kpopwh0re

[kpopwh0re]

Oh, Angel (yang jeongin)

warning(s): angels and demons! au, slight gore, fem! reader, SMUT! 18+ only minors dni, also I refer to the reader as Whyen Lastname because (y/n) takes too much energy

word count: 5k+

         “Gut him.”

You feel your eyes widen, stomach lurching at the thought. “I-I don’t know if I can do that.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, which are red like rubies and hot like Hell. Not in a sexy way, in a literal heated way. You can feel the burn of his gaze even though there’s about two feet of space between you. His eyes are literal flames. “You’re a demon and he’s a sinner. Gut him.”

Suddenly, there’s a hooked blade in your hand, heavy and silver, and crusted with maroon stains— blood. It’s probably ancient and has been used on over a thousand wretched souls. You gulp. “I- I can’t, Han.”

The soul in front of you deserves it, that much is clear. His eyes are dark and he’s been sent here— to Hell, capital H, that is— because he’s got a black soul. Murder, is what he’s in for, and you know even he— the human in all of this— senses you are weak.

The human soul laughs at your pathetic self, making you frown more. Jisung is quick to act on your behalf. He slices his own blade into the sinner's abdomen, hooking it deep into his organs before grunting and sliding it across until his guts fall onto the blazing rocks beneath you. His scream is guttural and makes you want to cover your ears, but you know that’ll only make you look even more incompetent.

Jisung grabs you by the arm, dragging you through the streets of Hell, which are surrounded by waterfalls and rivers of molten lava. It’s beautiful, really. You were born from one of those intensely hot lakes and raised here in the third level of Hell— trained too. Trained to torture, even though you never wanted to.

He drags you like a naughty dog until you’re looking at the looming castle where the Prince of Hell resides, Christopher, or to lower level demons like yourself, Chan. It’s a beautiful castle, made of black obsidian, with the ripples of tortured souls flickering across the smooth rock.

You know what Jisung plans to do. “No, please, Han, please.”

Jisung barely looks back at you and you can feel his hand leaving a mark on your skin. A burn mark. “You haven’t learned. You haven’t tortured a soul yet. You’ve spent your whole life training for this and yet you need another lesson.”

You feel shame so great you want to break your spiraling horns off despite knowing they’ll grow back in. Everything is like that in hell– continuous. Tomorrow the guy Jisung just murdered will wake up and have to be gutted all over again. Quite possibly– unless this conversation with crown prince Chan goes badly– by you.

It’s not your fault you were born squeamish. You can barely stand torturing the other half of the bad souls by whipping them, which is for low level sinners, so gutting them? You physically can’t. You throw up every time you try. And you know they’re sinners and that they deserve it, but still, it doesn’t make you feel any better about doing it.

Chan is sitting on a throne made of human bones, legs thrown over the arms of the seat as he lazily tosses pomegranate seeds into the air, catching them on his sinfully long tongue. When Jisung enters with you in tow, his golden eyes flicker with interest. He tosses the pomegranate skin at a skeleton soldier, and it gets stuck in between its hollow ribs.

“Han Jisung, Whyen,” He muses, standing only so that he can sit back down properly. “Please rid me of my boredom.”

His golden eyes flash darkly for a second in your direction, but you know it’s typical flirty Chan. He messes with all low level demons like they’re his playthings. In all honestly, you wouldn’t mind the position, but Chan only likes the demons who actually do... well, demon shit.

“Christopher,” Jisung pushes you so that you fall at the feet of his throne. “She’s refusing her duties again.”

Your palms and knees burn from where you collide with the scorching cobblestone, and you look up at Chan pitifully, hair obscuring your vision.

Chan’s golden eyes are sparkling with intrigue. “Is that so?”

“I can’t do it,” You whisper. “I can’t.”

“You do realize that these are sinners,” Chan drawls, running a ring covered hand across his jaw. His smirk is taunting. “They’re here for a reason.”

“I know that they’re evil,” You spit, and your own beetle black eyes with no visible pupil or white, radiate heat despite not being made of flames. “But that doesn’t mean I am.”

Chan laughs, looking at Jisung. “She’s in denial.”

He stands up, sauntering over to you, and grabs you by the chin so that a mix of heated flesh and cool metal kisses your jaw. His eyes blaze as he pulls your face up to look into his. “You’re a fucking demon. It’s your duty. You were born for this.”

“I didn’t ask to be.”

He pushes you away in disgust. “Jisung?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I’m thinking we send her upstairs for a bit, make her remember just why these sinners deserve to be punished. Awaken the part of her she’s so desperately trying to push down.” Chan pokes your side with the tip of his shoe, before looking up and smirking at Jisung. “Don’t you think that’s a fine idea?”

Jisung smiles at his boss, then sneers down at you. “The best kind of punishment.”

Before you can even react, Chan snaps his fingers, and you’re suddenly not inside of his castle, which is dark and dreary, and full of death. Instead, your eyes have to adjust to sudden blinding light and color.

You’ve only heard about the human world in stories. The first thing that hits you is the smell— ugh, even hell isn’t this pungent— it’s like rotted fruits and shit. Second thing you notice is the noise, which really isn’t quite that different from the depths. It’s insufferably loud– screaming, things breaking, moving, screeching. Everything is chaotic.

You stand to your feet and realize that you’re on a sidewalk in front of something called a Casino. You can only tell what it is because of its flashing lights, ringing bells, and sinners. So many sinners. You can tell them apart because their souls are swimming with ribbons of red. Real bad sinners, like kidnappers, cheaters, and republicans. Their souls are pure red, destined for Hell, but the ones going in that same direction are like candy canes, pure snow white with streaks of red.

You catch your reflection in the window, and you find that you look like a normal human, which is gross. No horns, no black eyes, no sharp teeth. Just human. This is how they see you, how they’ll always see you. The only way someone will know you’re a demon and see your true self is if they’re one themselves— or if they’re one of your archenemies— an angel.

You ask a person walking by where you are, but you already have a feeling. They confirm it. Sin City. Las Vegas.

You sigh. You know Chan’s not going to take you back home until you’re done observing the humans and decide that they’re horrible enough to punish them. Which means you’re stuck here. Quite possibly forever, which ironically, is your own personal hell.

You turn on your heel, to find a place to stay or something, when your eyes catch sight of someone blinding. Not blinding with beauty, or grace, but a blinding pure white soul. You have to blink a few seconds to get used to their bright glow, but when you do, you see that they’re actually quite blindingly beautiful too. Sharp jaw, almond eyes, and a smile worth a million baby pink souls.

He’s beautiful.

Then you notice the wings. They take up half of his back, and are currently tucked tightly together because they’re not being used, snowy feathers flickering with the twisting wind.

An angel.

You’re smitten. You know they’re supposed to be pretty, breathtaking, but not this badly. You swallow around the dryness in your throat, and watch him closely. The only reason he would have to be here is to help guide a human on the ‘right’ path. A guardian. That’s the only way that they’re sent down from the pearly gates. Most of the time.

Except, guardian angels aren’t supposed to be pickpocketing teenagers for their cell phones, are they? He’s sly and cunning about it, like a fox, sending them charming smiles that make them giggle and share glances with one another— and then when they’re not looking he slips thin, agile fingers into their pockets and takes whatever he pleases.

As you watch he continues to do it to multiple people, and when he’s satisfied with what he’s got he grins proudly, strutting into the nearest alleyway. You don’t know what else to do, but to follow him. Surely there must be a reason he’s doing this. He’s an angel, they don’t do anything without being ordered to by the big guy upstairs.

When you reach the alley, it’s empty and dingy, nothing but a dented trash bin and a couple of smushed cardboard boxes. You walk in anyway, wondering where he’s gone. You walk until you meet the dead end, spinning on your heel to go back out.

You almost scream your lungs empty, but he places a hand over your mouth, shoving you against the wall. He presses his body against yours to keep you pinned to his liking and his eyes that are like rich soil trace over your face, traveling up and down your figure, then above your head. You know he can see your horns, because he’s an angel and he seems to know that you can see his wings, because they flick out until they’re at full length, feathers grazing the walls on either side of the two of you.

“Who are you?” He demands. “I know you are a demon, but who?”

He removes his hand from your mouth only when he is sure you’re not going to scream anymore. You let out a shaky breath, giving him the answer he seeks without a hint of hesitation. “ Whyen Lastname.”

“And why are you following me, demon?” He demands. “I have done nothing for scum from Hell to follow me.”

Your eyebrows furrow in indignation. “I am here on business from Hell and it has nothing to do with you...”

He seems to get what you’re asking without having to ask it.

“I’m Jeongin. Yang Jeongin.” He says proudly.

There’s something odd about that, though, because usually angels have obnoxiously long titles about what their jobs and ranks are in heaven, because they like to boast. Chan moans about it all the time because he hates it.

Jeongin notices that you’re thinking a little too long about it. His frown returns. “What is this business you’re on?”

“None of yours,” You hiss, pushing him away with your palms burning. Literally burning. He hisses, finally letting you go. “Perhaps I should be asking what business you have here, because obviously, as an angel, it shouldn’t be pickpocketing humans.”

He cocks his head to the side, his wings twitching curiously. “Know a lot about angels, do you, demon?”

“I already gave you my name,” You reply, brushing off your shirt. “And it’s not demon.”

“You say that like you hate being called demon,” Jeongin observes your face. “Even though it’s what you are.”

You smile at him sarcastically. “Should I call you angel then, if that’s what you’re implying?”

Jeongin’s face pulls into a smirk. He licks his lips, eyes traveling over you again, but this time in a different way. A way you’re not sure an angel should be looking at you. “Only when you’re feeling a certain type of way, demon.”

You groan, rolling your eyes, ignoring the way it has your heart pounding in your chest. (Yes, demons have hearts.) “My Devil, you’re a prick. Are all angels as nasty as you?”

“No, I’m special.” He winks. “One of a kind. And I’m only nasty—”

He slips closer to you until your bodies are so close you can feel his breath hitting your neck. You freeze.

“—when someone begs me to be.” Jeongin’s smile is sweet, but his words are sinful. “Do you want me to be nasty, demon?”

You turn to meet his gaze, fire igniting in your veins, and your demon black eyes meet his gorgeous brown. You’re so close that your noses are inches away.

“No, angel, I don’t.”

His body reacts to your words greatly, hands reaching forward to grab you, but you pull away, walking towards the mouth of the alley. “With great offense, I have to decline. I may be a demon, but I don’t give out that easily. Especially to angels.”

You hear his laugh echo around the alleyway. “We’ll meet two more times before you give into my advances, my precious demon, I can guarantee you that! Then you’ll be dripping for me.”

For some fucking reason, he’s right. It must be some angel gift to be able to see into the future, or something else entirely, but you meet him again, even though you try your hardest to avoid him.

The second time you inevitably meet Yang Jeongin, is when you’re on the roof of a building, watching as a group of teenagers beat on a kid their own age, calling him ugly demeaning words because of his skin color and clothing. It makes your stomach twist. It’s pure evil, striping their pink souls with red.

“It’s marvelous, isn’t it?” Someone asks from beside you.

You’re so surprised you almost fall over the side of the roof right into the group of teenagers. Luckily– or not, you can’t tell just then– a pair of arms wrap around your midriff, hauling you up, and pressing your back against a warm chest. You look over breathlessly to see those brown eyes, golden smile, and a pair of snowy wings.

“Ugh, gag me,” You groan, pushing him away. “It’s you.”

Jeongin grins, and it’s so weird that it can look so innocent yet so sly at the same time. “Yes, it’s me. I can gag you if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to the scene at hand. “It’s called a figure of speech, asshole. Do you have those in heaven? Or is it really that bland up there?”

Jeongin’s vein riddled hand comes up to grab at the base of your neck and the other pulls you against his chest. Your body is shocked that he’d do this— but it’s also on fire. Like you’re in Hell itself again. It feels amazing.

“We do have them, demon,” He whispers darkly into your ear. “We just like to take things seriously up there.”

Your eyes flick up to his and your heart beats wildly. The fire begins to roll down your body, spreading quickly at the way he’s looking at you. Yang Jeongin is dangerous, the total opposite of what you’d expect an angel to be.

“Guess I struck a nerve?” You grin, despite your situation, and his eyes flash. “Ooh, I did. Mr. Angel’s got a soft spot for his home in the clouds? What, did Sky Daddy get mad at you?”

“Shut up,” He pushes you away with a snarl. “All you demons are brats.”

“Not all of us,” You chuckle, eyes meeting his as you look at him innocently through your eyelashes. “Only me.”

He swallows as you turn back to the scene, only to see that the kids have already stopped their previously relentless beating, and the boy is laying in a pool of his own blood. You sigh.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“To help him?” Jeongin asks skeptically.

“He’ll die if I don’t.” You say, eyeing him weirdly. “Aren’t you supposed to care about innocent souls being taken too soon?”

His wings flap in irritation and his feet leave the ground. “I’ve got business to attend to, but I’ll see you again soon, demon.”

You watch him fly away and think about what the Hell had just happened. Yang Jeongin had just ignited the hellfire in you for a second.

You actually felt like a real demon for a moment— the type of demon capable of torturing a soul.

The third time you meet Yang Jeongin isn’t because he wants you to. You catch him in the act of unplugging an older man from his life support while his wife is getting food in the hospital cafeteria, having just come from your daily stroll through the halls.

“Jeongin!” You hiss, walking into the room. “What in Hell’s name are you doing?”

The angel freezes, eyes wide, and he looks up from the plug, to you, and then back to the plug. His shock quickly wears off and he shrugs indifferently. “He’s dying anyway.”

You rush into the room, pushing him away. You stand between the two with your arms crossed. “Doesn’t mean you can just kill him.”

He scoffs, pushing himself up, wings tightly coiled behind his back to keep from knocking everything over. “He’s barely living like this! Besides, he’s a racist who’s done some really sketchy things because of his views. Look at his soul!”

You look down and see that his soul is indeed a dark maroon. Lucifer, he’s a real bad sinner.

You shake your head, stomping over to Jeongin, and stab two fingers in his chest. “And who said you could play with his life, huh? Someone only dies when the two big guys in charge decide that they’re ready. Not you.”

Jeongin’s face turns red. He grabs your shoulders, pushing you so that your back is against the wall, and he’s once again pinning you down. His eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes. “And who says they care about one little life, huh? They’re so busy being worshiped and loved, they don’t have time for us. Any of us. Not humans, not demons, and definitely not angels.”

His eyes are sparkling with a deep hatred and his whole being is flickering. His wings begin to change, and like waves rippling across glass water, his white wings turn black. His soul, which had previously been pure white, is redder than Hell now.

“You’re a fallen,” You whisper, mesmerized. You’d only ever read about such angels, banished for being too evil or selfish for Heavens incredibly high standards. “A fallen angel.”

He laughs bitterly. “And you’re a soft hearted demon.”

You feel that demon fire in you lighting at his touch as he raises a hand, where his fingers are covered in golden bands with pure black flowers blossoming to decorate him, and runs them up the side of your neck, all the way up your jaw. Then he roughly grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to meet. “It’s a shame, too. Oh, what I would do to a demon. I guess I should be calling you angel instead.”

You laugh darkly, as if something has suddenly changed inside of you. You push him away, reaching over to yank out the cord keeping this sinning human tethered to life. His soul flickers before it drifts off, somewhere far away. A ghost now.

“I’m a demon, Yang Jeongin.” You say spitefully. “And I always will be.”

This makes a smile grow on his face, a low whistle leaving his lips. “Come with me, my demon. To my place.”

You snort, moving to leave the room. “I’m not giving in just yet, angel. I’ve got duties to attend to.”

And by the grace of Lucifer himself, you actually do them. You do what Chan sent you to the human world to do instead of disobeying his orders. You watch the dirty, vile humans, and you actually want to punish them. It’s like the sight of Jeongin, a fallen angel— something so good turned bad— made you realize that there needed to be a certain balance in the world. What you put into the world will be put back into you.

In the case of sinners, it’s evil and hurt.

The last time you see Jeongin is because you seek him out.

You follow the beating of wings throughout the streets of Las Vegas and find him in the biggest hotel, in the fanciest room, living lavishly. You get through the building easily, by using the skills given to you at birth. Your demon skills.

He’s leaning against the railing of the balcony when you enter, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. He’s drinking a juice pouch, watching the chaotic city below.

“Demon,” He says when you walk out onto the balcony behind him. His dark wings spread out to their full length, stretching. “I could say I wasn’t expecting you, but you quite literally left flames in your wake on the way here.”

You stand beside him, narrowly avoiding a face full of feathers, instantly spotting the charred streets where you’d been walking. “Hellfire. It’s what demons do when they’re—”

“Excited.” He finishes, finally turning his eyes to meet yours. He’s smiling. “Oh, I know. I’ve heard tales about humans dumb enough to try and seduce demons, only to be burned alive.”

“Yet,” You say. “You still try to seduce me.”

“I’m different.” He insists, tossing his empty juice pouch over the balcony edge, moving closer. “I’m a fallen angel. I’m already burned.”

You push closer so that your chests are flush, your face is peering up into his. “It’s a shame. I was really looking forward to being your first.”

He snorts, “You move your mouth too much, demon. Maybe we can find other uses for it.”

You grin and the plant behind you bursts into red hot flames. “Fuck yeah.”

Your arms reach out to wring around his neck, his own grabbing at your waist as your lips push together in a feverish kiss. His skin is like ice to the touch and your hands barely make them warm even though your blood is burning with the heat of a thousand suns. His hands pull your hips forward and your tongues push out to meet, tangling together.

It’s messy and heated, and Devil, it’s so fucking hot. Your hands reach up to knot into his hair, one of his hands pulling away to touch one of your horns. It, like the other, is long, and spirals out of your head to a sharp point. When he touches it you arch into him, and egged on, he grabs it around the base, pulling your head back, your lips pulling apart.

Your breathing is heavy and so is his. He grunts. “Are you compliant? Do you play by the rules?”

You grin mischievously. “If I did, do you think I’d be here?”

He grabs you roughly under the ass and lifts you up so that your legs wrap around his waist. He pushes his way into the suite until he reaches the bedroom, where a large bed draped in silk white sheets is waiting to be destroyed. He throws you onto the mattress and you’re glad that he isn’t being gentle.

Something rabid inside of you wants it rough. The hellfire— the demon you, wants it so badly.

You try to lift your shirt over your head, but he slaps your hands away, ripping it off for you, tossing the fabric into the unknown. His eyes slide down to your skirt. It’s frilly and pink, and absolutely dreadful.

“I hate this skirt,” Jeongin says, nose scrunched. His eyes meet yours. “Better get rid of it.”

He hooks his fingers into the band of it and rips it off, accidentally (or not) ripping off your panties at the same time. His eyes rake over you and you’re too hot to be self conscious. You can’t be self conscious, not when his dick is hard in his sweatpants like that.

He crawls onto the bed over you, lips meeting again. His kiss is bruising, rough, and his teeth clamp onto your bottom lip just as you feel his fingers traveling up and down your pussy. You’re aching for him, pulsing around nothing with the need to be filled.

He knows this, because he pulls away, taps two fingers against your lips, and says, “Suck.”

You take his fingers in your mouth, keeping eye contact with him as his eyes darken so much they’re basically black. His other hand grabs at one of your horns so that your head snaps back a little, and his fingers slip from your mouth a bit, saliva dribbling down your chin.

He pushes you and his dripping fingers slide down before slipping between your thighs, where you ache for him the most. One finger pushes into you to start off, pumping and swirling around inside of you, and then when a moan escapes your mouth he adds the second, watching as your head falls back and your back arches. He scissors your pussy open, pushing deep inside of you, your knees shaking with the feeling of it.

“You’re so filthy,” He whispers, his voice deeper than usual. “Look at you, all submissive for me. Whore.”

Your eyes snap open and your legs attempt to clamp shut, but he pushes himself further between them. You glare at him, saliva still shining on your chin, eyes blazing with flames. “I’m not a whore, asshole.”

“Not now, maybe,” He smirks, dipping his head down. Your noses brush. “But after me you will be. My demon whore.”

You try to pull back, but his fingers push deeper inside of you and his thumb brushes against your clit. A moan pushes up your throat, back arching into him again, but as your hands reach up to grab at his back, his other arm moves to pin your wrists down.

“Uh-uh,” He whispers. “No touching the wings.”

“Fuck you.” You murmur, but it’s half heartedly said. Lucifer, he knows how to use his fingers.

“I am,” His mouth moves to your throat. “Fucking you, I mean.”

His tongue starts to flick across your throat as his fingers slowly leave you empty. You want to protest, but when he’s replacing the feeling by grinding his clothed bulge down onto your clit, you forget the words you were going to say. His hips dip again and this time his thrust makes your back arch so badly your bra brushes against his chin.

He pulls back suddenly, causing cold to wash over your body. This time you let the whine out. “What the fuck?”

He shoves a hand beneath your back, unclasping your bra eagerly before sliding it off of you and tossing it aside. His smile is playful and cute. Adorable even. “I wanted to get that out of the way.”

Before you can say anything else his head is pushing forward, his mouth clasping around one of your tits, sucking on your nipple, tongue flattening against the nub. You try to move your hands— to grab his hair, scratch his back, rub his bulge— anything, but his weight doesn’t give.

“Quit fucking squirming.”

“Let me touch you, angel. You’re so beautiful.” You moan, eyes squeezed shut.

His breath comes out in a shaky whine. “Fucking demon.”

His arm moves, freeing your wrists, and you grab his hair, threading your fingers through his black locks, then yanking on the roots. He moans against your stomach as he kisses his way lower. His moans are like him: darkly angelic and you want to hear more. You yank on his hair again, harder this time, and his eyes shoot up to meet yours.

“This is why I said no touching in the first place.”

“Want you,” You whisper. “Inside of me. Wanna hear you moan. Your voice is beautiful too.”

You think he’s going to deny you, but then he stands up and you pull yourself further onto the bed excitedly, leaving a wet spot on the sheets. He pulls down his pants and you almost faint when you see he has no boxers on. He’s such a terrible angel, it’s no wonder they cast him down from heaven. He crawls back over you, forcefully grabbing one of your horns again, forcing your head back until it’s pushing into the mattress, throat on full display, full of bruises and marks.

“Don’t think this changes who’s in charge.” Jeongin drawls, slowly pushing the tip of his cock at your entrance. “An angel never bows to a demon. Remember that.”

Your body is aching for the stretch. You want him to fill you up, you need it, and you would do anything for it. Even gut a sinner, you think.

Your eyes are hazy and your mouth fills with saliva like you’re hungry for it. “Yes, of course, angel.”

He pushes inside of you smugly and your body arches up, hands fumbling across his back, gripping at the base of his wings as he fills you up perfectly. It’s amazing, it’s delicious, it’s sinful. It’s beautiful.

You moan loudly and so does he, his tongue licking at the shell of your ear. He takes the skin into his mouth as he sets a pace, which is slow and lazy at first. When you’re adjusted and everything is comfortable, he pulls back, then slams himself back inside of you.

He sets a good pace, a great pace, and you’re glad that demons can’t get pregnant because the veins of his cock and everything feel like Heaven sliding inside of you— there’s no way in hell you’re letting him pull out. This is what Heaven must feel like, even though it’s so wrong. His thrusts are hard, deep, fast, and he fills every inch of your pussy just right.

“J-jeongin,” You manage to say, but it comes out as more of a moan. “Change position.”

“Yeah?” He pulls back until your faces are in each other’s view. His thrusts are slow and deep again. “Which one do you want, slut?”

“Doggy,” You try not to meet his eyes, but he forces you to keep looking at him. “Please.”

He chuckles at you, sitting back on his knees so that he slides out. He cocks his head to the side, observing you. Then he slaps a hand on your thigh, leaving a red mark. “What are you waiting for? Turn around. Or do I have to do it for you, brat?”

“Angels don’t bow to demons,” You shrug, biting your lip. “but demons don’t bow to angels either.”

He glares at you, but his cock twitches, and he forcefully grabs your right knee, shoving it over, throwing you on your stomach. He doesn’t wait for you to push yourself onto your knees and elbows, he pulls your ass to him, spreading your thighs open enough for him to fit between them. Then he pushes himself inside of you again, and when he leans his body over yours his teeth bite into your shoulder.

Your mouth opens against the sheets, moans breaking free, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth. He fucks you into the bed now, hard and fast, one hand slipping under your slightly raised hips. His fingers find your clit, the other raising to yank at your horns, his weight balancing on his knee. He yanks your head back so your throat is on full display, body curving up so your back makes a crescent moon.

“My pretty demon whore,” Jeongin taunts, his voice breaking halfway with a moan. “Look at yourself. Making a mess. Drooling for my cock.”

Another moan and you arch your back, one of your own hands reaching back to grab at his ass, pulling him even deeper. Your nails dig deep into his skin as he hits a certain spot in your body that has you literally screaming, body burning.

“Holy shit—” You pant, pussy convulsing. Your nails draw blood from his skin. “Gonna cum.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he pounds into you harder, so hard the bed rattles with the force. The curtains are on fire now, and so is the seat in the corner, but you’re too high on Jeongin to care.

“Fuck,” He mutters, before his grip around your horn tightens. “Fuck!”

You cum a few seconds later, your body pushing itself back into him at the same moment he thrusts forward, and the sheet is soaked with your drool. He fucks you through your high, and soon he’s cumming too, spilling hot white ropes of his cum into your pussy.

His wings flap dangerously, causing the fires to grow before he pulls out and collapses beside you.

“Christ,” He pants. “You weren’t lying about the burns.”

You manage to push away from the pool of drool you left and shakily flop onto your back, looking over at him. “What?”

Jeongin twists his hips, showcasing a bubbling handprint on his ass as well as a bloody set of crescent marks from your nails.

“Sorry.” You laugh. “I haven’t had it like that before.”

“Meaning?” Jeongin asks, pushing a damp piece of hair from your forehead.

“Everyone I’ve been with treated me like a princess,” You mutter. “I’m not the best demon out there so they don’t think I can take it, but you—"

“Treated you like a demon whore,” Jeongin smirked. “Because it’s what you are.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”

It was true, however much you wanted to deny it. Jeongin had awoken the demon inside of you the first time you met, and now you felt ready to go back to Hell to fulfill your long list of awaiting duties.

“Will we meet again?” He asks suddenly, looking like an innocent puppy— but you know he’s not a puppy, he’s a sly, cunning fox.

“Satan almighty, I sure hope we do.” You murmur, reaching forward and kissing him hotly.

THE END…

…

Chan is sitting on his throne, watching you closely, the horns on his head encircled with a crown of gold to match his piercing eyes. “So, have you learned your lesson, my demon?”

You feel your body react greatly to the nickname, eyes glancing down at your new dress, which is drenched in blood— blood that isn’t yours. It’s actually from hours of torture in the fourth ring of Hell— your new position.

It’s been a few months since your encounter with Jeongin, but you’re set to have another soon, however, for now you’ve been continuing your duties as a demon more successfully than you’ve ever had before. And because of your graduation in rank, your eyes are crimson, red as the blood coating your skin.

“Yes, my lord.” You say proudly. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

Chan shifts in his seat, and suddenly his golden eyes are darker, almost bronze. “And how, pray tell, did you do that?”

You glance around the throne room to see that it’s empty, and when you turn back Chan is right in front of you. One of his fingers, the one with a skull ring made of dark crystal, swipes into the blood pooled at your collarbone. You watch as it dribbles down his finger, his eyes returning to yours.

“My lord,” Your voice is soft, but it’s driven. “I thought you saw everything for yourself. In fact, I’m pretty sure I saw you in the room when I discovered myself. On a chair in flames.”

Chan’s lips pull into a grin and he pushes forward so that your noses are brushing. His lips are so close. “Oh, I see. You wanted to give a show, then?”

You grin, looking up at him innocently. “Is there a punishment you feel needs to be given for it?”

“It was entertaining, to say the least.” He returns. “So no punishment needed.”

Disappointment makes the heat in your skin subside momentarily, but then his arm hooks around your waist, pulling your chest to his. His dark eyes meet yours.

“I can only promise that I can give you something better.”

THE (TRUE) END

author’s note(s): my devil, you’re a sinner! jay kay you’re obviously just horny. anyway, hope you enjoyed this! it’s been sitting in my notes forever because I wrote it for a friend and I thot that I’d just go ahead and post it so other people can enjoy the pure sin of it 😏

#kpop smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #yang jeongin #jeongin smut #han jisung #bang chan #yang jeongin imagines #skz x fem! reader #x fem! reader smut