a/n: prepare for some lame poetic smut since i've got nothing else to write lmao, have fun. i haven't written smut in like half a year, and i'm not rly a pro at herero smut, so lower your expectations aight.
oh, and warning for gun/dick metaphors LMAO. good luck. i also recommend you listen to lana del rey's "i fucked my way up to the top" to get in the mood lol bye i'm gonna go hide in a corner from embarrassment.
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june 15th, 2014 — 2:40am.
months after the visit to jimin's massacre exhibition, he brings seulgi on more wayward slaughters, be it a killing spree at the closest town square, or a savage arson committed to the local minister. seulgi appreciates going on all these adventures with him, enjoying all the red she's indirectly showering in. even without sinning, she already feels like a sinner, and the idea is completely exhilarating. she can already see her downwards spiral to hell slowly constructing the longer she stuck around with this crimson prince of hers, and it excites her no end.
"the underworld is for us to rule, sweetheart," jimin tells her as he flicks on his lighter, throwing it into the puddle of gasoline and watching as the marble mansion before them catches fire in the prettiest roars of bright vermeil. the boy basks in the red glow, creating a mirror image of the devil as a devious smirk appears on his ever pleasing face, and seulgi's heart begins to bleed because oh god, he's so beautiful. he's no healthy medicine, but she wouldn't mind overdosing on all his crimson goodness, yes.
"there's a bounty on the devil's head, honey," he would proceed to tell her as he hops back into their stolen maserati, revving up the engines and flashing her a dazzling supermodel smile as they drive away into the night, painting the navy night sky a brilliant red when he presses an automated button, releasing a series of bombs in the burning mansion that detonate in the most beautiful bursts of firestorms, like their little fantasy inferno.
while red bursts on in giant flames behind them, jimin forms a finger-gun gesture, shooting at her from the driver's seat with a grin. the orange-red glow that cloaks him paints him in an image of royalty, like some kind of king sitting on his throne of skulls. it is awfully fitting.
their eyes meet, burning deranged flames meeting cold ice on frostbitten orbs. he grins once again, lopsided and unstable by all means. she thinks that he is gorgeous this way, a flicker away from losing control. this kind of thrill makes her feel more alive than the ecstasy she shoves down her throat back at her cold mansion, an addicting burn that isn't artificial like all the others.
there is a smirk on his face as he looks away and places his pimped out hand on the steering wheel, golden balenciaga rings glinting under the glow of broken traffic lights. "when we go in the underworld, let's kill him and rule hell together, sugar-- just you and me."
the suggestion is warm to her heart, she realizes. her ventricles threaten to melt and her organ feels much too overheated by the flame known as passion. it is invigorating, sends her into some kind of frenzy. her blood rushes everywhere, and the burn feels electrifying. seulgi gives him a smile of her own, charming as ever despite all the stains she got on her clean hands these past few months. they get along just perfectly, him and her. the flawless match. fate has done its job well, she must admit.
at each traffic light, they stop to give each other small kisses, brief smooches under crimson lights as they offer to each other sweet candy in the form of murmured sugary words. it gives them a reason not to run a red light, which saves them the hassle of a wild police chase. those kinds of red are wild, but that's not the kind of flame seulgi is looking for tonight, no. tonight, a simple night under the stars with park jimin is more than enough, away from the bleak grey of her elite life. it is all she needs besides the death she's been craving since ages past.
YOU ARE READING
curtain call • seulmin
Short Storypark jimin is an artist, in his own morbidly twisted kind of way, a virtuoso in the art of ending lives. ©jjk-kyr