? Did that dream take care of you well?”
His hands fall away from your face to the waistband of your shorts. Teasingly hooking around the elastic and tugging to get a peek at your baby pink panties.
“Answer me, baby girl.”
“Mm, y-yes, I am,” you answer, beginning to feel warm under your clothes despite how thin they are.
Yoongi snaps the waistband back and slides his hand up your shirt, tugging it off your body. Your breasts are exposed to him now and suddenly it feels real. This isn’t another dream. You’re really agreeing to give yourself to a demon.
His rich, sanguine eyes roam your body, memorizing each fine detail of your skin. You fight the urge to hide yourself. No one has ever seen you so intimately before nor looked at you as if they were ready to devour you whole.
Yoongi’s hand moves to touch your chest, but your reflexes force you to flinch away. You’re nervous about him touching you, thinking he’d be disappointed that you’re not everything he lusts after. He’s a demon, he must have been with—corrupted—countless humans.
“What’s the matter?” He asks, pulling his hand back.
“I’ve never…done this before,” you admit, looking anywhere but his face. Your eyes travel downward, the column of his neck, the deep pools of his collarbones, his loose-fitting wrinkled shirt, to his crotch. His bulge is prominent in his dark jeans, begging to be freed. You wonder how big he is. What if he doesn’t fit?
“Don’t worry, ___, I said I’d take care of you. Uncross your legs.”
You do as you’re told and Yoongi bends down slowly, pressing a kiss to your neck while his hand caresses your waist. He moves a hand up towards your breasts and brushes his thumb over your erect nipple. You squeak, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder and squeeze out of nervousness.
“Don’t be shy,” he rasps, nuzzling his nose up to the shell of your ear. “I just want to make you feel good.”
His thumb rolls over your nipple again as he gets back to work marking your neck. You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut, but still keeping one steady hand on his shoulder for comfort.
He sucks bruises into your skin that will stay as a reminder of this night and you don’t care what he leaves. You’re just enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. They’re so warm. You can feel yourself slowly getting addicted to his touch. It leaves you growing wetter than before.
His lips move wet kisses down your chest down to your navel. His hand leaves your breasts, trailing towards to your waistband once again.
Your hand falls from his shoulder and you rest it against your chest, feeling the pounding of your heart. You can feel it beating—boom, boom, boom—you’re so nervous about having someone so close.
“Will you show me how wet you are?” He looks up at you with a mischievous smirk. You can feel your heart racing even faster. One finger runs down your clothed slit, earning a quiet whimper from you. “Touch yourself. I want you to coat your fingers and show me.”
“Y-Yoongi,” you stutter, “I-I…”
“Don’t tell me to haven’t touched yourself before.”
You have touched yourself, but never in front of anyone else. Touching yourself in front of Yoongi sounds more and more appealing the longer his finger moves against your slit. You just want some relief for your aching core.
“Okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Your hands move to slowly slide your shorts off, panties going along with it to the floor. Now you’re completely bare, left vulnerable to Yoongi.
He sits between your spread legs, watching your hands move. Enamored by your trembling hands, he can hardly wait for you to finally touch your wet slit. It’d be so easy for you to do it. You’ve probably done it many times before.
Yoongi could imagine you lying in this bed in the middle of the night, shrouded in darkness with quiet whimpers while you pleasured yourself. You’d think of faceless men, only focusing on their cocks filling you up, pounding into your cunt the same why your fingers did.
He feels himself get harder beneath his pants, the strain beginning to get uncomfortable.
Your finger brushes over your slit, gathering just enough of your arousal on the tip for it to shine in the light.
“You’re dripping already,” he groans, “fuck, I can’t wait to have my cock in that tight little cunt.”
You almost gasp at his sudden vulgar words. It’s nothing like your dream where he was silent through most of it, letting his fingers do all the talking. But you like this version better—much better.
“Bend your knees,” he orders. “Put that pretty pussy on display.”
You do as he says, the way his words sound like growls has you clenching, the throb in your core becoming unbearable. Your hand moves to your clit first, running over the sensitive bud. At first touch, you softly gasp, already feeling the jolts of pleasure running through your body.
“Want you to put a finger in.” Yoongi can’t look away,
You force your finger from your clit, running your fingers up and down your slit to collect all the juices that leaked out of you. Then, you ease your middle finger in, your walls already clenching around it.
Your mouth falls open with puffs of hot air coming out as you gasp. When you begin moving your finger in and out, you bite down on your lip to prevent any loud whimpers from escaping.
“Faster. Fuck yourself with your finger.”
Once you pick up the pace and move your finger in and out of your soaking pussy, you begin to need more. You want to be stretched full—so full of him.
“More, I-I want more, Yoongi,” you mumble.
“Slip another one in.”
You immediately respond to that and stretch yourself with another finger. Your mouth hangs open becoming parched and a moan almost escapes you, but you catch it in your throat before it becomes any louder.
Yoongi shakes his head, “I like hearing you. Go ahead and moan.”
“B-But the neighbors.”
You’re sure they wouldn’t want to be woken in the middle of the night hearing you moaning through paper-thin walls.
“If they like what they hear we can just invite them over,” he smirks, “and if not, I’ll take care of them for you, babygirl. So don’t be shy and let me listen to how good you fuck yourself.”
Yoongi takes hold of your hand, guiding your fingers into your soaked walls. His thumb presses against your clit and moves in circles, heightening your pleasure.
You whimper, releasing a breathy moan when he presses harder. Your hips buck, grinding helplessly on his thumb.
“There it is. What a good girl,” he praises while coaxing your fingers from your pussy. You whine when he refuses to let you stuff them back in, feeling his grip tighten around your wrist as a warning. His other hand fingers your slit, easing two digits in suddenly.
His fingers are much longer than yours and they feel amazing, prodding your pussy deeper than before. Your back arches, head falling to the side as you let out a wanton moan.
Squelches and obscene noises coming from your wet pussy fill the room along with your uncensored moans. Drilling his fingers faster, Yoongi releases your wrist to rub your clit.
“Ah, Y-Yoongi,” you whimper, digging your nails into the sheets.
“Do you like my fingers buried in your sweet virgin cunt?”
“Mhm,” you mumble, rolling your hips against his hand. “I like it. P-Please keep going. It f-feels so good.”
Tension knots in your abdomen with each thrust of his fingers, curling inside your walls. Your forehead is damp, hair sticking to the sides of your temple. Your legs fall open wider.
“You gonna cum all over my hand, babygirl?”
Whimpers and a simple nod of your head tells Yoongi what he wants to know. His voice is enchanting, a low hum, instructing you to meet your release and you do.
You feel yourself gushing and squirting all over his fingers, your entire body tense while your walls clench and unclench. His name falls hoarsely from your lips.
“You’ve made a mess,” Yoongi tsks, pulling his fingers out of your abused hole to play with your dripping cum. He traces your outer lips, rubbing cum all over.
Yoongi runs a finger along your thighs and over your abdomen to paint your body with your own sticky cum. “You’re all prepped and ready for my cock now.”
Your breath catches in your throat when his hands move to unzip his jeans. You’re anticipating the feeling of his cock sliding into you. How will it feel for the first time? You know it must hurt from all the stories. Nevertheless, you’re ready. You feel ready.
When he finally frees himself from his pants, throwing them off to the side, you’re left speechless, unable to think of what to say.
He’s big, so much bigger than you imagined. His fingers are nothing compared to his girth. It’s almost jaw-dropping. You’re afraid he won’t fit even with how wet you are.
And it’s not just how thick he is that’s causing you to do a double-take. Along his shaft, are smooth ridges dotting his length. You’ve never seen anything like it.
Your hesitant hand dares to reach out and graze one of the ridges. It feels just like skin, raised like a hard bump. Your hand flinches back when he gasps. You look up at him, a silent question hanging off your mind.
“It’ll hurt, I won’t lie, but I’ll try to go slowly,” Yoongi says, hoping to reassure you.
You lick your lips, glancing back at his hard xoxo once more. Your body is on fire and there is no denying how badly you yearn for Yoongi to be in you. You need this demon with no true face to fuck you.
“Go ahead.”
Yoongi pulls on your hips, aligning his rigid cock head to your swollen pink lips. He pushes himself in, the thick head of his cock entering your walls for the first time. He forces himself not to bury himself into you, reminding himself how untouched you are and how he doesn’t want to hurt you.
“Yoongi,” you whimper, grabbing onto one of his hands on your hips. “S-Slower, please.”
You lay there, breathing shallowly as he watches you carefully. You move your hips experimentally around his cock, trying to adjust to the thickness as it steadily pierces you. You can feel the ridges of his cock as it enters you. The ache is uncomfortable and you wince.
There can’t possibly be any more, you think until you choose to look down to where your bodies are connected. He’s just halfway in and you gasp. Not even with all of his length in you, you feel incredibly full.
“Such a tight cunt,” he hisses, pulling out partially and thrusting back in, keeping up the slow rhythm to help you adjust.
You’re beginning to feel pleasure instead of the uncomfortable pain and with each of his thrusts, he pushes himself deeper until you can take his whole cock.
“So… hng, full,” you moan, feeling him hitting your cervix. Your back arches off the bed. You can feel every ridge sliding against your walls. Sliding your hands from his, your nails rake up his back, making red scars that will remain until morning. You anchor onto his shoulders.
He drills into your cunt, no longer concerned with your pain, only focusing on giving you pleasure. With each of your whining moans, he rolls his hips until you’re flushed and panting.
“S-Shit,” he hisses, “you like this, babygirl? You like being fucked?”
“Yes, yes!” you cry.
“You can feel me all the way in here,” he smugly remarks, pressing a hand flat against your abdomen where you can see the bulge of his cock moving inside you. His cock feels like it’s stretching you open, each thrust threatening to split you in half.
You whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in closer. You can feel your second orgasm approaching quickly. Your toes begin to curl in absolute ecstasy.
“I wanna-”
“Cum? You need to cum, babygirl?” He groans hotly into your ear.
Your fingers move to lace in his blonde hair, tugging at the locks. Your hips buck to meet his in a hurry to finish. “Yes! I need to!”
His finger moves between your bodies to flick your swollen bud causing you to shudder releasing a choked sob. His finger rubs your clit in circles.
Your muscles tighten, stomach and eyes clenching as all your nerves light up.
“Cum then, let go.”
You cry his name as you cum, back arching and your sweaty chest meets his. White leaks from your used cunt, gushing around his cock, and you’re absolutely spent.
“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, almost out of breath but not quite. Being a demon means plenty of stamina. “Such a good girl.”
Your eyes open, blinking—once, twice— and realizing he’s smiling down at you. His blonde hair pushed back, revealing his forehead and glistening sweat. You’re wondering how he’s feeling after this because you’re definitely confused. Do you love Yoongi, the demon, who only wants to be human? It’s hard to say.
“I might love you,” you admit. You might as well say it. You have nothing to lose anyway.
That forces his smile to fall. He has nothing to say in return, he can’t say anything. This is wrong—all wrong. His mouth sets in a hard line.
You're forgetting the inevitable. The inevitable moment when he's forced to take your life. Even if years do go by, even if he does allow himself to fall in love with you, it won’t end happily.
“And maybe I could too.”
