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hope-film · 4 years
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cozy hobi
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diet-p0p · 4 years
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seomarkno · 4 years
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sir...
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peacheseok · 5 years
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however...
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hobies · 5 years
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i’m sorry yeontan
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minsbutt · 5 years
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he’s so giggly (●´ω`●)
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jeonggukingdom · 5 years
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the bride of Ashmedai (m)
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▽ Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
▽ Genre:  demon!AU, smut, a sprinkle of fluff and a drop of angst.
▽ Summary: You were born with only one purpose to fulfill: sacrifice your life to a Prince of Hell and save your entire lineage from eternal damnation. When blood trickled from your hand that night you were ready for doom or even worse, death. What you didn’t expect was for you to find gentle eyes of molten chocolate waiting for you and a wanton tongue welcoming you home.
↳ alternatively: the prince of lust has a thing for cunnilingus and, apparently, so do you.
▽ Word Count: 12.645 words
▽ WARNINGS: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, dirty talk, swear words, cunnilingus, rough sex, pounding, light chocking, excessive amount of squirt and cum - you have been warned.
▽ AN:  “BTS Smut Club Halloween Smut Fest: Prompt #01” (What is your greatest fear?)
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October 31st, 1888
Wind howled through the witching hour and you shivered in the confinement of the dark basement you were held in, both out of coldness and fear for what was about to happen.
Blood trickled down your hand in bright red rivulets that lapped your wrist and, as you closed your fingers into a fist, they coiled down on the dirty ground beneath your knees.
You had imagined that the pain of the cut was going to last a long time but it was actually quickly subdued by the unquenchable fear residing in your heart for, with every drop that filled up the deep cuttings that were made on the concrete floor hundreds of years ago, tinting burgundy the pentacle graved there, you were one step closer to the fulfillment of your destiny.
It was a gruesome sight to behold: all that blood, moving like a quiet river into the furrows that were made especially for it to fill up to the brim, mixing with the lifeline of those that came before you. All the lost aunts and grandmothers and grand-grandmothers that shared the same faith as you. Thousands of women you never met and you never will, only names without faces remembered within the books of your ancestry. Lives gave so you and the rest of your family could live on. One life in exchange of hundreds. Your life, in exchange for many more for years to come.
You had often imagined those faces and lives behind those old names in those wizened pages your family cherished so deeply. You had imagined worlds of wonders and happy endings so that you could placate the fear of your ineluctable future.
A shaking breath left your mouth and you closed your eyes, fighting back the tears that menaced to fall down your cheeks if only you would allow the panic to conquer you further. You had to do this, for all your people. You were born to do this.
Even knowing that, didn’t make it any easier. Growing with the knowledge that your life wasn’t really your own hadn’t been easy and it didn’t make doing this better.
You had known all your life that this moment would come: you had been prepared for it, you had studied for it and hell, you had even dreamed about it when you were little and naive. Yet, it was hard.  
You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing in loudly from your nose to try and soothe the rampant beating of your heart.
“It’s alright, ___,” you whispered to yourself, exhaling loudly to cover up the sound of the wind, piercing with its force and coldness the woods around the abandoned house, “You can do this.”
Your eyes fluttered open to find the pentacle full with the blood you shed and it was only then that the ritual commenced.
With trembling hands you had reached for the lightning match and carefully placed it above each candle at the other end of the star: one for water, one for fire, one for air, one for earth and, finally, one for spirit.
The little fires crackled in the night, the flames carried by the wind infiltrated into the empty room and you watched them, almost transfixed, as they brought a little warmness and luminosity inside the gaunt room.
The loneliness of your sacrifice had stroked you there for the first time: your eyes could now look around the space you were in, yet, there was absolutely nothing for them to see and, of course, you had known it would have been a lonely path to walk onto yet, it didn’t make the harsh reality any easier to deal with.
Your gaze had fallen on your lap then, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as your eyes focused on all the little laced details on your wedding gown, made of silk and organza and all you could feel for yourself was pity. A wedding would have been what many girls like you would dream about in the night at the ripe age of twenty and yet, here you were, wearing it like it was your funeral and you were about to be buried alive.
You shook your head to try and erase those dark thoughts and ease your mind and, with a shaky breath, you started chanting words of a foreign language you did not speak nor understand just like you were taught in the past few years. Those words had always felt empty and meaningless in the safety of your room but there, with your blood gathered around lit candles, you could feel the magic sparking up inside of you, you could feel the awakening of your dormant power. It was like a creature stirring up inside of you, ready to conquer you whole and dominate you and even consume you just like unrestrainable fire.
Your voice ringed louder in the empty room carried by the surge of power inside of you, conquering every cell in your body to leave you screaming for more, just more.
The blood you shed started boiling inside the pentacle, the flames of the candles turned acid green and rose up to the ceiling menacing to burn down the entire house and you with them. For a moment, you thought to let them just to see how grand this power of yours could be but, just as it arrived, it all went away turning everything pearly white.
For a long time, all that existed was nothing. No, it was peace, and the distant sound of your lips, trembling in the night with the remnants of your chanted spell.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like this, immobile, freezing and utterly spent by the grandiosity of your evocation spell but, at some point in time, your eyes had been able to adjust back to the dim light of the night only to find nothing had changed except for one, little, detail. Your blood was gone and the candles had been extinguished by your magic, almost melted to the core.
You had waited and waited, seated in the same spot as once you had arrived, with fear clutching your heart anew. Yet, nothing was changing and if at the beginning you had feared the accomplishment of your duty, now you feared the exact opposite for not even once in the history of your family had someone failed their sacrifice.
There was a long, terrifying moment, where you couldn’t stop imagining the worst outcomes possible and just as the image of your loved ones burning in the pits of hell infiltrated your mind, you caught a swift movement in the corner of your eyes.
Goosebumps gathered on your trembling skin and you felt your breath stilling in your lungs, holding air in waiting for the shadow to turn into the body, admitting he had one to begin with, of the demon ought to claim you.
A scream of pure terror erupted from your parted lips as someone, no, something,  fell on your lap. There was dread in your eyes as you lowered your gaze to your legs, fearing what you could see nestled there, and it was laughter that came out of your parted lips once you discovered the nature of your new companion.
There were curious hazelnut eyes staring right back at you, looking as floating beacons in the nighttime, belonging to a small but fierce-looking cat, its fur the color of charcoal.
“You scared me out of my body, kitty,” you whispered more to yourself than to the animal itself and when it purred right back at you, nudging your hand with its little head you rewarded it with a soft scratch behind its ear.
“You can’t be here, kitty,” you scratched its neck and the cat purred louder, closing its eyes to rejoice in the feeling of your fingers running through its fur.
“You should really leave this place,” you added in a whisper whilst looking around the room, searching for a sign of his arrival, “At least while you can.”
The curious eyes of the cat refocused on you and for a moment it looked like it was about to speak in return, tilting its head to the side in a way a human would have, but instead, it nudged at your hand anew, quietly asking for more.
You patted its head briefly before shaking your head no and force it onto the ground, which earned yourself a hiss and an indignant look in return.
“It’s for your sake,” you whispered to its back as it wiggled away from you, tail pointing at the ceiling, ready to disappear into the darkness anew.
Fog seemed to seep through the walls all at once right in that moment, clouding up your vision but not enough to miss the body of the cat suddenly ablaze with fire.
A scream erupted from the back of your throat, dread spreading through your limbs like a wave of gelid water, and you closed your eyes, hugging yourself in seek of some sort of comfort and protection.
When you had the courage to open back up your eyes, the fog had gone just as it had appeared and standing right in front of you there was a young man.
Feline-like eyes of molten chocolate stared down at you with mirth reflected in them and on the little smile on his rosy lips. His hair appeared to be as dark as the cat’s fur had been and it was only then that you realized it had to be him all along, studying you, assessing you, teasing you.
“You are trembling like a leaf, doll,” he said, his voice like melted honey to your ears, whilst taking a step closer to crouch down in front of you, forcing you to look inside his eyes.
“Are you cold or are you scared?” He tilted his head to the side just like he did when he was a cat and you gulped down audibly, wetting your dry lips before parting your mouth, ready to answer his question.
One of his fingers came in contact with your chin to lift it up the slightest bit, just enough for you to be at eye-level with him and that infinitesimal touch was all it took for your voice to disappear inside your throat.
“Kitty got your tongue?” He asked, giggling at his own joke and you forced a smile on your lips, unable to utter a single word still, too entranced by not only his presence but also the way he looked and talked — so astonishingly human.
You hadn’t known what you had been expecting back then, maybe something broader, or claws, or teeth as sharp as swords or maybe even horns but, even when you had been a small kid, this hadn’t been what you had been prepared for.
“Do you know who I am?” He inquired further, trying to break the seal around your tongue to get at least one answer to his many questions.
“Y-yes?” you whispered, lips trembling alongside with your body and even you couldn’t tell if it was more the fear or the cold seeping through your bones reducing you to such a state.
“Say it.”
You gulped down as his eyes narrowed on you, all hilarity gone from his features, and parted your mouth to push the words out despite the weakness laced between them.
“You are Ashmedai, the seventh Prince of Hell, my lord” his eyes bored into you and for a moment you thought you could see fire blazing inside them, ready to come out and consume your body to the bones.
“That’s who I am for the rest of the world.” His voice was sharp as he spoke those words, cutting through the air like the finest sword ever created and successfully making the hair on your neck stand up, “Who am I to you?”
“M-my husband, my lord?” Your voice sounded small as you spoke those words but they did have the desired effect on him for a small smile crept up on his lips.
“Ding-ding-ding,” he said, mimicking the sound a bell would make and you felt the ice that had formed around your insides melt, allowing your body to relax under his now warmer gaze.
“Now come, doll, we have a wedding to attend.”
His warm hands were quick to find the curve of your hips, his digits pressing lightly on the clothed skin to guide you upwards until you were standing right in front of him. There was a moment of silence as he looked at you whole, taking in not only the dress but, you were sure, the shape of your body under it.
“Am I...,” you started speaking but stopped once his eyes refocused on you, his whole undivided attention on your parted lips, waiting for the question pending on your tongue. You had to divert your gaze on the ground to force the words out, feeling the blood rush to your face in abashment, “Do I satisfy you, my lord?”
He chuckled and you felt the skin on your face turning feverish as the embarrassment grew within your heart and mind, clouding all your thoughts. When did it start to matter whether he was happy about you or not? You were his sacrifice, his spoils, you hadn’t chosen this, he had.
“You are lovely, doll,” he said, grasping your chin to force your head up and make you look into his eyes again, “I bet we’re going to have an amazing time together.”
You didn’t know whether to take that as a promise or a threat but you weren’t granted enough time to ponder on it for the next second your body was encased by teal fire lapping at your skin as if it were to burn it and then everything around you contorted and twisted until it all went black.
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Strong arms were wrapped firmly around you and as you regained your consciousness you were made aware of the fact that they were the only thing keeping you standing. Nausea had filled your mouth and your head still seemed to be spinning alongside with the world as you once knew it.
“There, there, doll. It’s all over.”
The foreign yet familiar voice forced you to peer your eyes away from the ground below your feet and upwards, towards its owner.
Ashmedai was staring right back at you, a little smile tugging on his lips as he exhaled, releasing his grip around your body.
“Good girl,” he said and you looked for a teasing glint inside his eyes but there was none, “You’re one of the few that didn’t pass out on me,” he explained further, completely releasing you from his arms but still standing close enough to catch you if your legs suddenly decided to give up on you.
“What happened?” Your voice was weak and barely above a whisper and it was only an inkling of how spent your body felt in that moment.
“Well,” he tilted his head to the side and smiled wickedly at you, a playful glint in his eyes, “We traveled to your new home.”
Your eyes wandered off of his face to fix upon the scenery surrounding you: all you could see were rocks as bright as fire all around you, dividing the space into corridors that seemed to be endless and vacant of any sign of life.
“Home?” You asked, voice shaky and laced with the fear for his answer. Of course, a part of you had known all along that your world wasn’t going to be your home anymore but, at the same time, the other half of you prayed for that part to be wrong.
“Welcome to hell, doll.”
His laugh was warm and if you were in a very different situation you would find it pacifying instead of absolutely terrifying.
“Am I dead?!”
Your eyes, big as saucers, fixed upon him anew with a new fear residing in your heart and he simply laughed at you, shaking his head to dismiss the dumb question.
“Of course not, doll. Why would I kill my wife?”
His hot breath hit your skin right where the neck connects with the ear and you shivered at the sensation, your insides twitching painfully in your stomach.
“Now come, everyone is waiting for us.”
There were thousands of questions you wanted to ask but all of these got stuck in your throat the moment he grabbed your hand and guided you through the impossible maze of the endless corridors of the pits of Hell.
Every wall looked absolutely the same and you had no idea how anyone could orientate themselves within this place. You, surely, wouldn’t be able to do so and a part of you wondered if that was the whole point behind this intricate structure.
You walked behind him for long, long minutes that almost felt like hours and, the more you walked beside him the more you couldn’t decide whether you felt your body warming up more with each step simply because you were finally moving, because his hand was grasping your won or because the place was actually getting warmer the more into its depth you went.
That question, though, was answered once you arrived at the end of one of those corridors and you were welcomed by blazing fires lit in every corner of the room. They looked like bonfires scorching up the ceiling and there wasn’t wood stoking it. Fire, you had found out quickly, simply generated itself from magic in the pits of Hell.
Your mouth hung open as you stopped right at the entrance of the spacious room. If you thought the corridors were vacant of life, that room was the complete opposite: thousands of people were standing there, some were laughing, some were talking and many were looking right at you.
“Everyone!” The gentle voice of Ashmedai erupted behind you, roaring with the authority you were sure he was used to exert within these flaming walls, “Meet my lovely bride, ___”
All eyes set on you the moment he pronounced those words and your breath got stuck within your lungs. You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks and your heart speeding up under the scrutiny of so many strangers eyes. So many demons eyes.
Some looked like Ashmedai did: they had mundane faces, human bodies, and nothing would give away their true nature if they were to walk to Earth. But some, oh, some looked like they belonged inside your nightmares. They were the kind of demons you would have thought you were going to get married to.
There were long claws and pointed teeth, there were skins that looked scorched by the sun or green like grass, there were eyes white like paper or red like fire. There were bodies made of rocks instead of flesh and there were some that looked as incorporeal as smoke. It was a sight you thought you would be terrified of and, for a moment, you were. But then, when smiles appeared and the hand of your future husband came in contact with your own a strange tranquility spread within you. It was a feeling you had never known before and one you had been seeking for all your life: the feeling of being finally home.
“All hail the bride of Ashmedai!” the little crowd roared in your favor and merrily toasted with what looked to be wine but, a part of you feared, could also be blood as scarlet as that liquid looked.
“You don’t look scared,” Ashmedai noted, whispering in your ear and you nodded your head slightly, letting him slowly guide you through the room to introduce you to the demons.
“I’m not, my lord.”
“Congratulations, doll,” he smirked as you looked at him, puzzled by his words, “You are officially the first one that hasn’t cried, screamed or tried to run away at the sight of my family.”
You could see why anyone in their right state of mind would react that way and, truly, you were surprised by yourself as well because this feeling in your heart was something you could not explain at all.
“I knew you were different,” he stated, interlacing his fingers with your own into an intimate gesture you surely weren’t ready for, “When you were evoking me, when the power awoke inside of you, you weren’t scared at all. You wanted more.”
You stopped on your tracks to stare into his eyes, shock reflected in your expression as your mouth hung open whilst you searched for the right words.
“How?” You asked, shaking your head slightly for there was no way he could have known that, “How do you know?”
He chuckled, tilting his head to the side to assess you and then he placed a finger right against your temple.
“Because the moment you said my name out loud I could hear all your thoughts in here,” he dragged his finger down your face, palming your cheek briefly before reaching the expanse of your chest, stopping right above your heart, “And I could feel all that you were feeling in here.”
His voice had dropped down to barely a whisper and it made you shiver not only for what his words meant but also, for how your body reacted to his very touch. It felt like every part of you was begging to be touched by him, to be held within his arms. It was like every cell in your body was being pulled towards him as magnets, gravitating towards the core.
“Can you still read my thoughts?” You asked in both curiosity and anguish for you really had no desire to put all you had out on the line.
“Why? Should I be scared of what I may find there?”
“Of course not, my Lord!”
There it was again: the need to please him, to be enough for him, to not be a disappointment. But you couldn’t fathom why when you had just met him.
He smiled at you before caressing your face with tenderness, as if he cherished you deeply — something you doubted was the truth.
“Don’t worry, doll, it was all temporary. The moment our souls merged we were like one and now, we are two again.”
You couldn’t understand his words to their fullest but they ringed true to your ears because that was the only explanation as to why your body craved his proximity so much. It did felt like a part of you wanted to reunite with him and, you realized, that was your soul, calling his.
“When are you going to introduce us, brother?” A soft voice behind your back peeled you off of your thoughts and you turned around to look into its owner eyes.
The demon looked as human as your future husband did: he had eyes of coal and hair blue like the night sky. A gentle smile tugged on his rosy plump lips as he studied you, a playful glint in his eyes.
“My pleasure to meet you, ____” The demon bowed his head slightly and so did you in return, seeking your companion’s eyes for help.
“It’s my pleasure, my Lord.” You said in return, voice shaky with uncertainty.
The demon boy hummed and looked at his brother for a brief moment.
“I like her, she has manners and the looks.”
“T-thank you, my Lord?” You were baffled not only by his words but also at the way he was talking about you as you weren’t there to hear it and he giggled at your response, making blood pool on your cheeks in embarrassment.
“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”
“Jimin,” Ashmedai growled right next to you and you looked up at him, surprised at how quickly his mannerism changed, “Don’t you dare to even think about it.”
The other demon laughed and raised his hands in defeat whilst walking backwards to step away from you.
“Are these all your brothers?” You asked once the demon was out of earshot and Ashmedai chuckled next to you, shaking his head.
“I guess, in a way. But no, I technically have five brothers and you just met one of them.”
“You mean he’s another Prince? I never heard of a Prince named Jimin,” you furrowed your brows in confusion and he hummed in response.
“Humans call him Mammon. He’s known for his greed,” he sighed at his last words, focusing his gaze to a smaller group of people at your right side.
“Come, I’ll let you meet the others.”
You followed suit, more questions pending on your tongue as he dragged you through the hall but those were pushed at the back of your mind the moment you were introduced to the rest of his brothers.
There was a tense moment of silence as they all studied you and you could do nothing except curtsy at them and wait for their approval.
“What a cute little thing.”
A man with mint hair said, a pout on his lips as he looked at you as if you were part of an exposition of some sort.
“Pleasure to meet you, my Lords,” you responded, trying to look at them without staring. Now that they were standing together next to each other, including Ashmedai, you noticed how terribly handsome they all were. They didn’t look like demons at all, they looked like angels.
“____, this is Belphegor.” Sloth, you thought, recalling all you had read in the books through the years. The demon responsible for human laziness whilst being a sinner himself.
“Oh, please, for all things deviant, do not call me that,” the man spat out, disgusted by the name he was made known to the human world, “Just call me Yoongi.”
“At least your name sounds somewhat glorious,” a tall demon to your left said, rolling his eyes. He seemed to radiate light like a sun would as he focused his eyes on you: he had hair of auburn and deep chocolate eyes and he looked breathtakingly and effortlessly handsome.
“I guess you would know me as Leviathan but please, just call me Seokjin.” Envy, you noted to yourself while giving the demon a gentle smile in return. Truthfully, though, the man standing right in front of you seemed to have nothing to envy to any other living creature on the planet and it made you wonder: were all those Princes guilty of the sins they installed inside the humans’ hearts or were they just the carriers, the inspirators?
“Please don’t mind my brothers, they love to act like little kids,” another man spoke from the center of the group. He was lean and tall and he was absolutely gorgeous. He had blonde hair and a tender look in his eyes, lips as soft as a pillow that contrasted deeply with the sharp line of his jaw.
“Says the one with the ominous name to the ears of humans,” muttered Seokjin behind you.
“Yes, my name is Lucifer but in here, you can call me Namjoon if you wish to.” Lucifer. For many years you had associated that name with the Devil itself but you had learned them to be distinct entities. Namjoon, he was the fallen angel the sacred scriptures talked about. He was Pride himself and the only one that truly faced the consequences for his sins: he had lost his wings, his grace and the favor of God.
“Jeongguk for Hell’s sake would you please stop eating and introduce yourself to your brother’s bride?” Yoongi shouted all of a sudden, tugging on the shirt of a young-looking demon to your far left.
“Wad’sso spezialbout her, he hadhundredsalvready?”
“Don’t speak while you’re eating you mannerless brat.”
The demon flinched as his evidently older brother assessed a smack behind his head and he gulped down hastily, fixing his gaze upon you. His eyes were fawn-like, big as saucers and glinting with vitality and they made him look adorable and absolutely harmless, despite the fact that his muscular body suggested otherwise.
He stretched his thin lips into a smile and slightly bowed his head towards you.
“Welcome in our mists, I’m Jeongguk.”
You bowed your head in return and astonishingly watched him retreat towards the buffet to stuff his face with what looked like regular human food but, of course, you knew by now that look could be quite deceiving. Those demons around you were a clear example of that.
“Beelzebub?” You asked towards your future husband, assuming his human-known name by the evident sin he had been corrupted with. Gluttony.
“Yes, that would be him.” He answered in a sigh as he watched his brother eat for a little longer before turning towards you.
“Come, I should probably introduce you to Father.”
“Father?”
You didn’t know why it sounded so weird to hear him say that but having a father and a mother seemed something so mundane, it felt odd to have demons pronounce those words or even act like a family.
The man he wanted to introduce to you looked extremely young, definitely not even close to being his father or any of the other demons father’s, and he possessed a beauty so ethereal you couldn’t wrap your head around it.
His skin seemed to shine like melted gold, he had hair the color of wheat and eyes as dark as charcoal and he had this peaceful expression on his divine-like features.
“_______, meet Satan.” Wrath, your mind suggested as your heart beat erratically in your chest.
The man fixed his eyes upon you as he heard his name being called and a smile stretched on his lips. His name had made dread spark inside of you, conquering your limbs with ice, and then his smile had melted all of it with the force of a thousand suns.
“There, there, don’t be so scared, little one,” He said, voice as deep as the oceans, “No harm will ever be done to you by none of us.”
“I-I know, my Lord.”
“I know how the name rings to human ears and, truthfully, I strive in that fear but you are no longer a mundane girl, you are a Princess in our midst now,” he cocked his head to the side before touching your cheek with his warm and long fingers, “But if it creates discomfort for you to say, you can call me Taehyung.”
You nodded your head in understanding, incapable of uttering a single word for you had just met the Devil itself, the worst sinner of them all, and he had granted you the opportunity to call him by his given name.
For years you had thought that sacrificing yourself meant to be a slave of the demons. It was a punishment for your family, after all. For the witches in your ancestry that wronged the Princes and paid for it with their lives and the offer of the second female born in their families for all the years to come, each one to a different Prince until the cycle was full and ready to begin anew.
But here, in the pits of Hell, you were being treated with respect, with care, and as a Princess. As one of their kind.
With these thoughts swirling in your mind you hadn’t noticed that Ashmedai was guiding you through the other far end of the hall, an arm behind your back, and it was only when you were standing right in front of a door painted white with flowers on its arch, you registered the change in scenery.
“It is time for us to wed, my dear.”
You looked around you to find everyone in the room looking at the both of you, including Jeongguk despite the fact that he was still chewing on something you really didn’t want to know the origin of.
Taehyung stood between you and Ashmedai, ready for the ceremony to commence.
Your soon-to-be husband took your hands in his and motioned to his father so he could wrap a satin white cloth around your linked limbs.
“We do not share empty words when we wed our couples,” Taehyung said, looking at you, “Words are easy to say and easier to forget, thus, what unites us resides in our blood.”
A ghost blade cut through the tender skin of your left hand and you yelped in pain and surprise, refocusing your gaze on Ashmedai, right across from you.
His face was relaxed as blood, looking pretty much like yours except darker, leaked out of the cut on his hand, pooling down on the ground between you and tinting the cloth tied around your hands a vivid red.
“Until a single drop of blood resides within your bodies you shall remain husband and wife.”
There were cheers roaring all around you and your head was spinning with the spectrum of different emotions running through your heart and mind.
“Are you ok, love?”
You looked at your husband, wrapping the cloth against your wounded hand and you struggled to find an answer to that question.
“I...” you furrowed your brows because you could feel a sense of excitement building up within you, a feeling of happiness amongst the dread, the grief, the fear, “I don’t know.” You confessed, voice as small as you felt right at that moment.
It was a lot, maybe even too much, and definitely, plenty to deal with all at once.
The fatigue of the night and the sacrifice, the fear that had clutched your heart for days, the travel from the Earth to the deep pits of Hell, they all came crushing on you all of a sudden and even though your eyes were open the entire time, the rest of the evening and the party remained to be just hazed moments you would barely remember in the morning.
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Laughter and music rang in your ears as you crossed the infinite-looking hallways with your husband leading the way, his hand tightly grasping your own. The contact had become already familiar after the many hours spent holding him that way and you had found out it was a great comfort for your shaken state. Despite the welcoming party and the kindness of those that were supposed to be demons, you were still overwhelmed by it all and, honestly, it felt all like a dream you were bound to wake up from and face the much crueler reality.
When he stopped in front of a door made out of obsidian you felt your insides clench. Yes, the touch of his hand around your own had been comforting but dread was quick to find its way in your stomach when you were forced to face the fact that it was your first night together as husband and wife and that could only result into one outcome.
He opened the door for you and led you in, closing your only way out immediately after you had stepped into the spacious ambient. It was honestly beautiful: the walls looked as black and sleek as the door had but there were many candles lit throughout the whole room, engulfing everything into a dim warm light. There was one of those hellish fire erupting at the far corner of the room, right next to the giant granite bed to keep you warm even in the coldest nights — well, as cold as hell could get, at least.
“Do you like it?” Your husband chimed in, his hot breath brushing through the hair falling on your shoulders.
“It’s lovely, my Lord.” It truly was but you could not enjoy it at its fullest when thoughts of a very different nature were dancing inside your mind.
“You know, demons do not really care for titles,” he said, moving past you and motioning you to follow suit, “You can really stop calling me Lord.”
Those words reminded you of how his brothers had introduced themselves with name foreign to you and far different from those written in the books.
“Can I ask you a question, my Lo-?” he pressed a finger atop your lips before you could speak another word and you smiled at the playful gesture, trying to hide the rampant beating of your heart, scared he could actually hear it when standing so close to you.
“Of course you can, everything you want to know.”
“I was wondering... do you like to be called Ashmedai? Or do you have another name like your brothers do?”
He smiled endearingly at your question and it was the first time you noticed a set of dimples on his cheeks, a detail that provided a touch of cuteness to his features, rendering him even less demonic-looking to your eyes.
“I don’t mind the name humans have chosen for me, no,” he said with a little shrug, “But here, everyone calls me Hoseok.”
“Hoseok,” you repeated tentatively, liking the way his name sounded on your lips.
“You like that?” He asked, chuckling as you kept whispering his name to adjust to the sound of it and not make the mistake of calling him Lord again.
“I think it suits you,” you confessed, staring straight into his hazelnut eyes.
He took your chin into two of his fingers, forcing you closer to his face and you closed your eyes, your body rigid as you waited for the kiss. A kiss that never came.
“It’s my turn to ask a question.”
You opened your eyes, gulping down your nervousness as he studied your expression.
“You have been on edge ever since I opened that door,” he stated. It wasn’t a question, it was a fact and you couldn’t deny it in the slightest, “So tell me, what is your greatest fear?”
You opened your mouth only to close it immediately after, incapable of finding the right answer to his question. Not because you didn’t know, but because you didn’t want to anger him, not now, possibly not ever. Despite his appearance and his manners, he was still a demon that demanded a sacrifice for himself every few years and you certainly weren’t the first woman he married just as you wouldn’t be the last one he’d watch die.
“Is it me?” He asked, quirking a brow up and you shook your head no instantaneously.
“I’m not scared of you,” you offered with all the sincerity you could muster and his eyes reduced to little slits, staring right through you to discover all your inner secrets.
“I do not like lies, ______,” he said, his voice low and menacing.
A shiver ran down your spine and you gulped down heavily, “I-I have something to confess and I don’t know how you will react, my L-, I’m sorry, I’m really nervous and-and...”
He shushed you with a touch of his finger on your lips and you inhaled deeply to calm yourself and the quivering of your limbs.
“What is it?”
“I’m... I’m not a virgin.”
It was a secret you thought you’d take to the grave, well, to this grave but it was now out in the open and yes, you were scared because every woman before you had been chaste for a bride should always wait for her husband. But this wasn’t a husband you loved nor wanted so when a boy back home had captured your heart, you had taken the chance to feel at least like you could choose something in your life. And you had chosen to concede yourself to him.
“Is that why you’re trembling like a leaf?” He asked, tilting your head upwards so he could study you further, “Because you’re scared I’d reject you or, worse, kill you?”
It scared you that he could read you so easily while you had no idea what to expect from him but a part of you was relieved because in his words, you couldn’t hear the slightest hint of disappointment.
“It is...”
The storm that had spread inside his eyes and on his features dissipated as soon as you spoke, subdued with a far warmer look and a playful chuckle.
“Oh, sweet, sweet ______,” he shook his head releasing your grip and you sighed as he took a step away from you, “I’m a demon and I had hundreds of wives and even more lovers, I do not care about such trivial things as chastity. You know lust is what I’m made of.”
He took a few steps closer to you, just enough to sneak one of his arms behind your back and attract you forward until your chest was pressed against his own.
“I may look human but I am not, the rules of your world do not apply to me,” he nudged your nose with his own and you held your breath, “I will confess you something,” he wet his lips, closing the distance between your faces enough for his breath to hit your skin, “The fact that you are no longer a virgin excites me all the more,” you could feel his lips gracing your own and you struggled to keep your eyes open, surprised to find your body aching for the contact of his mouth atop your own, “It means I don’t need to be gentle at all.”
His kiss was hot and passionate, all teeth and tongue prying past your lips to seek your own and it was so different from the kisses you had shared with that boy back home. It had been sweet that day, a little awkward but still quite enjoyable but that, that was something else.
He pulled your body closer until you could barely breathe within his arms and the way he kissed you was relentless and desperate as if were a man stranded in a desert with no water and you were the oasis allowing him to quench his thirst.
You sighed and whimpered inside his mouth and the little sounds you emitted seemed to propel his passion forward until you were both panting in need of oxygen.
“Fuck, I didn’t desire a human girl this much in such a long time,” he hoarsely said, more to himself than to you, surely, but it still made your insides clench pleasantly for his desire was the fuel to your own.
His hands once gentle around your frame turned rough and needy as they pulled at every corner possible of your dress until they were tearing it apart, leaving you undressed and bashful before his eyes.
The hazelnut irises you had come to know in the past few hours disappeared into two pits as black as coal as he took you and your nudity in.
He licked his lips like a feline ready to jump on its prey and you trembled under his scrutiny and, truthfully, even you couldn’t decide if it was dread for the duty you were out to play as his wife that you felt or if it was excitement and desire for his far more intimate touch.
“______,” he called out your name, lifting his gaze to meet your own and you felt every muscle in your body still, waiting for his next words, “I may be a demon but I have no desire to force my way on you so this is your chance: if you want me to leave right now say the words and I will be gone. But if you want me to stay...” he trailed off, his voice lowering a few octaves as his mind went adrift to all the things he wanted to do to you and those things, you wanted to discover and try them all.
Desire was something you had experienced very little in your life. Yearning was what you were used to but this fire, this urge, was something foreign that you didn’t know how to handle nor quench and your husband, as deviant as it may have sound, was providing you with a solution you weren’t ready to pass out on.
With a surge of boldness, you walked out of the shreds of your dress, taking a step closer to your lover as to make a point while staring deeply into his eyes.
“I don’t want you to stop,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper for despite the burning desire you could still feel timidity seeping through the cracks of this current bolder mask you were wearing.
There was a shift on Hoseok’s features and where once resided a gentle and playful smile, now there was a devilish smirk but one you weren’t afraid of. Instead, your insides clenched and it felt like bliss and you unconsciously rubbed your thighs together for a bit of friction where you seemed to need it the most.
He growled at the sight of you and his hands found their way back to your naked body, pressing his digits on the supple flesh in a way you were sure was bound to leave markings there but, surprisingly, you didn’t mind that in the slightest.
He lifted you up like you weighed nothing and unceremoniously dropped you on the bed, ready to claim your body as his after he had already claimed your soul during the wedding ritual.
He towered above you and you gulped down expectantly as he discarded his own clothes as quickly as he possibly could.
His body was lean and slender and where you had imagined to find only supple flesh to touch and kiss, he had muscles not overwhelmingly buffed but still sculpted like a Greek statue.
Your gaze traveled down from his toned chest to the defined stomach and then they fixed upon the greatest discovery of the night. Hoseok, despite his appearance, carried quite the gift between his legs. Surely, you didn’t have much of an experience having been the lover of only a single boy but you could still recognize how impressive his member looked now that it was fully erected and tinted a shade of angry red.
You gulped down heavily and he smirked at you, tilting his head to the side as he slowly stroked himself with the only goal to tease you in his mind.
“Do you like what you see, doll?” He asked, voice raspy with the neediness his hand on his shaft betrayed and you hummed in response whilst opening your legs wider for him, offering him your sex on a silver plate.
He growled at the sight of you naked, unharmed and so willing to concede yourself to him and almost as if possessed, he fell on his knees and aligned his face to your pulsating core.
You could feel the excitement building inside of you just with the soft touch of his hot breath against your feverish skin and as he purposely blew out air atop your sex, you were also made aware of how wet just the sight of him had made you.
He lifted his gaze from between your legs up to your face and locked yours onto his eyes as his lips stretched into a dirty smile.
“I’m going to make you feel really good, doll.” You couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a promise by the low growl he emitted alongside those words but as you watched his tongue move past his lips you were pretty sure he meant for it to be the latter.
Hoseok had appeared to be human at first sight but you had been quick to notice that where the eyes couldn’t land in normal circumstances, he was far from it in all the best ways.
His tongue didn’t look human in the slightest but far more serpentine and definitely far longer than any other tongue you had ever seen.
You clenched on thin air at the sight of his wet muscle ready to bring you pleasure and it was a thought you had never indulged in but, now that you were presented with the opportunity to feel a mouth atop your swollen lips, you could hardly contain the excitement.
His hands came to rest around your hips, keeping you firmly pressed onto the bed as he directed his full attention at the treasure held between your legs.
The first lick of his tongue around your folds made you whimper at the foreign sensation, the second made you sigh and discover that you liked it and you wanted more of that. So much more.
His licks were closer to little tentative laps and you were sure he was just teasing you, trying to discover where your limit was so he could make you reach it before giving you the blessing feeling you so desperately craved for.
You whined impatiently and felt his lips stretch into a smile on your sex before his tongue withdrew from it, making you shiver at the sudden loss of its touch.
“Are you that eager for me to fuck you, doll?”
Swearing and talking dirty weren’t a thing you were used to for it wasn’t considered proper for a young woman like you to indulge in such activities but Hoseok had made this point very clear: human rules and laws did not apply in Hell.
“Yes, please,” you whimpered, trying to rock your hips forward to meet his tongue again, “I want you to fuck me so hard I can barely walk tomorrow.”
Your words were lewd and you were going to feel ashamed for them in the morning, once your desire was quenched and all that remained was sobriety and memories of the night but they did work wonders on him.
He emitted an animalistic growl and he kissed your folds with new-found fervor, sucking on the little mound above your slit. The feeling sent a bolt of electricity running through your body and you closed your eyes, arching your back towards the ceiling.
His tongue lapped at your core fervently, gathering all your juices on its surface, the taste of you making him hum in contentment.
“You have the sweetest cunt I ever tasted,” he rasped out and you moaned at the feeling of your insides clenching blissfully at his words.
If you thought his tongue felt amazing on your folds, you certainly weren’t prepared for the storm of pleasure that hit you the moment he moved past your slit and lapped at your inner walls.
That serpentine tongue seemed to extend to no end, conquering every inch of you he could possibly access and even those remote corners that were never stroked before in your entire lifetime.
His tongue seemed to share the length and the girth of a cock inside of you but being soft and pliable allowed him to adjust it inside of you with the slightest amount of effort. It felt like being sent to Heaven and you were whimpering out his name in a matter of seconds.
When your back arched to the ceiling and your ass lifted from the bed he held you in that position with his strong arms, relishing in the better access you were providing him with.
He hummed on top of your skin, his parted lips closing just enough for him to suck on your mound and the sensation of his tongue inside of you intensified as your walls clenched around him. He was driving you absolutely insane and all you could do was quiver under his ministrations and beg for more.
The squelching sounds of your dripping sex only added fuel to the fire and you were soon rendered incapable of uttering a single word.
Your heaving breaths guided him to your pleasure spot and once he hit the little bundle of nerves deep within you, you crumbled and succumbed to the immense pleasure.
You thought you had felt that before, that little snapping feeling that signified the release you had been craving for but what you were feeling in that moment was something you had never felt before. It was a bliss you had never known and you barely registered the fact that he was still lapping inside of you as you came all over his face and tongue with a load of squirt you hadn’t even thought possible to come out of someone’s body.
“Shit that was hot,” his raspy voice came to you muffled as if you had cotton in your ears and it took a lot of effort for you to open the eyes you didn’t realize you had close at some point.
He was staring at you, mouth dripping with your juices and you whimpered at the sight of his disheveled hair and bright red cheeks.
“What...” Words were stuck in your dry as sand mouth and you had to wet them profusely before you could try to speak again, “What just happened?”
He chuckled at you, shaking his head as he started caressing your cheek in that loving way that made your heart squeeze.
“That, my dear, was the pleasure I promised I’d give to you.”
“I want more,” you quickly retorted before shutting your mouth to bite your bottom lip in shame. When had you become so needy and desperate for someone’s touch?
“Feisty girl,” he muttered to himself whilst adjusting his position on top of you so that your chests could touch and he could claim your mouth anew.
His lips were incredibly soft and hot against yours and you could taste your own juices in his mouth and that seemed to only amplify your desire to feel pleasure and bring it to him in return.
His hands had turned gentle again and they were caressing the sides of your body, descending to your hips and then upwards to cup your breasts and make you sigh into the kiss.
All these little touches and the passionate kisses seemed to add fuel to the already raging fire residing in your belly and you found yourself tugging on his hair, bringing him closer so you could rock your hips into his own, lodged between your legs.
You could feel his erection pressing on your stomach and he hissed at the first movement of your hips and the little friction that movement provided.
“Do you want to drive me insane, love?” He asked on your mouth, panting as you kept rocking against him, “I’m trying to make sure you’re well prepared for my cock, you little vixen.”
“I want to feel you inside of me,” you replied, brushing your nose against his own as your hand traveled south between your bodies so you could feel his erection between your fingers.
His breath staggered as you brushed his leaking head with your thumb and you took that as a sign you could go further with your touch.
Your hand enveloped his hard cock and you gave him a tentative stroke, rejoicing in the way he hissed and sighed for you.
“I want you to feel pleasure, too.” You added, your actions rendered bolder by all of his little sounds.
You kissed his lips, initiating contact for the first time and he let you take control over it, adjusting to your pace and opening his mouth as soon as you asked for entrance with the tip of your tongue.
“Shiiiit,” he hissed on your mouth as your hand gave his cock two fast pumps and you smirked in return, relishing in all the little whines that erupted from his mouth.
“Hell, I’m fucking you right now,” he bit your bottom lip as he spoke those words and you let go of his member, spreading your legs enough for him to align to your still dripping core.
He coated his cock with your juices, teasing your clitoris with his head until you were whining loudly, desperate to feel him sheathed deep inside of you.
You sighed as he moved past your folds, slowly pushing himself forward an inch at a time. You wanted it to feel heavenly but he hadn’t been lying when he had said he had to make sure you were fully prepared for him.
Your walls were stretching and contracting madly around him, trying to adjust to the impressive girth of his length.
He whispered little encouragements every time he pushed himself further inside of you, his gaze locked on your eyes to reassure you that soon, it would feel as good as you had imagined it to be.
Feeling him like this inside of you, despite the slight discomfort, felt like magic in itself already and the way he was looking at you, with such a care in his eyes, were enough to wood the fire within your heart and stomach.
The tip of his cock brushed against the battered center of your sex and you sighed at the sensation, your walls stretching completely to welcome him inside of you.
You had never felt as full and complete as you felt in that moment and you realized that the pull you had been feeling the entire night had finally subsided. Your souls were one again and the notion made you whimper in contentment.
“You’re doing so well, doll,” he said whilst pushing the last inches of his length inside of you before withdrawing his hips, making you whine at the feeling of loss between your legs.
He pushed himself inside of you again, dragging the movement to make it as soft and slow as he possibly could but it was still enough for the pleasure to spark back up within you.
“P-please, faster,” you whimpered, rocking your hips forward to meet his pace.
He kissed your lips to gulp down your sighs as he pushed himself in and out of you a little rougher but still frustratingly slow.
The drag of his cock and the stretching of your walls felt like a bliss not even his tongue could provide you with and even with the soft waves of his hips on your own, the excitement build up quickly within you.
“Ah, yes, please-please don’t stop,” your voice sounded strained and whiny to your ears but it seemed like the right kind of response he relished in for he started rocking his hips faster, seeking out his pleasure alongside with your own.
“Ugh, you’re so big, Hoseok,” you choked out, your fingers tight into fists on the bed’s covers, “Ah! Yes, yes, just like that, fuck, Hoseok!”
He grunted and leaned forward to trap your bottom lip between his teeth and you hissed at both the pain and the pleasure of the act. The supple flesh of your mouth felt swollen and battered but it didn’t stop you from returning the ferocity of his searing kisses.
“I love the sound of my name on your lips,” he confessed before biting down your neck as he intensified the rhythm between your legs.
“Oh yeah?” You whimpered out, tilting your head backward to grant him an easier access to the soft skin he so loved to torture, “Make me come and you’ll hear more of that.”
You could barely recognize your own voice as you spoke those lewd words but it felt liberating being free like this, with no walls or masks but just you. This sacrifice wasn’t a sacrifice at all, it was a blessing, a free ticket out of a prison.
You yelped as Hoseok forcefully grasped your hips and switched your positions, letting you take control over your own pleasure.
“Fuck me, then, doll,” he said, relaxing against the mattress, “Show me all you’ve got.”
He needn’t say another word before you were rotating your hips on top of his, searching for that blissful spot within you that could make you crumble into pieces in just a couple of minutes.
His abdomen was contracting madly beneath you, the pace you set for yourselves taking its toll on him and you recognize in him the hints of an upcoming orgasm.
You raised your hips slightly and sank back into him, clenching your walls around his length until he hissed at the sensation.
His hands found the small of your breasts, cupping them as you bounced on his legs, feeling his balls hit your ass with every new stroke of your hips against his.
His fingers pinched your nipples and you moaned loudly, tilting your head backward at the wave of electricity that sparked within you.
Your eyes were closed in bliss as you kept fucking him like this so you didn’t see his mouth open nor his tongue move past his lips until the wet muscle was pressed against your mound, licking and pressing down on the little bundle of nerves atop your sex.
“Oh, fffuck!”
You pried your eyes open and the sight of him, so completely focused on your pleasure he was discarding his own just to see your face contort and watch your mouth shape out the sound of his name, was all it took for the pleasure to snap again within you, making you come in spurts of arousal that pooled down on his abdomen and between your legs.
As you struggled to keep your balance while the high washed over you, he kept you steady on his cock by grasping your hips and resuming his own pace within you.
The over-stimulation was sending tears to your eyes and it was too much, to the point it almost hurt until even that disappeared, subdued by new pleasure.
“Ugh, you’re so fucking tight, doll, I’m going to fucking burst,” he said, breath ragged with the effort to keep himself going despite the excitement building within him.
“Uh, yes?” You wheezed out, sweat dripping from your forehead down your neck, “Are you going to fill my pussy with your cum?”
He moaned loudly at your words and you shivered at the deep sound, almost feeling it reverberating within your rib cage and before you could even process it, you were coming all over again but, this time, he came alongside with you.
You could feel his release within you, mixing with all your juices, making a mess of both your bodies and the covers of the bed.
“Fuck that, I want more,” he groaned beneath you before pushing you off of his body to turn you over and drag you at the edge of the bed.
Your feet touched the ground and he forced your legs open, humming at the sight of your dripping core.
You rested your temple on the bed, your eyes focused behind your back as you watched him align himself to push his still quite erected cock inside of you.
The lewd sound of your squelching pussy filled up the room and you contracted your walls around him, sighing with the relief of feeling him so deep inside of you again.
He rotated his hips and hit your core with such a force you were pushed forward and had to grasp the covers to not lose your balance and fall on your knees.
He had been gentle and slow at first but now, now he was ready to give you what you had wanted all along.
His strokes were fierce in and out of you and as you started mewling for him he picked up his pace until he was pounding inside of you, balls slapping your ass with every move of his hips.
“Does it feel good, doll?”
“Yes, ugh, so fucking good,” you whimpered out and he grabbed your hair, pulling your head back to look inside your eyes.
“Ha-harder,” you groaned and he happily complied, angling himself to reach that spot he had already mapped out multiple times that night.
Your eyes turned white as the head of his cock hit his target and he dragged you on your feet, anchoring one of his arms around yours to keep you nicely arched for him, allowing him to fuck and bruise your sex further.
His free hand came to rest around your neck, slightly pressing over to your throat, cutting off the oxygen income for your lungs.
You could feel the blood rush to your head with every new stroke of his cock and the need for air, the sensations rendering all thoughts inconsequential. All there was to feel was the burning pleasure and the way he hissed and moaned into your ears.
Your body seemed to have turned into clay under his touch, ready to be molded into what he preferred and it was when your legs started to gave out that he let go of your neck, allowing you to breathe in the much-needed air so he could focus his sole attention to the fast rhythm between your trembling legs.
“A-are you, ah, going to fill me up again?” You panted out, voice hoarse with the effort to keep yourself standing.
“Yes, I’m going to cream your pretty little pussy.”
You whimpered at his words, clenching around him at the thought of hearing him scream your name out loud.
“Do you like that, uh? Me filling you up to the brim,” he hissed at the way your walls contracted around him at his words, “Do you like to be my little cum bucket, uh?!”
“Yes, ugh, Hoseok,” you moaned out his name knowing well what effect it had on him and as you struggled to keep your legs standing, he came inside of you again, groaning out your name.
You could feel his cock twitching within you, releasing a load of cum you weren’t sure you were able to take for it kept coming and coming and coming until you felt as full as you possibly could and it was then that you came too, making a mess all over the floor.
As he let go of your still quivering body, you collapsed above the bed, your eyes already closing with the fatigue of the entire day.
As you stayed like that, half asleep between the dirty covers, he engulfed you into a hug, struggling to catch his breath.
As you came down from your high, you slightly tilted your head to the side to look into his eyes, a sudden curiosity stirred up inside of you.
“I was wondering...If you have a father... does that mean you can have kids?”
“Why? Do you want some?” He asked, his voice unusually colorless.
“I mean... If we can, yes, I’d love that...” you pouted slightly, surprising even yourself with the sudden urge to be a mother but maybe you never had it before because you knew your life would be over before you had the chance. But now, maybe, you did have the chance to dream about it, to desire it.
“Especially if it feels so good trying to make them.” You added, chuckling at your own words.
“______, you really are full of surprises,” he said, his brows furrowed, “You weren’t scared of any of the demons you met and now you even want to make some of your own...” He trailed off, tenderly caressing your face, “If you keep being like this I may actually fall in love with you.”
His words made your heart skip a beat and you opened your mouth only to stupidly close it again a few moments later, unable to find the right words to follow up his statement.
“We can have kids if you want,” he added, his voice soft as he pondered a possibility that probably never occurred to him either before this very night.
You had hummed against his chest and with that happy thought, you fell asleep inside the demon’s arms.
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October 31st, 1938
A smile stretched on your lips as you looked up at the ceiling of your bedroom, a sudden memory creeping its way back up into your consciousness.
“What has you smiling so brightly?” Your lover asked beside you, hugging you closer to his naked chest.
“I was just thinking about our first night together.”
He chuckled and fixed his gaze upon you, “Something you’d change about it?”
“Absolutely not, it was perfect,” you smiled warmly at him before placing a soft peck against his lips, “You were perfect.”
“Were?” He asked, jokingly arching one of his brows to feign bewilderment.
“You are,” you said, rolling your eyes at his antics.
Fifty years had passed since that day and many things had changed. Well, first you had learned that humans do not get old quite as fast as they do in the human world and that allowed you to not only stay longer by your husband’s side but also to meet the daughters and the grand-daughters fruit of your lost sisters and brothers.
Then, you had learned that love could happen even in the most strange and unfathomable places because it had come to you, with the force of a hurricane when you least expected it to happen.
After a while, you had also learned that demon kids could still be quite endearing, despite being mildly dangerous with their overflowing powers and that you quite loved being a mother, even if it meant generating creatures that would torment the human world for years to come.
And then, you had learned that despite time ticking by more slowly in Hell, it still kept ticking for you while your husband remained the same. And the more time ticked by the more you could feel the coming of a new wife in his life nearing.
With that thought you sighed, resting your head above his chest to look back up at the ceiling. There, graved within the rocks, were the shining names of all the wives that came before you.
“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asked, aware of the sudden shift in your mood.
“Nothing,” you hummed, refocusing your gaze on him, “I was just wondering... will my name be written up there too when I die?”
Your husband stared at you, mouth in a thin line as he let your words sink in. His gaze shifted from your face down to your intertwined legs and he sighed.
“Yes, when the time comes.”
You could see the subject pained him but it was still important for you to address your next few questions because something inside of you told you it was either then or never.
“I don’t want to be here when you wed again,” you confessed, jutting your bottom lip out into a pensive pout, “I want to die knowing I was the one.”
“_____, you are the one and we both know nobody after you will ever be a substitute. Nobody is like you.”
You felt his body tense underneath you and you stroked his chest, drawing figures eight on the warm skin to try and soothe him.
“You know what I mean, I don’t want to be old and wrinkly while you’re still young and sharing your bed with a woman that isn’t me.”
“Why are we even talking about this?” He asked, his voice dangerously low, betraying how affected he was by your words.
“Because the time is near and you know it too.”
“No, it’s not!” He pushed you off of him and you stared at him, dumbfounded, “Stop talking like you’re going to die tomorrow, we still have many years ahead of us.”
He left the bed and walked to the door completely unfazed by the fact that he was stark naked.
“I’m done talking about this.”
He left you alone in the room and you sighed heavily.
You knew the time had been near, you could feel it, but you had no idea the time was so close it was basically breathing atop your shoulders. You had no idea because he had never told you but everything about his words did that day.
The dream was over and not even your I-love-yous were able to stop his tears as he held you close to his heart, his hands wet with your blood as you breathed out your last breath.
At last, you had learned that no human is ever allowed to live as a bride of a demon for more than fifty years.
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Copyright © 2018 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. 
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honeyedhoseok · 5 years
Text
Plant A Kiss On These Tulips! |02|
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Genre | Fluff
Pairing | plantwhisperer!hobi x female reader
Word Count | 6.3K
Summary |  After your boss, Jisu–head wedding planner at Ornate Events–develops a ragweed allergy, you are put in charge of working with the florist company In Bloom. But instead of their top-notch flower arrangements, their incredibly radiant owner Jung Hoseok proves to be what catches your eye over the course of the months that follow.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
2 Months Later
 “Hoseok!” you call out, pushing the front door to In Bloom open. The familiar bell chimes overhead, and you silence it with a gentle touch of your finger, reaching to flip the sign on the door from Open to Closed. “Where are you?”
“In the back!” he yells back, voice somewhat muffled from how far he is in the freezer when you finally make your way to him.
You stand at the door, leaning against the frame and watching as he places all the flowers for tomorrow’s shipment in, shutting the refrigerator and swiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Thanks for the help.” He turns around with a playful grin plastered across his face. When he finally lays eyes on you, he takes your outfit in with a rake of his eyes, eyebrows raising under his bright hair. “Fancy. What’s the occasion?”
Your mouth droops in disappointment, your anxiety rising a little. “You really don’t remember?”
“No?”
“The appointment,” you say. “The winter bride?” When you are met with another blank stare from the dashing florist in front of you, your blood starts to boil. “Hoseok! This is serious! This is my first wedding since I got put in charge of flowers and if I don’t make it happen, Jisu is going to stick her size eight heel so far up my—”
“Kidding!” Hoseok says, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. He gives you a reassuring smile, coming over to place his hands on your shoulders. “I’m just kidding, okay? No one is going to stick any heels anywhere.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you threaten, eyes narrowing at his stupidly handsome face smiling brightly at you. You step away to roll your ankle, flashing a pair of shiny black pumps. “Don’t give me any ideas.”
Hoseok’s knuckles brush your jaw, imitating a soft punch and the gesture sends a wave of goosebumps across your neck. Regardless of the circumstances, Hoseok’s touches in the last couple of weeks were becoming more and more upsetting to your composure—he could make the simplest of gestures seem special to you—and you couldn’t tell if it was you reading too much into him, or just the kind of effect he had as a person.
“So feisty,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Have I mentioned you would be my type if you weren’t, well, you?”
You feign annoyance with a roll of your eyes, despite your tripling heart beat threatening to thrum its way out of your chest. “Only a few dozen times this week,” you say. “It’s kind of an insult.”
“Well, it’s technically a compliment in the best way I can muster,” Hoseok teases, his eyes flickering with playfulness before he steps away from you. “My clothes are in the car. Let me go change, and we can meet Mrs. Winter Bride before it gets too late.”
“Ms. Winter Bride,” you correct with a shake of your head. “She isn’t married yet.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, dismissing you with a wave of his hand.
His smile, nor the playful twinkle in his eye disappear the entire car ride there. By the time you get out, wrapping your pea coat a little tighter around you in a last-ditch effort to keep some warmth as you walk into the building, your spirits feel slightly lifted; maybe the meeting would go so well, the winter bride would recommend you to other friends of hers and Jisu would get off your back about this flower business, finally.
You’re thankful for the toasty atmosphere of the hotel the winter bride was staying in. Whiffs of pastries and syrup from the continental breakfast in the next room fill your nose as you walk through the entryway with Hoseok in tow. He’s too busy looking at his phone to notice the smells of the breakfast that neither of you had time for because you were bordering on running late for the meet-up.
Your stomach rumbles but you can’t distinguish the feeling between nervousness and actual hunger, so you advert your eyes from the buffet for the time being in order to focus.
Finally, you spot a woman perched on one of the couches in the lobby, sipping a cup of coffee. Her face looks pinched, and she holds a scrapbook in her hands—you know immediately that it’s the winter bride from Jisu’s previous descriptions of her.
“Hoseok,” you murmur, nudging him hard with your elbow to put up his phone. “That’s her.”
Hoseok mutters something in disagreement but tucks his phone away in his pocket, letting you walk up to where the woman is sitting as he falls in step behind you.
“Hi, Ms.—” you raise your eyebrows in question.
“Jun,” she says, standing to full height. “Please, call me Sohyeon.”
“Sohyeon,” you repeat, taking her outstretched hand. “I’m Y/N, and this is Hoseok.”
Hoseok shakes with her as well, and the three of you take a seat around the dark wood coffee table in the middle of the lobby.
“I hope this place is okay,” Sohyeon says conversationally, reaching again for her coffee cup. “I was hoping for somewhere a little quieter than a coffee shop or a restaurant. My fiancé and I are staying at this hotel for a few days while we scope out wedding venues in town.”
“It’s perfect,” you say with a smile. Your eyes drop to the book clutched tightly in her hands. “Are those your ideas?”
Sohyeon nods, handing you the scrap book. Hoseok scoots closer to you on the love seat you two are sharing, looking over your shoulder as you flip slowly through the pages.
“We’re thinking of going with an industrial theme—my husband likes the thought of copper and dark wood at the wedding,” she says, pointing to a picture of a venue. “We’d been thinking about going with this one, but I called and they don’t have our date open. It was shame, really,” she adds sadly. “We liked that place.”
You nod, your eyes still grazing the pages.
“We want a big, open space,” she continues as you flip the page. “Something with nice, warm light and wood or brick or metal to contrast it. We’re thinking of doing nude colored bridesmaid dresses for contrast, and white and gold decorations to tie everything together for an elegant look.”
“Wow,” you say, for better lack of words. You’re ultimately impressed with the winter bride’s efficiency.
“Have you ever heard of The Atrium?” Hoseok says suddenly, looking up from the scrapbook. “They’re a wedding venue just outside of town—probably a 25-30 minute drive—and they have an industrial-type setting for weddings.”
“Oh?” Sohyeon says, digging for a pen in her purse. You slide the complementary hotel note pad on the table towards her, and she gives you a small smile. “The Atrium, you say?”
“Yes,” Hoseok says, pausing to spell it out for her. “A friend of a friend got married there, and I remember being in love with all of the dangling light bulbs over the seating area—made for great pictures.”
You were surprised at Hoseok’s sudden knowledge of venues—but you guessed you shouldn’t be, considering working with wedding planners was also part of his job.
“I’ll put that on the list to check out this weekend,” Sohyeon says with a smile. She turns her attention back to you, her expression hardening just a little from when she was previously discussing with Hoseok. “Now, I have been planning this day since I was younger. This scrapbook has changed and changed and changed, but now I have it narrowed down to exactly what I want—minus the venue, but that was a recent change in plans. I was hoping that Ornate Events could be my consultant rather than my planner,” she pauses, her eyes narrowing just the slightest bit before she continues, “especially since I’ll be working with you rather than Jisu.”
You clear your throat awkwardly, attempting to straighten your posture on the love seat and show some dominance. Jisu had warned you that the winter bride was one intimidating woman—and she certainly wasn’t lying, considering the fact that she’d just expressed her dislike for you to your face—but it was your time to shine.
“W-we have a Day-Of package,” you say shakily. “If you’d like to see it?”
Sohyeon nods, and so you dig around in your bag with frantic hands for a print-out of what your company had to offer.
“I can take down the numbers of the vendors you’ve picked out, and work with them on your requests,” you say. “I’ll be at the wedding the day of for set up and take down, and Hoseok here can help with any and all flower arrangements you wanted.”
Your palms sweat as Sohyeon looks it over, and Hoseok gives you a reassuring smile and a light nudge with his elbow that makes you feel a little better.
“These aren’t the prices we discussed,” she says sharply, looking at you with eyes that could cut steel. “Where are the prices I talked to Jisu about months ago?”
“Months ago?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t know anything about those—”
Sohyeon taps the paper with an almond-shaped fingernail, shaking her head like she was clearing her thoughts and messing up the neat tuck of strands she had placed behind her ear.
“No, no,” she says, “this won’t work. I must speak to Jisu immediately. She’ll know what we discussed—I can’t work with anyone but her, obviously—”
You are a stuttering, stammering mess as you try to gather yourself and calm Sohyeon down. Finally, you get her to allow you to take a moment and call Jisu—when she’s not on her scheduled lunch break—to fix the mishap.
Hoseok allows you to do so without so much as a peep; you assume it’s because he can’t help you with whatever arrangement Jisu had made with the woman, but you find yourself wishing he’d come to your rescue, anyways. While you are finally on hold with Jisu, he decides to speak up.
“My flower package is just a small add-on cost to Ornate Event’s prices here—” Hoseok says in a small voice, “but it’s not too much of a price difference—”
Sohyeon cuts him off, shaking her head. “I’m not worried about money,” she says. “I’m worried about quality for price.”
She reaches over the table to flip a few pages of the scrapbook before she comes to a stop. She points a crisp, apple red fingernail at a picture in the bottom right corner—a golden, squat vase holding an arrangement of soft pink, orange and pale-yellow flowers.
“Would you be able to make these for table pieces? And these—” she points to another picture of white flowers you couldn’t recognize bundled up with twine, “as brides maid bouquets?”
Hoseok studies the flowers for a moment, before holding up a finger as he digs his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t have my book with me today, I’m sorry—but our website has every flower we have in the shop posted on-line.” He quickly pulls up the web address and turns the phone around to Sohyeon. “We have all the flowers in these pictures except for the white ones—they aren’t in season—”
“What? Not in season?” Sohyeon asks, her brow furrowing. The clamminess in your hands returns as you watch her expression darken. “I’m paying good money for this wedding and you’re telling me I can’t have the flowers I want because they’re not in season—”
“Not to worry,” Hoseok interjects with a soft, but firm tone, giving her a warm smile. He doesn’t allow her rising, frantic voice get to him like you did. “There’s another shop out of town we can check and just have them ship the flowers over here. I’ll do it without charge since we weren’t able to accommodate your choices at In Bloom.”
He lets his finger trail over the laminated page of her scrap book, looking at her other choices. “You have a great eye for these things,” he compliments, holding her gaze once again. “All florists could use a customer like you.”
Sohyeon deflates visibly, and Hoseok continues to smile his beautiful, cheery grin at her, coercing her until she returns it with a small tilt of her mouth.
“I like him,” she says to you with a satisfied hum.
You are dumbfounded at Hoseok’s ability to turn a situation around so quickly when you couldn’t—but it could only mean one thing: you had a lot more to learn from him.
You shrug, giving her a nervous chuckle from across the table. “Me too,” you agree, phone still tucked between your ear and shoulder. You catch Hoseok’s small, satisfied smirk right before you murmur affirmatively, “I think we’ll keep him.”
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“That wasn’t so bad, right?” Hoseok says once you are in the safety of your car again, free from the shackling, penetrating gaze of the winter bride.
“She’s as cold as ice,” you mutter, sticking your key in the ignition and cranking the car. You hadn’t bothered to come out and heat it up before, so now you and Hoseok were sitting in it, forced to bare through the chilling breeze that came out of your vents until your engine could catch up.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, a joke bloomed—the inside of your car wasn’t much different from the atmosphere of the meeting you’d just escaped, technically—but you decided not to share it aloud.
“She’s just—” Hoseok pauses, searching for the right word. “Sure of herself.”
“Hoseok, don’t try to sugar coat it. She doesn’t like me,” you whine. “She was so irritated with me the whole time—if you hadn’t been there, I would have come out of that meeting headless!”
Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head as he sticks his hands under his armpits for warmth, slightly shivering in the passenger seat. “Oh, come on,” he says. “It wasn’t that bad. You did great!”
You are still unconvinced, but you let the topic drop as you back the car out of the parking space and pull back onto the main road.
“I’m starving,” you say. “Want to go get lunch?”
“Actually, I have to get back to the shop,” Hoseok says. When he sees your crestfallen expression, he backtracks, apologies lacing his tone. “But how about we get dinner? I get off at six.”
“Oh! Dinner?” you say, a little surprised. A face-cracking grin threatens to break the nonchalant facade you were trying to keep up, and you scold yourself internally.  “Sure, I’ll pick you up from work.”
“That’s okay, I’ll have my car,” Hoseok says, shaking his head. “I’ll pick you up instead. Will you be at Ornate Events?”
You nod, and Hoseok gives you a little excited grin.
“Great,” he says. “I haven’t seen Jisu and Yoongi in forever!”
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The day can’t go by quick enough for you.
You spend most of it trying to contact the winter bride’s established wedding vendors, who are much more willing to work with you than it felt like she was during your meeting. You exchange phone numbers, email addresses and other business information with them, working through the contracts that Sohyeon had already started, before finally, everything is on track to be completed.
There is only an hour left before Hoseok is supposed to come pick you up by the time you look up from your desk, glancing at the clock on the wall as you hang up the phone with your last consultant.
You mill around the office, cleaning out the coffee pot, washing the mugs, tidying up the table in the break room—just trying to fill the space of time before you can head out.
Yoongi comes into the back while you are doing all of this, the surgical mask over that he’d been wearing all day tucked under his chin for the time being.
You glance over at him with a smile. “You’re still bothering Jisu with this act?”
He shrugs. “Would I be me if I didn’t?”
“True.”
“What’s with the spring cleaning?” he asks, gesturing around at the spotless counters. “I thought you already got a promotion.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You jealous?” you ask. “Trying to move up from your receptionist job to do flower arrangements?”
“As if!” Yoongi scoffs, taking a seat at the break table. “I barely have the energy to answer phones, much less babysit brides through planning a wedding.”
You join him at the table, figuring you’d done enough cleaning for the day, and pull out the chair across from him to slump into.
“You don’t have to babysit the good ones,” you chide him, shaking your head. “The bride I’m working with now has this giant scrapbook she’s been working on since she was younger—she knows exactly what she wants and who she wants to do it—it’s amazing, honestly.”
“So what’s left for you to do?”
“A lot,” you sigh. “Contracts, venue booking, flowers . . .”
Yoongi makes a face before recognition sparks in his eyes. “Speaking of flowers,” he says. “How’s working with Hoseok?”
You can’t help the grin that flits across your face, breaking up the worry lines that were starting to crease your forehead. “Amazing. He’s really good at what he does—and he enjoys it, you know? It’s kind of . . . weird. But I would love to be like that.”
You pause, ignoring the surprised look Yoongi is giving you at the sudden enthusiasm at which you were going on about Hoseok.
“You should have seen him today with this client,” you say, shaking your head. “She was about to bite my head off but Hoseok was so nice to her and he was smooth with his words and she calmed down immediately! He does it all the time and I don’t know—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Yoongi says, interrupting your rant. “I’ve been around him plenty of times. The guy basically shoots sunbeams and rainbows out of his ass and everyone loves him for it.”
“Stop being mean!” you say. “It’s nice.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Yoongi says, a smile threatening to break the edges of his teasing demeanor. “What kind of weirdo likes their job in this day and time?”
You laugh loudly. “Right?”
Yoongi huffs, placing an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm. “You’re working with a ray of sunshine while I’m stuck here with a sneezing, whining Jisu.”
“I’m confused—do you want my job, or do you want to stay where you are?” you say, gigging. “You’re kind of going back and forth, here.”
“Neither,” Yoongi says. “I want to do nothing. In my next life, I’d like to be a rock.”
“I’ll be sure to mention that to Jisu when she’s doing payroll.”
Yoongi narrows his eyes. “I dare you.”
From the front, you hear the faint jingle of the chimes above the door, signaling the entrance of a customer—and not just any customer, because you can hear the delighted tone that Jisu answers them in is genuine and not the fake customer service voice she normally uses.
“Who’s here?” Yoongi asks, eyeing your form scrambling to get up from your chair.
“Hoseok,” you say happily, grinning. “We’re going to dinner. Come say hey to him!”
“Don’t tell me what to do—”
You don’t hear the rest of his snarky comment because you’re flying out from the back room, heart beating a little faster than normal in your chest at the sight of Hoseok leaning against the receptionist counter where Jisu sits.
“And to what do we owe this visit?” Jisu asks teasingly.
His eyes finally meet yours from where you stand near the break room door and he grins. “I’m taking Y/N out to dinner for all her hard work today.”
Jisu scoffs, mumbling something along the lines of Yeah right, and you narrow your eyes at her just briefly before you focus in on Hoseok’s wording. He was taking you? As in paying for it?
“Where’s the Yoongster?” Hoseok asks suddenly, looking around.
As if on cue, Yoongi strolls from the back as Jisu taps her watch. “That was a pretty long fifteen minutes, don’t you think?” she asks irritably.
Both of you ignore her.
“You’re the Yoongster?” you repeat, turning to him. “Since when?”
“Since forever!” Hoseok says, walking over to Yoongi and wrestling him into a hug. “We were pals in technical school.”
Your eyebrows raise at a scowling Yoongi underneath Hoseok’s arm. “Really? I thought Yoongi hated everyone.”
“Oh, he does,” Hoseok agrees, looking brightly at the blonde, pale boy beside him. “Just me a little less, I suppose.”
You hum in agreement, seeing exactly how that was possible. The two looked incredibly comfortable around each other—the gummy smile that you rarely saw was sneaking its way around the edges of Yoongi’s mouth as he chatted with his friend, his shoulders still under the weight of Hoseok’s resting arm.
The four of you talk for a while, and although you’re quite literally starving, you’re reluctant to break up the friendly reunion that is happening on a rather slow day at Ornate Events.
Hoseok—always the perceptive one—notices rather quickly that he is stalling you two from your plans. He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows before he smiles warmly one last time at Jisu and Yoongi.
“We really should get going,” he says, “I think the restaurant gets pretty busy around this time of night.”
“It was so good to see you Hoseok,” Jisu says, pulling him in for another hug. “Make sure it’s not so long next time, okay? And tell Granny Jung I said hello and I miss her!”
“I will, I will,” Hoseok says, laughing a little. He releases Jisu and roughhouses with Yoongi for a few more minutes before he’s finally ready to go.
You bid your boss and coworker goodbye, but not before you see Jisu raise a suspicious eyebrow at the way Hoseok leads you over to the front door with his hand pressed gently to your lower back—however, you chalk it up to him being the ever-persistent gentleman and give her an innocent smile before heading toward where Hoseok’s car is in the parking lot.
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“I thought we could go Italian tonight,” Hoseok says once you two are on the road. He glances over at you quickly before returning his eyes to the front. “Do you like pasta?”
“That’s like asking me do I like breathing,” you say, giving him a tilted grin. “Duh.”
Hoseok chuckles and the atmosphere inside the car falls back into a comfortable silence. He relaxes in his seat as he drives, and you find yourself stealing glances at him every so often as he hums softly to a tune floating from the radio.
You follow Hoseok towards the front of the restaurant once you are parked, looking up at the illuminated sign overhead that reads Bocca Felice.
“Happy mouth,” Hoseok explains, noticing the direction of your eyes. He opens the door for you, gesturing for you to go in first.
“You speak Italian?” you ask, a little impressed.
“No,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He points to the window of the restaurant, where under the name written in big, looping cursive was a fine-print English definition.
“Oh,” you respond.
You would be embarrassed if it weren’t for the way Hoseok gives you an ear-splitting grin at your mistake, amused by the situation. You realize the place fits him—the way his wide smile made you feel better instantly was certainly reminiscent of a happy mouth—so instead, you roll your eyes and follow him and the hostess towards a booth in the back of the restaurant.
Low ambient lighting from lamps on the walls make you feel cozy as you slide into your side, bouncing a little on the leather seats. You glance around at the giant paintings depicting beautiful shops tucked into mountainsides, waves crashing onto rocky shorelines, elegant stucco houses with terraces and tons of greenery scattered around—all elements of a true Mediterranean-themed restaurant.
“Beautiful,” you murmur, and Hoseok looks up from his menu.
“Right?” he asks, eyes following yours. “Have you ever been?”
You shake your head. “I don’t get to travel much. You?”
“Once, a few years ago.” He smiles. “This place is the closest I’ll ever get to having authentic Arrabbiata.”
You raise your eyebrows in appreciation. Somehow you could see Hoseok fitting in well with the Mediterranean climate—his skin glowing and tan in the sunlight, board shorts and a light t-shirt donning his lean frame as he enjoys the view of the coastline from the open window of his Airbnb.
“I’m going to order a glass of wine,” he says. “You want one?”
“No, I can’t drink on the job—” you pause, catching yourself.
Hoseok wags a finger at you. “We’re off the clock, Y/N!” he says, laughing. “It feels weird to be hanging out outside of In Bloom, doesn’t it?”
You nod in agreement. “I hated to take you away from you Jisu and Yoongi,” you admit, lowering your eyes. “I had no idea you were so close to them.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, shaking his head. “I was really excited to take you out an get to talk a little more. I know we talk sometimes in the shop, but I’m always pretty busy, and you’re back and forth so I feel bad tying you up in conversation when you’re in the zone—” he gives you a knowing look, “which you normally are.”
You smile a little, trying to calm the excited thrumming of your pulse in your veins as Hoseok looks up at you from beneath his eyelashes across the table, giving a small, breathy laugh after his confession.
The waitress comes over before you can muster a remark, and Hoseok takes over ordering for the both of you since you seem reluctant to choose anything just yet.
“I’m Gia,” she says, “I’ll be your server tonight. What can I start you two off with to drink?”
“Can we have two glasses of wine?” Hoseok asks. His attention is once again on you as he adds, “I like white, is that okay?”
You nod enthusiastically.
“A Riesling, please,” he continues. “And can we get some fried ravioli to start?”
“And a glass of water for me please,” you add with a small smile. “With lemon.”
Gia repeats the drink requests before asking, “And are we ready to order?”
Hoseok orders the seafood arrabbiata and you order the least expensive pasta on the menu: spaghetti with Bocca Felice’s house-made tomato sauce. The waitress writes it down and dashes away, and Hoseok settles back in his seat, taking a deep breath.
“I’ll have you know, the Winter Bride really set my nerves on edge today,” he says, grinning. “I had no idea what to expect—but if I did, it certainly wasn’t that.”
“Right?” you say, leaning forward in your seat. “Jisu didn’t prepare me at all.”
“You did great though—it just took you a second to get your footing.” Hoseok flashes you a brilliant smile. “It’s your first client, don’t be too hard on yourself. I feel like you don’t give yourself enough credit, you know? You’re just starting out.”
You shrug. “I guess,” you say, unconvinced. “It’s just—“ you take a deep breath, letting it out with a huff. “This is more than me being down about not knowing how to talk to the winter bride. The flowers are one thing but wedding planning? I just—” you sigh, “don’t know.”
“What?” Hoseok asks, his eyebrows disappearing behind his persimmon bangs as he raises them questioningly. “What is it?”
You bite your lip. “It’s just—well, I think I’m feeling pressured because of this theory I have about weddings. I don’t know if you’ll think I’m weird or not.”
You pull your napkin towards you, twisting it between your fingers anxiously and avoiding Hoseok’s eyes across the table. He studies you for a minute, contemplating his own response to the serious tone you’ve taken at his comment.
“How about we get this wine first, and you can tell me over a glass?” he says, tilting his head. “I’m all for Y/N-based theories that may or may not be weird.”
You brighten, the knot in your stomach loosening at his playful tone. “Oh really?” you ask, going along with the joke.
“Oh yeah.” Hoseok nods. “It’s actually the name of my podcast—Y/N Theories and If Jung Hoseok Thinks They Qualify Her As A Nut Case.”
“Shut up,” you say, laughing fully at his antics. “Oh my god.”
Hoseok gives you a grin that envies the sun, and it suddenly makes you shy to be on the receiving end of its brightness. You look away at the napkin, crumpled a few inches away from your nervous hands on the tabletop thanks to your stressful handling of it, wondering how in the world you made it this long without noticing how truly beautiful he is.
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Hoseok keeps his promise; he doesn’t ask you about your theories until you are two glasses of wine in. You’d said you were only going to drink one, but Hoseok insists to “treat yourself” because he’s paying for everything, which you argue over for a while. He wins.
Hoseok waits until the point where you are just feeling the warmth beneath your cheeks—due to the wine and his incessant playfulness that has you smiling like an idiot—the surfaces of your temples just starting to buzz with the lightening effects of the alcohol. You’re full of Bocca Felice’s hearty spaghetti sauce and Riesling and leaning back against the soft leather of the booth when he finally decides to revisit your conversation from earlier.
“So,” he says, giving you a knowing hint of a smile as if to buffer his question, “about earlier—what’s this story of yours about weddings?”
You avoid meeting his eyes as you pick up your wine glass, swirling it around a little by the stem as you focus on the stroke patterns of the painting hung on the wall beside your table.
“Really, Y/N,” Hoseok says softly, meeting your gaze. “If somethings bothering you, it’s my duty as your friend to listen and try to help.”
You shake your head. “It’s not really a helping matter, Hoseok,” you say. “You can’t make my parents get back together.”
“They’re separated?”
“Divorced,” you say flatly.
You try not to notice the way Hoseok’s face softens at the revelation, at the empathy that fills his expression as he waits for you to continue your story.
“The day of their wedding, over ten years ago, it rained,” you begin, eyes focused on the golden dregs of liquid at the bottom of your wine glass. “It was a pretty spring day, but during the setup outside of the venue we all noticed the way dark, grey clouds were gathering at the edges. We tried not to let it worry us—but it didn’t do any good.”
Hoseok nods once to encourage you, listening intently.
“In the middle of the ceremony it started to downpour,” you say. “It soaked everything—the flowers, the table cloths, the food, the guests—my mom’s wedding dress was big and pretty and it soaked that, too, in a matter of seconds. Left her trudging through the muddy yard to the building.”
You shrug. “I’ve always had this theory that it rained on their wedding day and ruined the process of them committing themselves to each other, so that’s why their marriage went south so fast.”
“Y/N—” Hoseok says, but you shake your head, already anticipating what he’s going to say.
“I know, I know,” you say, sighing. “There’s nothing I could have done about the weather, and people fall apart for a bunch of different reasons. But I don’t know, it just—” you bite your lip, trying to stop the trembling that’s suddenly taken over, “I wonder if the ceremony hadn’t been a disaster if they would still be together, you know? If we had just had it inside, would it have saved them?”
You put your wine glass down and smooth out some stray wrinkles in the tablecloth, feeling the erratic thudding of your heart in your chest as you wait for Hoseok to say something. He takes his time, as he always does, choosing to speak only when he’s sure of what he’s going to say.
“Y/N, why are you in the wedding business?”
You look up, shocked that he didn’t try to empathize with your situation. “What?”
“Why are you working at Ornate?” he asks again, softly. “What do you want to get out of it?”
You stare at him, sizing him up, wondering how in the hell this conversation went from you wallowing in your own unsettling past to analyzing your career choices.
“I wanted to work with weddings,” you say slowly. “I’ve always been interested in event planning.”
“And?” he prods, nodding encouragingly.
You think for a moment, your brow creasing. Hoseok looks at you so expectantly, it’s as if his knowing gaze drawls the words right out of your mouth.
“I wanted to do what I could to make sure no one else’s wedding ended like my parents,” you say finally. The words come out in a rushed embarrassment, sounding much less intelligent to say aloud once they are floating in the air between you and your coworker.
Hoseok leans forward over the table, refusing to let you drop your gaze from his. “And have you done that so far?”
“Yes,” you whisper, “The best I can.”
“Then that’s all you can do.”
He reaches out to where your hand still smooths wrinkles in the tablecloth anxiously, placing a warm palm over your own to comfort you.
“You’ve got to stop beating yourself up over the things you can’t control,” he says. Your breath stutters at the sincerity in his voice, the way it lowers and makes the vowels and consonants hum with gorgeous deepness that rattles your already unsteady heart. “You’re not letting anyone down but yourself, trust me—you’re doing great, Y/N.”
You smile at him, feeling his unrelenting optimism brighten something inside you.
“And I promise,” he adds suddenly, giving your hand a squeeze underneath his, “that as long as we are working together, I’ll offer all the help I can to make sure these next weddings go well, okay?”
You nod, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth because you aren’t quite sure what the feeling blossoming in your chest is, but you don’t want to fight it just yet.
The waitress comes back and Hoseok and you argue for a moment over who will pay the bill—he wins, because he takes your debit card from your outstretched hand, making you think for a moment that he is going to put it in the billfold, but slides his own in at the last second before the waitress takes it from his hand.
You scowl at him over the table and he gives you a signature grin that lasts until he has signed his name with a flourish at the bottom of the receipt along with a hearty tip.
You feel warm as Hoseok leads you out of the building, his hand ghosting your lower back again as you two walk alongside each other to the parking lot.
“Thank you for dinner, this was so lovely,” you hum, looking back at the neon sign that hovers above Bocca Felice.
He grins at you, murmuring something along the lines of no problem before making the slow walk by your side to the car.
“Y/N?” Hoseok says as you two near his black sedan, clicking the button on his keys once that makes the lights flash.  
“Hmm?” you ask, suddenly noticing the shy demeanor that has overcome your companion—the red of his cheeks seems reminiscent of the strands that blow across his eyebrows in the chilling night breeze. “What is it?”
“So, I did have a motive for tonight that I didn’t get around to,” he asks, and when he sees the confusion on your face, he shakes his head quickly. “Nothing bad, I promise. I just—I’m going to a conference out of state in a few weeks. It’s a flower show.”
“Oh?” you say, eyebrows raising. “That sounds fun.”
“Yeah, well,” Hoseok scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll be gone for a few days and it’ll be pretty boring to go by myself and I was wondering, you know, since you’re knowledgeable about the flower business now—”
A grin breaks out on your face. “Hoseok, are you asking me to go with you?”
The warmth of the wine and Hoseok’s invitation heat the apples of your cheeks—internally, you welcome the cold, autumn breeze that blows between you two as your face rises in temperature.
“Yes,” he breathes out, looking hopeful. “Would you uh, want to?”
“I’d love to,” you say, heart swelling unintentionally from the way he looks so cute, shuffling his feet and switching his car keys from hand to hand. “I just have to ask Jisu.”
“Leave Jisu to me,” Hoseok says with confidence, smiling hard enough to show both rows of teeth. “I need you for the whole weekend, and I have a feeling she’ll listen if I ask.”
You two get in on your opposite sides and you try to hide your wide grin by looking out the window as he backs the car up—little did Hoseok know, you were sure a lot of people would do anything he asked if it meant feeling the gentle fluttering in their stomach that you’d been experiencing the entire night.
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sugaa · 6 years
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i have a thing for the flower pose lol  | insta twt  | DO NOT REPOST
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landersova · 5 years
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Hoseok and Yoongi, soulmates.
For sope bingo on twt.
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eleveates · 5 years
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Hyundai x BTS
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hope-film · 3 years
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[SCANS] BTS Memories of 2019 | Hoseok
repost w/ credit | editing allowed w/ credit | don’t crop logo
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ariescults-moved · 6 years
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sunshine ☀️
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seomarkno · 4 years
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handsome. ♡
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peacheseok · 5 years
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a look 👀
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hobies · 6 years
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oh he hella fine
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