The demon behind the mask ( VMin / JiKook ) [Completed] ✔

Fire

practice was boring with Jimin locking himself in another room with his stylist Jeon Jungkook. For some weird reasons I hated the guy. Around Jimin he was a young and cute boy. He was tall with a waist smaller than mine. With doe innocent eyes, sharp jaw that could cut a hand and his hooked perfect nose he could easily land any girl and boy he Desired. And even I couldn’t resist the cute smile of his, with nose slightly wrinkled and teeth showing he would look like the cutest bunny on earth. But it was the smirk that made me feel unsettled, always on edge when around him. As if he was aware of something I wasn’t. Something dark, an unpleasant fate or future. And his eyes were different from Jimin. My kitten's black orbs were mesmerizing but his were a dark endless pit. Each time I made the mistake of meeting his regard, he gave me an unfamiliar look. It wasn’t hate or love. Not even lust. It was the look a predator would give to its prey while playing and teasing it.

Every time I tried to talk about him with Jimin he changed the subject carefully, distracting me with the new information about overwatch or new clothes available for my dog Yeontan. So eventually I stopped my attempts to not upset my baby.

When the door to the practice room opened and I finally got to see his face I gave him my signature boxy smile. Pulling him in my arms as I pressed my lips on his, poking my tongue to demand entrance. His mouth was as addictive as any other part of his body.

"Missed me?” he giggled in my mouth, pulling away to land a kiss on my nose, tip-toeing to match my height. “Because I sure as hell did.”

Even after a month I still don’t know how I landed a man like him. I might have saved a nation in my past life. Out of all the Jimins on this planet, mine is the most unique one. He is every mans desire, he’ll trap you, and you willingly become his slave. He will consume every thought, vibe and love in your existence and replace it with himself. Once you experience Jimin, there's no way of escaping his unconditional sphere of desire. You will very quickly be led into an everlasting whirlpool of anguish when you realise, you gave up everything you ever wanted for Park Jimin. (A/N: From urban dictionary)

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Third POV

The sky was dark and gloomy, not even a star could be seen in the black velvet. A man covered in a long leather black coat walked to the old rusty abandoned factory, the collide of his heels with the concrete floor breaking the silence. His blonde hair was styled and his face was hidden under a thick smoky make up. Not an ounce of fluff vibe could be felt from him.

"Seokjin Hyung.” The man bowed as his name was called.

"Boss.” He greeted back, eyes fixed on the floor knowing better than to make eye contact with him. He might have called him Hyung but he knew damn well that it was all a game of power. But in fact no one really wanted to meet his gaze even if they were allowed. It was too heavy for man. Too dark and deep that any soul could get lost and shattered. A fearful whimper forced them to notice the tied up guy on the chair, his pupils were wide from terror, lips trembling, barely holding a cigarette and his clothes were colored in crimson from the deep slashes painted on his body.

"You stink.” The man crunched his nose, a small smirk appearing on his face as he recognized the source. He never liked the smell of gas since he was a kid. His least favorite memories included gas stations, but when it is poured on a much alive body, It’s a different story. The smell could be as addictive as heroin. He put a cigarette between his lips, eyes still not leaving the guy on the chair. He cupped his mouth with a hand as he lit his cigarette. “Report.”

"He hasn’t talked yet.” Seokjin said. Taking a step back as he knew what was about to happen.

"Need a light?” He grabbed his own cigarette between his fingers, pressing its tip to the one on the later's mouth. "I think you need one."

The man let out a fearful whimper, wiggling his body to free himself, his pupils crossed as they were fixed on the cigarette in his mouth. "Please." He begged, teeth still digging the paper-made stick.

The man just took a step back, watching how the cigarette reached its end, the light reaching the smelly liquid, turning the hapless man into a flame. His pained shrieks were music to his ears, sending a joyful shiver to his spine.

Seokjin starred at him from the side. He was standing so close,hand tucked in his pocket, breeze of fire softly blowing his pink bangs. Flares burning with all glory as its lush orange flames reflected in his dark orbs, creating a majestic view.

A smirk appeared on his face as he noticed the older was trying to block the heat with his coat, furrowing his eyebrows from the smell of burnt meat. "You don't like fire Hyung?" He stepped closer, his face deprived of any emotion again. "I love fire. It is beautiful. The warmth along with the welcoming feel it gives but as you slowly approach it snarls and bites. Everything you love could be gone in minutes, due to a single nip. It's like power. It's beautiful, warm, welcoming, but it only takes one mistake, one slip, for everything you love to be gone." He threw his cigarette in the fire. "Clean this mess and find me another one." He turned on his heels, walking out as elegantly.