Bittersweet Desires
Dedicated to the readers who are supposed to be making their parents proud but are instead reading an incubus Jimin story.
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Jimin
If there was one thing Jimin loved more than his ass, it was McDonald’s hash browns.
Jimin licked his lips and didn’t care how much of his red and black hair got in his face as he devoured the golden brown deliciousness in front of him. His dark nails dug into the soft batter and tore it apart, shoveling pounds of potatoes down his throat. His taste buds erupted in an elaborate happy dance and cheered the more the savory taste flooded his mouth. Soft mmm and ahh noises slipped by his tongue. He didn’t care how obnoxious he was. He didn’t care if onlookers saw him.
That was because they couldn’t.
Jimin giggled and kicked his feet at the idea of his wonderful incubus powers. No mortal could spot him, even as he sat in the corner of his local McDonald’s and chowed down on his ten orders of hash browns. He had ordered, taken his meal, then went invisible to eat in peace.
Incubi required more calories than mortals, which led to Jimin eating ridiculous amounts of food. Did he have a job to pay for it? No. He had always used his invisibility to steal a shit ton of money from others, and he house-hopped instead of staying in one place. His current home? Hershey, Pennsylvania.
Most thought of the chocolate factory or the amusement park when they imagined Hershey, but he believed the countryside was by far the best part. Nature was in his top three favorite things. If he had to make a list, it’d be the following:
1. Hash browns (preferably McDonald’s)
2. His ass
3. Nat- His hair
4. Nature
Shit, he had to change the order halfway through. He almost forgot about his precious hair he had spent three hours styling that morning. It was his second favorite part of the day, right behind wolfing down his hash browns.
By the time he finished, the clock hadn’t struck eleven yet, which meant he had time to peek around before McDonald’s switched to lunch. He got up and didn’t bother throwing away his trash as he strolled through the bleak building. It had once been a glorious, colorful sight all kids loved, but it turned into a capitalist monstrosity with monochrome walls. The only vibrance the place had was the ugly yellow ′M′ logo they insisted on plastering everywhere. Even their menus were as depressing as the economy.
The McDonald’s in Hershey was far from busy seeing as they were in bumblefuck nowhere. There were four employees and two customers other than him. They were an elderly couple who didn’t speak as they ate their breakfast sandwiches. Jimin, upon seeing their disgusting wrinkles, thanked Lucifer he wouldn’t have to deal with the grossness of mortality. Living forever was fantastic to say the least. He never got frown lines, had a perfect hairline, and, of course, had the holy trinity: a big dick, nice ass, and tragic past.
No wonder why all the chicks loved him.
He whistled as he entered the bathroom, grateful to know any sounds he made would stay in his little realm instead of blessing the public’s ears. He washed his tiny hands and glanced at the nail polish. No chips, no scratches, no dents.
Park Jimin, you are as perfect as always.
He peeped up and saw himself in the mirror. Half of his hair was black while the other half was dark red like his plump lips, and the two colors blended together well. His hands had silver rings on six out of ten fingers, and his ears had dangling cross earrings that contradicted his status as a demon.
He had a bejeweled choker on that matched his sparkling black trench coat. He had amazing tits, so he opted to keep the coat unbuttoned to show off his loose white shirt underneath, which was made of lace and had a deep V-neck cut that went down almost all the way to his belly button. The sleeves of the shirt hung out of his coat due to them being so frilly.
Long story short, Jimin was an absolute icon, and he knew it. As he strutted out of the McDonald’s, he snapped his fingers to make himself visible so the humans could feast their eyes on his beautiful self.
However, when he stepped into the real world, he remembered he was in the middle of nowhere. There were no sidewalks, just grass and distant farms. The sun shone with no clouds in the sky. At least the air was crisp and clean, unlike cities and the majority of the polluted world. That was why Jimin chose Hershey as his base of operations.
Hershey had clean air, big booty bitches, and horses. What more could a man ask for?
Walking was a pain in Jimin’s juicy, voluptuous, gorgeous, fat ass. So, he snapped his fingers and teleported himself home: an abandoned one-story house he had been staying in for the past month. Other than the occasional ripped One Direction posters, the walls remained barren.
Tiny like his hands and wide like his thighs, he found comfort in the Hershey home to the point where he liked to dance in it and pretend an upbeat song played. He didn’t bother buying (or stealing) a radio, TV, phone—anything music could play on. It was far more entertaining to imagine. That was how women were, so Jimin attempted to get more into their mindset. When it came to sex, he knew women were 90% imagining and 10% physical. While touch was important, the more he made them think about all the ways he’d pleasure them, the more willing they were to submit to his every desire.
That was how he spent the next two hours: dancing on the creaky wooden floors while warm summer winds breezed in through the broken windows.
The abode consisted of the living room, a bathroom with (somewhat) working plumbing, a bedroom Jimin slept on the floor of, and a study with a fireplace that had sputtered its last flame years ago. The air always smelled like ash mixed with hash browns thanks to him eating them every morning. Sometimes he preferred having them in his crappy bedroom instead of in McDonald’s. If there were too many people, he’d dip. Social interaction terrified him more than going a day without pussy.
Speaking of...
By the time he finished his dance recital to his audience of dust bunnies and cobwebs, he decided it was time to get his dick wet. Lucifer needed more women in hell, after all. Incubi made it their personal missions to seduce women—sometimes men, too—and have them succumb to their lust, committing one of the seven deadly sins.
Yeah, being a demon was fucking awesome.
Jimin snickered and skipped his way to the door, but when he opened it, he found himself face-to-face with a woman juggling two suitcases, a backpack, and a guinea pig. She froze and dropped one of the suitcases while the guinea pig balancing on the top of her head squealed and took a bite of the girl’s hair.
“Ow! Harry, you little rascal! No carrots for you tonight!” She huffed and narrowed her eyes at Jimin. “Are you the plumb...” She trailed off and cleared her throat, twisting her eyes up and down his attire. “Okay, no offense, but you look like a Las Vegas stripper. What are you doing in my house?”
”Your house? This house is more abandoned than I was by my dad. It’s mine now.”
She released her second suitcase and let it tumble down the grass, all so she could place both her hands on her hips. “I’m gonna ignore that. My father left this place to me in his will, so it’s mine. Maybe my name rings a bell? Y/n L/n, my father was a huge investor here.”
“Oh, yippee,” he said with an eye roll. “We have something in common: dead dads. I don’t care who your dad was, that doesn’t change that I found it. Finders keepers, losers weepers.”
“Are you five?”
Jimin beamed. “Six, but close enough.”
She took the black and white guinea pig off her head, and her hair tangled in front of her face as a result. Her hands raising allowed him a peek at her faded, gray One Direction t-shirt that ran a size too small. It lifted with her arms and showed a flash of her bare skin, which curved around the waistband of her sweatpants. She looked like a rock with hair, but a fuckable rock with hair, so that solved Jimin’s boner problem.
Y/n cradled the small pet in her arms and sighed. “Look, stranger, if you’re desperate enough to live here, I’m sorry for you, but I can’t let you stay. I can give you money for a week’s worth of a hotel room, but that’s all I can do. Please leave before I call the cops.”
He didn’t need it, but hey, free money!
“Sure,” he said, glancing at his pretty nails before smiling enough that it crinkled his eyes. “Maybe I can stop by again and buy you hash browns to repay you.”
“Sounds good to me. What’s your name?”
No one knew his name, and if he ever tried to say it, he’d burn to death and lose his immortality. If he ever found his soulmate, he’d unlock the ability to speak it; however, he was in no hurry to find them. Besides, that’d take ages considering soulmates had to touch in order to be found. So, for the time being, only Lucifer and Jimin himself knew the letters J-I-M-I-N. To everyone else, he was...
“June.” He extended his hand for her to shake it, and he hoped the prolonged skin contact would convince her to spread her legs. “At your service, ma’am.”
“O... kay,” she said with knitted brows. With one hand, she held her pet. With the other, she snaked it into Jimin’s and opened her mouth. “Well, June, I...” As she accepted his gesture, she stiffened, as did he. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Jimin wished he could shoot himself. Great. He fucking jinxed it. “June? No, that’s not right. Your name... it’s Jimin, isn’t it?”
Fucking dick fuck on a dickshit ass wipe fuck nuts.
“How the fuck do you know my name?”
But he knew. The way his heart skyrocketed into a pulse he hadn’t felt his entire life, the way his skin burst into heat not even the sun could match, and the way his lips yearned hers more than anything gave him the answer before she could speak it.
“I... don’t know.”
If Park Jimin found his soulmate and accepted her as his, he’d lose: A) his immortality, B) his powers, C) his immortality, D) getting laid by different freaky women every day, E) his immortality, F) his insatiable craving for hashbrowns, J cause he forgot what came after F) his fucking immortality. Somehow, after avoiding his soulmate for centuries, he found her. He found the woman of his “dreams.” In the middle of bumblefuck nowhere.
Well... fuck.
