#its not like. bad. but it is again noticably messier than the others as far as character dynamics go at least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s8ncake · 4 years

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Originally I wasn’t planning on posting this here, but a friend of mine convinced me. You can also check it out on ao3!

🔞The following fic is nsfw. Minors dni.🔞

Sacrilege

Summary: Simeon has fallen, but he doesn’t view himself as such. No, given the feelings he has towards you, this could only be an ascension; one beyond anything he had in the Celestial Realm, and anything the Devildom could offer. Now he serves no one, only you. His one and only god.

word count: ~5700

⚠️c/w: gore and blood (but Simeon and the reader are fine), yandere!Simeon, sacrilegious themes, blasphemy

Additional note: the reader is gender neutral, and the reader’s genitalia isn’t specified

In ao3, I tagged this with Dead Dove: Do not eat. That still applies here. Make sure you’ve read over the content warnings before proceeding / interacting.

🔞And once again, minors dni.🔞

Falling’s a strange thing, a concept that Simeon never quite understood. It happened to angels who were wicked, those who sought to undo his father’s plan. So they were cut off. From the heavenly host. From their powers. Their wings turned black, and their light faded. Until the only thing left was a darkness, one that sought to consume everything that they once were. They either died or transformed, becoming monsters. Beasts. Demons.

Simeon is none of those things. He didn’t fall to oppose his father, nor did he seek to undo any sort of plan. He’s an author after all, and authors create.

And what could his muse be, other than you?

Your soul is brilliant, a beacon of light amongst everything else in this miserable realm. It took him far too long to see that. But thankfully, his eyes have been opened. And never again shall they shut. In the long span of his existence, he’s seen everything that the universe could offer. Stars. Galaxies. The rise and fall of human civilization itself. Existence itself is always in a state of flux, constantly shifting and warping as things are created and then destroyed.

But you… You exist beyond that.

Your soul never tarnishes, nor does it fade when things get rough. Instead, it fights. Nails. Fists. Some would say that it’s barbaric, but Simeon had always found it to be beautiful. It’s a philosophy that he’s tried to emulate. Words are meaningless, unless they are used to praise you. So now he resorts to action. And well, the saying is true. So perhaps it’s only natural that he uses it to replace his books, that the tales he creates are no longer works of fiction. No, fantasy has lost all meaning now.

There’s only you.

You have always inspired him. Even now, Simeon can’t help but write poetry about you as he moves. The world that he’s in is dark. Depressing. Very little of it is worthy of being compared to someone as brilliant as you. But that doesn’t prevent him from trying.

Today, he starts with a crumbling city. It’s silence echoes throughout the land, and you are the slight breeze that rushes past his ear. The moon, although unlike its cratered surface, you have no imperfections. No, the dips and grooves along your skin are beautiful. Like the glinting of a knife, the way the metal slices through the air. You have pierced his heart just as easily. But that’s okay, it’s yours after all.

It’s a shame that he can’t carve out his own and give it to you. That despite everything, he is still limited by this corporeal form. But if he were to be anything else, then you wouldn’t be able to look at him. And that would get in the way of his worship. A god must be able to view their subjects after all.

Besides, this new form is perfect for him. It’s yet another form of his art, a piece that was made specifically for you. His horns. His tail. His cock… He considered it all. Like a good follower should.

No one else would be able to do that. They are limited by their pathetic mortal frame. Rats. Parasites. They’re unfit to even look upon you. But with another flicker of his knife, they are handled. And he will morph them until something better. Something more suited for you.

The process of creation is a never ending one, especially given the thousands of pieces that he’s working on. Some of them are grand, and others are small. But all of them are for you. How else would he pay tribute?

There’s a gust of wind. Your arrival is soon. He can sense it. It comes with everything that is right. The sun peaking over the clouds. Starlight reflecting off of a lake. The rippling of water as it reveals the creatures that lurk within its depths. The sound of laughter, followed by the blessed silence that he’s come to adore. That is who you are. An omen of things to come. The others say you are bad, but Simeon knows better. It is impossible for you to be anything other than good.

For you are greater than the heavens, and the earth itself. His father was nothing, but you—

There’s a scream as Simeon feels blunt nails dig into his arm. It’s followed by a shove, and footsteps frantically scrambling away from him. ...How annoying.

His latest sacrifice had just ruined his internal monologue. And it was going to be such a good one too. What a shame. If only he had a pen and paper nearby…

They don’t travel far. There’s another sound, although this one is a plea. Simeon silences it with a crunch, and tsks when he looks at his hands. That was messier than he had intended, but it looks like no longer needs any ink. An amused chuckle falls from his lips. Would you like that? Poetry written in the blood of your enemies, the very nonbelievers who seek to destroy the world that the two of you are trying to create?

...Perhaps that’s something to try next time. Right now, he has something more important to focus on. He’s still in the process of creation after all, and he’s not finished decorating. Thankfully this… creature (it can’t be a human, for nothing could compare to you) should provide him with the rest of the materials that he needs. So Simeon gets to work.

This too is a form of art, and one he would never have considered before. But he has expanded beyond quills and parchment. Now he builds sculptures out of the very people who would defy you. Those who are unworthy of being graced with your presence. They are broken down, and fashioned into a suitable idol.

Another splash of crimson. The breaking of bones. Wire. Nails. And then it’s done. Your new altar is complete. Simeon takes a step back, appraises his work, and grins. It’s perfect.

Fresh blood drips off of it, reminding him of rain, the way it softly drizzles and brings life to those around it. This is a form of life as well, one that does nothing but speak of your greatness. The various limbs that have been tacked and strung above it make a rainbow, an icon of the color you have given this dull and drab world. Maybe one day you’ll be able to color it all. But the best part about it is when you stand away, when you view his masterpiece from a distance. It takes the shape of a heart, one that resembles his own. And it exists entirely for you.

The wind picks up, howling in his ears, and he knows that you are here. Once you enter the room, Simeon falls to his knees. He doesn’t have to stay there for long; it’s simply a gesture of formality, one that reminds you of how important you truly are.

“You may rise.”

He follows the command without hesitation. Your voice is a melody. A soothing tone that seeps into his bones and leaves him feeling lighter. It truly is an act of kindness that you’ve allowed him to stand as your equal, if only for a brief moment. But he will be on his knees again soon enough.

He can’t wait.

A sigh falls from your lips once you notice the various remains that litter the floor. “Those were supposed to be the new recruits. I guess none of them were willing?”

Simeon nods. “They were all unworthy of you.”

“A shame.” Your eyes then roam over his altar. He awaits your response with trepidation. ...Do you like it?

But as always, there’s no need for him to voice his question. Like the god you are, you already answer it with a grin. Your power, your majesty, truly knows no bounds. “You’ve found a better use for them though. I’m pleased.”

A shiver runs down Simeon’s spine. Your approval means everything. It is the air that fills up his lungs and allows him to breath. He feels incredibly lucky, to be blessed with such a thing.

It only inspires him to work even harder for what comes next. There is no church here, nor is there a temple. But those measly little things are unneeded. Your body outshines it all. And that is what he shall worship.

A strike of a bell, and then Simeon kneels before you once as you sit upon your handmade throne. It begins now. Sacrament. He licks his lips in anticipation.

You are an image, perched atop yet another one of his creations. Although this one is his favorite. There’s no flesh or bone, only gold. Treasure that he had stolen from the Celestial Realm and the Devildom alike. Melting it was difficult, but the result was definitely worth it. For now you have a throne, one that suits your majesty.

It makes him feel small, as it should. Your presence is grand, a shining iridescent star amongst the blank canvas that he’s created. And it’s reflected in his eyes once you beckon him forward.

He delicately peels each and every garment off of you, savoring the sight of your body as it’s slowly revealed to him. He’s seen it before, yet you never fail to take his breath away. Every hair, every scar, all of the dips and grooves that make up who you are; Simeon loves it all. How could he not?

Beauty takes the form of your legs, the way they spread open before him. Magnificent is the sight that greets him, your most intimate parts bare now before his gaze. Adoration is what he feels when you whisper his name and guide his head forward. And divinity, well... that is what you taste like.

He dives in with enthusiasm. You immediately grab onto his horns, and pull him in closer. Simeon groans. They’re handles after all, ones that he made specifically for you. To tug. To control. He is but a follower, and you are a god. One that will never fail to help him find the right path.

And everything about this, the taste of your essence on his tongue, is right.

Every noise that you make spurs him on. This is what you deserve. The pleasure that courses through your veins. The moans that fall from your lips. It’s a shame that he can’t give you more, not yet at least. One day the world will be yours, but until then… an orgasm will have to do.

You cum with a cry, one that could shake the very heavens itself. A part of him hopes that they've heard you, but the other knows that they are unworthy of such a thing. He laps up each and every drop. It would be a sin to allow any of it to spill. Nothing you create should ever go to waste. Especially when it’s this good.

Once your orgasm ends, he pulls away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. It’s a shame that he cannot taste you forever; that like all good things, it must come to an end. But his worship of you is far from over. No, the two of you have only just begun.

Your eyes meet, and Simeon’s tongue lolls out, wiping away the spare traces of your cum. A chuckle, then you gently pat his head. “Such a good boy Simeon. You’ve improved.”

Pleasure shoots down his spine the moment you praise him. This is what he’s after. This is the reason he exists. To serve you. To please you. Your fingers begin to run through his hair, and a moan falls from his lips as he leans into your touch.

“You remember what comes next, don’t you?”

Of course. His worship of you is a form of art, one that he has practiced over and over again. Simeon nods, and then finally removes the last of his clothing.

His cock springs free. It’s hard. Leaking. He wants you, as always. But how could he not? Your visage is the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. Your voice rolls through his mind like honey. He loves you.

It’s normal of course, for a follower to love their god. Yet even the word itself feels unsatisfactory. One day he’ll have to create a new one. But until then, love will have to suffice. Besides, he has better ways to show his devotion. Actions speak louder than words after all. So despite the desire that courses through him, he doesn’t even make an attempt to touch himself. His own pleasure is unimportant. The only thing that matters is you.

So instead he stays on his knees. Where he belongs. He starts with your ankle, placing feather light kisses along each one as his mouth slowly works his way up to your calf. You gasp once he reaches your thighs, and then the next part of sacrament begins: creation.

In the past he created galaxies. Stars. Nebulas. Simeon had the luxury of forming several of them before that task was given to someone else. But thanks to you, he can perform it once more. Only this time the materials are different. Instead of creating constellations in the sky, he makes them on your body.

Today he starts with the Big Dipper. He lightly suckles on your thighs, mapping out each and every star, and once that constellation is done, he moves onto another. Caenis Major. Orion. Cygnus. Your body looks even more breathtaking like this, so he adds a few more. These ones are new, ones that he just made up. They have yet to have a name, but for now… Consecratio will have to do. Perhaps he’ll be able to come up with a more official title for them later.

Your name falls from his lips, along with a moan, and something inside of him slips. He falls even further into your depths. Beautiful. You’re so beautiful. His name never sounded so pretty; but everytime you say it, he can feel his cock begin to swell. He is the one you want. The only being that makes you feel like this, and the only one that ever will.

You are his god.

Blood rushes through him, staining his cheeks, hardening his cock even further. In the haze of his own mind, his mouth parts from your skin, and his fingers enter you instead.

You mewl at the intrusion. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. This step comes later on, yet Simeon can’t wait. He wants to see you cum once more. To hear your praise as he pleasures you beyond your own comprehension.

Perfect. Stunning. Simeon adds another finger, his gaze fixed on your expression and nothing else. Finding that spot within you is easy. He had memorized its location long ago as proof of his devotion. Each and every part of your body has been mapped out, a never ending piece of parchment that he keeps in his head. In truth, Simeon has never been much of a navigator. But your body is the only thing that he needs to know.

You moan once again. You’re close, Simeon can feel it. Although he’s neglected to take his own pleasure into account. He’s close as well.

Simeon hasn’t even laid a hand on himself, yet his own noises grow louder. Every gasp. Every groan. Knowing that he’s able to do this to you spurs him on, his cock aching from how much it desires you. Yet your image drowns all of that out.

His peak arrives, but he never gets to fully reach it. Instead, your hand clenches around the base of his cock, preventing him from cumming.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Recite your scripture as punishment.”

His labored breathing echoes across the room, and Simeon’s eyes widen once he realizes his mistake. He was being selfish, allowing his own pleasure to get in the way of yours. Lust is a vise that he should have had better control of. He was a fool to let it get in the way of his love, so he accepts your punishment with grace.

Magic soon replaces your hand, creating a cockring that now leaves your fingers free to move up and down along his shaft. His breathing stutters, but he’s thankful for the intervention. More of your magic curls around his body, brushing up against his skin. It’s a sign of what’s to come, yet he shoves that excitement aside, or tries to at least.

Simeon frowns. The cockring was sorely needed. It makes sure that he doesn’t forget about what’s truly important. No matter what, he isn’t allowed to cum before you. The only sin that exists is putting his pleasure before your own. Yes, he deserves to be punished for this. His devotion towards you never should have wavered.

So he opens his mouth, and speaks; his voice not faltering despite the way your hand moves across his shaft. “The steadfast love of you, my god, never ceases. Your mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning.”

You press one of your fingers against his slit, smearing some of his precum along the head of his cock. A shudder runs down Simeon’s spine. Your touch is a blessing, one that he can never get enough of. But he cannot focus on it. No. The pleasure is unimportant. You must be worshipped.

“There’s no greater love other than this: to lay down my life for you.”

He focuses on the words instead, and on everything that they entail. He would gladly die for you. In both this timeline, and any of the other ones that follow. The universe is full of constants: gravity, matter, humanity itself, and the devotion that he feels towards you. Those are all things that shall exist in every universe.

No matter what, Simeon loves you. And he will die and fall as many times as he needs in order to prove it. Although he’s never met any of his alternate selves, he already knows that it’s true. His love cannot be contained in any vessel. It flows throughout time and space, and every spec of it is dedicated towards you and you alone.

Your hand leaves his cock. Simeon feels it twitch under the absence of your touch. A part of him wants to whine, but he holds that in. He refuses to sin once more, to tarnish his reputation as your most devout follower. So he simply continues reciting the words that he’s come to know by heart.

Indeed, you’re no longer stroking him. But that’s only because your hands have wondered elsewhere. A finger traces the rim of his ass, and it doesn’t take Simeon long to put two and two together. Ah. He had never—

You enter him. Slowly but surely, although there’s no resistance. Another one quickly joins it. Your fingers are slick from his precum and some of your own spit, not to mention your magic… It widens him, making lube unnecessary. Not that he would ask for any. No, he’s being punished right now. This is simply another example of your benevolence.

The feeling is strange, but he continues. “I give thanks to you, for everything about you is good. Our love endures forever.”

Your fingers haven’t stopped moving. They’re searching around for something, although Simeon doesn’t know what you're looking for. There’s nothing left of him to find. You have seen it all.

“And I know that in all things, you do good for those who love you, who have been called according to your purpose.”

And then you brush up against a spot inside of him, one that has him seeing stars. He’s unable to stop the surprised “Oh!” that falls from his mouth, or the way he tries to fuck himself on your hand. Thankfully that was the last verse, so there’s no harm in letting another mewl spill from his throat.

You laugh. It’s a beautiful sound, one that Simeon is blessed to hear. “What a good little follower. If you beg for me, I’ll let you cum.”

He wants to. To immediately get on his knees and beg for you to fuck him, as you take away the last shred of innocence that he has. Ah, but take isn’t the right word. Give. He would give it all to you. That purity is nothing more than a cocoon, one he’s been working on shedding himself of. It only gets in the way of loving you. Besides, how could he perform his tasks if he was worried about heaven’s definition of sin? No, there’s too much work to be done. And what he’s doing is okay. You’ve told him so.

Submitting to the desire that's coursing through him would be easy, but this is a test. One that he refuses to fail. Worshiping you takes precedence. It always does. “No. I wish to pick up where we left off. My only desire is to pleasure you.”

You flash him a smile, one more brilliant than the sun. “Your devotion truly is admirable. We’ll begin our worship again shortly. But first, I’m going to fuck you like this, okay? Remember the feeling of my fingers Simeon. Because next time, you’re going to cum around them and nothing else. Do you understand?”

Next time. He’ll be ready then. And you will finally own all of him. He can’t wait. “Yes, my beloved. I’ll do as you ask.”

You hum in approval, and then your fingers start moving once more. Pleasure courses through him, and he bites his lip as he smothers his gasp. You are everything. This is everything.

“I don’t want you to hold back Simeon. Let me hear you.”

Of course. This is a form of devotion too. How could he have forgotten that? A high pitched moan immediately falls from his lips. Words are hard, but Simeon still manages to speak. You wanted to hear his voice after all.

“G—Good. So good.”

Another finger gets added. Somehow the pleasure increases. His cock aches. It’s hard and weeping, yet he doesn’t care. The pleasure that you have shown him outshines it all. And he never wants this moment to end.

His mind is slowly becoming blank, the fog of lust threatening to consume his every thought. But Simeon shoves it all aside. Vocal. He has to focus on being vocal.

You briefly pull out. A fourth finger teases at his entrance, and your voice coos into his ear, “Can you handle more?”

More. The possibility excites him. He had no idea that it was an option. But he will do it. Of course he will. As your follower, it’s his duty to handle every inch of you. That’s why he created this vessel in the first place. And Simeon leaps at each and every opportunity to put it to the test.

He has to think, to piece the fragile bits of his mind together in order to form a response. But as soon as he comes close to making one, the magical ring around his cock vibrates. It’s slow, a low thrum that’s incredibly unsatisfying, yet it leaves him shivering all the same.

It’s a warning. He still can’t cum after all, and unless he performs well… he may never be able to. A response. You need one now. “Fuck. Y-Yes I can handle more.”

And like the benevolent god you are, you give him exactly that. Yes, you’re so wide inside of him. He didn’t even know that it was possible to feel this full. That his body could accommodate this much. And the fact that one of your limbs is inside of him... Simeon keens.

Truly, he’s unworthy of such a thing. Your fingers, your hand, should be elsewhere. That you would even consider touching him there is already enough to make him cum. Thankfully the cockring is still in place, so the pleasure never has to end.

He focuses on the shape of your hand, the dip and groove of each finger; the way it scrapes against his walls as you slam into him. Your pace is rough. Brutal. Heavenly. His mind goes hazy underneath it all. No. He can’t let this consume him. This is only a preview of what’s to come, and you are gracious enough to give it to him.

It’s another test. But this one… Oh, this one is his favorite.

Another wave of pleasure. He’s a shivering mess, one that can do nothing more than scream for you. Time itself has no meaning. There’s only this; the fullness that you provide, and the love behind each and every gesture that you make. He mewls out your name once more, and then it’s over.

He’s repented for his mistakes.

Your fingers… no it was your fist, pulls out of him. Simeon briefly whines at the loss. He falls to the floor, and then you place that very same hand in front of his lips. He lavishes it with kisses, and groans. More. He needs more.

And he knows that there will be more to come. It’s all a part of his worship after all. The taste of your inevitable union will be even stronger, richer. This is but a treat, a kind dessert that you have gifted him. The real meal comes later on. But Simeon is willing to wait. Once he’s finished lapping at your hands, he moves to your altar and lays himself upon it.

This is his final offering. His body is yours to use as you see fit.

You get up. Although Simeon cannot see it, he hears your bare feet walking across the abandoned chapel’s floor. There is no choir, but the ex-angel wants to sing when you impale yourself upon him.

A purr leaves your throat. “You feel perfect.”

He’s glad. Like his horns, his cock is made for you. Every ridge, every bump, was created to maximize your pleasure. No toy will ever compare. Simeon made sure of that.

You begin to move. He allows you to set the pace as his nails dig into your thigh. Perfect. You fit perfectly around him. He feels an incredible amount of pride as you gasp and moan with the rise and fall of your hips. Out of all of the offerings that he’s made, his mortal form is definitely the best. The flush of your cheeks proves it.

The magic around his cock finally loosens, and you clench around him. Simeon’s climax quickly follows your own. The tangling of tongues. The squirting of cum. He finished inside of you, but you don’t remain on his softening cock for long. No, you pull yourself off of him, and Simeon watches as his cum flows out of you.

He licks his lips. This is it. The moment that he’s been waiting for. His favorite part of worship.

Your voice is a command, one that never fails to send a shiver down his spine. “Clean up.”

He immediately begins lapping at your dripping hole. The taste of your cum has melded into his own. Your union has created this, the most delicious thing that Simeon has ever consumed. The essence of a god flows into his mouth, along with the proof that he was the one who had pleasured you. And now it is inside of him. A bond that cannot be broken. He hungers for more.

Simeon lewdly moans as his tongue reaches deeper and deeper into you, searching for every bit of his cum that he can find. Noises fall from your mouth, but like always, he drowns them out with his own. This is a feast, one that the Celestial Realm could never recreate. Their food pales in comparison. Simeon doesn’t understand how he was able to stomach it before.

Another orgasm ripples through you, and he keens as he consumes each and every drop. Were he in a more poetic mood, he would compare it to ambrosia, but he can write verses about you another time. Instead, he focuses on completing this final act. It doesn’t take long. Once he’s thoroughly licked every trace of cum off your body, he pulls away with a grin. You pat his head, and Simeon hums as he leans into your touch.

“I love you.”

The words sound beautiful coming from your mouth. It’s something that you’ve said before. A sentence that led to this exact moment, and many others like it. Yet he’ll never tire of hearing it, of knowing that he has earned those very words time and time again.

“I love you as well. My god. My beloved. And one day, the world will love you too.”

The two of you embrace. And in your arms, Simeon comes up with ideas for his next altar. It’s sure to take everyone’s breath away. It’ll be bigger than the last one. More limbs. More blood. Wires. Nails— Ah, he’s already getting excited.

It’s amazing; how quickly you inspire him, and all it takes is a hug. You truly are an excellent muse, one that he hopes to be completely worthy of someday. But until then, he is simply an author. An artist. One that exists to worship you.

Eventually you take your leave. There’s work to be done after all, especially for a god such as yourself. And although Simeon longs for your embrace… that just makes it more precious when it actually occurs. Besides, he wants his creations to be a surprise, and it’s impossible for that to happen if you’re looking over his shoulder. So the two of you part. And like the quiet whisper of the wind, you’re gone.

The silence doesn’t last long. It’s interrupted by the ringing of his phone. A number shows up on his screen, one that he hadn’t seen in an incredibly long time. He had tried to block it ages ago, but eventually gave up. Technology still confuses him. ...Some things never quite change.

He accepts the call, and Lucifer’s voice greets him. “Simeon.”

He hadn’t heard it in awhile. The man’s tone sounds deeper than he remembered, and it’s entirely different from your own. The contrast throws him for a loop, if only briefly. Simeon clears his throat. For some reason he doesn’t hang up.

“Yes?”

“This has to stop. The two of you are upsetting the balance. If this continues, then Lord Diavolo will intervene.”

A threat. Of course that would be why he called. But Simeon doesn’t care. No one can stop either of you, including the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Your love transcends beyond that. ...It’s a shame that Lucifer still is unable to comprehend what the two of you are trying to achieve.

A part of Simeon can’t help but feel disappointed at the reminder. “Perhaps he’ll join us. You’re welcome to as well, of course.”

“No. What your doing is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m simply serving my god.”

“They are just a human, Simeon. And can easily be replaced. There are billions—“

Anger rushes through him; the intensity of it causing him to crack his phone’s screen. His grip loosens, but the rage still festers within him. How dare he.

“Watch your tongue, lest I rip it out of you next time we meet.”

A pause. The silence seems awkward, sad almost. Lucifer eventually breaks it. “...I see I am too late. The others are right. You have fallen. And unlike me, you’ve had no family to help put you back together again.”

“I don’t need one. I have my god, and they have been by my side through thick and thin. What have you done for me, Lucifer?”

Silence. No other answer is needed.

After a minute or two Lucifer sighs. “I must report my failure to Lord Diavolo. You have exactly 48 hours before he arrives. Use them wisely.”

There’s a click, and then the number vanishes from his screen. Lucifer must have hung up. Yet his words echo around in Simeon’s head.

You have fallen. It makes him want to laugh. There is nothing wrong about this. The love that he feels towards you cannot be tainted, nor will it ever waver. For you have given him something that he’s never had before: Freedom. From the Celestial Realm, from his boring day to day life. Simeon had not truly lived until he abandoned it all in favor of following you. No, this was an ascension. One that everyone is too foolish to understand. And Diavolo seeks to destroy everything that you’ve built. But that’s okay, Simeon has a plan.

A few magic circles… some stolen holy relics… and even the future Demon King can be captured. So when he comes, Simeon will be ready, and the foolish prince will walk right into a trap.

A manic giggle bursts from his mouth. This is perfect.

Diavolo will be made to see, like so many others before him. It’s impossible not to after all, given how grand you are. Ah, but Simeon will deny him the privilege of serving you. No matter what, you will only ever have one follower. Diavolo can beg and plead as much as he likes, but he will never get to feel your touch. He hasn’t earned the right, and he never will. Once he has served his purpose, he will be disposed of, just like the rest.

Simeon grins. In truth, The world doesn’t even need to have people in it. A god does not require subjects in order to be considered such. So why bother expanding your little cult, when no one else will ever be able to serve you like him?

You are his. His human. His god. His everything. And no one is going to get in the way of that. This realm will be made into something that is worthy of you, even if he has empty it himself. But once every single creature is gone, and he is the only being left... Then the world truly will love you, won’t it?

#obey me #omnsfw #minors dni #obey me simeon #fallen!Simeon #simeon x mc #simeon x reader #the reader is gender neutral #my writing!#sacrilege

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byeoltoyuki · 3 years

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Make It Right ⇾ JHS

↳Pairing : You x Hoseok

Genre : Fluff / Angst if you squint / fake dating if you squint

Words: +17k

Warnings : Oral (f), tying

Summary: Sometimes all you need is some pretending.

A/N: Surprise! I'm not dead (yet). I know I have my Jimin's story to work on, but sometimes my brain refuses to cooperate with me fml.

One day i swear i'll be on time. Happy Birthday again babe! @hopikoya

Going to a club one week before your exams was probably the worst idea ever. You knew it. Your boyfriend apparently knew it too but still insisted to go which resulted in you going too because come on, you didn’t want to be a party pooper (his words, not yours). You loathed the idea; you weren’t particularly fond of clubs to begin with, half of the time you went for the sake of your boyfriend and half of the time you would sip on your drink at the bar and watch him have fun with his friends, ignoring your existence while you were bored to death.

Just like tonight. Except tonight, there was something in the air, something bad and ominous. Your guts were telling you to go back home, forget about your boyfriend, have fun by yourself instead of staying at the club at two in the morning where half of the crowd was drunk if not completely wasted.

But did you listen to the little voice in your head? Of course not.

From your favorite (not so much) spot at the club, you sipped your second mojito while watching your boyfriend, Hyeonwu, having fun. From the way he was moving, you were certain he had drunk more than he could handle - you sighed at that, knowing beforehand that the night would be very long. You should have stayed home.

But you didn’t and for what? For a relationship that was doomed from the very beginning. Hyeonwu and you were different, too different even. He was outgoing, popular, arrogant from time to time (it stung to admit it to yourself).

Everything you weren’t.

You didn’t like clubbing, you didn’t like being the center of attention but because you liked him, because he chose you, you accepted to sacrifice everything you were for him.

Tonight was one of those nights, your heart was aching, your mind was restless and you couldn’t help but think that this relationship had to stop before you would get hurt. More than you already were.

Ironically enough, Hyeonwu was the one to give you a good reason for finally snapping from your role of the perfect, innocent and docile girlfriend. Instead of asking you to dance with him (you weren’t even sure he remembered he came at the club with you), he found himself another girl to dance with, a girl willing to be what you couldn’t: daring, provocative and would say yes to anything.

You would have accepted to put up with his behavior if only his hands didn’t roam around her body the way it would with you. If he didn’t start kissing her neck as if he wasn’t taken, as if you weren’t in this club too.

You couldn’t do it.

"Excuse me," You called for the bartender. "Can I have a glass of water please?"

He eyed you, annoyed with your request but pushed the glass of water towards you nevertheless.

You didn’t thank him for that considering how rude he was to you anyway, instead you started walking towards them while you still had the courage, while your blood was still boiling and you felt like punching him from stomping your heart.

Once you were close enough, you emptied your glass right at Hyeonwu, he was the one you were aiming, the one who had angered you but the girl got splashed anyway too. They both jumped, the girl shrieking loudly (even with the loud music you heard her) while Hyeonwu groaned and checked his clothes.

"The fuck." He was mad, even in his drunken state he was mad and his eyes found yours quite soon.

A nice boyfriend would have apologized right away; would have felt bad about what he did but Hyeonwu? No. The sight of you only made him angrier.

"What do you think you’re doing, woman?" He growled at you and took a dangerous step towards you.

"Me?" You scoffed at his words. And here you became the villain when really, you were the victim.

And then he took another dangerous step that should have scared you if you weren’t so angry yourself. "Yes, you, Y/N."

"Don’t you dare blaming me, babe." You swore to yourself it would be the only time you would accept to make a scene while being surrounded by strangers. The only time you would want to be the center of attention, because you wanted him to feel bad, to feel humiliated for what he had done.

He didn’t of course.

"Oh please. Always ruining the fun for others. Aren’t you tired?" He scoffed in return.

"Ruining the fun?" You repeated to yourself, words sounding foreign to you. How were you ruining the fun when he was being unfaithful? Certainly your relationship wasn’t what it used to be but still. How could he? By the time you wanted to snap back at him, he was back by the other girl’s side, checking on her.

"You got to be kidding me."

"Hyeonwu." The girl warned him about you getting dangerously closer to them.

In that moment, maybe you had underestimated Hyeonwu’s state. Maybe you had also underestimated your own state. And maybe, finally, you had completely misjudged the person who you used to date. The words died on your tongue as Hyeonwu raised his hand - you shut your eyes tightly, ready for the slap, for the wakeup call.

But it never came.

Surprised, heart roaring in your ears, you opened your eyes but not quite ready to see what was right before your eyes. Someone, in this mess, chose to stand up for you. Before Hyeonwu’s hand could reach your face, a man interfered. A man you couldn’t see except for his back, for his dark brown hair.

Your first thought was that you couldn’t believe Hyeonwu would go as far as try to hit you. Your second thought was about the crazy stranger who, without being asked, chose to stand up for you. It was dumb and dangerous and so not his business but for a short moment it made you feel safe.

“Who the hell are you?” Hyeonwu yanked his arm free from the stranger’s grip, annoyed and more than willing to fight.

But the stranger didn’t seem fazed or impressed despite all the muscles and for Hyeonwu being taller than him. “What kind of man are you? You were about to hit a woman, I couldn’t possibly stand aside and watch it.”

Despite your anger, despite your pain, his voice stirred something inside you; it was strangely familiar and brought a fuzzy memory to your mind. But it couldn’t be, you told yourself. There was no way, so you chose to shove back the memory and concentrate on your present.

“How chivalrous of you but I suggest you to mind your damn business instead of mingling with mine.” Hyeonwu took a step towards him but was quickly held back by the other girl who looked nervously at the two man. At least she didn’t want it to get messier.

“Please don’t.” She begged him.

You shook your head, whispering a ‘no’ and a ‘it can’t be’ as your eyes darted back and forth between Hyeonwu and the girl. And here you thought Hyeonwu was too drunk, thought he had picked a random girl. He didn’t. He so obviously didn’t but somehow, all this time you managed not to see what was right under your nose. Your anger vanished as fast as it came; defeated you had no more strength left to fight Hyeonwu, no more strength left to make him understand how cruel he was to you when all you ever did was try to please him.

Home. You wanted to go home. Except and sadly for you, you lived with him.

“Fine.” You heard Hyeonwu, “Whatever.”

He left. Without a word, without a single glance, making it look like you didn’t exist. You swallowed your tears, your pain, refusing to crumble in a damn club.

Once sure Hyeonwu wouldn’t try to go back on his word, your savior turned to look at you. If you weren’t feeling so down, so empty, you would have realized sooner that the stranger was more familiar than you thought. If you weren’t worrying about your future, you would have noticed how he opened his mouth to speak – you chose the same moment to turn your back and leave. You needed to escape for the sake of your sanity. Or what was left of it.

In your misery, you happened to be quite lucky. When the next day you got back to your shared flat, Hyeonwu was nowhere to be seen and for that you were thankful. You didn’t know whenever it was intentional on his behalf or if he had simply stayed somewhere else, either way it gave you enough time to gather all your most important belongings and leave this place.

It hurt. Your heart, your pride, but you told yourself it was for the best.

Mina welcomed you at her tiny place with opened arms. She didn’t ask for details, giving you time to adjust and sort your thoughts; she would listen when you needed it. She always did.

Mina’s flat was small but cozy, filled with plants of all sorts, with fluffy blankets on wooden chairs, on the couch, with candles all around the place. It was the dream of any witches in your opinion, but it felt like home and just like her.

As you came back with your suitcase, you were greeted with a soft meow, followed by Mina’s fluffy black and white cat that Mina chose to call Pie because she kept saying cutie pie (you had rolled your eyes at that).

“Hello there.” You kneeled to Pie’s level and rubbed its head.

“There you are!” Mina came out of the kitchen, wearing a cute pink apron. She beamed at you and showed you the way. “I freed three shelves for you.”

It was sweet and you were grateful to have such a good friend but you didn’t intend to stay. Not for long at least. Hopefully.

“I know that look.” She interrupted your trail of thoughts. “You don’t bother me, don’t worry. Take your time.”

You smiled.

By some odds, your big brother was back in the country which was a good thing because you hadn’t seen him for whole two years and living with him could be nice. Back when you used to live together, you were partners in crime, driving your parents crazy. So of course, when you received one morning his message telling he was back, you jumped on the opportunity and asked to meet him.

When you got to the café, it took you less than two seconds to spot your brother. How could you not when few females were openly flirting with him. That brought back some goods memories; you smiled and shook your head in feign despair. Some things just never change.

“I see your popularity is still no joke despite you being an old man now.”

Your voice made him forget all about the women around him. He jumped from his chair, too excited and bounced on you (attracting even more attention on both of you). You laughed at his eagerness as his arms circled tightly your waist – Jimin lifted you from the floor and spun you around laughing along with you.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Jimin put you back on the floor but his arms stayed around you. He was beaming, so happy, eyes twinkling at the sight of you. “Look at you.” His hand found your cheek, fingers stroking gently your skin which brought back flashes of memories of your younger days. “Not a kid anymore, are you?”

Your brother was being dramatic. “Oh come on. I didn’t change that much!” But maybe you did, in a way.

Jimin led you to a chair before taking place before you. “You did.”

“And you’re being dramatic.”

“That too.” He smiled sheepishly at you. “And for your information, I’m not old.”

Such a familiar and warm smile – you had missed him a lot.

For a moment, you forgot all about why you were so eager to see him. For a moment, it was just you and your brother and you wanted to catch up with him. “How was it?” Your eyes shone brightly, curious and excited to hear his stories. “How was England?”

“Rainy. Cold.” He chuckled at that. Jimin put his elbows on the table and rested his head in the palm of his hand. “But it was interesting. I will definitely go back there.”

“And leave us again!”

“Oh you missed me that much, pumpkin?”

“Of course I did! Nobody annoys me as much as you do.”

“Not even your boyfriend? What was his name again? Hyeo-, I don’t remember.” Another time you would have rolled your eyes at him because Jimin did remember Hyeonwu’s name, he just didn’t like him that much. But then again, he never liked your boyfriends. This time, however, you didn’t roll your eyes, you didn’t sigh in despair. No, you flinched and clenched your fists under the table.

Jimin noticed the change in your mood instantly. He frowned, taken aback. “What is it, Y/N?” Jimin asked despite having an idea of what had happened while he was away. “Do I need to punch someone?”

For a short moment, you allowed yourself to smile as you imagined your adorable but idiot of brother trying to fight with Hyeonwu who was much taller and stronger than him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But it felt nice knowing that your brother still had your back.

“Oh but I’m very serious. “

This time you rolled your eyes. “You’re just looking for a fight.”

Jimin pointed at himself in fake disbelief. “Never!”

But you knew better. “I need a place to live.”

At first Jimin seemed confused and you quickly realized your mistake. Nobody, including your parents, were aware that you chose to live with your, well now ex-boyfriend for the past year. You gulped as you saw Jimin’s jaw twitch, eyes darkening with every passing seconds. To say that your big brother was not delighted would be the understatement of the century. But for once, instead of cowering in fear (because your brother could turn from a ball of fluff to a very angry and scary man), you huffed and chose to ignore his behavior. “Oh don’t judge me, will you? I already have enough on my plate.”

Jimin opened his mouth (probably to say something mean) but close it right away. He closed his eyes, counted to ten and then looked at you again. “Where are you staying now?”

“With Mina.”

Jimin hummed in response. “Good, good. I guess you want to move in with me then?”

He, of course, said yes.

Living with Jimin was nothing like you thought it would be. You expected him to set rules for you to make sure you wouldn’t disturb his life too much with your presence. You expected not to see much of him because your big brother was a busy man (and you were convinced it wasn’t only because of work). But none of that happened. No, living with Jimin felt like being back at home, minus parents’ presence of course.

Jimin did everything in his power to make you feel at ease. He let you redecorate the spare room, the kitchen, the living room, not caring whether the outcome would suit his taste or not as long as it meant you felt at home.

You had the best brother in the world.

"Hey pumpkin," Jimin called for you from his room, he was getting ready. "My friends are coming over. I hope you don’t mind."

You scoffed as you leaned against the door, rolling your eyes at him. No, really, why would he think it would bother you when he was being so nice. "And if it bothers me, are you going to take your little boys’ night to another place?"

Jimin froze for a short moment, pondering on your question. You worried for a minute that he took you seriously but he grinned and you relaxed. "I’d have to get rid of you actually. Maybe I’d lock you in your room."

"You don’t have a key."

"I actually do."

Now you were worried which didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin because he laughed, hard.

"I would have found a solution." Jimin finally said and got closer to you. He put his hands on your shoulders and gave it a squeeze. "This is your place too."

You shook your head in half disbelief, refusing to show him how his words made your heart swell with love and pride to have Jimin for your brother. "Ts, so annoying." You smiled nevertheless. "So, who’s coming?"

Jimin’s grin only widened. "You probably remember some of them! We’ve been friends since high school."

And remember them you did.

To say that you were mortified at the fact that the stranger from the other night stood in the middle of the living room, talking and smiling brightly at your brother, would be an understatement. Your heart leapt in your throat as one more realization finally dawned on you.

This man. This very handsome, with bright smile man, was no stranger at all. No, this man was no other than Jung Hoseok, one of Jimin’s best friend. But Hoseok wasn’t only Jimin’s friend. No, you remembered all too well how you had felt for years about him.

He was your crush. Your personal sunshine who loved teasing you whenever you were in the room. How you managed to not recognize him that night, you didn’t know and you tried not to think much about it either. For the sake of your broken heart.

The Hoseok from your memory and the Hoseok standing now, despite being the same person, felt extremely different. He was still of course as handsome, as shining but despite his huge smile, despite his laugh, there was something dark about him and you couldn’t tell whether it was a good or a bad thing.

Hoseok’s eyes found yours; something flashed through his eyes, maybe he recognized you as just Jimin’s sister or maybe he recognized you from that night, either way, your treacherous heart missed a beat and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

Jimin noticed his attention had shifted. One look at you and his eyes shined brighter than ever. "Guys! I think you all remember my cute little sister, Y/N?" Then he double checked you, "Though she’s not little anymore."

"I’m still cute though." You cut him before he could make fun of you. To that Jimin only chuckled.

"Y/N!"

Too stunned with Hoseok, you barely noticed that two other men were in the room and you happened to remember them too. Namjoon and Taehyung - you waved shyly at them.

It was strange to meet them again after such a long time. Despite being curious about them, about what they had become, your eyes were once again on Hoseok and to your utter surprise he was still watching you with a knowing smile. God. You came to realization that you had to avoid him and avoid being alone in the room with him, too scared of what could happen.

Through the night, you had found out many useful and not so useful information such as your brother was still a complete dork whenever he was surrounded by his friends, it was as if he hadn’t aged a day (which made you smile fondly at him and joke around). Then, you found that Namjoon became a scientist - not a surprise. The Namjoon you remembered always carried a bag with books too complicated to understand for average people (or ‘for poor mortals like us’ was what Jimin used to say).

Taehyung, and probably to his parents’ dismay, chose the life of an artist; he became a photographer and travelled the world. That didn’t surprise you that much either. You expected him to become a model, nobody could ignore a face like his, but apparently Taehyung enjoyed being the one to take photos.

"Aren’t you going to ask me what I became?" Hoseok asked from his chair, hand on his heart, he feigned being incredibly offended and hurt (apparently, he didn’t like being ignored, especially by you).

You chewed on your lip, weighting the risks; if you snapped at him, Jimin would know you had met Hoseok somewhere and you didn’t feel like explaining yourself but if you kept ignoring him - it would be risky too. So you put on a big, fake smile on your face and looked at him. "What about you, Hobi?"

A glint of something dark and dangerous lit in his eyes, only few seconds and it was gone. But you saw it. You shivered but refused to show any of it. There was no way you could still be crushing on him, you told yourself. But apparently your brain and your body didn’t quite agree on that.

Hoseok chuckled. "I’m delighted to hear my nickname. Nobody had called me ‘Hobi’ for a while."

Jimin cleared his throat but before he could say anything else, Taehyung stepped in. "I call you Hobi every day though."

Ha!

Hoseok shot Taehyung’s a nasty gaze that would have sent any normal person cowering in fear but Taehyung only blew a kiss before winking at you. Well, that was something.

Defeated, Hoseok ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, that you do. But you’re not a fine lady, Taehyung." Then he looked at him, up and down, "Unless you’re hiding something from us?"

Taehyung eyed him for a moment. "Do you want to see my dick to be sure I’m a man?"

That made all of them relax and laugh - you included.

"So?" You looked at Hoseok, smiling more sincerely at him. "What do you do, Hobi?"

He looked surprised but quickly regained his composure and smiled back. "I actually work with Jimin."

"Poor souls." Was your only comment which made Jimin slap your arm.

"You look better." Hoseok’s voice startled you and the cup slipped from your hands but fortunately for you he was fast to catch it before it could shatter. You cursed under your breath; cursing both Hoseok for taking you by surprise and yourself for being so jumpy because of him. "Sorry. I didn’t want to scare you."

You straightened your back with a huff; Hoseok looked too smug for your liking. "The only thing that scares me is your eyes." Which was half true. His eyes did something to you that you didn’t quite like.

"What about them?" But you refused to answer that; there was no way Hoseok wasn’t aware of what he was doing and you refused to play his little game. Which made you wonder, was he always like this?

"What about them, Y/N?" He repeated.

Hoseok took a step towards you and you step back and repeated till your back hit the table and you found yourself trapped between Hoseok and the table. He was playing a dangerous game and you shouldn’t let him but there was something so alluring - you couldn’t resist.

He had his arms at each side of you, hovering over you. This was definitely not the Hoseok you were used to.

You licked your lips nervously, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his very inviting lips. You had to be mad to even contemplate the idea of kissing him, it would be so easy. "When did you become so daring?"

Hoseok actually chuckled at that. "I always was. I just didn’t want to scare you back then; you were such a cute little girl."

"You’re just seven years older, I wasn’t a little girl back then." You were but the stubborn part of you refused to let him win and apparently Hoseok realized it too as he laughed.

"The last time I saw you, you were eighteen. Was it at your birthday party?" He got a hold on a strand of your hair, twisting it, curling around his finger, he was lost in his memories - he smiled and looked straight into your eyes. "Jimin got mad at you because you wore an incredibly revealing electric blue dress."

Your breath hitched in your throat. How could Hoseok remember something that had happened five years ago? Something you would have forgotten if not for Jimin’s scolding.

"Can’t blame him. If I was in his shoes, I would have thrown you over my shoulder and brought you back to your room to change." He brought the strand closer to his lips and you swore your heart missed a beat.

Fuck. You were still crushing on him.

"Now, since I’m not your brother, I can tell you that I enjoyed the view." Then, he leaned closer till his warm breath reached your ear. "And I wished I could do more than just watching from afar."

Shit.

But that was it. No matter how much Hoseok wanted to toy with you, there were limits (or more exactly, there was a Jimin) - he took a step back. "Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it; you look just as easy to tease as back then."

That was your wake up call. You jolted from your place and put as much space as you could between Hoseok and you. You looked at him with mixed feelings. A part of you enjoyed hearing those words, those confessions from him, on the other hand his behavior made your blood boil with anger. How dared he?

You stormed out of the room, deciding that there was no way you could deal with this Hoseok tonight. Or any other night.

Later, however, you found a tiny piece of paper along with a phone number and instead of throwing it in the bin, you hid it safely in your sketchbook.

"I’m glad to see you’re not doing your puppy eyes to Hoseok anymore." Jimin plumped on the bed beside you, disturbing your peaceful drawing moment. The mere mention of Hoseok made you tighten your grip on your pencil and by some miracle it didn’t break under your strength.

Jimin noticed it and cocked a brow at you. "Interesting." He nudged your leg with his feet to get your attention - you refused to acknowledge his presence if he wanted to talk about this annoying friend of his. "You used to follow me everywhere as long as Hoseok was around."

No, you wanted to protest but then, that would be a lie. You did follow Jimin as much as you could only to be able to see Hoseok (even if half of the time you couldn’t muster the courage to talk to him which only amused both of your brother and Hoseok).

"Back then I thought it was cute. Annoying too, but I couldn’t even get mad with you."

"Is it heading somewhere or?" You finally looked at him and you regretted it instantly. Jimin had a smirk plastered on his face which was bad omen for you. "Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. Get out."

"Oh come on, pumpkin!" He nudged you again. "I won’t talk about embarrassing memories." He promised which was probably not his initial plan. "However, what was this all about with Hoseok earlier?"

Jimin was too observant, you used to know it but somehow it had escaped your mind.

You sighed in defeat, closed your sketchbook. "Nothing." That didn’t sound as convincing as you expected - you cleared your voice, awkwardly. "Maybe I was embarrassed with how I used to be around him."

"Hm." Jimin didn’t sound convinced but shrugged, choosing for once that he could live with it. "Fine." He jumped from your bed, "But just so you know, I don’t believe you."

You simply stuck your tongue out and let him leave.

Yes, it was good living with Jimin.

Mina chocked on her Frappuccino, not believing your words. “You’re kidding, right?” But seeing that you kept your face straight, Mina understood that it was not some kind of joke. “You’re not kidding.” She wiped her mouth with a tissue and then really looked at you. “Well shit.”

You snorted. ‘Well shit’ was almost your initial reaction too. Except it had changed. A little. Or not. The moment Hoseok had showed his true colors, you forgot all about your crush and just wanted to smash his pretty little head. That was a lie. You didn’t want to smash his head, you wanted something else but refused to admit it to yourself.

“Is it what people call fate?” Mina wondered out loud, ready to elaborate her theories (to your biggest dismay). “Not only your savior was, is a hot mess-“

“I never said he was hot! I only said I used to crush on him when I was younger.” You regretted your outburst the moment it left your mouth as Mina’s wicked grin only widened.

“Potato, potato.” Mina wiggled her finger at you. “And this same hot stranger is actually your brother’s best friend and the guy you used to crush on. This is fate.”

“This is bullshit.” You snapped back but Mina didn’t seem fazed with your attempt to protest and prove her wrong. Maybe you could try harder but sadly, you knew she was a lost cause and because you did believe it was a rather nice coincidence.

The mere thought of Hoseok made your blood roar in your ears as images from the last time with him flashed through your mind. It had been days and there must be something wrong with you because no matter how hard you tried you would think about him, about how close he got to you when you were trapped between his body and the table.

“What are you going to do about him?” Mina resumed sipping on her drink but she was watching you, gawking at you.

“Nothing.” What could you possibly do? Even if he was Jimin’s friend (which was already a big deal) and even if Hoseok seemed inclined to flirt shamelessly with you, you didn’t know him well enough and you were scared of who he was. Scared but intrigued. And maybe tempted.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should.”

“Is it about Hyeonwu? It’s over. You need to move on.” And because Mina knew all too well, she raised her hand to stop you from snapping at her. “I know you loved him. And I’m not telling you to pursue that hotmess or even fall for him. I’m just saying that a little distraction can be very helpful. And from what you’re telling me, this dude seems to be into this kind of distraction.”

You thought about this option for a moment, slumping further in your seat. Mina was right, it could be helpful but it didn’t change the fact that Hoseok was Jimin’s best friend; it was too dangerous to consider. You shook your head in defeat but before you could share your mind, two men stepped inside the café.

Two all too familiar men.

Two incredibly annoying men too.

You bit on your lips hard before letting a groan out. “You got to be kidding me.”

Mina followed your gaze, curious at your sudden change of behavior – what she saw did not disappoint her. She easily recognized one of the two men; she had seen some old pictures of you and Jimin and she must admit that you both looked quite alike. The second man, however, she did not recognize but judging from your reaction she had a little guess.

“The blond one is your brother I suppose?” You nodded, half hearing her, your eyes were on them. “And the other one is…?”

“Hoseok.” You regretted whispering his name. It was as if, despite the chattering around you, despite the music, he still heard you – his eyes were on you. Fuck.

But maybe for once you were lucky. Hoseok only winked at you (which didn’t go unnoticed by Mina) and turned back to Jimin who was, surprisingly, oblivious to the little exchange.

Mina whistled before averting her eyes. "I must say, it’s one thing to see your brother in photos and find him cute - but damn girl, he’s hot as hell. Can I have his number?"

"Fuck off."

She laughed.

Another day, another party and another regret. Clearly, last time should have been enough for you for many reasons but when Mina begged you to go with her, how exactly were you supposed to say no? She promised to not stay long which you believed her; Mina at least had control over time she spent dancing and drinking and she would never leave you alone unless you asked her to. It was why you said yes.

The regret came once you were inside.

It was a birthday party of one of a guy from your class whose name you had already forgotten but he sure as hell was famous considering how crowded and noisy it was.

"Oh it’s going to be so much fun!" Mina almost squealed beside you. She flipped her hair and winked playfully at you. "Let’s grab a drink babe."

You had to admit that despite the crowd, despite the place being noisy, the music was good and you couldn’t possibly say no to free snacks (and drinks) and maybe Mina’s enthusiasm was slowly rubbing on you as you found yourself smiling.

That was until a very familiar voice echoed from somewhere near you. Mina froze on the spot, two drinks in her hand - so did you. Hyeonwu was at the party which you should have expected. He was a social butterfly, of course he would go to a big birthday party.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and counted till ten. Mina got to your side and handed you the drink (that was incredibly needed).

"Is killing still forbidden in this country?" Mina joked though she did look like she was about to murder someone in cold blood.

"Sadly." You patted her back. There was little you could do in this situation; you could be a winner and simply ignore the tightness in your chest, enjoy the night; or you could be a looser by going home and crying the whole night. You refused to give up so easily.

Sadly for you, it wasn’t over.

"What about Y/N?" You heard someone ask about you - this time you felt your heart leaping in your throat. Why did people still need to talk about you, about your relationship? You considered it rude.

"What about her?" Hyeonwu asked sounding particularly disinterested.

"Since I don’t see her with you, I guess the rumors are true - you broke up."

"Not like she mattered anyway."

Maybe you were going to kill him after all before Mina could even lay her hands on him.

"I’m going to kill him." She growled dangerously beside you.

"Don’t. I really don’t want to visit you in jell and bring you oranges."

"I would rather you bring me chocolate."

You both looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Hyeonwu was an ass and he could go to hell; you would not let yourself be weak, you would not let yourself shed any more tear. No.

"I think I need something stronger."

It seemed like a good idea at the moment.

You learnt much much later that it was, in fact, a very bad idea.

Awful idea.

Especially when the last thing you remembered was Mina telling you to slow down on alcohol.

God.

You should quit drinking, not like it was a habit of yours but surely you had outdone yourself considering how your head felt; heavy, splitting. In fact, you felt like you were dying.

Your whole body ached, moving in the bed was pure torture.

Bed.

You jolted in the bed and regretted it instantly as the room spun around you and you felt a wave of nausea. You clamped your hand over your mouth; god, you were a mess.

You pushed back the blanket covering your body only to see that you weren’t naked but you weren’t wearing your own clothes either which definitely wasn’t much better. No, you wore a black shirt that was way too big for you, reaching your mid thighs.

Another wave of nausea.

To say that despite you being hungover you panicked at the idea of being somewhere you didn’t know with someone you didn’t know would be an understatement. You took a deep breath, calming your crazy heart and trying to keep your wish to empty your stomach at bay. You forced yourself to replay the party in your head.

The music, the people you had met, Mina, even Hyeonwu and his words you could remember. But you leaving with someone? That was a big mystery. No matter how hard you tried to remember, to even catch a glimpse of a memory - it didn’t work. There was nothing you could do except being, for once, a big girl and go face the unknown in hope that whoever’s place it was, was a nice person.

But the reality that welcomed you once you stepped out of the safety of the room was so much better.

Or worse.

Really, it was all about perspective.

Hoseok was preparing a breakfast for both of you, music playing and he sang along; you thought he was unaware of your presence. Oh how wrong you were. "Sit."

I’m going to be sick. It was one thing believing you ended up so drunk you would leave with a stranger or maybe a fellow student of your college but it was a whole new level of panic to find yourself in Hoseok’s shirt and in his kitchen. ‘How’ and ‘why’ were on the tip of your tongue but Hoseok turned around, hands on his hips he looked like an angry parent instead of - your crush.

Helplessly you followed his order.

"Good girl." Was the only thing he said and then, he resumed his preparation.

How confusing. He didn’t try to mock you or to explain, it was as if all of it was perfectly normal. As if you were friends. As if you hadn’t done something stupid. God, you hoped, no, you prayed you hadn’t done something stupid.

You cleared your throat, quite awkwardly. "How bad was it?" A part of you was scared to know, but you had to know and start somewhere.

Hoseok ignored your question.

It bothered you to no end that he chose to keep his mouth shut when he could find so many reasons to either scold you or mock you. He did none of that. He busied himself with the breakfast and only when pancakes, Nutella, orange juice and coffee was on the table, he finally sat across from you.

“Eat.”

Your jaw clenched. “Are you going to order me around or are you going to answer my questions?”

Hoseok sighed. He put his elbows on the table and rested his head in the palm of his hand. “I don’t think you’re ready for answers to be honest, Y/N.”

It did something to you the way he said your name. It shouldn’t, really, but it did. You gulped, staring nervously back at him – he looked too damn smug (and handsome with all the sun on his face). “It’s that bad.”

“You have no idea.”

“Shit.” You slammed your head on the table, startling Hoseok with your sudden gesture; he was ready to jump from his place and to get to you but then you turned your face to look at him, miserable and ready to curse yourself and your life.

Hoseok chuckled and shook his head in defeat. Cooking had eased his mind and calmed his nerves. But seeing you genuinely upset with yourself was enough to unsettle him and make his anger vanish. “You were a mess.”

You blinked at his words; finally he was willing to make you remember (and if not, explain) what happened. “How bad?”

“Well. According to your friend you got into a fight.”

“A fight?! Oh my god, with who?”

Hoseok bit on his lips, trying hard not to laugh at you. “You punched your ex.”

You stood from your seat too fast and felt dizzy right away. With a blink of an eye, Hoseok was by your side, a hand on your back and steadying before you could collapse on the floor. “Easy tiger.”

“Sorry.” You sat back. “It can’t be. I’ve never hit anybody in my life.” Then you thought about a time when Jimin had intentionally told your parents about your supposed weekend with your friend which was a cover for your weekend with your boyfriend. It was the only time you truly got mad at Jimin and had punched him in the face. “Well, except for Jimin.”

“Shocking.” Hoseok feigned surprise. “He does deserve a beating from time to time.”

Despite your anxiety, you chuckled. “And what happened after I hit him?”

Hoseok’s whole face darkened for a second; it was so fast you could have imagined it. But you didn’t. “According to your friend, he tried to slap you. Again. Luckily for him, your friend got you out of his way before he could do so.”

It was a very odd thing to witness. Hoseok was clearly annoyed, no, angry with Hyeonwu, maybe because he didn’t like men who would raise their hand on women or maybe it was just because of you, either way it was odd but nice. “You’re angry.”

Hoseok didn’t deny it. “I am. But not only with this piece of shit. Last night I was angry with you too.”

“Why me?” You frowned, “Did I do something else?”

Hoseok considered telling you the truth. He eyed you from head to toes, eyes lingering a little longer than acceptable on your bare legs before shaking his head. He wouldn’t tell but his gaze was enough to tell you that you had done something stupid.

“Don’t tell me I jump on you.” You almost begged him.

Hoseok blinked before bursting into laughter. “I would have loved that.”

His response confused you. If you didn’t jump on him (which would have explained his shirt on you) then what was it? You glanced at your hands and then at Hoseok, scowling half angrily at him – he flicked gently your forehead in response. “Really, you don’t want to remember this part.”

Your eyes widened in realization; there could be only one other thing that could embarrass you. “Oh no. Please, tell me I didn’t throw up.”

Hoseok winced at the memory. “You did and then passed out in my bathroom.”

You buried your face in between your hands, wanting the floor to swallow you whole. You regretted bitterly your poor choices in life. First you got wasted, then you thought it would be cool to punch your ex (he completely deserved it). “Wait. How did you know I was at this party?”

“You messaged me.”

“I did what?”

Hoseok showed you his phone and the messages you exchanged in your drunken state. Bloody hell. Second reminder to yourself: quit drinking. You should have called for Jimin but instead you chose Hoseok (and here you thought you would never dare to send him a message). You told him how lonely you felt and that you wanted to leave the party. This was embarrassing, enough for you to hide for a while but you also couldn’t ignore the fact (and it warmed your heart more than it should) that instead of ignoring your texts, Hoseok came for you.

"You could have called Jimin." That was definitely not what you wanted to say. A ‘thank you’ would have been better but somehow you wanted to know why he came.

"He would have asked why you asked for me instead of him." Hoseok sighed, too aware that he was playing a dangerous game that could not end well. "I shouldn’t have left you my number. But you know what? A part of me is happy I did." Hoseok gently took your hand and started rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. "Who knows what would have happened otherwise?"

Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes darted back and forth between his face and his hand.

This Hoseok seemed so much more familiar compare to the one you had faced last time. He was sweet and gentle and of course a little tease.

"You know," Hoseok started, he watched you trying to figure him out, "If love doesn’t work for you maybe you should try something else."

To say that you didn’t think about the morning with Hoseok or his words would be a lie because you did. Quite often even. A part of you clung to the memory of his touches, of his words but another, and the more rational part of you told you to forget and to move on.

You couldn’t.

You couldn’t forget when you saw Hoseok every now and then. Hoseok made it even harder; he would never miss a chance to tease you (whether it was about that day or another subject) when nobody was looking.

One word from you and you could have stopped it. But you didn’t. No. You could pretend you didn’t like all this attention but it would be another lie - you loved it.

You sighed as once more you were thinking about Hoseok. How troublesome.

It was getting late. You should have been home for a while now but because of the project you were working on, you had to stay later than usual. Jimin had promised to meet you after work with cookies which would have been perfect after such a long day - Jimin was late.

One glance at your phone - still no news from your brother which worried you. Did he somehow forget about you? That would be very unlike him but the alternative scared you.

A car stopped right by your side. You glanced at the car but quickly averted your eyes, it wasn’t Jimin’s.

The person inside the car however wasn’t done with you. Winding down the window - you heard a familiar voice calling for you. A voice that made your skin tingle and warm right away.

"Hobi?"

"Get in." He smiled brightly at you, "I’m your driver for tonight."

Oh. Oh boy.

It took you all self control not to show him how you felt about it, instead you hurried to get inside his car and tried to look casual. "Do I want to know why you’re here instead of Jimin?"

"Ouch. A lesser man would have been hurt with your words, princess." Hoseok, however, didn’t seem that hurt in your opinion - he winked playfully at you and started the car. "Jimin is stuck in the office so I offered to pick you up."

"How nice of you, oh my savior." You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him.

Hoseok laughed and to your utter surprise patted your naked leg. It was such a simple gesture, probably with no intention behind, but your body reacted on it own, burning under his touch. You bit on your lips and tried to regain composure, but your mind seemed to concentrate only at the spot on your leg Hoseok had touched. Geez Y/N, calm the hell down!

"How come you were staying so late?"

You welcomed this distraction with a sigh of relief; if Hoseok noticed he didn’t comment. "I’m working on my art project and I’m a little behind the schedule."

"You’re art major?" Hoseok was surprised for a short moment before memories flashed through his mind. "Right. Why am I even surprised." He chuckled to himself. "I remember you spending hours drawing or painting while we would be playing games in the background. I don’t know how you managed to concentrate with all the noise."

At least he admitted that they were the noisiest persons you had ever met. But truth to be told, it never bothered you. Yes they were loud and would try to distract you when you weren’t even trying to talk to them, but their energy, their pure friendship, the atmosphere around them was something that fueled your inspiration. "I never minded."

Hoseok glanced at you, one brow arched. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. "It helped me."

"Well, if you’re ever stuck, just call us. I’ll be more than glad to be noisy." He joked.

"Will do."

Asking Jimin about Hoseok without actually letting him know how you felt was tricky. Jimin knew you like the back of his hand which meant that whether you tried tricking him into believing that your questions were out of pure curiosity or not would end the same way: Jimin knowing your tiny crush on Hoseok was not as tiny as you thought.

You took the risk anyway.

While Jimin was drinking his coffee and reading newspaper, you sat in front of him and poured yourself some coffee too. "Hey Jimin," He only acknowledged your presence with a hum, waiting for whatever you wanted to say. "Are you planning to have a boys night soon?"

Jimin lowered the newspaper, checked your face before resuming his reading without giving you a proper answer which made you scowl at him. Was he in a bad mood? "Jimin-"

"Don’t say it." He interrupted you before you could try again, still without looking at you.

You blinked, confused. "Say what?"

"Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to ask."

You huffed and crossed you arms over your chest; you couldn’t believe he could possibly know what was on your mind. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." But you did.

Jimin slammed his newspaper on the table (and you winced at his reaction), his eyes dark and threatening were on you. Well, you had completely forgotten that your bother could get quite intimidating when he wanted to. You chose not to cower and just huff one more time in annoyance and maybe a tad of provocation.

"You aren’t asking when I’m going to see my friends. "Jimin pointed at you, "You’re asking when I’m going to invite Hoseok over so you could see him again."

Yeah, ok, Jimin really knew what he was talking about. You bit on your lips, contemplating whether you should be honest with him or tell him he was wrong. You couldn’t muster the courage to lie. "So? When is he coming?"

Jimin groaned. "Y/N."

"What? I’m just curious."

"No, you’re not." JImin’s jaw tensed and for a second you thought all hell would break loose. But to your biggest surprise, Jimin kept his temper in check and simply shook his head. "He’s not the right guy for you."

You scoffed in disbelief at his presumptions.. "Are you telling me this as my brother or as his friend?"

"What’s the difference? I’m telling you he’s not right for you."

"And of course you know who’s right for me?!" Getting angry and raising your voice at him was very unlike you; it took you by surprise and so it did to Jimin as his eyes widened slightly in shock.

Jimin inhaled and exhaled, trying to be the mature one and not to get angry. "I actually do."

You doubt that.

"You want to feel the butterflies. You want a prince, a fairy tale. You want someone who would be willing to sacrifice everything for you. I’m sorry but Hoseok isn’t this kind of man."

The urge to throw the rest of your coffee at him was very strong and so damn tempting. But that would be extremely childish of you and would only prove him he was right.

He was, but you weren’t ready to admit that just yet.

Jimin’s words had hit home. He was right about your view and expectations from a relationship and yet what Jimin also didn’t know was that your faith in love had shattered. It wasn’t like Hyeonwu was the love of your life and you expected to get married and have two kids with him. No. But the betrayal left a bitter taste in your mouth. So why not try something else? Something so out of your character? And who would be the best to show you the way than Hoseok?

"I know this look. You’re up to something." Mina nudged you in the stomach making you groan in both pain and annoyance. But Mina only wiggled her brows playfully at you. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

She didn’t buy it even for a second. "Nothing would be you not checking your phone every five minutes as if you’re waiting for someone, probably your very hot crush, to text you back."

You gave her the stink eye. Mina was too observant for her own good. You bit on your lips but chose not to tell her what was on your mind.

Mina huffed in annoyance as she realized that. "Fine. Don’t tell me."

But just like Mina had mentioned, you checked your phone hoping to see a message from Hoseok. You had sent him a message two hours ago, telling him you needed a lift which you didn’t but he didn’t need to know that. Till now, you still had no answer which shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. It was just a game, you promised yourself.

Mina grabbed your arm and forced you to halt. "You should probably stop checking your phone and look before you instead." A wicked smile that sent shivers down your spine spread on her plump lips. She pointed at something, at someone and when your eyes found that someone, your breath hitched in your throat and you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing.

Hoseok was leaning against his car, all in black, and looking too out of place in your opinion but so damn hot. The black turtleneck sweater and leather jacked looked all too good on him. He was a walking sin.

And apparently Mina agreed to your thoughts as she whistled and nudged you playfully. "I guess you won’t need a lift after all."

"See you tomorrow." Was the only thing you managed to say, eyes glued to a smiling Hoseok, heart roaring in your ears as you took a step towards him.

"Have fun!" Mina said too loudly for your liking. You hoped he didn’t hear it.

He did. Hoseok’s smile turned into a smirk, but at least he didn’t comment. He opened the door for you like a gentleman. "My lady."

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course he would say something like that.

To say that you were nervous would be the understatement of the century.

You drove in almost complete silence. Music played in the background and usually it would have helped you to relax but it didn’t. You kept glancing at Hoseok - if he noticed, he didn’t comment. How exactly were you supposed to bring the subject without making a fool of yourself?

"So," Hoseok cleared his throat to get your attention. "Are you planning to tell me what it’s really about?"

You snapped your head so fast at him, eyes widening. He knew you were up to something. Maybe he knew exactly what you were up to and this thought wasn’t very comforting.

You averted your eyes from his face and looked instead at your curled fist resting on your thighs. You were exactly where you wanted to be and you needed to be brave to tell him what you wanted.

You took a deep breath and looked at him. Confident. "Do you remember what you told me last time?" As you saw him frowning you quickly added, "If love doesn’t work for me I should try something else."

Hoseok’s grip on the wheel tightened. "I remember." Despite that he didn’t look at you or elaborate.

His lack of reaction (you expected him to laugh at you at least) only made you more nervous - you shoved it somewhere far and stayed as composed as possible. "Want to help me with it?"

Here. It was out.

Hoseok pulled over without a word or a single glance at you which quite frankly made you want to jump out of the car and forget everything about your plan. It was stupid, reckless. What were you even thinking?

As the car got to a halt, Hoseok turned to look at you. Really look at you. His eyes were dark and if you didn’t know better you would have thought they were hungry. Sadly, it couldn’t be true.

Hoseok licked his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips, giving you a terrible impression that suddenly you were his prey. "Did you call me in hope I’d say yes?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. And yet your voice got stuck in your throat.

At your silence, Hoseok only chuckled and leaned closer so his hand could reach your warm face. Gently, he stroked your cheek. There were things he wished he could tell you, but he couldn’t. You weren’t ready.

"Did you think I would say yes to fuck you, Y/N?"

It was exactly what you hoped, exactly what you wanted. And yet, having Hoseok so close, muttering those words made you gulp, frozen on the spot. It was stupid. You were stupid.

What were you thinking, Y/N?!

Hoseok pulled back. "Thought so."

He took you home without a word.

You had fucked up.

Holidays meant more time for you. Meant more time to heal from your break up, more time to work on your project that didn’t go as planned, and sadly more time to think about your humiliation. You couldn’t forget what happened in the car, how stupid you were and how bad you had felt afterwards. Luckily for you, Jimin hadn’t invited Hoseok or any other of his friends which let you all the time to gloom.

In fact, Jimin was barely at home at all which in a way was great for you; you had more space for yourself and at least he wouldn’t know about your mood. But it didn’t mean he didn’t notice.

On the third day of your holidays, Jimin barged in your room, startling you. You were so engrossed in your painting that you hadn’t heard him at all.

"That’s enough." Jimin looked genuinely upset and tired.

You eyed him, a brow cocked at him. "What is enough?"

"You. Do you think because I have been so busy, I haven’t noticed your behavior?" Jimin pointed an accusing finger at you. "Just because you’re alone in there don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in your pretty head."

Jimin approached you and put a bag at your feet.

"What is it?"

"My company is having a party and I need you to come with me."

That was ridiculous. Not because you didn’t like the idea of going to a party (though after your last experience, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea), but you going with Jimin didn’t make much sense. He could get any date he wanted, why would he bother to bring his sister instead? You shook your head in disbelief. "Jimin, you can ask any of your girl friends to come with you."

Jimin huffed, putting his hands on his hips. "I could, but my little sister is being a depressed, ugly monster right now. You need some fresh air."

You tried to hit him for the ‘ugly monster’ but Jimin was fast to dodge your attack, laughing at your attempt. "Get ready. We’re leaving in two hours."

"Would it be enough for you to get ready?" You joked, though it was half true. Jimin tended to spend more time than you to get ready.

He only stuck his tongue out in reply.

There was no denying, Jimin’s company sure as hell knew how to throw a party. You didn’t expect much when he asked you to come with him but you definitely blessed him for bringing you along. The venue was beautiful; from lights to the layout of the place, to the music in the background (and let’s not forget about the food and free alcohol). For a second, you forgot about Jimin and let go of his arm just so you could wander and have a better view of the place - Jimin only smiled at that and watched you from afar.

After three days of mopping around, it was good to see your eyes shining brightly and looking forward for something, even if it was for one night. Jimin hoped that by bringing you with him, it would make you realize that whatever was bothering you wasn’t worth it.

"I take it as you like the place." Jimin joined you and snatched two glasses of Champaign. "Here."

You being you gladly accepted. "I do. Are all your company’s parties so luxurious?" Then you glanced at the people around. They all looked classy and beautiful with their outfits and you were more than thankful that Jimin found a pretty hot dress for you - a red, long backless dress with a front split.

"No. This one is more formal but sometimes…It gets crazy." Judging by Jimin’s reaction, you decided that you didn’t want to know about the crazy parties, just because imagining your brother doing something reckless was too much no matter how close you were.

"Come on, sis. Lets the fun begin." He showed you his arm and you gladly accepted it.

Jimin was an amazing brother.

You, of course, already knew that, but tonight one more time he proved you just how good of a brother he was. Nothing obliged him to stay the most part of the night with you, nothing. But he did. He drank with you, stole some food with you when nobody was looking (though would it still be considered stealing when he belonged to the company). He joked with you, commented on people. He introduced you to his people, his crew and by the huge smiles on their face, you knew just how much Jimin was appreciated.

You wanted him to enjoy the night. "Jimin," you tugged his hand gently. "Go. Have fun." Which only made him frown. Of course he wouldn’t understand which only made you smile fondly at him. "I think you’ve spent more than enough time with me, you should go and enjoy yourself."

Jimin scoffed. "What makes you think I’m not enjoying myself?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Oh please. Do you think I didn’t see how you were eying this girl by the window? I’m not blind." You pinched his arm making him yelp and take a step from you. "Go. I’ll be fine. I probably won’t stay for too long so don’t worry for me."

Despite your attempt at convincing him to leave you alone, Jimin hesitated.

"I’m going to get really mad if you don’t go to her." You warned him.

"No you won’t." But he smiled nevertheless. "Fine." He ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair and sighed in defeat. "Fine. But just so you know, I had fun tonight. It reminded me the good old days - I hadn’t realized just how much I missed those times."

You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze - you completely agreed with him. Till tonight, you hadn’t realized just how much you missed spending some quality time with him. "Now go and you better not come back before morning!"

This time, Jimin rolled his eyes at you.

Proud of yourself, you snatched another glass of champaign. You wandered around the huge place without really minding people until, and sadly for you, you bumped into someone you didn’t expect to see tonight because your lovely brain had chosen to forget that Jung Hoseok was also working with Jimin.

You stumbled - Hoseok was fast to grab your arm and steady you.

Bloody hell.

Why.

How could you have forgotten that Hoseok too was working in this company and that obviously he would attend the party was beyond your comprehension. Why did you always forget about the most important things that could have avoided you some unwanted situation?

You had no words. You felt embarrassed and not only because you had bumped into him. No. The simple sight of him (looking absolutely devastating in his black suit) brought back the memory of the very humiliating night that you wished to forget.

"Sorry." You quickly apologized and while Hoseok was too stunned to see you, you ran away.

The moment you reached the stairs, you took your damn heels off. Your feet hurt and with you trying to get away from Hoseok as fast as possible - it hurt. You leaned against the wall for a short moment, taking a deep breath.

"Put those back on." Hoseok’s voice startled you and you almost hit your head in the process.

"Not your damn business." Shit. You wanted to smash your head against the wall, feeling utterly stupid for being suddenly so harsh and so not like you. Yes, you were frustrated. Yes, you were angry, but with yourself.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was stunned but only for a short moment. It wasn’t very often that he witnessed your sassy and angry side but he decided that he liked it. He had two options before him; he could either leave you to your fate and go back to the party (a party he wasn’t very fond of anyway) or he could stay with you. He chose the latter.

Without a warning, Hoseok lifted you from the ground - you yelped in surprise and fear but your arms instantly flew to his neck.

"The hell are you doing?!" You screamed at him.

"Since you’re being so disobedient, I’m bringing you home." Was his only answer.

You couldn’t accept that. You pinched his nape, hit his chest in hope he would let you go. He didn’t and he wasn’t bothered with your antics. Oh no, it amused him. All your attempts at being feisty and strong - he knew he had the upper hand.

"Jung Hoseok, you better put me down now or-"

"Or what?" He cut you before you could finish your threat. "You’re going to scream?"

That was your first option, yes, but you weren’t sure you wanted to attracted any attention on you. You hit him instead in the chest. Again.

Hoseok chuckled and his grip around you tightened. Before you could ask him anything, he took you by surprise by putting you on a car. His car. You blinked, confused, and observed him.

Hoseok didn’t say a word, he simply watched you, licking his lips as his eyes roamed through your body.

Good god. Your skin flushed under his gaze. You were in so much trouble.

"That was unnecessary." You said as you tried to slid from the car - Hoseok was faster. Before you could get back on your feet, he got closer to you. His hands were on your exposed thighs as he settled between your legs. Dear lord. Your heart leapt in your throat at the sudden proximity and the feel of his hands on your bare skin. Just like the last time, it burnt, so bad, so good.

"Hoseok?"

He didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, on the feel of your skin against the palm of his hands. He was supposed to be the reasonable one but the moment he spotted you at the parted wearing this sinful dress, all his resolution vanished - he wanted you. He pressed his head against your forehead, eyes never leaving your lips. It was pure madness. "Tell me to stop, Y/N."

"Wh-what?" You were genuinely confused.

His hands traveled through your body, slowly, gently, feather like touches that sent shivers down your spine and straight to your core. He was toying with you and your feelings - you couldn’t think straight.

"Tell me to stop." His lips were impossibly close, all you had to do was to tilt your head and your lips would finally meet his. "You’re the only one who can stop me. Say no and I’ll stop and bring you home."

You gulped nervously and at the same time hopeful and excited with what he could do if you said yes instead. "And what happens if I don’t stop you?"

Hoseok groaned as he closed his eyes. He imagined many things, especially ever since you mentioned fucking him - he couldn’t stop thinking about it. "Jimin is going to kick my ass."

More confident, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him closer against you. You whispered against his lips, "I’m going to protect you then."

You sealed the promise with a kiss.

It was seven in the morning, you were a mess but a rather satisfied mess. Hoseok had dropped you after the almost sleepless night you had spent at his place. You expected him to regret having sex with you, heck, you expected to feel guilty about it too but none of it happened. Hoseok had woken you up with a gentle kiss on the lips, on your cheeks, on your shoulders - he didn’t particularly wanted to part with you but he knew better than to take risks with Jimin.

You pushed the door to Jimin’s place as quietly as you could, hoping deep inside you that Jimin had listened to your advice and spend the night somewhere else while you were supposed to be at home.

On your tiptoes you walked through the place, trying not to knock anything on your path - Jimin cleared his throat.

"Holy shit!" You jumped and slammed your hand over your chest. "You scared me!"

What Jimin was doing awake at this unholy hour (at least for a Saturday) was beyond you. He was at home and you were in trouble.

Jimin eyed you with a quirked brow, up and down, taking notes of your state. You wanted to ignore his glare and run to the safety of your room but sadly, your feet were rooted to the ground, staring back at him. "Hi?"

Jimin shook his head. "So. Whose body am I going to bury in the garden?"

"We don’t have a garden." You answered without thinking - Jimin rolled his eyes in response.

Yes, you were in trouble.

What was supposed to be a one time thing with Hoseok turned into something more. Every time he called, you said yes, swearing every single time it would be the last because you were terrified at how he made you feel. But you couldn’t get enough.

You bit on your lips while playing with your pencil. Instead of drawing, in class, you found yourself glancing at your still red wrists - memories flashed through your mind and you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your thighs together.

Flashback

You watched, completely bewitched, as Hoseok tied your hands to the bed with a red silk ribbons. With every step he took, Hoseok watched you carefully, making sure he wasn’t overstepping some boundaries, that you were hundred percent comfortable with whatever he was doing to you.

You were.

God, you were more than that judging by how wet you were and he hadn’t even touched you. Another time, another day you would have felt embarrassed about being so aroused but it was Hoseok and if there was one thing he made sure to teach you was that you should never be ashamed or embarrassed about yourself.

Never.

"Such a good girl for me." Hoseok praised you and once he was done with the knot, he pressed a gentle kiss to your wrists. Such a sweet and delicate gesture that sent shivers down your spine and to your core - you pressed your thighs together seeking any friction you could get.

Hoseok chuckled at your attempt but did nothing to ease your aching body, no, instead he pulled back and admired the view before him.

You were splayed in front of him, lips beautifully swollen with all the kissing, pupils blown. It was his favorite view; you being naked and so willing for him, he was getting harder with every look he took.

"So beautiful." His finger trailed along your calf, drawing circles.

"Hoseok." You pleaded, skin on fire. You wanted him to touch you, to feel him.

Hoseok only smiled in response and considered what he wanted to do with you. He crawled, parting your legs in the process. He kissed your calf, a warm and gentle press of the lips that got you to whine in both delight and slight despair. You were torn between the wish he could simply ravish you, or the wish he would take his sweet time with you, torturing your body, your senses - you bit on your lips.

"What should I do with you, baby girl?" Hoseok hummed as he hovered over you. His fingers trailed along your jaw before his thumb was rubbing your lips. He loved your mouth, those pretty lips that could drive him crazy. He would have loved to feel your mouth around his cock, to have you chock around him. Yes, he would love that very much but another time.

Anything, you wanted to say but your words got lost the moment his hands started roaming your body. They were everywhere. On your thighs, your stomach, your breast. Every touch drove you crazier and he knew it. Hoseok knew your body like the back of his hand and he sure as hell knew what to do to make you beg.

"Hoseok, please." You begged, not giving a damn as long as he gave you what you needed. "I need you." You lifted your hips to lean further in his touch but Hoseok pushed you back on the bed. So easily. "Please."

"Such an impatient little thing." He tsked but his smirk only widened.

Before you could whine, his lips claimed your mouth, demanding, wet, intoxicating and brief. You wanted to pull him back, to deepen the kiss but you couldn’t. You pulled at your restraints, the cloth only sank into your skin.

Hoseok’s lips traveled from your lips to your jaw, to your neck, leaving as many purple marks as possible (knowing all too well that you would complain later); your body was a white canvas and he sure as hell wanted to work on it.

His lips followed an invisible path, slowly, sometimes gentle sometimes harsher, you could never guess when he would worship a part of your body and when he would suddenly bite hard enough for you to cry out his name.

Hoseok covered every inch of your body with kisses and by the time he came face to face with your dripping pussy, you were a crying, bothered mess. His lips weren’t the only thing that drove you completely mad. No, the whole time he worked on you, his eyes never left yours and this simple sight made you almost come undone.

"Hoseok." You could feel the tears of frustration at the corner of your eyes; you were too wound up to be able to bear it any longer. You needed him, now.

Hoseok’s grin only widened before he kissed, eagerly, your clit - you threw your head back, letting out a loud moan and pulling again at your restraints. It was so annoying not being able to move freely; you wanted to grab Hoseok’s hair, pull his head closer to your heat and to feel more of him.

Hoseok feasted on you like a starved man, tongue and lips working magic between your legs. Your mind went completely blank, overwhelmed with all the tension in your body, all the fire and incredible pleasure that made you see stars.

"Fuck, Hoseok." You moaned his name over and over again.

Hoseok hummed in satisfaction and gave your clit a particularly harsh suck that made your toes curl. "I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you, baby girl." He glanced at you and the sight of Hoseok’s glistening lips with your juices made your walls clench around nothing.

Fuck.

"You taste so sweet." He licked his lips. "I should probably kidnap you more often and have my way with you."

Before you could suggest him that kidnapping you whenever he wanted (even if you loved the idea) was a bad idea unless you wanted to deal with a very angry Jimin, Hoseok finally gave you something to fill the emptiness inside you: he pushed a finger against your hole, then a second. Your walls welcomed him eagerly.

"Look at you." He hummed in approval as his fingers stretched you, making you push your hips to swallow more of him. "This pussy is so greedy."

"Hoseok." You cried out, "Please, please."

All he gave you was a gentle press of his lips against your thigh before going back to his work, fingers, tongue, overwhelming you till you couldn’t see or hear anything, till your body tensed before exploding.

But Hoseok didn’t stop. Not when you were pulling at your restraints, not when you were trying to get away from his tongue, your body being too sensitive after your first orgasm of the night.

He was going to be the death of you.

End flashback

You swore to whoever was willing to listen (and maybe to yourself too) that this art project would be the death of you. Usually, art wasn’t a problem; you loved painting, you loved drawing, it was your way to express yourself, to immortalize a moment in life, anything. But this project? You couldn’t concentrate on it. You tried, thousands of times but every time what came out of you wasn’t enough.

You came home exhausted, upset and wanted nothing more than a warm meal, a shower and the comfort of your bed. Those plans, however, vanished from your mind, the moment you spotted extra pairs of shoes at the entrance and judging by the numbers, you put two and two together.

A tiny smile spread on your lips as you walked on tiptoes, making sure to not make any noise just so you could check on them without them noticing. And what a sight! Three men completely sprawled out on the couch with fluffy blankets and cushions, wearing pajamas and of course with tons of snacks on the coffee table. You had to memorize this image - discretely you took your phone out and snapped a picture, smiling proudly to yourself. This was perfect blackmail material.

But then, and sadly for your brother, you noticed what exactly they were planning to watch on TV. You gasped loudly, making yourself known. "How dare you."

"Hi Y/N!" Taehyung waved cutely at you and you almost forgot all about your wrath - how were you supposed to stay mad with those pretty twinkling eyes and pretty smile? No really.

You shook your head and averted your eyes, stopping quickly at Hoseok. He wiggled his brows playfully at you causing a hot fire spread through your body - you rolled your eyes at him to make a point. This was not the right time or place to mess with you. When your eyes met Jimin’s, you gave him the stink eye.

"Hi sis."

"Don’t hi me you traitor!" You took a dangerous step towards them and you swore Hoseok tried to bite down a laugh (Jimin nudged him in the stomach for that). "I forgive Taehyung and Hoseok because they don’t know what Marvel means to me, but you," You pointed an accusing finger at him, "My own brother! How could you!"

Yes, you were absolutely dramatic and ready to flip a table.

"Oh come on, Y/N, we weren’t-" Jimin started. He was tempted to fight you, it was just so fun to see you so annoyed, but another part of him was genuinely worried of what you could do.

"We were planning to watch Dr. Strange." Taehyung threw chips in the air and caught it easily with his mouth, that almost distracted you if not for the mention of your favorite Marvel.

Jimin shrieked and grabbed Hoseok to shield himself from your wrath. "I’m sorry!!"

"You’re so dead." You warned him and you would have jumped on him to probably strangle him if not for a very smug Hoseok who was all too amused with your antics. You promised to yourself to deal with him later. Nobody was allowed to mock your love for Dr. Strange. Not even Hoseok. No matter how good his dick was.

"I’m going to take a quick shower and you better wait for me to start the movie or I swear to god you’re all dead." You warned them, eyeing every single one of them. Jimin hid fully behind Hoseok and cursed under his breath. Hoseok shook his head while Taehyung blinked completely unfazed with your outburst.

They listened.

Whether it was out of fear or because they really wanted you to join them for their Marvel’s night, they waited for you.

By the time you joined them in your pajamas, Taehyung was wrapped in a blanket, surrounded by pillows, sitting on the floor instead of the couch. He winked at you and patted the empty space beside Hoseok. Hoseok lifted the blanket that was covering him to let you in. For a second you contemplated the idea of sitting beside Jimin instead of Hoseok, it would be annoying yes (because you still felt like beating the crap out of your brother), while sitting beside Hoseok would be too tempting.

You sat, of course, beside Hoseok, your heart and wish to be beside him won over your brain. He covered both of you with the blanket and pressed his thigh lightly against yours. You closed your eyes, thought about Dr. Strange; you had to focus, on the movie, on the actor, on anything except for the warm hand that was suddenly on your thigh.

This was exactly what you had feared. Hoseok had no shame, was fearless and loved to tease you despite Jimin being just beside him, completely unaware of what was going on (luckily for you).

Hoseok was drawing slow and gentle circles on your skin making you shiver and sank deeper in the couch. It took you all self-control to not look at him (and possibly straddle his legs) and pretend that nothing was going on under the blanket- this was torture. Torture like Hoseok loved it, you did too of course.

Not once Hoseok looked your way, nothing on his face could have betrayed his intentions but you felt it. His fingers were gentle, stroking your skin but of course Hoseok didn’t stop; his hand slid higher and right between your legs, fingers teasing gently – you squeezed your thighs tightly, trapping his hand in between.

You can’t. But shit you wanted it so badly. Hoseok pinched your skin forcing you to open up for him while biting your lips in order to prevent any very unwelcomed sound.

But despite how bothered his simple touches left you, you chose to be the responsible one. You took a deep breath and grabbed Hoseok’s hand, giving it a strong squeeze you looked at him, frowning, conveying all your frustration and a warning.

Hoseok chuckled in response.

The little shit.

Having sex with Hoseok was great. No, fuck it. It was mind-blowing and you were pretty sure nobody else could ever make you feel as much as Hoseok did. It terrified you but you cherished those moments more than you were willing to admit to yourself.

But having sex with him was, funnily enough, not the only thing you enjoyed. Despite your little arrangement, Hoseok gave you more than you expected from a fuck buddy (except he wasn’t your buddy but rather Jimin’s). He spent times willingly with you, taking you to cute places and date coffees. He would help you to sneak from your place and drive you to places you wouldn’t have visited on your own. Hoseok was spontaneous and you loved it a lot about him.

But the thing you loved the most about what Hoseok gave you, was the hours you would spend laying lazily in bed talking. It was something you expected (if not required) from a boyfriend - it was intimate. But Hoseok gave you those moments anyway.

Just like tonight. You told Jimin you would spend the weekend with Mina, girls’ weekend because with college and all the projects you just didn’t have so much time together anymore. A big fat lie and you would have felt bad about it if not for the fact that being with Hoseok made you forget everything about your guilt.

Hoseok sat on the bed with his legs stretched so you could rest your head on his thighs. His hand was running through your hair, so naturally as if he had done it thousands of times (you wished he did).

"I was wondering," You started and turned your face so your cheek was pressed against his thigh. "Did you know it was me in the club? I mean-"

Hoseok didn’t let you finish your mumbling, a smile spread on his face. "I did. I was watching you from afar for a good part of the night." His fingers kept running through your hair - it felt so good you almost purred. "You looked miserable and I wanted to come and talk to you but I was a tiny bit worried you wouldn’t recognize me." Then, he winked at you, "You didn’t recognize me actually."

You jolted from your comfortable spot, eyes widened in surprise. "You’re kidding."

"Am not." Hoseok flicked your forehead and pushed you back. "How could I not recognize Jimin’s little sister? I used to tease you all the time."

At that you smiled. "You were awful."

"It’s because your reactions were always so endearing, I couldn’t help it."

You huffed in fake annoyance but the urge to smile was stronger.

Hoseok’s fingers moved from your hair to your forehead, then your nose (and he did not missed the chance to flick it playfully) and finally your lips. He parted them gently with his thumb – you let him in. He was completely hypnotized and you could only imagine what was going through his mind (something you would probably enjoy if he asked).

"I know what you’re thinking." You commented and bit lightly on Hoseok’s thumb.

Hoseok chuckled. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone is being insatiable."

All you did was plant a kiss on his thigh and feel him tense under your lips.

Too easy.

When you got back from the weekend at Hoseok’s place, you were positive that nothing and nobody could ruin it for you. You felt light, happy, relaxed - everything you had been missing out for the past months.

Jimin was sprawled on the couch with his laptop; his hair was a mess. Clearly someone was ruffling his hair too much in frustration which was such a Jimin’s thing to do. You smiled brightly at the sight, the urge to tease him was getting strong.

"Please tell me you’re not working on a Sunday night." You were half mocking him half scolding him.

Jimin, despite being a flirt and a social butterfly, had a bad tendency at bringing his work at home too. At first, it didn’t bother you as much because he found time to be with you (not like he was forced to) but somehow, for the past weeks, he had been working more and more which wasn’t very healthy in your opinion.

Jimin barely looked at you, whether it was because he was too concentrate or because there was something you couldn’t tell but you sensed something was off.

You hurried to put your bag in your room before going back to him and plopping on the couch beside him. "Hello?"

Jimin was so tempted to ignore you, he wanted to ignore you but the need to make sure he was just imagining things was too strong. He shut his screen and looked at you. "Such a noisy little sister."

"We have that in common then." You nudged him with your feet.

Jimin was fast to grab your feet, smirking wickedly. "Oh don’t start or I might tickle you to death."

"You wouldn’t dare!" You gasped despite knowing that he would do it without hesitation. Luckily for you, Jimin seemed to be in a rather merciful mood. He let go of your feet and grabbed instead a cushion that he pressed against his chest and rested his head on top of it.

"I have a funny story for you."

"Tell me."

"So I have a friend and he has a very cute and smart little sister."

"Are you talking about me?" You laughed and nudged him one more time. Jimin only smiled without trying to deny it which was your first hint that you were in trouble.

"Well you see, his little sister that he loves very very much, started going out a lot which is absolutely fine. Great even. But one day she lied and it bothered him."

You would be lying if you said his words didn’t affect you or made your palm sweaty. There was no way the story wasn’t about you, and the lie it had something to do with your weekend. Shit.

Jimin didn’t continue his story; he sat and scrutinizing your face - you wished he kept talking, it would make you less nervous.

"It’s Hoseok, isn’t it?"

Oh. Well, you were in trouble. Big, big trouble.

You let out a harsh breath; what were you supposed to say?

Jimin ruffled his hair before gently grabbing your calf and giving it a squeeze. "I should have known you wouldn’t listen."

"You aren’t angry?" Was the only question that actually mattered. You could deal with Jimin disagreeing with your choice of men or relationship, but you didn’t want him to be angry with you.

"I’m not. I know, shocking." He joked but looked more relaxed. "I can’t say I’m delighted but you’re a big girl and Hoseok is a smart man, I trust him enough not to hurt you."

"He won’t." Not willingly was what you wanted to add.

You

[10:05pm]: You might one to reconsider your friendship with Jimin.

Hobi

[10:07pm]: Ok??? Should I worry?

You

[10:07pm]: He promised not to burry you in our imaginary garden.

Hobi

[10:08pm]: Ok. I’m worried.

Hobi

[10:08pm]: What happened? What did I do?

You

[10:10pm]: Well maybe, Jimin knows about us?

Hobi

[10:11pm]: Oh. I’m moving to Alaska. Just in case, you know.

You

[10:11pm]: Tell me you have a tiny place in your suitcase for me?

Hobi

[10:12pm]: For you, always.

Your phone kept buzzing through your last class to the point that you had to mute it completely for the sake of your sanity. Some were messages from Jimin, some from Hoseok (which now that you thought about it should have worried you that those two decided to message you at the same time) - it didn’t matter you had to concentrate.

"When did you become so popular?" Mina asked you as you put your books back in the bag.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh do you think I didn’t hear your phone?"

She was only messing with you. You knew it but couldn’t stop yourself from wincing anyway. "Sorry about that."

"Oh come on! Don’t make that face! It’s not that bad." She nudged you with her hips to make you feel better. "Now, I’m just curious."

That seemed to do it work - you relaxed at her words and remembered that you were supposed to read the messages.

You could have started with Jimin’s messages, after all he was your brother and it could have been urgent (considering he was trying to get your attention, badly, for the past hour) but you of course chose Hoseok.

But when you opened the conversation, the sight of a very familiar bag was not what you had expected. "Oh my god."

Mina leaned to peak over your shoulder - she frowned and pointed at the picture Hoseok had sent. "That’s your travel bag."

It was. Just under the picture Hoseok had texted you about his plan.

"You need a distraction. So do I. P.S: Jimin almost killed me for that."

You couldn’t help but smile. Hoseok sure knew how to take you off guard.

Driving for hours with Hoseok was nothing like you had imagined. It was fun and relaxed; he would tell you stories about the place, about the road and you would tell him about some of your own experiences. Some other time you would sing together.

You felt happy. Too happy. But you didn’t let this realization bother you; this weekend was about you and your lack, lately, of inspiration. Hoseok thought that the best way to reconcile with your muse would be the nature - he brought you to his family house that stood near a forest and by a lake.

It was hard to believe that such a place existed in real world - for a short moment, as you walked slowly to the house, you felt like you were finally part of one of the fairy tales you used to read when you were little.

"This is beautiful." You thought out loud.

Hoseok didn’t comment; he agreed, obviously, since the wooden house was one of his favorite destination when he needed to get out of town and forget about his troubles. But now, the beauty of this place was nothing compared to what he felt by just watching you from aside. You looked happy; your face lightened, eyes shining brightly and with curiosity. You were being you, the girl he used to know and not the sad and frustrated girl he had met. This thought warmed his heart.

"You are." Hoseok whispered to himself.

"I knew I would find you here." Hoseok plopped on the ground beside you.

You only smiled warmly and kept drawing. You had found the perfect spot for drawing and apparently your muse agreed. Ever since you had spotted the lovely, old willow by the lake, you knew it was the right place and you had to get there as soon as possible.

Maybe too fast. "I’m sorry." You averted, quite unwillingly, your eyes from your sketchbook to look at Hoseok. You had left him do all the work while you went straight to the lake. A tiny part of you felt bad about it but one glance at him and he put you at ease.

Hoseok was smiling brightly. "Not a big deal." He gently took your hand only to interlace his fingers with yours. So intimate, so lovely, you were ready to melt on the spot. And so did your heart.

"I know about your struggles. You told me you couldn’t draw no matter how hard you tried, remember?" He looked at both of your hands, squeezing your fingers while watching them, contemplative.

Odd.

"This place, in my opinion, has some healing effect on people. I hoped it would help you." He glanced at your sketchbook and his smile only widened. "Apparently it did."

Knowing that Hoseok brought you here for the sole purpose of helping you to get back on good terms with your muse completely undid you. You wanted to cry, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to kiss him and all at the same time - Hoseok had this effect on you. He made you feel, so many things at once.

Unable to stop yourself, you put down your sketchbook and instead slowly reached for Hoseok. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you straddled his laps. Nor could you resist the urge to peck his lips - so you did. You pecked his lips. Once, twice. This simple gesture made both of you smile.

"Thank you." You said from the bottom of your heart. And not only for bringing you to this place. No, you wanted to thank him for making you forget of your failures, of your heartbreak.

Sadly for you and despite all Hoseok’s efforts, there was one heartbreak you couldn’t avoid.

Because now that you were in his arms, you couldn’t deny any longer how you felt, what you felt. Hoseok was no longer your crush. No.

You loved him.

And admitting it hurt.

But you wouldn’t let the pain ruin this magical moment that Hoseok had offered you. So instead of dwelling on your feelings, you chose to forget all about it and enjoy everything you could get with him. One last time.

You had been ignoring Hoseok.

It wasn’t your initial intention. Hell he gave you absolutely no reason to ignore but you just couldn’t face him after the marvelous weekend in his company. Not when your heart was squeezing and twisting in pain every time he looked at you with this bright smile, every time he touched you, kissed you. It drove you crazy.

You knew it would happen. Jimin knew it too. So when you got safely home and faced him, you couldn’t stop your tears. Jimin had only hugged you and kissed your temples.

"I don’t know whether I should be happy that you finally agreed to meet with me or be angry." Hoseok admitted as you took place across from him.

After one long and miserable week, you finally asked Hoseok to meet at a café. Maybe choosing a public place was your way to make sure you wouldn’t break down and just go back on your words - now that you were seeing him (he looked exhausted judging by the dark circles under his eyes) again, you knew it was the right choice.

"I-m"

"Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s not why I came." Hoseok cut you. He was angry and rightfully so but it only made things more difficult for you. "Why did you avoid me?"

You took a deep breath. "I was scared."

Hoseok blinked, confused. "Of what?" He pointed at himself, "Me?"

"No!" You hurried to answer almost jolting from your chair. "God no."

You hated yourself for sounding so weak and indecisive but confessing how you truly felt didn’t come out as naturally as you thought it would.

"I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ignore you but at the moment it seemed like the best option. I needed time for myself and space to think."

Hoseok considered your words. He had felt confused, angry, heartbroken but now that he heard your voice, he felt just extremely tired. "Why?"

"Because nothing had changed, Hobi." And because I love you. "You’re still you. The handsome man and I’m still this foolish little girl who’s completely infatuated with you. It was stupid of me seeking you to distract me when really all it did was to make me fall for you. Hard." Admitting your feelings to yourself was one thing, admitting it to Hoseok was another and much harder, and yet, it was also a relief.

"What you did for me for the past months, I’m so thankful. You made me feel like nobody else ever did. Hell, I didn’t think I could feel anything like that at all. I wanted to believe this deal between us would be enough for me." You stopped to inhale sharply, "I really wanted it to be enough."

"It was a mistake, Hoseok. But you know what?" A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "I don’t regret it."

"I love you. But for my own safety, I need us to stop before I get hurt."

When at two in the morning you heard Hoseok’s voice, your first thought was that you had finally lost your mind. There was no other explanation, right?

You didn’t.

As you got closer to your door, the voice that you thought belonged to Hoseok was getting clearer and louder. It wasn’t your imagination, Hoseok was really here talking with a very sleepy and clearly upset Jimin.

"Hoseok, it’s two in the freaking morning and I’m that close to kicking your ass." Jimin tried to sound threatening but the tired yawn that escaped his lips ruined it for him. He cursed under his breath and couldn’t stop himself before glancing nervously at your slightly opened door.

Did he know?

You kept yourself hidden in the darkness of your room but you listened, heart roaring in your ears, mind going crazy. Why was Hoseok here? In the middle of the night?

"I let her down." Were Hoseok’s first words.

Jimin cocked a brow. "No. She left you."

Hoseok ruffled his hair. "No. I didn’t mean break up." He groaned in despair. Maybe drinking before barging at his friend’s place was a very, very bad idea but he couldn’t wait. He had to let it out even if it was only to Jimin.

"I let her leave." It pained him to say it. "God, this is hard."

"Hoseok." Jimin inched forward. "Were you drinking?"

"What?" Hoseok asked confused. "No. I mean yes, but that’s not the point."

"Man-"

"No. Listen." Hoseok cut him before he could lose it. "You don’t understand. Jimin, I was so shaken with her confession, I couldn’t believe it."

Jimin halted and stared back, face completely blank, contemplating whether his friend was plain dumb or was just too drunk. "The hell? Come on, Hoseok. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice!"

Hoseok laughed humorlessly. "Well shit, Jimin, no I didn’t. Would I have known, I wouldn’t have let her pretend."

Now that took you both by surprise. You clasped your hand over your mouth to prevent any unwelcome sound to leave your lips. This discussion was slowly driving you mad.

"You wouldn’t?"

"I wanted her ever since I saw her in that blue dress." Hoseok admitted and despite his drunken state and all the anxiety, he smiled at the memory. "Don’t hit me please."

Jimin kept his mouth shut but only because he was thinking about you in your room. He knew you were awake. While Hoseok was too busy pouring out his heart, Jimin had heard your tiny, barely audible gasp. Good. At least, and he hoped, it would lead to both of you stopping being stupid and annoying.

"You guys are so annoying." Jimin finally said while rubbing his temples. It was two in the damn morning for god’s sake and he wasn’t even drunk to deal with those feelings. "And I hate you both."

Hoseok tilted his head then glanced nervously at the door to your room. "You’re not hitting me?"

"Don’t tempt me." Jimin warned him. "Though I wouldn’t be sure if I’d be hitting you because I saw Y/N crying or because you dared to wake me up."

"So." Jimin, once sure, was free of Hoseok’s love confession, came to your room, leaning against your door with crossed arms. "Are you going to pretend you didn’t hear his confession or?"

You pretended not hearing him, blanket tightly wrapped around you, you simply refused to face your brother. You were embarrassed and confused, and felt warm at the same time. Damn Hoseok and his words. All your efforts to not think about Hoseok were ruined.

Jimin shook his head. Yes, he definitely hated the two of you. "Maybe I was wrong." That got your attention. "Maybe, Hoseok is your prince."

"Oh shut up." You let out against your better judgement.

Despite Hoseok’s confession, for once in your life you didn’t act upon your feelings. No, you chose to wait. Not because you were scared of facing the truth (ok, maybe a little bit), but you needed time. Time to concentrate on what truly mattered on the moment which happened to be the deadline for your project.

Most of people around you, including your brother, your family and obviously Hoseok, believed that the project was only about college. Which wasn’t quite the truth. No. A part of the project was obviously meant for college but what you hid from your close one was that a little art gallery wanted to exhibit your work once you were ready.

"When I think you can’t get any more amazing, you prove me wrong, girl." Mina commented, excited as she bounced at you, not caring for the people around you. "Those paintings are excellent. I mean, I’ve seen some of them before but the additional one? They’re mind-blowing."

You hugged her back, tightly, thankful for your friend’s presence.

"I know I’m not supposed to pry but, is he coming?"

You bit on your lips, hesitating. "I don’t know." You were scared to think about it. "I hope so."

But your worries vanished as fast as they came - Hoseok stepped inside the exhibit along with Jimin, looking like a damn model. Of course he would look so good. Obviously, you weren’t the only one who noticed his presence (or maybe you were just too aware because you cared).

Hoseok, despite spotting you right away, didn’t come to you right away. No, his attention was completely captured by the first paintings and you couldn’t blame him. He, out of all people in this room, would recognize and appreciate most your work. Not only because it was your work, but because he would recognize and understand. And he did.

He took his time and you followed his steps, walking behind him without a word. You smiled at people from time to time, but your attention stayed on him and on his face, wanting to not miss any of his reaction, of his emotions.

"I guess I was right." Hoseok stopped at the last painting. It was the lake and the old willow and stars in the dark sky. He turned to look at you, eyes shining brightly. "It helped you. Healed you."

"It did." You admitted and took one more step towards him.

There was so much you wished you could say. So much you wanted to show him. But now that you stood before him, every words, every needs just vanished except one: the need to kiss him.

Hoseok watched you carefully, scrutinizing your face. "You were awake." It almost sounded like he was trying to reassure himself. "Of course you did."

"I did."

"Will you listen to my confession again, then?" Hoseok inhaled sharply as by the end of his question, you had grabbed his hand and thus taking him quite off guard. His eyes averted from your pretty face to your interlaced fingers. God, this touch - he had missed it.

"Well," A wicked smile spread on your lips as you took a final step towards him. You were close, almost feeling his body against yours. "Tell me more about me and blue dress." And as you kissed his jaw, you added, "And what you wanted to do to me from day one."

#bts #hoseok #bts smut #bts fanfic #hoseok fic #j-hope #bts fic #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #make it right

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plus-ultra-oof · 3 years

Text

Break Time! | Bokuto & Kuroo | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: This is one of the fastest things I’ve ever written lol. I love Bokuto and Kuroo’s friendship a lot but this could be read as Bokuroo too.

Disclaimer: Includes swearing and minor spoilers for the timeskip (Kuroo’s future plans are vaguely mentioned)

Summary: Kuroo’s working himself to death with exam season on the horizon and Bokuto has just the idea to “help.”

——————————————————

Upon a third glance at Kuroo in just a few minutes, Bokuto had determined something was wrong. He could hear him sigh and shift in his seat from where he was sat on his bed. It wasn’t in the restless way that Bokuto was feeling right now though. It was a lot more tired. He narrowed his eyes at his friend, taking in his stiff posture and tense jaw. Rubbing his eyes with one hand Kuroo scrubbed an eraser across his paper with the other, the movement far harsher than necessary. He craned his neck to read something out of a textbook and his lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to comprehend it. The near silence in the room aside from his friend’s quiet frustration was honestly freaking Bokuto out.

When he’d shown up at the other captain’s front door, he’d been ready to go get food, screw around in his backyard, and maybe see an action movie or something. They’d planned this for weeks in advance —their schedules were both pretty packed— and as far as Bokuto knew they were both really looking forward to it. He’d prepared to just mess around and have some simple fun, so he was really surprised when Kuroo opened the door with a tight frown on his lips and not at all dressed for a day out.

“Bo?” Kuroo furrowed his eyebrows as his arms came up to cross over his chest, “what are you-“ Realization took over his features and after a few mumbled curses to himself, Kuroo opened the door further and let him in. The house was the same as Bokuto remembered it: Clean, but still clearly lived in. The mild clutter was charming in its own way and Bokuto had seen it when he’d visited his friend in the past. Kuroo himself was actually the only thing that seemed different.

His hair was messier than usual somehow and the beginnings of dark circles were smudged under his eyes. Instead of his usually clean and neat clothes, he was in a ratty white t-shirt and some old looking red sweats with “Nekoma” written down the sides in faded white block letters. It wasn’t just that though, all of his apologies and attempts at conversation also seemed off as he led Bokuto up the stairs to his room. Like his heart wasn’t really in it with his mind so preoccupied.

“Sorry man, I completely forgot, my bad it’s just-“ he cut himself off with a sigh as he heavily dropped into his desk chair. Bokuto felt overwhelmed just looking at the numerous stacks of heavy books lining the desk, so of course he hadn’t protested when his friend asked for another hour to finish up. He hadn’t been excited to sit and do nothing for an hour, but even he wasn’t going to complain when the usually cool and collected guy seemed so frazzled.

So after running back down to the kitchen to grab some snacks, he’d settled down on Kuroo’s bed to wait, scrolling aimlessly through his phone to try and quell his boredom and keep his restlessness at bay for a bit.

That, of course, didn’t work for long. After maybe 50 minutes —a new record!— he started stealing glances at Kuroo over his phone and as time continued to pass he became more and more concerned. He could practically feel the stress rolling off him in waves as he flipped through another workbook, so Bokuto did the only thing he could think to do at the moment, with what little information he had on whatever was happening; He messaged Kenma.

After tapping out a simple “whats wrong with Kuroo?” he’d set his phone down, not expecting much from it. Even though he barely contacted the guy on his own, Bokuto knew Kenma was terrible at responding to anyone who wasn’t Hinata. This obviously meant his chances of getting a reply before the day ended were slim. He practically jumped to grab his phone when it lit up again, only minutes after sending the message. Pretty damn fast for Kenma of all people.

From Kozume Kenma:

entrance exams. he’s been like that all week.

Ohhhhh. That made sense. Bokuto looked over at Kuroo again, as he glared down at his calculator, a new kind of disdain burning in his eyes. Bokuto hadn’t given the exams much thought honestly, but to Kuroo they surely mattered a lot.

When Kuroo told him that he was going to be quitting Volleyball once they graduated to pursue a career in the marketing side of things, Bokuto’d both understood completely and not gotten it at all.

He’d never really know how anyone could give up something that gave him such a thrill and brought him such joy. Sure, Nekoma wasn’t exactly a powerhouse school, but Kuroo was still a damn good blocker. He surely could’ve made it onto at least a division 2 team if he tried. Still, his friend was different. He wanted something else and that was okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he seemed set on working himself to death for it.

To Kozume Kenma:

k im gonna fix him

This time the reply was instantaneous. A simple “good luck” that felt suspiciously like Kenma doubting him. He scoffed, looking over at Kuroo again. The guy was probably even more tired than he looked. Koutaro could definitely take him in the messed up state he was in. Then again, he was incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be.

Bokuto glanced down at his phone. He’d already gone 20 minutes over the promised hour. That plus the whole week Kenma described had to be enough time for now. Going for that long without a real break sounded insane to Bokuto, and there was no way it was healthy either.

“Hey Kuroo,” Bokuto called, sitting up and grabbing his phone after sending a final text off to Kenma (An assortment of emojis portraying his confidence and competence at the given task). When his eyes fell on Kuroo, he hadn’t moved at the sound of his name.

“Kuroo?” He tried again. Still no response. It seemed the blocker was lost in his own world of textbooks and pages on pages of meticulous notes. Bokuto practically shuddered at the sight. He didn’t know how his friend could stare at all of that for so long.

Standing and taking a few steps away from the bed landed him right behind the desk chair. He frowned. Kuroo still hadn’t even noticed him moving around. Then he reached across the desk to retrieve a different colored pen and an idea popped into his head. Bokuto, always quite the impulsive person, followed it without question.

He quietly set his phone down on the opposite side of the desk to free his other hand and then reached out and jabbed him in the ribs on both sides. The action was instantly rewarded with a jolt and a squeak from Kuroo, a clatter from his pencil when it fell from his hand, and a loud triumphant laugh from Bokuto himself. Kuroo whipped around, scowling, “What the hell, man?”

“Your hour is way up bro,” Kuroo raised an eyebrow at him and scrambled for his phone. Once he found it beneath a large stack of colorful print outs, Bokuto saw the suspicion and slight annoyance in his eyes turn into guilt.

“Shit,” he turned to actually face him and Bokuto could see the way his shoulders sagged and his hands fidgeted in his lap in a very un-Kuroo-like fashion, “I’m sorry Bo,”

Koutaro gave him a bright smile in an extra effort to assuage his guilt, “It’s no problem, we can just go now!” He exclaimed, straightening and nodding at the door. Kuroo hesitated at that but before he could say anything, Bokuto’s phone chimed from its place on the desk. It lit up for both of them to see and Kuroo’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Why’s Kenma texting you?” He asked. A hint of his usual smirk flashed across his face as he peered at the deadpan emoticon, familiar and characteristic of his childhood friend. Bokuto bristled at the question. Why wouldn’t Kenma text him? Sure they weren’t exactly close, but Kuroo didn’t need to look so smug about it!

“I text a lot of people!” He replied, tucking his arms to his chest petulantly, “and you were busy,” he added before he could think better of it.

Kuroo immediately deflated at the reminder of his work. The glimmer of his usual playful self vanishing as he looked back over at his collection of practice booklets and papers and whatever else was strewn across his desk. Then he bit his cheek, and Bokuto knew he was going to argue before he even forced it out.

“Bo, I should probably keep going,” Kuroo frowned, his words almost pained, as if just the idea of going back to studying hurt him. That was what really solidified everything in Bokuto’s mind, “Maybe we can-“

“Nope,” Bokuto said succinctly before launching his attack with the overwhelming energy of a hyperactive athlete who’d just sat in one place for way too long. Kuroo squirmed in place as the spiker snuck a hand up his side. He was unable to stop from giggling already, too caught off guard by the suddenness.

“W-Whahahat the fuhuhuck, Bokuto?”

Bokuto shrugged and used his other hand to scribble at his neck. He made no effort to hide his shit eating grin when his friend squeaked in response, attempting to lean away in the chair, “You’ve been doing this for wayyyy to long,” he chuckled, grin only widening when the best defense Kuroo could muster was to slap at his wrists. Weak at best, but compared to his usual struggle, it was even more lackluster for the self proclaimed provocation master, “You can barely even fight back!”

“Shuhut uhuhup- Bohoho!” Kuroo’s volume went up in slight alarm. Bokuto grabbed onto his arm, using it to pull him out of his chair while simultaneously continuing his attack on his waist. Then he sent him falling back into his bed with a gentle shove, easily maneuvering him into a semi-pinned position with a practiced grace. Now with one of his arms held firmly away from his side, Tetsuro was feeling a lot more vulnerable. The shift was evidenced in the more frantic giggling as he tried to muster enough energy to pull away from Bokuto’s playful torment.

“Don’t worry, we can get you some barbecue! It’ll fix you right up!” Bokuto exclaimed, as if he wasn’t currently digging his wriggling fingers into Kuroo’s stomach to make him shriek louder. Still, he shook his head wildly.

“Ngh- ahahah ihihi- ihihihi neheheed to stuhuDy!” He tried, his voice shooting up an octave when Bokuto decided that the dips in his hip bones were a suitable place to grab and squeeze. Damn Bokuto and his stupidly extensive knowledge of this particular weakness.

“Mmm no,” Bokuto responded, slowing his fingers to fluttery circle to let the other captain breathe, “From what I hear you’ve already done way too much of that! It’s break time!” Kuroo took in the extra air greedily. As he did, he leveled his friend with an incredulous stare.

“How did you even-?” Kuroo started before his expression dropped and his eyes darkened in realization. His gaze went back up to Bokuto’s face where he was leaning over him curiously, “Kenma,”

“Yup,” Kotarou laughed boisterously and nodded his confirmation, “This is an intervention man,” The blocker scowled and started to say something that sounded like the word “traitor” but he was quickly cut off by his own hysterical giggling. The break was over, and Bokuto had decidedly shoved his hands higher to scratch at his friend’s ribs at the sign of continued resistance.

“He- aHA shihit! Hehehe’s lying!” Kuroo yelled through his laughter, desperately trying to catch Bokuto’s wrists as his hands seemed to continue crawling their way up his torso, “Lehehehet mehe uhuhup!”

Bokuto scoffed and smirked at his panicked movements, “Not a chance,” His hands didn’t pause for a second as they avoided Kuroo’s grasp. When they honed in on the space between his top two ribs he threw his head back with a helpless cackle. Bokuto had to bite down on a fond smile at the sound, “Now come on! Just say you’re gonna stop overworking yourself and come get food with your best friend!”

“KehenmahaAh’s my behest friehehend!” Kuroo jeered defiantly, apparently still sassy despite everything. Bokuto narrowed his eyes and dug into his ribs harder, making him throw his head back with the force of his laughter.

“Rude,” If Kuroo wasn’t so busy dying, he would’ve teased Kotarou for the childish pout on his face, “but fine, your second best friend,” he corrected laboriously, as if the Nekoma student was in any place to properly respond to him.

“Gahahahah yohou’re ridihiculous!”

“Blah blah blah, let’s go get food Kurooooo!”

“I hahave to- wahahait! No no no Bo DoHON’T!” The resounding screech that Kuroo let out when Bokuto’s fingers finally made contact with the soft skin of his underarms was priceless. He fell into a fit of insane laughter as the other captain watched proudly. His hyena laugh even made an appearance, sending Bokuto himself into manic giggling as he set about driving his friend crazy. “BWAHAHAHA NOHOHO NAHA BOHOHO!”

“What was that?” He teased watching as any final hope of escape fell away, leaving Kuroo a laughing mess. His hair was skewed all of the place along with his clothes that had ridden up in his struggles. His face was bright red, from embarrassment, laughter, or both Bokuto didn’t know, but it was entertaining any way. It was also comforting to see that even in his almost catatonic pre exam state, his friend was still capable of loosing himself in something as simple as tickling.

“FIHIHINE! FINE FINE FIHIHINE!” Kuroo screamed, giving up his pride at last. Anything was worth it at this point just to stop the sensations taking over his brain. All he could think of was the way Bokuto’s deft fingers were scribbling over his underarms and how no matter how he jerked or squirmed or squeezed his arms to his sides it just wouldn’t stop. He could never handle being tickled there long and Bokuto was taking full advantage of that information, “AHAH YOHOHOU- GahHAH YOU WIHIHIN DAMNIT JUHUHUST STAHAHAP!”

Bokuto shot up from the bed, stopping to throw his arms up in a cheer. His loud shout of “HEY HEY HEY!” in victory was lost on Kuroo though. He was too busy trying to catch his breath where he laid K.O.ed on his bed. Still, when Bokuto finished celebrating and turned back to him he looked better. Still tired, but significantly less stressed out of his mind.

Even as he punched him in the shoulder in revenge, his posture had relaxed and there was a wide grin left on his face. And as the last of his giggles faded away, Bokuto was inclined to believe that it was genuine.

“Come on bro, I wanna go check out the new Rec center by the park!” Bokuto yelled, earning a raised eyebrow from Kuroo as he moved around his room, picking out new clothes for their outing. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into his laundry basket before turning to face him.

“I thought you said we were getting barbecue?” He asked, amusement coloring his tone as he picked up a new shirt. Bokuto smirked.

“Both,” he replied, squeezing Kuroo’s sides as he lifted his arms to put it on. He laughed loudly, batting his hands away and shaking his head.

“Ahaha enouhough!” He giggled, taking a few shaky breaths. Then his taunting tone returned at last, “As long as you’re paying man,” His usual smirk was now secured back in its place, for better or for worse.

Then he ducked into the bathroom just in time to avoid Bokuto’s distressed groan. Rest In Peace his wallet.

Still though, he was admittedly happy that Kuroo was back to normal, even if that meant that he was back to being a stingy jerk.

#Bokuto Koutaro #Kuroo Tetsuro #ticklish!Kuroo #haikyuu! tickle fic #tickle fic #tickle #tickling #tickles #fanfic #thanks for reading

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

Darling

a/n: So this was originally gonna be part of a series on wattpad, but I can’t log into my account (ahhhh) anyway I had some writing in the drafts (I’ve lost all of them now), but the only one I could get was this b/c I wrote this on Docs. Sorry for rambling about my personal problems, anyhoo enjoy!

Warnings: Ransom being Ransom, Sickness, any grammar mistakes and repetitious wording.

It was around 11:00 AM. Harlan had been working diligently to finish a few chapters. He let you leave to go help Ransom, after all it was part of your job. Harlan worked on writing while making small conversation with Marta. Although you were his assistant and typist, Marta was the one who took care of him while you took care of his things. You bid goodbye to Harlan and Marta before leaving the huge estate.

Pulling into Ransom's driveway you knew he was there, only guessing what hell he'd put you through today. The spoiled brat sat at the island counter, waiting for you.

"You’re late." He stated matter of factly.

You scoffed, he didn't own you. "I was working with Harlan if you couldn't remember." Walking towards the island you grabbed one of the many pans and cracked a few eggs into a bowl. It was your job to be at his beck and call basically. Ransom just sat there watching, being of no help, like usual.

"Omelette?" You looked up into his tired blue eyes. Ransom just shook his head.

The pan was on the stovetop, heating up, as the eggs were being scrambled by you. Harlan had treated you and Marta to an early breakfast this morning at a nearby brunch restaurant. The pancakes were amazing and by far the best ones you had ever eaten.

Once the pan was properly heated, you poured in the eggs along with some herbs, shaking the pan till the eggs set. When the omelette was finally cooked, you set it on a plate, folding it. You had assumed Ransom would want cheese, so you dropped some shredded cheese on top. Turning around, you grabbed a glass from the cabinet, then walked to the fridge to pour Ransom a glass of some fresh orange juice you bought the other day. You and Marta had gone to a local farmer's market to get some things for Harlan when you saw the orange juice and remembered how much Ransom had whined for it. Pushing the plate towards him, you walked around the island and stood behind his chair, placing the glass in front of him.

"It's cold and dry." He opened his mouth, but not to thank you. So many times you had gone out of your way for him and always thought about him, yet he never once thanked you. Treating you like you were the help. No you weren't, you were a person with feelings that obviously weren't respected.

This morning had been a bad one. You woke up a little stuffy and had a huge headache. Not wanting to worry, you just brushed it off as allergies. Harlan had noticed you weren't feeling like yourself, because as you typed, you struggled to focus, impending headache making it impossible. Harlan, being a considerate boss, told you to stop and take it easy, but you were stubborn, insisting you were fine.

You could normally take Ransom's shit but this was the last straw.

"Could you ever just thank me once?" The headache that was growing was not helping the situation. He just looked up at you. At this point you were crying from the pain in your body and his bullshit. Your arms were flying around as you talked.

"You know Ransom, could you ever be nice to me? Just once! Maybe even appreciate all the things I do for you? I'm trying to help you even when I feel like shit!" Now you stormed out, going up stairs to clean his room. Another one of your chores.

Ransom's bedroom was a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere, between his sweaters and the random feminine clothing laid on the floor, his room was a pigsty. In his closet was a laundry hamper that he seemed to miss every time. You grabbed the hamper and rolled it out of the closet. Lifting the lid, you threw all the clothes inside, including the ones that were once laid around the basket. It was infuriating that this 30 year old man's room was messier than a five year old's. While throwing the clothes in, you were so lost in your thoughts and the growing headache, that you didn't even notice Ransom staring at you from the doorway.

For once he wasn't smirking, but instead his face showed... concern and remorse? You stripped the bed of its sheets and he walked over, his brows furrowed, looking down on you. For a split second, you stopped working and looked back up at him, it looked as if there were two of him, things kinda blurry. You hadn't noticed before, but it seemed to be getting hotter in the room. Just shrugging it off, you continued working, Ransom still standing there. The sheets and comforter were on the floor and you were now throwing the pillowcases in the hamper. As you did so, the lid slammed on your hand. "Shit!" Some would call it reflex but he'd call it instinct, Ransom grabbed your hand and gently kissed the back of it. "Darling, you need to sit down. Your cheeks are flushed and you look weak." In his voice there were no ill intentions. Hugh Ransom Drysdale being kind, to you? Yeah, you were definitely sick.

When you didn't sit down, Ransom then pressed his wrist to your forehead. "You are burning up." You were still in shock. He had never been this nice to someone. Just minutes ago he was a complete jerk, just for his own entertainment. You didn't budge, at all. Maybe this was all a sick joke, maybe he was going to be an ass and leave you there for dead, but instead Ransom swooped you up, earning a slight gasp from yourself. He set you down in the chair beside the bed, putting up his finger, signaling you to stay put. He rushed out and into the hallway. Minutes later he came back with new sheets, and you expected that he was going to make you do it, but nope. It was a sight, Ransom Drysdale actually making his bed. He set up the pillows and pulled down the covers. You tried your best to focus on what he was doing, but the raging fever didn't really allow you too. Before you knew it, Ransom was standing in front of you, hands out. You placed your hands in his and he helped you up, putting you in his bed. Fevers are the worst, for one, never in a thousand years would you let Ransom Drysdale put you in his bed, let alone take care of you. In other circumstances you would have gone home, but you were way too sick to drive.

'I must have died and this is heaven.' The statement almost felt true. You were just laying there, in Ransom's bed. Sick, and helpless.

Ransom had gone to the bathroom to grab a thermometer. A few months ago you had bought a mercury thermometer for his house after a visit from a little thing called bronchitis. The dumb ass had gone that night to the country club with his snobby and condescending friends. Later he came home with some giggly blonde. As they made out, the girl quickly pulled away from his lips and coughed madly, but then resumed, reassuring him it was just a slight cough. A total lie, because that slight cough, was more than just a cough. Yeah, it was a frickin' infection, and guess who got it too? Ransom. And guess who had to care for him? You.

Your fever-induced daydreaming was over. Ransom came back with the small stick in hand. You willingly opened your mouth, attempting to keep your heavy eyelids open. Setting a fifteen minute timer on his phone, leaving it beside you on the nightstand.

"(y/n), darling, you are dehydrated. I'll be right back."

This was so weird. Ransom had always called you 'Darling'. At first it was to irritate you, then it gradually changed to an occasional pet name, but now, now he used it with no ill intentions.

Your voice was raspy, words barely able to be understood. "Ran, it's very hot in here." The heat was your body trying to fight off the fever. Barely minutes ago you complained about being cold, but now you were a sweating mess. "Here, try this." Ransom got up out of the chair and went into his closet. In the corner you had stacked the folded clothes of the many one night standees. He's never going to see any of those girls again, so you just left them there as a reminder of his recklessness. Ransom grabbed the pair of blush colored dolphin shorts and the white camisole that had lace on the top and bottom of it. The rest of the clothes weren't made for lounging at all. It looked like it would fit you and he walked out of the closet, sitting back down beside you.

"I hope these work for you." Ransom gently laid down the clothes in your lap. All you wanted to do was sleep, and that was what you had been doing for the time being. Earlier, you could tell Ransom was uncomfortable in his chair, but he didn't want to leave you. It was...

It was sweet. It was endearing. It made Ransom genuinely charming...

Upon waking up from your mini nap, you saw the clothes laid in your lap. With all your might, you pushed your arms, trying to sit up. The fever had made you so weak, it felt like your whole body was aching.

Ransom noticed your struggling and came over to help you sit up.

"Thank you, Ransom, these will fit fine." You tried your best to give him a smile, after all this wasn't the usual Ransom Drysdale. He returned the gesture, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You don't care about this sicky thing?"

In all honesty, you weren't sure if the words had properly come out of your mouth. After all, it sounded correct in your mind, but your brain was all flustered from the new found debility, messing up your speech. What you were really trying to say was, "You aren't scared of catching this thing from me?" Ransom just sweetly smiled. He knew you were trying so hard to fight the sickness, but your words still dragged on. Each one lacing over the next. Luckily, he knew what you were trying to say.

"Of course not, you were here for me, now it's my turn to care for you, darling."

There he goes again, 'darling', gets you every time.

"I think we have a problem."

His eyes shot wide, with more concern.

"Too weak." You pointed towards the clothes, your eyes drooping slightly. Ransom got off the side of the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. He gently pulled you up. Once you were standing, he held you by the waist, your legs feeling like jelly, wobbling slightly. Ransom had one hand on your waist to keep you stable as the other one grabbed the clothes.

"May I?" It was almost sheepishly. Hugh Ransom Drysdale, nervously asked if he could remove a girl's clothing. Normally the smug son of a bitch would just rip it off any other woman, but he had an ounce of respect for you in his body, surprising.

If you were in the right state of mind, you'd never let him, but it was hot and you were tired of your jeans and your wool top. Combined with the heat your body was emitting, it was like someone had turned the thermostat to the setting of hell. It was either the heat or your dignity, and at this point you'd rather not be any more miserable than you are.

"Please." Ransom nodded at your agreement and helped you remove your wool top. He tried to keep your modesty intact, looking at your face as he changed your top instead of staring at your chest. It did tempt him, but he wanted to treat you right. He may not have a good track record with women, but he wanted to change that with you. The same with your pants. He made you sit on the bed as he pulled down your jeans, still trying to be considerate. He too knew very well that if you weren't sick you'd never agree to this.

Finally your shorts and top were on. But your cheeks were still flushed, sweat still on your skin. Ransom had brought up another Gatorade not too long ago, trying to keep you hydrated.

"I'm still hot." You laid on top of the cool sheets now, the ceiling fan running too. Your words weren't meant to be demanding, more of, asking for help.

If this were just anybody, Ransom would be pissed for such a great deal of complaining, but he understood that you were sick and you just wanted relief. Believe it or not, but Ransom hated to see you suffer. Yeah, I know, hard to believe.

You had a hair tie on your wrist and Ransom lightly picked up your hand to grab it. He brushed the sweaty hairs off of your forehead and tenderly moved your heavy limbs. His warm hands rested on your bare shoulders as he turned you ever the slightest.

Ransom then pulled your hair into a ponytail, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. He didn't want to overstep and instead went with the sweet and tender kiss, not one full of lust and passion. After all, you were sick, and he didn't want to take advantage of you. Again, surprising.

Well, it was only surprising because the man was such a player. If one were to look up the man on any news website. His name would be right there in bold, probably beside a picture of him and some random girl. Maybe it was possible for Hugh Ransom Drysdale to have a change of heart and attitude.

You weren't sure if you were hallucinating or just feeling things, but you did feel something on your head, and it felt like a kiss. It would be a lie to say you didn't find Ransom attractive. You may have been harboring a small crush, before, even when he was an asshole to you, however, after today when he showed his soft side, your crush grew three times larger. Like the Grinch's heart. Come to think of it, Ransom was basically the grinch. His heart had grown in size, in a matter of hours. Just hours ago he was being a complete pain in the ass to you.

It was getting darker now. From all the naps you had taken, one might've thought it was the next day if it were not for the date on your cell phone. Apparently sleep when you are sick feels like hours when it was only minutes.

Your phone had gone off, a special ringtone you knew all too well. It was Harlan, he needed your help finishing typing up the chapter he had just completed.

"Could you please get that?" You threw your arm, weakly pointing to the phone. Ransom checked and it was Harlan, setting the phone back down.

"Please call him." At this point you couldn't talk anymore, barely able to think of the next word to leave your mouth. Ransom was smart and put the pieces together. He called Harlan and gave him your notice. Harlan in return wishing you a fast recovery. Surprisingly, Harlan wasn’t shocked when Ransom answered the phone. He always wanted you two to be together anyway. You were the girl Ransom needed.

By now, it was 6:00 PM. You had been in bed for over a little more than four hours. Ransom had been in that same chair for the last four hours, occasionally readjusting, clear discomfort on his face. He'd leave every so often to get you a drink or some Ibuprofen to keep your fever down. Your body still hadn't really adjusted and it was still hotter than you would have liked, although the cold drinks and cooler outfit did help.

Sometimes when you'd come over to help Ransom, you'd make him dinner, if not he'd go eat out with his friends at the country club. Just to be a pain in the ass, he would drag you along at times. Tonight was different, Ransom knew you'd weren't that hungry, another effect of the fever, so he cooked you some good old fashioned chicken soup. The same one you had cooked when he was sick. He wasn't sure at the time if it was the illness-induced delirium or not, but that soup seemed to make him feel better.

At the time, you had left the recipe on a small stick note, your beautiful handwriting as you had inscribed the recipe. It was another well kept secret that Ransom Drysdale could cook.

He came back up around 6:30 with a cold glass of your favorite soda and the soup on a wooden serving tray that could sit in the bed. He lightly tapped you, waking you from your 50th nap. Lifting your head off the pillow, you sat up, glancing down at the delicious food in front. It was like he knew. You weren't starving nor were you full, this seemed to be in between and perfect. He sat back down in the chair, after turning the ceiling fan up a notch, knowing the soup would warm you up again. It pained him seeing your frail hand shaking as you fed yourself. The glass was so heavy for your aching hand that Ransom kindly picked it up for you, allowing you to drink from the straw he had included.

After he put away your food once you had finished, he came back up. This time you were awake. As you slept before, he had been on his phone, texting friends and cancelling plans for the night, but now he had nothing to do. You were awake and had noticed his discomfort once again.

"Ransom this is your bed too." With all the strength you had left, you patted his side of the bed and he slowly walked over, as if you were going to change your mind. With nothing to do, Ransom asked if you wanted to watch a movie and you both agreed on a classic movie. Another terrible thing to come out of your sickness, was that your ears were clogged. You could still hear but not as well and when you laughed it made your head rattle. Ransom was glad to see you finally smile amidst your rough day. He would love to see you like that all the time.

The movie was halfway finished and you had fallen asleep. Your body trying to catch up on rest from working to fight the invading illness. At some point you had fallen asleep on his chest, his steady heart beat lulling you to sleep and he slowly ran his fingers through your somewhat damp hair. He too fell asleep. His hand softly laid on your head since he had fallen asleep while stroking your hair.

At the ungodly hour of 2:00 AM you woke up. It was hot once again, you were now sweating. Ransom had been giving you the proper dosage of ibuprofen, making sure to not miss a single time slot. It had helped relieve the fever because now you were sweating and starting to break your fever. Ransom felt you stirring and woke up.

"What is wrong?" He turned on the lamp so he could look at you.

"The fever. It's breaking." The second time you had smiled today and it made Ransom's world.

Ransom removed the sheet not wanting to make you hot and he sat up, as did you. After some cold sweats you felt your body return to a somewhat normal temperature. Ransom leaned across you to get the thermometer he had laid on the nightstand and stuck it in your mouth after shaking up the mercury. He set the timer for fifteen minutes and you leaned back on his chest and he once again kissed your head. This time you knew you weren't delusional.

The quiet timer had gone off and Ransom removed the thermometer from your mouth. He leaned towards the night lamp trying to read the small numbers. 98.4, close enough. He placed it back down and turned off the night lamp.

"It's great, darling, your fever broke." He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you once again leaned on his broad chest. You smiled, not only because your fever was gone, but because Ransom could be so caring.

"We should get some more rest." You nodded and he slowly ran his large hand up and down your arm. The both of you scooted out of your sitting positions and into sleeping ones. You were on your side when you felt Ransom's arm drape across your waist. He knew you'd push it off if you didn't want it. Hell, you wouldn't even be in his bed still if you didn't feel the same way. He had no clue that he could care about you so much, and honestly neither could you.

"Just give him a chance." You thought to yourself.

The next morning you woke up around 10:00 AM. You weren't sure if Harlan was expecting you, so you rushed to get up, Ransom's arms stopping you.

"He said you didn't have to meet him till the afternoon of the day you were ready to go back." Ransom's face was laid into the pillow as he mumbled the sentence out. He had every right to be tired, after all, he cared for you over a matter of at least six hours straight. Also something he hadn't done before.

"Well I will surprise him and meet him today." You jokingly replied to the man. Ransom didn't argue, he knew very well that you were devoted to your job.

You didn't have any clothes over at his house and your ones from last night were covered in your germs and sweat. Thank goodness for the ones from Ransom's one night stands. You went into the same corner he had grabbed your sleepwear from. Luckily some undergarments and a pair of black leggings along with a peach chiffon top some girl or girls had left behind. When you first met Harlan, you wore office attire, now Harlan didn't care as long as you showed up. He knew you were dedicated to your job and trusted you with his everything.

Ransom's shower was huge. His toiletries lined up on the tile shelf inside the shower. In the closet, fresh, fluffy, cotton towels, two of which you grabbed. One for your hair and one for your body. Under the sink, you found a few travel size bottles of vanilla shampoo and conditioner. Not sure who is once belonged to, you still used it, Ransom wouldn't care. The only body wash was his and it smelt like mint. A smell that was so intoxicating. The relaxing shower felt as if you had washed away all the germs, stepping out a new person. You continued getting ready for your day and walked out of the bathroom to find no Ransom. He still played that little game and left the bed unmade, which you pulled off the sheets and put with the other dirty ones when you noticed they were gone. Instead they sat neatly folded and cleaned on the chair where he was once sitting. Ransom Drysdale had done his own laundry? What else did he have up his sleeves?

As you walked down the steps and through the sitting room, you could smell food being cooked. There was Ransom pulling a breakfast casserole out of the oven. The laundry basket you had in your hands, was set down on the floor as you walked closer to him. He heard you put down the basket and turned around smiling.

"Darling, you didn't have to do that. I was gonna get it." He pointed to the laundry basket. 'Oh so he wasn't playing a game with you?'

"I made a breakfast casserole, I thought I'd try something new. I hope you like it." And boy did you like it.

Ransom Drysdale had cooked an amazing breakfast.

"Who are you and where did you take Ransom Drysdale?" Ransom simply laughed and took away your dishes. He was doing dishes too?!!? At this point he was basically doing all the daily things Harlan had hired you to do. He was actually capable of living! You checked your watch and it was 12:15.

Ransom had set down the dishes momentarily and walked you to the door.

"See you later?" He almost sounded worried like you'd run away. You just smiled up at him, nodding, and hoping this would never end.

"Thank you." It was all real. Ransom Drysdale had a change of attitude in a short span of a couple of days. He even had a heart, one that cared for you. After finishing your sentence, you stood on your tippy toes, kissing his cheek, sweetly and slowly. Turning on your heel to leave and go meet Harlan.

Oh if only you saw the effect you had on Ransom and how flustered he was...

#ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans

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ughseoks · 4 years

Text

unwind | pjm

— pairing; jimin x reader

— genre/rating; fluff, pwp | 18+

— word count; 1.2k

— warnings; mild dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, super super soft jimin, they shower together but the dirty dirty doesn’t actually happen in the shower

— summary; you had a bad day at work, and your boyfriend is more than happy to help you unwind. (alternatively: letting your boyfriend brush your hair doesn’t always end as innocently as it starts.)

» written for @bangtan-dreamland‘s Drinks & Drabbles Game!

「 masterlist 」

@jeonstime: JIMIN + COCKTAIL PLEASE SKDHSJSISNSNSLSJ 🤒💕🤦🏼‍♀️✌🏻🤪

ILY KENZ I HOPE I DIDN’T DISAPPOINT!!!!

“Just close your eyes and relax, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you follow the instructions provided by your boyfriend, allowing your tense muscles to finally relax.

It’d been a very stressful day at work, and Jimin-- being the amazingly perfect boyfriend he was-- had immediately offered to run you a bath. But when you followed him into the bathroom, you reached out to stop him before he could put the plug in the bottom of the tub.

“I wanna take a shower with you instead.”

He’d smiled at that, pulling you into his warm embrace and pressing a kiss to the top of your head before flipping on the shower. The two of you undressed as the water warmed up from its normally icy temperature before stepping in together.

As much as you loved shower sex, you were happy that the whole ordeal was as innocent as showering together could be. Jimin had washed both your hair and body for you, making sure to massage any knots in your muscles as he lathered the soap into your skin; the scent of lavender filled the air.

After making sure that you were totally clean, Jimin had quickly washed himself off before enveloping you in his arms once again. Both of you were soaked-- your fingers were starting to look very wrinkly-- but the warmth from his body combined with the downpour of warm water around you was comforting.

The shower had ended far too soon for your liking, but when you’d stepped out, Jimin had immediately wrapped you in a warm, fluffy towel; he made sure to dry you off as much as he could before ordering you to take a seat on top of the closed toilet lid. He then dried himself off and slipped into a simple pair of sweatpants before walking over to the counter and grabbing your hairbrush from the vanity.

And that’s how you ended up here; eyes closed in bliss as Jimin carefully brushes through the tangles and knots hidden in your mop of wet hair. His fingers are gentle against your scalp when he presses lightly to tilt your head in whichever direction he needs. Although his actions are innocent, you can’t prevent the heat from pooling in your stomach with every particularly rough tug on your locks. When the brush catches on a particularly messy knot, you gasp a little bit, legs squeezing together to gain some relief due to the wave of arousal that washes over you.

“Oh! Did I hurt you?” Jimin asks, worry evident in his voice, “I’m sorry, kitten, I’ll try to be more gentle--” He pauses when he notices the way your legs are clamped together in front of you. Slowly, his brain begins to connect the dots, a small smirk replacing the worried frown from before. “Ahh, I see,” he drawls and leans down to whisper in your ear, “Are you getting a little excited, baby?”

You shudder at the feeling of Jimin so close to you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by him. The clink of the brush being set down on top of the toilet tank resonates in your ears, heart rate escalating when he gently taps your shoulder to get you to scoot forward on the closed toilet seat. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, your boyfriend slides into the seat you previously occupied, straddling the porcelain and plastic so his legs are encasing yours from behind.

“Want me to help you… unwind a little, kitten?” Jimin asks as his hands slide around you to fiddle with the edge of the towel wrapped around you.

“Yes, please,” you exhale, allowing him to undo the small knot holding the towel up. The fabric falls from around your body; he bunches it up before tossing it to the floor, leaving you completely naked between his arms and legs.

You settle back against the hard, warm expanse of his chest and lay your head comfortably on his shoulder as his soft hands roam the expanse of your bare skin. When one of his hands slides up your side and stomach to cup one of your breasts, you gasp and arch into his palm, eyes fluttering shut as he begins to play with a quickly hardening peak. The other hand has managed to slip down to your unclothed core, one finger swiping along the wet folds to gather the arousal there.

“Already so wet for me, hmm?” His lips are soft as they brush against your temple. All you can do is nod, relishing in the way his skin feels pressed against yours. As one hand continues to play with your breast, the one at your pussy begins to press small circles against your clit, earning a low moan from you at the delicious contact.

Despite being able to feel how hard he’s growing behind you, he doesn’t do anything about it-- he’s focused on helping you unwind and making you feel good.

It isn’t long before he’s dipping two fingers experimentally into your aching core, breathy moans falling from your lips as his thick digits begin to slowly pump in and out of you. He quickly finds a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

His palm leaves your breast so he can rub your clit comfortably without hindering the motions of his other fingers inside of you. You can feel your orgasm begin to grow from a simmer to a boil when his fingers pick up speed, thrusting inside of you in sync with the figure eights being rubbed against your clit.

While his hands continue to pleasure you, his head ducks down to suckle at the skin of your neck. The soft kisses being pressed there make your heart flutter with warmth. You can feel the love with every touch of his lips to your delicate skin.

As Jimin continues his ministrations, your whines begin to grow louder and louder. “G-gonna come, Jiminie,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper. You don’t have to tell him, though-- he can feel it in the way your walls begin to flutter around his digits.

“Go on then,” he encourages, “Come all over my fingers, baby. Let it all out.” He redoubles his efforts, the kisses on your neck becoming hungrier and messier as his fingers crook inside of you to find your g-spot.

When he does, you finally climax with a soundless scream, the power of the orgasm stealing the breath from your lungs. Jimin continues to pleasure you through your high, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your body shudders from the sheer pleasure buzzing in your veins.

Jimin slowly pulls his fingers out when you begin to whine in oversensitivity. They’re coated in your arousal, but you’re too blissed out to be embarrassed (not that you would’ve been anyways-- Jimin has seen you cum more times than you could count).

“Feeling any better?” he whispers and presses another kiss to your temple. You turn slightly so you can nuzzle into his shoulder, hand resting against his bare chest. His heartbeat is strong beneath your palm.

“Mhm,” you nod as he envelops you in his arms, “Thank you, Jimin. I love you.

“I love you too, _____,” he smiles into your hair, “More than you’ll ever know.”

「 masterlist 」

#bhqdrabbles #bangtanhq #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #jimin x reader smut #jimin x you #jimin fluff #bts fluff #bts drabble

257 notes · View notes

httpsaiki · 4 years

Text

Don’t You Forget About Me (TsukiYama)

This is just pure angst, it caused me great pain to write. TsukiYama is platonic, but I wasn’t sure how else to title/tag this.

TW for angst and death

WC: 3977

Yamaguchi is missing. —————————————————–

It can all come to an end in an instant. Who would’ve imagined it would take missing person posters and search parties for Tsukishima to come to that conclusion?

College students don’t just disappear for no reason. Especially not tall, strong college boys who could easily defend themselves. Especially not Yamaguchi Tadashi.

Yamaguchi Tadashi, the light of so many people's lives, where have you gone? He was someone Tsukishima never thought would disappear - having been in his life for so many years. He couldn’t imagine life without the smaller, green-haired boy. It had never crossed his mind that he'd have to spend even a day without hearing Yamaguchi go on, telling him about his day, or being called “Tsukki”, much to his own annoyance. The irritated expression that the nickname caused never seemed to prevent it, anyway.

He missed the sound of him calling that nickname, running up to him with slight enthusiasm to share whatever news he had. It had been weeks since he last heard it. He had always tuned Yamaguchi’s rambling out, if even he listened, it was never truly his full attention. Tsukishima wished now he’d listened better. Maybe if he had, Yamaguchi would be here right now. They’d be at one of their homes and Yamaguchi would be beside him, telling him all about some silly thing his classmate did or what happened in today’s lecture. If only he was, Tsukishima thought bitterly to himself. Oh, what he’d give to hear about Yamaguchi’s day right now, some sense of normalcy back to his life. He knew he’d listen with all his attention, focused on every syllable that Yamaguchi tells him.

The guilt and regrets ate him alive. It was his fault, he knew it. If only he hadn’t-

“Tsukishima!” The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You’re doing it again, snap out of it.”

Tsukishima’s head turned slowly to the source of the voice, not having the mental energy to match a name to it right now. The orange hair was familiar, it didn’t take any more than that for a name to pop in his mind. Hinata Shouyou. Oddly enough, someone that he’d kept contact with after high school. He didn’t understand why they kept in as close contact as they did. Maybe it was being on a volleyball team together for three years, or something about his aggravatingly bright and cheery personality, but they kept in touch. Of course, Hinata knew about Yamaguchi’s disappearance and likely about Tsukishima’s suffering as well.

He took this chance to take in his surroundings once again, delaying his reply to Hinata’s words. The police station, such an ordinary sight to him now. The old desks and creaky chairs. It wasn’t kept as up-to-date as he imagined it would be. He’s visited countless times over the past two weeks, talking to officers and being interviewed by more detectives than he cared to remember. He always found himself apathetic as can be during those times, it was easier to just be unfeeling and not entirely present. He was still more than willing to respond to questions and help out with the investigation in any way he could. Mainly because he did not want to be counted as a potential suspect. Tsukishima internally grimaced at the thought, as if he’d ever intentionally do anything to hurt Yamaguchi. Now, he was seated near the entrance, just having come out of yet another exhausting discussion, asking the detectives the same questions he had every day since his disappearance. He knew most of these cases closed within the first twenty-four hours, so why hadn’t they found anything yet?

“Doing what?” He asked, he knew what Hinata meant by the question, but it was far easier to play dumb. His voice was completely monotone and yet it sounded harsh and venomous. Hinata visibly reeled back, only a flinch but enough for Tsukishima to take notice. “Sorry.” He apologized, it was still cold, but not nearly as vicious as before.

“Spiraling,” Hinata stated simply. “Don’t put all the blame on yourself, Tsukishima, it won’t help.” Hinata had a point and Tsukishima knew it. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to ignore that fact, though. His hands came up to his temples, long fingers rubbing them slightly in an attempt to relieve the tension. “I just want him home and safe,” Tsukishima’s voice was low, quiet, and soft. A complete contrast to the way he was speaking before.

"I know, we all do. We’re all worried." Hinata spoke, glancing nervously towards Tsukishima. He never got a reply, receiving only an icy glare instead. There was only one thing on Tsukishima’s mind, nobody truly understood how he felt during all of this. Everyone around him was sympathetic, trying to be understanding and attempting to help. However, no other person was feeling the pain like he is, and nobody else felt the shame corrupt them like he currently was. He knew not another soul wanted Yamaguchi back as badly as he did.

He forced his thoughts to halt. This isn’t about him, it’s about Yamaguchi. Who cares how he feels while his best friend is out there, still missing? With that, Tsukishima stood and left without another glance in Hinata’s direction. That didn’t stop his friend from noticing his sullen, pained expression that seemed permanently etched into his features. Hinata followed out the door shortly after, but by the time he got outside Tsukishima was nowhere to be seen.

The sound of his keys trying to force their way into his door snapped Tsukishima out of his thoughts yet again. Realizing he was putting the wrong key into his door, he switched to the right one, swiftly unlocking the door and entering the apartment. To say it was untidy was an understatement. It was overwhelmingly messy, he hadn’t bothered to take much care of it ever since Yamaguchi went missing. He sighed, picking up some clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

One sweatshirt caught his eye, it certainly wasn’t his. It had the name of a college printed neatly on the back, but it wasn’t that which grabbed his attention. No, the last name stitched into the arm, Yamaguchi. Of course. Of course, it had to be his, he must’ve left it here the night- No. Tsukishima still refused to think about Yamaguchi's last moments with him. He stared at the hoodie for just a little longer before giving in and slipping it over the t-shirt he was currently wearing. He felt bad for wearing it without permission, but it was the only way he felt he could have his friend back, even if it was only a little.

He looked around the apartment once again, seeing it was somewhat cleaner than before. It was now, he realized, just how empty it felt. Most nights, especially ones like these, Yamaguchi would be over. He basically lived at Tsukishima’s place, sleeping there more nights than at his own apartment. Tsukishima could see Yamaguchi on his couch, hunched over notes and cramming for some upcoming quiz. Or maybe he’d be seen in the kitchen, laughing at something stupid while he makes hot chocolate, the TV on in the background. He had such a nice laugh. Despite everything that had happened the last two weeks, Tsukishima still half expected him to wander out of the guest bedroom, waking up from a nap and stretching as he mumbles a small, “Good evening, Tsukki,” before making himself comfortable on the couch and opening Netflix. Yamaguchi had always been a welcome guest, Tsukishima could only wish he’d told him that all the times he got the chance.

Tsukishima walked into the kitchen, freezing for a moment, realizing Yamaguchi really wasn’t there. He peeked into the guest bedroom as well, seeing only an unmade bed and a black backpack sitting, leaned on the corner. He couldn’t bear to look at it anymore before turning around and walking straight to his bedroom. The thought of eating right now repulsed him. Sleeping wasn’t much more appealing, but at least he wouldn’t have to force himself to stomach something. It was too early to sleep, only being 9 p.m, but the exhaustion that overtook his body overtook any will power he had to stay awake any longer. So he slept.

Tsukishima stirred from his sleep, sitting up in his bed before looking over at the clock that sat beside him. 9 a.m, huh? He slept a long time. His body felt rejuvenated and oddly energized as he slipped out of his bed. The world looked just a little brighter today. Maybe it was the sun shining, just barely visible from behind his blinds or maybe it was the sweet smell of pancakes that overtook his senses. Wait, pancakes? Who was making-

“Tsukki! Get up, silly, I made breakfast!” Yamaguchi’s head peered its way into Tsukishima’s bedroom, peaking past the door frame. His hair was messier than usual, signaling that he woke up not that long ago as well. Tsukishima’s heart jumped upon seeing his face. There was no mistaking it, that’s really him. “Oh, you’re awake. Come eat!”

“Yamaguchi? It’s really you?” Tsukishima called out, disbelief evident in his voice.

“Who else?” He asked sarcastically, a small giggle coming out after he spoke, “C’mon, I’ll cut up some strawberries to go on the side. Oh! Do you have whipped cream? I couldn’t find any.”

Tsukishima opened his mouth to answer, but before he could he felt himself shooting up in his bed again. He blinked, his room was suddenly pitch black, the only light was a faint glow coming from the clock that was next to him. It read 5 a.m, how he wished it would say 9 instead. How badly he wanted to go back to that dream. Tsukishima sighed, tears welling up in his eyes as a sob escaped his mouth before he could stop it. A hand came up, covering his mouth in an attempt to prevent any more sound from coming out. It was in vain, however, as loud, violent sobs took over his body. He shook as he cried, removing the hand from his mouth to cover his eyes. The tears wouldn’t stop coming, even when his sobs were reduced to mere whimpers. This was the first time he allowed himself to feel Yamaguchi’s disappearance. That dream was vile and yet it was everything he wanted right now.

Tsukishima clambered lazily and clumsily out of bed. Falling onto the floor with a small thud. He pulled his blanket off his bed, wrapping it tightly around himself after he reached to grab his phone. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this, and yet here he was, giving in to his desires. He knew it would only hurt more, but he needed to hear Yamaguchi’s voice.

After staring at the screen for a moment, making sure he was as mentally prepared as he could be, he opened the phone app. There was no point in calling him, that was something Tsukishima had learned quickly. Yamaguchi’s phone was currently in the black backpack that sat in the guest bedroom. Tsukishima tapped on the button for voicemails, quickly calling the service to replay some of the old ones that Yamaguchi had left him. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he listened to the voice that fell from his speakers.

“Hey, Tsukki, I hope your practice is going well! The fact you didn’t pick up means it probably is. Anyways, uh, I’m gonna be a little late coming over tonight. We were assigned a group project and I need to drop by my partner’s house to work things out. I don’t know if we’re getting started or not, but I still wanna work out who’s gonna do what. I’m still coming by your place, though! Don’t you forget about me!” Yamaguchi laughed, “Okay, bye-bye! I’ll see you later tonight!”

The voicemail ended there. If only those last few words were true.

“Don’t you forget about me!” Yamaguchi was joking when he said that, Tsukishima was sure of it, but those words still repeated in his head, even minutes after he heard them. How could he ever forget about someone like him?

He clearly remembered the night that he had received that voicemail. Yamaguchi was, indeed, late that night. It wasn’t any trouble, all they did was binge a TV series and chat about their days. It was nothing out of the ordinary, it happened most nights for them, whenever school wasn’t too busy. It was peaceful and good at relieving stress for both of them. Just casually watching whatever stupid show is on with the person most important to you. He missed putting on purposely bad television with him, just to make fun of it until the early hours of the morning.

Tsukishima considered listening to another voicemail but thought better than to do so. He should save them for another night like this, where he needs nothing more than to hear Yamaguchi’s cheerful voice. He knew he’d need them again.

He thought back to the last time Yamaguchi didn’t sound cheerful. It was the last night they saw each other. Yamaguchi was visiting, as per usual. School had been particularly rough on both of them, each having their personal struggles, academic struggles, and a need to let out their frustrations. Yamaguchi was tired, that much was evident on his face. Tsukishima wasn’t having the greatest time and took some of that out on Yamaguchi. The argument that broke out between them was loud and brutal. It escalated to the point Tsukishima just wanted it to end, insulting Yamaguchi in an attempt to shut him up.

The heartbroken expression on his face was enough to send Tsukishima into another wave of tears. It was like it was ingrained into his eyelids, he saw it every time he blinked. The last thing he remembers was Yamaguchi, tears falling rapidly down his face, sprinting past him out the door. He didn’t even turn to grab his things.

Tsukishima was too proud to run after him, Yamaguchi never returned.

He curled in on himself, the guilt becoming overbearing once again. It was too much, he felt physically unable to handle his emotions. He cried for the second time that night. He was unwilling to go back to sleep, afraid of the cruel yet welcoming dream would come back to him. Eventually, his crying tired him out so much he couldn’t resist the call of sleep. He slept sitting on the floor, still in Yamaguchi’s sweatshirt. Luckily, he didn’t dream of anything. Just a heavy, unfulfilling sleep.

The next morning he was woken by a phone call from Hinata. Still irritated at himself for last night and everything that had happened, he answered the phone with a curt hello.

“Tsukishima? You alright? Did I wake you?” Hinata’s concerned voice asked him.

“Of course I’m not fine, Hinata, they haven’t found him.” Tsukishima had to stop and take a breath, he couldn’t be crying over the phone with Hinata listening. “And yes, you did wake me. What is it?”

“I was just going to invite you for lunch - I think it might do you some good. Kageyama agreed to come, he’s worried too.”

Tsukishima wasn’t sure how to feel. On one hand, he had two of his friends trying to help him through this. They were doing their best and they must be having a hard time too. On the other hand, the thought of leaving this spot on his floor, having to walk past the places he could only wish Yamaguchi would be pained him.

“I-I’ll come.” His voice was as unsure as his thoughts, but he knew it would be a good chance to try and take his mind off things.

“Don’t you forget about me!” The simple statement rang through his head once again. It was so meaningless at the time. He never knew such a small, insignificant joke would haunt him in this way. He wasn’t going to forget, no. He was just meeting with friends, not moving on.

Tsukishima’s internal reassurances caused him to miss whatever Hinata had been saying.

“-so we’ll meet you there. Does that sound good?” Hinata rambled into the phone.

“Sorry, meet me where?” Tsukishima prayed his friend wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t been paying attention the entire time.

“The café we normally go to, the one down the street from your place?” Hinata’s voice was calm, it sounded more comforting than usual. Tsukishima found this strange, usually, he found his voice to be annoying. It seemed Hinata was trying to help more than Tsukishima realized. He was internally far more grateful than Hinata would ever know.

“Right. Thank you.” He didn’t even mean to thank him, it slipped out. He hung up the phone before he could get a reply. Reluctantly, Tsukishima stood from his blankets, realizing he’d need to shower and get ready before going out. As quickly as he could, he stumbled into the bathroom. Still half in a daze, he washed his hair and slipped into clean clothes. The apartment was way too quiet for a Saturday afternoon. There was no quiet TV in the next room, nor was there the sound of a soft, gentle voice mumbling as Yamaguchi was reading over his notes. He’d always found the murmuring annoying, he now didn’t understand how he ever did.

Standing in his bedroom doorway, Tsukishima took a deep breath. He was ready to leave, but the hard part came now. A knock at his door startled him. Hinata and Kageyama weren’t supposed to pick him up? It’s far too early, anyways. The knock came again, this time harder.

“Coming,” Tsukishima called out, his feet yet to move. He shut his eyes and made his way as quickly as he could towards the door. Without looking behind him, where he knew certain disappointment would await, he opened the door.

A familiar face was at his door, the lead detective on Yamaguchi’s case. The detective began speaking, asking if he could come inside and recommending Tsukishima take a seat.

The detective inhaled sharply, choosing his next words carefully, “We found Yamaguchi,” he started, but Tsukishima interrupted frantically before he could finish.

“Where! Where is he?” Tsukishima cried out.

“He’s dead.”

And at that very moment, Tsukishima’s entire world stopped. Dead? Yamaguchi Tadashi, dead? There’s no way. Not his best friend of so many years, not the man who’d gotten him through so much. There’s no way, it’s impossible. No. No. No.

“You’re wrong!” He yelled, his voice had never been so pained, so desperate, “It’s someone else! It has to be! Tell me it’s someone else!”

“The DNA match checks out, so does the appearance. I’m sorry.”

The detective left soon after, he had no more business there. Tsukishima didn’t move, hardly blinking nor breathing. He could hear his heartbeat racing in his ears. It was painful. Why did his heart get to beat? Why his heart and not Yamaguchi’s? He didn’t notice when Hinata and Kageyama walked in and sat in front of him. The tear stains on Hinata’s face would’ve given away that they knew as well, had Tsukishima looked at him. Kageyama tried to keep strong for the other two, but looking into his eyes would give away that he was hurting too.

“Tsukishima?” Hinata called out gently, kneeling in front of him while resting a hand on Tsukishima’s knee, trying to get a look at his face.

“He’s dead, Hinata. Gone.” Tsukishima’s mouth moved without him realizing it. It was as if life was on autopilot, he felt completely numb. Hinata said nothing, but opened his arms, inviting his friend in for a hug. Tsukishima leaned in, once again without even realizing his actions. Hinata held him as he cried.

The funeral hurt him even more. Having to see his body there, dressed up to look nice, it was a sickening sight. He sat, watching friends and family members tearfully say their goodbyes. He was among one of the last to say goodbye, wanting to delay the reality of the situation as long as he could. The fact he was not coming back hadn’t truly dawned on him yet. It was a realization he knew he’d make soon and he feared the day it would come. Akiteru came along, and he wasn’t sure if his brother's presence was to support him or to attend the funeral itself. Chances are it was a mix of both.

Tsukishima was of course asked to speak, and there was no way he could refuse. He stood up, looking at the group of people before him. Some were crying their eyes out, others were just glassy-eyed - trying to remain as strong as they could. Yamaguchi really had an effect on people. Tsukishima blanked for the entirety of his speech, letting his thoughts spew out of his mouth without thinking. He had no idea if anything he said was making sense nor did he have any idea what he was actually saying. All he knew was the only thing fueling him at this point was raw emotion.

It was scary. Not something he was used to.

Once the ceremony ended, Tsukishima was back on autopilot. He knew he needed to move on in life. What he didn’t know, however, was how he would manage to do so. Yamaguchi was always there through the big changes. He’d always been Tsukishima's rock, the one consistent thing no matter what.

Everything felt bleak and empty. On particularly bad nights, he’d still half-expect to see Yamaguchi in his living room when he came home. He considered moving out, but he knew he’d regret it. It was the last place he had memories with his best friend, the last place he was seen alive.

Alive. Tsukishima had grown to hate that word. He felt the same way he did the day he found out about his best friend's death. It was unfair, he felt he should’ve been the one to run out. Maybe if he had he’d be dead instead of Yamaguchi, or maybe they’d both be fine and happy. Either option sounded better than the life he was currently living. He had his other friends, sure, but none of them could come close to comparing to his best friend.

The apartment haunted him, but there was no way he could leave. The bed in the guest bedroom still hadn’t been made, despite it being well over a month since anyone had slept in there. The black backpack remained untouched, leaning on the end of the bed. That was Yamaguchi’s room and Tsukishima refused to meddle with it. A part of him hoped every day that he’d come back. He just wanted to pull him in for a hug and apologize. Even if he wasn’t forgiven - and he believed he shouldn’t be - he just wanted a chance to tell Yamaguchi everything he’d meant to him.

Sometimes he got the chance to, in his dreams. Those always turned to nightmares. Yamaguchi never forgave him, it always resulted in him running away, turning us back from Tsukishima and claiming how he’ll never forgive him. Tsukishima knew that was unlike Yamaguchi, but having to witness it, night after night, was more than Tsukishima could handle. One phrase never failed to come back-

“Don’t you forget about me!” Yamaguchi’s voice rang through his head once again, it was becoming a normal occurrence at this point. It was haunting, yet Tsukishima welcomed it. Even though it terrified him, even though he hated being reminded of the death he felt he caused, it was such a comforting voice. The words reminded him that he hadn’t forgotten. He made one last promise to himself, one that he intended to keep.

“I won’t,” Tsukishima whispered.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #yamaguchi tadashi #tadashi yamaguchi #tsukiyama #angst #haikyuu angst #tsukiyama angst #haikyu #my writing

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years

Text

Full Moon Sacrifice

It’s here! The breeding fic for Bloodhound I promised! Please enjoy- I also made them a lil more domestic in this fic and a lil more open with Reader as if y’all have been together for awhile to get ya Romance Juices flowin today! Enjoyyyy!

Reblogs > Likes. It cost zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader has a vulva and is explicitly stated, gender neutral reader, breeding kink, Bloodhound has a vulva but is not explicitly stated, strap on usage, werewolf dick makes a return, knotting, uhhh fluff?, God kink, sexual sacrifice

Words: 3k

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It started out as a simple, harmless joke. A little poke at Bloodhound and their feral habits and saying that if they had a heat cycle, they’d probably be desperate to fuck you until you were full of pups. A joke, a simple little joke, that had their cheeks on fire and an interesting look in their eye as they peered at you from across the room. They had huffed a laugh through their nose at you, taking a sip of their drink as they murmured, “Perhaps.”

You figured it had been to humor you, but then something seemed to almost switch in the bedroom.

It started off small, probably something you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so interested in your partner. Just a little bit different of things. Such as their new favorite toys to use on you all had cum lube tubes attached to them. Or they felt the need to stuff you to your limits- or maybe use one of their ovipositor toys.

Even when you would take the lead, they seemed to fancy you getting penetrated in some fashion, even if it was them in a strap on with a vibrator tucked neatly inside of them as you rode them. It’s as if they needed to see the visual appeal to get off.

You started to piece it all together when Bloodhound asked you how you would feel about being their sacrifice this evening. Almost shyly they had said it as they held your hands. Curious, you dumbly asked, “You mean like- stabbing me?” To which they had let out a choked out noise and shook their head, dark cheeks flushing a lovely shade of red.

~Rest under the cut~

“No, beloved- ah...there is...other ways to sacrifice your body to the gods. An act of devotion- of bearing children?” They had started slow, eyes flickering between yours as you slowly got it. They waited for you to ask what they meant, but when your eyes lit up and you laughed in a flustered tone and averted your gaze from their strong one- they knew you got it.

“I knew it!” You had cheered playfully, bringing up your past joke. Only to get tackled onto the couch behind you with a flustered Bloodhound covering your face with a pillow. Your partner was far too cute, sometimes. Amazing to see what domestic love would do to them when they weren’t wearing a mask in the ring or pretending to be big and bad.

The day had come rather slowly with your eagerness and them refusing to touch you until the day. They kept teasing you periodically with too hard of kisses and a well timed hip squeeze to keep you interested, only to part and sigh against your mouth, “You must be ready when the time comes. You may touch yourself, but do not allow release. I shall know, my love.” Practically a threat.

You had poked, begged, and cried, but it would be all worth it, you just knew it.

The coming of summer meant the air was warmed, but not overly sticky or something to whine about. The forest was humming with the insects coming from their hiding holes and the winds brushing the tree tops and making them sway. Furs were lain out on the forest’s floor in the clearing, paving the way clearly for the full moon to shine down and cast its natural light where you rest on said furs. Your clothing had been taken from you with gentle, partially gloved hands, with only peppered kisses on your lips and cheeks keeping you on your toes.

When Bloodhound finally joins you, they’re completely dressed while you are bare before the gods above and the god in front of you. You whine softly in your throat, but remain lying down against the soft furs, knees pulled up and legs parted to show how desperate you were.

They come in full combat boots, leather pants, a tight and torn up dark red tanktop with a leather jacket thrown overtop with a fur lined collar. A black mask with sharp white teeth rests on their lower face and their red curls pulled into a ponytail. The partially gloved hands you had felt were from their fingerless leather gloves. It was a casual outfit they’d wear on outings, and you assume they had been out all day while you napped and tried to ignore the ache between your thighs.

Bloodhound’s eyes practically glow in the darkness of the forest, a singular blood red and a singular fire built in their blinded eye. They stalk around you without another word, looking ever so much like a predator as you quiver and hold still. Almost as if both of you were getting into characters and roles that you had yet to discuss. Them, the big, bad predator. And you, the helpless deer caught in their trap.

A soft sigh leaves you when they circle back around you and begin to remove articles of clothing. The mask and jacket go first, set to the side and followed by their gloves. They fit their body between your spread thighs, pressing their clothed body to yours and leaning over top of you with their tone spoken lowly, “You are going to be bred like the sweet little pet you are, am I understood?”

And the way it’s said- Gods does it send shivers down your spine. You’re already focused on the way their full lips move, how their sharp teeth glint that you can only nod vigorously, hips coming up to desperately try to catch their attention. Yet, Bloodhound is always smart, staying just out of reach to leave you wanting.

“Use your words.” They warn in the same low tone, eyes narrowing as if trying to hold back a grin at your desperation. It had been WEEKS since you’d gotten off- let alone touched yourself. You gave up on that way out quickly.

“Yes- yes, please, Houndie- baby, please, breed me. I’ve been good, so good-” You start to bargain, pleading and arching your back to try and look more appealing by letting your head fall to the side to bare your throat. It seems to work, since they swear under their breath- undoubtedly cursing that you know them so well- as their mouth comes to rest soon over your neck. Sharp canines nipping at your exposed flesh as their body begins to press weight down into you.

Their teeth soon become their lips pressing to yours, a hand resting in your hair and gently pulling to manipulate you where they’d like you. You moan softly into their mouth, reaching up to caress the curves of their sides and feel over the powerful muscle. Their hips shift, allowing your naked pelvis to press up against them and smear your slick over the front of their pants. You note that there’s a shape there, unlike the usual flatness, meaning they wore a toy here. You wonder if they intend on fucking you naked at all.

Knowing their speed and preferences, they’d rather you bare and helpless, and themselves quite the opposite.

The wind hums, picking up its pace briefly and the world seems to hum with the energy of the bright full moon overhead. Bloodhound seems affected as well, their soft pants turning to huffed, quiet growls as they bite at any inch of you they can. Working their way down your body until they reach your heat. Slick and wet with need as you peek down at them just in time to see them looking back up at you.

Their eyes are half lidded, lips parted to breathe hot air onto you. A small tilt down of their head implies that they’re inhaling your scent, an action that makes your cheeks burn and making your head fall back. Just in time when they nose at you, one hand resting over your mound and using two fingers to part your lower lips while another hand rests on your hip to keep you down.

The first hot, wet slide of their tongue makes you arch up with a hiss. Oversensitive from lack of touch in weeks and managing to curl your fingers into the furs beneath you rather than reach out and shove them down. “Hound-” You warn, your voice quivering with need. All you get in return is a low huff of amusement, spreading air across your heat and making your hips twitch as best as they could to get more.

Of course the world’s beloved Apex Champion was not only good at pulling a trigger, they were good at giving head, and enjoyed doing it just as much. Bloodhound indulges in you as if you’re a treat, or perhaps a last meal. Delving their tongue down into your hole only for their own little taste and parting your lower lips further to fully lick and suck at your clit. At some point their hand moves from your hip to rest underneath at your ass, helping arch you upwards against their mouth so they can suck a little harder, get a little messier.

Their moans of enjoyment are low, but noticeable past your own sharp sounds and low coos. They moan into you when your hand rests at their ponytail. Curling your fingers at the base and shoving them down further with a tone of desperation aching through your lungs and echoing throughout the night sky.

When you cum, both their hands cradle your ass and lift you up higher with their body. Practically on their knees and you practically bent in half so they can lick up your mess like sweet nectar on their tongue.

Oversensitive from cumming, you try to squirm and arch- but the new position does you no favors.

“Hound,” You try to cry out, toes curling and thighs flexing as their nails dig into the soft flesh of your ass. A growl echoing from their lips as their tongue slides sloppily over your clit until their lips can seal back over it greedily. “H-Hound!” You cry out again, hands flying back to their hair as you quiver and shake with a dry orgasm racking your frame far too soon.

You hardly can focus when they finally stop lapping at you like a starved dog. Gently, they rest you back down on the furs, letting you throw an arm over your face and shake with low whimpers in your throat. You vaguely can hear the zipper from their pants and how they pant lowly. You catch it in time to peek at them just as they wipe their mouth off, lips having been glossy from your slick. Once they catch you peeking, they flash you an almost feral grin, fitting when you glance down at their crotch and note their weapon of choice for the night.

“What is it that you told me the other day, dearest?” Their voice is almost a tease verging into a growl as their hands yank your hips, pulling your lower half up and practically into their lap. “That if I was perhaps a feral animal with a rut, that I would ‘fuck you until you were full of pups’?” They mimic you from the other day, two fingers pressing cruelly inside of your pliant cunt as your hips jerk from the motion. Curling upwards against your walls as if feeling you out, but you know they’re checking how wet you are.

Toys did NOT have natural lubrication and made it a bit hard for penetration without proper lubrication.

A few hard finger thrusts make you sob out a, “Fuck!” And throwing your head back. Feeling their fingers retreat and hearing them rooting through their jacket until seeming to find what they want. The familiar sound of a cap being flipped makes you shudder, hearing the slick noises of them fisting their own toy cock and stroking over it.

Their weapon of choice for the night was a favorite of theirs. A thick red cock with a tapered head and a fat knot, matching that of a dog’s- a fairly large dog for that matter. A werewolf even. Eight inches long in total including the fat knot that was as thick as your wrist. You can’t see the syringe connecting a tube to the base, but you know it’s on their person somewhere with the way this was going.

“For the gods, you shall be the sacrifice of the night,” Bloodhound murmurs, sliding the head of the cock through your lower lips. Gliding past your hole and over your clit then back down. Their eyes are trained fully on the action, hungrily watching the redness of the toy disappear briefly only to reappear slipping across your swollen clit. “You shall be my good breeding pet, will you not?”

Their voice is a coo, one you can’t refuse as you nod your head vigorously, far too gone for words. Especially when they press down on the base of their cock and begin to press into you. Each inch is a stretch on its own, but with your own slick, the lubrication, and their work on you earlier, it’s not painful so much as it is you can tell it’s a stretch. You hiss out a swear, tossing your head to the side and resting a hand in your own hair to steady yourself as you bare your throat.

Bloodhound must appreciate the gesture because they’re full of purrs and coos, leaning down to kiss over the length of your throat and murmuring about how good you’re doing as they slip their cock in deeper and deeper. Until the knot is pressing to the rim of your sex but not yet pushing inside.

There’s a moment of break in the scene when they nuzzle over your jawline, “Tell me if I become too much, beloved. I feel I shall get carried away with you like this.”

It’s so honest, so gentle, that you manage a break in your haze to laugh softly. Gently, you nudge their cheek with your nose and press a soft kiss there as well as you murmur, “You’ve done worse than fuck me in the forest. You won’t break me, I promise. I know my safe word.”

Just a small amount of communication to ease their nerves. Going so far as to when they don’t reply to reach down and pinch their ass. That makes them yelp softly, huffing against your cheek before pressing one back to yours with a gentle rest of their forehead to yours as they settle back into the scene.

A single thrust and a snarl from their lips lets you know the game has begun once again. At first you try to be quiet as they pick up a nice pace, stubbornly biting your lip- but you should know by now that that won’t work. Slowly, moans begin seeping past your lips, until you’ve thrown your head to the side, lips parted and brows knitted with pleasure.

They must be feeling something too, judging by how they’re doing that cute little noise they do when they’re being touched. This huffy, soft little growl in their throat with every breath. And when you peek at them, you can see their own eyebrows knitted, eyes half lidded to watch your facial expression.

When you catch their eyes, Bloodhound holds the stare only momentarily before leaning in and capturing your lips. Nipping and biting at your lower lip that was already reddened from your own teeth. Threatening to break the soft flesh with their sharper teeth as they begin fucking into you harder.

Your moans flow into their mouth as their hands greedily grab at you. It’s only suddenly they break apart briefly, carefully pulling out and rolling you over with a reminder of their strength as they manipulate you like a doll onto all fours. Immediately, a hand rests in your hair, shoving your cheek down into the fur on the ground as they fit their cock back inside of you.

The new angle allows them to go deeper, making you practically squeal when their other hand reaches under to cup your mound and rub your clit in circles with their fingers. All the while Bloodhound growls in your ear praises and filth of, “You are going to be my breeding pet for as long as it needs to take.” “Such a good little thing.” “Thank your god for this blessing.”

To which you begin wailing, “Thank you, thank you, thank- th-thankYOU-!” As you begin to cum hard on their cock. Just two more thrusts before the knot slips into you, stretching you wider and making you feel yourself flexing and squeezing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Vaguely you can hear them moan behind you, struggling briefly before you feel the sizeable amount of ‘cum’ entering inside of you. You whine at the full feeling, rocking your hips back to feel it only to have their hands greedily hook over your hips and yank you flush to them.

“Do not spill anything.” They murmur, lazily rolling their own hips against your ass as if to make sure you’re holding still. You hum coyly in return, allowing your weight to rest in their hands as they help ease you down into lying on your abdomen with their thighs framing yours in an almost straddle.

“Aw, but if I spill some, doesn’t that mean we have to go again?” You tease back, tilting your head to the side to eye them from the side. Resting your cheek against your folded arms and smiling lazily at them as you catch them narrowing their eyes at you.

A gentle pinch to your cheek makes you smile as they huff at you, “Do not tempt me, my love.” Just a small threat as you flash a grin in return, lazy and tired as you rest your eyes.

“Mmh- did you cum, Hound?” Yawning at your own words, you peek open an eye to catch them nod briefly, watching them look away from you as if even admitting that was embarrassing.

Yawning once more, you nuzzle into your arms. “We should do this again. Maybe you can chase me a bit and tie me to a tree. Seems like something up your alley.”

And judging by the playful swat to your ass and a huff from your now flustered partner who just fucked you in the woods- you're going to take that as a solid Yes.

#Bloodhound #Bloodhound x Reader #Apex legends #Apex lemons #nsft #lemon #princess writing

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nik-the-bik · 4 years

Text

“Acts of Service” Jekyll & Utterson Fluff Fic

Y’all want Henry Jekyll/Gabriel Utterson University Roommates Fluff?

Well it doesn’t matter because you’re sure as hell going to get it.

This was going to be like...500 words and then I overshot that to hell. Critiques appreciated.

*****

If there was one thing Gabriel Utterson was good at, it was exuding a high level of pure Christian kindness and service to everyone, and especially for a very flummoxed Henry Jekyll.

Like when Gabriel made coffee and made an extra cup for Henry, just the way he likes it.

Or when Gabriel had laundry to put away and noticed the pile of clothes on Henry’s side of the room, so he hung up his shirts too.

When Gabriel was rushing off to an early morning class and Henry was still sound asleep, but on his way out the door Gabriel took a moment to put the books and papers Henry had left scattered the night before in a neat pile on his desk.

Henry had never asked him to do any of these things. They were never expected. But Gabriel was just…Gabriel. Ever the perfect gentleman, Gabriel Utterson went out of his way for others simply out of a sense of duty.

The only annoying part was that Gabriel refused to let Henry repay any favors. Henry would offer to buy a meal or a round of drinks as a thank you, but Gabriel would staunchly refuse time and time again with a shake of the head and a shy, embarrassed grin, hating being fussed over. Henry tried repaying him in tiny unasked favors as well, but he never did seem to be quite as attentive to those things as Gabriel.

So whenever Henry Jekyll noticed that his discarded dinner plate had been picked up when his back had been turned, or when Gabriel bought extra of Henry’s favorite grapes at the shop, or when he came home to find his missing sock sitting neatly with its companion in his drawer, he felt his heart pick up speed and his face grow hot with—what was it? Anger? Irritation?

He wasn’t mad—not even really annoyed. He appreciated the little gestures, certainly, but he was frustrated. Why did Gabriel insist on going to the trouble to do these things for Henry? Did he think Henry couldn’t take care of himself? Was Gabriel annoyed by Henry’s less organized living habits? Henry had been extremely apologetic for his messier habits when they first started sharing their tiny room together, and Gabriel had always insisted that he wasn’t bothered by it at all.

These weren’t acts of passive aggression either. Henry was positive that Gabriel was completely incapable of it. Each time Henry noticed these favors he made a point to emphasize his thanks to his friend, and Gabriel would reply with a warm “You’re Welcome” or “Oh, it’s nothing!” that was overwhelmingly genuine—not a note of sarcasm or even cold formality about it. Instead his eyes sparkled with such kindness and he’d smile so tenderly that Henry felt all coherency abandon him and his whole body would tense in alarm.

So why? Why did Gabriel do these things? Was he truly that selfless of a human being? Years of cynicism had convinced Henry that no one was truly selfless, that any handout came with a price, but with Gabriel… he had always been giving. Always. Even years ago when they were small children chasing one another while their fathers smoked in the parlor and discussed their shared business interests, Gabriel was always the first to share a toy, first to volunteer for chores, and second to take any kind of treat offered to the boys, allowing Henry to have first pick instead.

The unwarranted kindness set Henry on edge. Not only was it completely inexplicable, but each small gesture felt like it was piling on top of the last to amount to a large debt that Henry owed Gabriel, a debt that he was never allowed to repay.

Some nights the pressure of Gabriel’s caring weighed on Henry’s mind and refused to let him rest. He thoroughly enjoyed living with Gabriel—the two young men got along exceptionally—but kindness and warmth were not things that Henry was used to, and at nights when his mind lingered on his friend’s acts of quiet, unspoken affection, Henry felt a hot, fuzzy feeling overtake him and make him utterly restless, leaving him squirming in his own bed and all too aware of the gentle breathing coming from the bed on the other side of the room.

It was agonizing. Enough was enough.

It was time for a debt to be repaid—properly—and for Henry’s conscience to leave him be.

But how?

It was a stray comment in the early hours of the morning that finally gave Henry the burst of inspiration he needed.

Never quite falling asleep the night before, he heard Gabriel wake up and prepare himself for his earliest classes—poor Gabriel had one day a week where he was up at the crack of dawn and in class all day, while Henry’s schedule for the day only had him spending an hour in a lab, two tops. Shuffling about their tiny room and collecting his books, Henry heard Gabriel softly muttering little reminders to himself.

“I really need to dust some of these shelves.”

Henry’s attention was drawn instantly. As Gabriel made his way out the door, stopping to pick up Henry’s fallen coat and put it back on the rack, Henry was already planning out his day.

He’d clean the room.

All of it.

The two kept the space as tidy as they could, but in the months since they moved in together, neither one had taken the time to pull out a mop, a bucket of soap, a broom, or anything that would really give the space a proper cleaning.

After his lab class this morning, Henry could run back and begin tidying up. It was perfect. It would make up for all the tiny little messes Henry usually left in his wake, and for all the times Gabriel would silently follow behind and straighten up on his behalf.

He’d make a shiny, good-as-new room to come home to, and perhaps a pot of Gabriel’s favorite tea as well.

Leaving his class early that day, Henry began gathering his supplies. With a slight spring in his step, he imagined Gabriel’s delighted face as he came home to a spotless bedroom, his favorite tea ready on his desk, Henry calmly sipping at his own cup, book in hand, casually accepting his friend’s thanks and never betraying that his heart danced in his chest with the praise.

It took about 12 seconds after coming back to the room for Henry to realize he didn’t really have the slightest idea where to start with his project.

He’d never really had to clean before.

Staring at the small rectangular room, he wasn’t sure if he should start with the floors, the beds, the dresser—was he supposed to wipe down the windows?

Arms still laden with feather dusters, rags, and a bucket of sudsy water, he decided he might as well start at the far corner of the room and work his way forward. He’d figure things out as he went along. How hard could it be?

Apparently harder than he thought.

He had started with taking the duster to any surface he could reach and was disappointed to discover that despite being over six feet tall, Henry still couldn’t quite reach the top of the molding that trimmed the walls of the room. He had also bumped the bucket of water, sending some of it splashing over the side and onto the rug laid next to his bed. He’d probably have to hang that to dry. He’d get to that later, though.

When trying to scrub the floor, he realized he couldn’t quite reach all the way underneath the dresser, even when on his hands and knees. He pulled it away from the wall and exposed a lovely line of dust and dirt—an outline that separated where the dresser once stood blocking the pristine wall from the grime that plagued the rest of it. Did that mean Henry would have to clean the wall too?

He finally made his way to Gabriel’s portion of the room, carving a disheveled but (mostly) disinfected path behind him, and he came to the realization that he’d probably have to move some of Gabriel’s belongings to properly clean everything.

That presented an issue. Henry was doing all of this as a favor for Gabriel, and he didn’t want to inadvertently move something important and create an inconvenience instead. He’d have to carefully study where all his things were and make sure that everything was perfectly replaced afterward. Tearing out a spare piece of paper, he started sketching the general layout of the books and supplies that sat upon Gabriel’s desk, making notes for when he’d have to put everything away. He couldn’t explain why he felt his cheeks grow hot at the thought of Gabriel finding this little sketch, but he knew he would feel foolish he ever did. Maybe he was embarrassed that he was just bad at this whole cleanliness thing.

Feeling satisfied with his little map for later, Henry began picking up the books and notes and papers that lay on the desk. As he turned to move them to the empty bed, he bumped the bucket again and this time stumbled sending half the books and all of the loose papers in his arms across the floor. Panicking because the floor was still damp, Henry began scrambling to pick everything up before--

“What’s all this?”

Gabriel.

He was home. Early. Standing at the door’s threshold, bag still slung over his shoulder, Gabriel was gaping at him, cheeks growing red.

Henry, still on all fours, became all too aware of how incriminating this all looked and felt his heart sink.

“Gabriel! I--I’m sorry, I’m…cleaning.”

“Is that what you call it, then?”

Was Gabriel accusing him of—no! No, no, this was bad! This was not how this was supposed to go!

Henry sprang up, heart pounding. Before he could begin sputtering out an explanation, he noticed that Gabriel had dropped his bag, and there was an unusual gleam in his eye.

Gabriel must be thinking Henry was trying to spy on him by rifling through his belongings, or rob him, or-

He needed to answer for himself. Immediately.

“Yes! Well…it started as cleaning. I felt it was my turn to repay the favor to you, since you’re always tidying up after me. I decided to clean the whole room, and when I went to dust off your shelves and your desk, I needed to move everything off, but then I also wanted to be positive that I put everything away exactly the way you had it before, but when doing so I dropped a couple of your notebooks and your papers went—”

His thoughts came to a halt when Gabriel started to laugh.

Please, anything but that.

But it wasn’t a mocking laugh. No, it was warm and jovial, and Henry brought himself to raise his eyes and noticed that Gabriel was blushing deeply, a shy grin on his face that kickstarted Henry’s already frantic heart and left him feeling breathless.

“I swear I wasn’t trying to snoop through your belongings, Gabriel,” Henry said sheepishly, gesturing to the small stock of cleaning supplies that lay strewn across the room.

“Of course not, I know you would never--”

“And I’m sorry I just wound up making a mess of your things instead,” he said, his own face hot.

Gabriel cleared his throat and straightened himself up a bit.

“Well, why don’t you let me help you with that, then?”

#jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #gabriel utterson #jekyll/utterson #henry jekyll #dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll #mr utterson #henry is me when i attempt cleaning shit #he is also an emotionally dense idiot #thinking of possibly doing more of these???#jekyll and hyde fanfic #nikki tries to be a writer

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fierysafrina · 4 years

Text

Time | Obey Me! part 2 of Broken Bonds

Fandom: Obey Me! Rating: General Word Count: 5.770 Genre: Hurt | Slice of Life | Angst | slight Comfort Summary: Thinking you had everything under control, it took only one visit to shatter that comfort you lived in. Notes: I-I honestly can’t say anything about this. I thought of writing fluff for part 2, but alas it didn’t happen. I do hope some of your questions will be answered. As it seems there’s most like going to be part 3 as well!

Those who haven’t read part 1, you can read it here.

---

Lucifer shut his eyes as he leaned forward on the table. He let out a silent sigh, but was quick to look towards the door when he heard a knock.

“Come in,” he spoke quietly, but still loud enough.

The doors opened and for a moment he saw you walk inside. Your smile was present as you held a tray with coffee in one hand. His eyes widened and he was about to call for your name, but your silhouette disappeared, leaving a bitter emotion in its wake.

Instead, Simeon stood on the doorway, his gaze knowing and Lucifer couldn’t find it in himself to dismiss him before he could speak of his business. He sighed once again, but lowered his gaze back on papers, which oddly belonged to you. They were your graded papers of your stay in Devildom that professors gave to him to hand them to you. Lucifer couldn’t tell them you were gone.

“I brought some coffee with me.” Simeon spoke and walked inside, closing the door behind. His lips twitched into a smile at the reaction he received—disbelief, dislike.

“I have no need for it.” Lucifer replied. He didn’t argue when Simeon ignored and approached his desk, placing the tray down before he sat down.

“You still prefer it black, don’t you?”

“What’s your business here, Simeon?” Lucifer went straight to the point, making the angel chuckle. He narrowed his eyebrows, taking the cup he was given with gratitude nonetheless.

“How are your brothers?” the angel asked instead, still partly ignoring the first born. “I heard they … made quite a ruckus a couple of weeks ago.” He continued, taking a sip of the coffee. He hummed at the taste of it. His blue eyes pierced right through Lucifer’s. “It must hurt that a mere human was the one to break your pact just when you formed it, doesn’t it?”

The cup Lucifer was holding cracked into pieces, his demon form coming forth.

Simeon widened his eyes, yet didn’t feel intimidated by it in the least. “How odd…” he murmured. “You care about them now, but not when they were still here. Care to share?”

“I have no business with you, Simeon.” Lucifer gritted through his teeth, anger flashing in his eyes. “State your reason or leave. As far as I know, the exchange program has been delayed until further notice.”

“I must correct you there.” Simeon placed the cup back on the tray, eyes staring right into his. “Lord Diavolo hasn’t told you of it yet, but [Name] won’t return.” Lucifer’s eyes widened. “When they broke your pact, it should’ve been clear enough.” He stood up, expression changing to sadness. “This time they’re gone for good.”

---

Luke fidgeted on his feet while looking around. Holding a small bag in his hands, his eyes widened and almost yelped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and sighed from relief, recognizing Solomon. “You scared me.” He murmured with one hand over his chest.

“I apologize,” Solomon smiled. He eyed the bag, smiling. “Have you found them?”

Luke nodded. “They’re at-uh-at the cemetery…” he stammered and averted his gaze to the side. “I-I found them a couple of days ago.”

Solomon nodded in understanding. “Shall we meet them halfway?”

Luke blinked. He nodded a moment later. “But…” he stopped quickly after he began walking. Solomon raised an eyebrow in wonder. “What if they refuse to meet us?”

“They’re not like that,” The sorcerer answered. “They’re still going through a hard time, which is understandable, but I doubt they’d hate to see us. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Biting on his lower lip, Luke stared at the bag before he quietly nodded. Solomon smiled and just as they were about to continue, a quiet voice called from behind; “Solomon?” making them turn. Their eyes widened when they saw you standing there. You were holding a grocery bag, which meant you went to the store on the way. For a moment they both thought you were okay, but the moment they looked closer, they could see your hair was messier and dark circles beneath your dull eyes. Your face was paler and before anyone could say a word, Luke was already embracing you, his arms tight around your waist.

Your eyes were wide as you stared down at the young angel. A small smile spread across your lips quickly after and you patted his head. “It’s been long, Luke.” Your voice was soft and quiet, yet it didn’t have that happiness it always seemed to hold.

Solomon approached the two of you, a smile present. “It’s good to see you.”

Your gaze met his and you nodded, replying; “You as well.” Pulling Luke away, you caressed his cheek, frowning when you spotted tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” you asked, nibbling on your lip.

“How are you feeling?” Solomon asked instead.

You looked at him, frowning. “Alright,”

“I didn’t mean that.” he shook his head and you startled, realizing what he meant. “All seven pacts were broken at the same time. You should rest more.”

“I’m alright,” you repeated with a sigh. “I need to occupy myself.”

Solomon shook his head. “You’re as stubborn as you’ve always been.”

You chuckled at his words. “I was learning from the best.”

The sorcerer sighed, shaking his head once more. Luke meddled with the bag in his hands before handing it over to you. You blinked in confusion but took the bag.

“I-I made some cookies…” Luke stammered, looking all around than at you. The corners of your lips turned upwards in a small smile. “It-it’s the ones you like be-best…”

“Thank you,” You whispered. Putting it inside the grocery bag, you looked at both. “Would you like a cup of tea, coffee?”

“We don’t want to impose on you.” Solomon softly smiled.

“Nonsense,” you chuckled. “I like your company.” You blinked, eyes widening when you realized what you said. Cheeks heating up you cleared your throat.

“We’d love to!” Luke squeaked.

You blinked, but quickly nodded, expression softening. “Well then,” you murmured and continued your way.

Solomon and Luke were quick to join, each on your sides. While Solomon remained silent most of the time, Luke on the other hand was quite chatty. To say the least, you were quite glad to talk about something entirely different than one and the same thing; your family. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss Luke, Solomon and Simeon. You missed them a lot, but you couldn’t deny that you missed the brothers as well. With their help, you made sure to disappear from the place you once called home. As much as it hurt you, you knew that would be the first place the brothers would visit once they realized the pact, bond was broken.

Thankfully, Solomon didn’t question you about them. Luke didn’t mention anything related to Devildom and whenever Simeon visited you – which was rarely, much to your disappointment – he only sat there and listened to you as you talked or just both sat in complete silence, observing the nature around.

And just like that, time passed by without you realizing.

---

Five years. It took five years for them to get a sign. Five years to catch a glimpse of you for just a mere second.

“Lucifer,” Barbatos spoke before Lucifer could leave.

“Yes?” Lucifer turned to look at him. He was impatient, Barbatos could see, because they both knew that lead he had could disappear any moment. He couldn’t waste time.

“Lord Diavolo is asking for you.”

Lucifer stilled. He missed the way Barbatos’ lips turned in an almost invisible smile as Lucifer thought through. Should he go to Lord Diavolo? Or should he apologize and go to his brothers and tell him what he found.

“Barbatos—” Lucifer began, but the said demon shook his head, saying; “It’s alright.”

The corners of Lucifer’s lips turned upwards as he lowered his head, turned around and disappeared down the hallway. Barbatos stood there for a moment until he heard footsteps approaching.

“It seems that little tip was successful.” Diavolo spoke, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you certain it will help?” Barbatos turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “They’re still…quite emotional when it comes to them.”

Diavolo chuckled. “If there’s one place they’re most safe in, it’s in their own house. If memory isn’t betraying me, Solomon and Simeon themselves helped.”

“Ah,” Barbatos nodded, remembering as well, as he caressed his chin. “They’re hasty.” Diavolo hummed in agreement. Barbatos’ eyes sparkled with a vision, smile returning. “It was a shame [Name] refused to come back…” he murmured more to himself, but Diavolo’s laughter grew, which let Barbatos know he heard it.

“We can only wish for their safe reunion.”

---

“What?!” Mammon exclaimed. He sprung on his feet, eyes wide as he stared at Lucifer. “Are ya sure? Really, really sure?”

“Of course I am.” Lucifer snapped rather harshly. “We must act quickly before it disappears.”

“Well, where are they?” Leviathan asked, his fingers meddling together.

“They moved to the countryside, which is why I couldn’t find them.” Lucifer explained. “That sorcerer must have helped them too.”

Asmodeus flinched at the side, frowning a moment later. “It can’t be…” he murmured, holding for his chin. “Whenever I asked if he saw them, he always said he hadn’t seen them since they left.”

“He’s a sorcerer,” Belphegor’s gaze hardened. “And he can order you around. What makes you think he wouldn’t lie either?”

Asmodeus pursued lips into a thin line when Satan spoke; “When we find them, how much should we tell?” looking directly at Lucifer.

The question made everyone quiet down. All looked at Lucifer, waiting for him.

The demon in question tapped his chin with arms crossed over his chest. “With the witch gone, I don’t think it would be a bad idea to tell the truth.” He spoke slowly, carefully. “Well, of course if they wish to see us.”

“Of course they woulda!” Mammon was quick to oppose. “I-I mean it’s them!”

“As much as I wish to agree with Mammon with that weak excuse, Lucifer is half right.” Satan sighed, shaking his head. “If they managed to hide from us for five years without leaving a trace in their wake, what makes us think they would want to see us.”

“We can explain the situation.” Leviathan bit on his lower lip, looking from one brother to another. “I-I mean, we-we owe them t-that much.”

Pain was visible on everyone’s faces, regret much obvious.

“What if they refuse to meet us before we even get to them?” Beelzebub spoke.

The silence that spread throughout the living room inside the House of Lamentation was deafening.

---

Tending to a rose bush beside your small garden, you were humming to yourself. The sun shone, not a single cloud in vicinity.

“I wonder how tomatoes are growing…” you murmured and walked over to tomato plants, smiling softly when you saw the first fruit. Squatting down, you observed the fruit for a while before you straightened up and walked over to where you had more vegetables planted. “Just a bit more…” you hummed as you walked over to a fence. Leaving the garden, you closed the fence door and walked over to the house.

The house was built just outside the small town where you lived, surrounded by a forest and first neighbour more than hundred meters away. You liked this place more than you thought you would – a place where no one could find you; a place where you could make your own food, baked whatever you wanted to bake and how many times you wanted to—which reminded you …

Eyes wide, you rushed inside the house, hearing an alarm beeping constantly.

“Damn it!” you cursed as you quickly reached for the kitchen towel, opened the oven and sighed in relief, seeing the cookies weren’t burnt too much. Turning off the oven, you took out the baking tray and placed it on the counter. Smiling more to yourself, a sudden chill ran down your spine, making you shudder.

Suddenly a memory came to you; a memory of a certain demon that never left your side. Your eyes grew wide and you took a stumbling step back, supporting yourself on the counter. Your breath hitched and pain spread inside your chest with every breath you took. Shaking your head, another memory resurfaced, this time of another demon, who was eating a lot, but still never had enough. Your eyes welled up. You felt fingers closing around your throat and it took you a moment to realize you were scratching your neck, trying to get rid of the imprints he left behind.

“Get out…” You whispered, eyes shut.

Dark eyes, with a tint of red, stared down at you. You whimpered, trying to make yourself smaller, but the emptiness inside you made it impossible to forget them.

“Si-Simeon…” you whisper-called, looking around. “Simeon…” you called once more, calling the angel’s name like a mantra, a prayer, but no matter how much you tried to, he wasn’t there. Your heart ached, tears streaming down your cheeks as you continued to call for him, for Luke, for Solomon.

They didn’t come.

A knock on your door woke you from past memories. Turning your head towards the door, you frowned. Knowing if it were one of the angels or Solomon, they would apparite beside you like they did every time before. Which meant it must be either your relatives or one of the few neighbours paying you a visit.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, you quickly wiped away the tears before you walked on the hallway and opened the door with a smile on your lips.

As quickly as it came, it disappeared. You blinked with your eyes as they grew wider. You were slow to comprehend what was going on, but you knew those faces. You knew those two pairs of purple eyes and behind them the bright brown eyes that stared at you in relief. Yet the moment they saw you, relief morphed into worry and sadness and Beelzebub reached out his hand to you, to hold you only to feel a tingling sensation the moment his hand passed the doorway. He retracted his hand like he was burnt, gaze confused as he stared at it.

“How…how did y-you find me?” you stuttered with a weak voice.

“It doesn’t matter—” Asmodeus began, but you overtook him with a sharp, cold; “Leave.”

You wanted to close the door, but Belphegor stepped forward, his palm slamming on it only to hiss at the pain. Your eyes widened and before he could say anything, you stumbled backwards, falling on the floor. There was fear in your eyes; fear that all three brothers knew too well. They heard your breath hitch in your throat. Asmodeus took a step forward in worry, but stopped when Belphegor raised his hand.

“Something’s wrong.” He said, hissing when he finally pulled his hand back.

“Does it hurt?” Beelzebub reached for the younger’s hand.

Belphegor shook his head. “Just stings a bit.” He answered and turned back your way when a choking sound escaped you. His expression saddened, having a hunch what must have spooked you. “We should call for Simeon or Solomon.”

“Why?” Asmodeus narrowed his eyebrows.

Belphegor stared at the doorway, eyebrows narrowed. He didn’t want to admit it. It wasn’t in your nature.

Feeling another presence behind them and a desperate call of your name made Asmodeus and Beelzebub turn just in time they saw a mop of white hair pass them by.

Belphegor’s eyes widened as he was pushed to the side. “Mammon, wait!” he reached out, but Mammon already stepped through the doorway only to fall on his knees. “Mammon!” he called, Beelzebub moving to reach forward, but didn’t hold him in time.

Mammon was holding for his head, hunched over on the floor. You blinked with your eyes, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks as you watched Mammon writhing in pain. You covered your mouth as his fingers dug into his scalp. He was grunting with eyes shut, sweat forming on his forehead.

“M-Mammon …” You whisper-called, heart breaking at the sight of him being in pain. Your hands were shaking when you reached out slowly, afraid for any quick movements. He flinched under your touch and moved backwards, feeling like he was burnt. His eyes were wide as he stared at you. You retracted your hand to your chest, sadness overwhelming you. “L…eave…” you choked on your tears.

It took Mammon’s whole power to stumble out of your house. Beelzebub was quick to help him on his feet, Asmodeus checking for any bruise while Mammon and Belphegor never looked away from you. There wasn’t any sadness in Mammon’s eyes and neither was anger, for which you begged to be. You wanted him to be angry at you. No, in Mammon’s eyes was disappointment, his expression full of sorrow as realization seemed to dawn on him.

Belphegor’s gaze on the other hand was expressionless. But knowing him, even if for a short while, you could spot despair that only made you feel worse.

Shutting the door, you leaned a hand on it with eyes shut as you let the tears fall. You didn’t know how they found you, knowing both Solomon and Simeon made sure that every trace behind you disappeared. Then again, a part of you expected it; expected that sooner or later they’d be there.

“I’m so…sorry…” you whispered as you placed your other hand on your chest.

Pain intensified and it took you a moment to realize a pair of hands holding for your shoulders. Your sobs were undoubtedly heard outside where all seven brothers stood. Lucifer and Asmodeus were tending to Mammon while Satan and Belphegor talked. Beelzebub and Leviathan stood beside, glancing from one brother to another in worry while occasionally glancing at your door as well. This wasn’t how they wanted it to go. They didn’t want to see anyone in pain, especially you. And yet there they were, being the very cause once again.

What seemed like eternity was only ten minutes when the door opened, revealing Simeon. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were giving him away.

“How’s Mammon?” He was the first to break the silence.

“’m fine…” he groaned, trying to push Asmodeus’ hand from his arm, but unsuccessfully.

“He’s not as powerful as before.” Lucifer began slowly, eyes focused on the angel. “Simeon,” he called, eyebrows narrowed; “why is there a spell against demons?”

Leviathan’s and Asmodeus’ eyes widened while Belphegor and Satan stilled. All seven brothers were looking at Simeon, who averted his gaze back at the house.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Simeon said instead.

“Simeon.” Lucifer gritted through his teeth.

Simeon turned, his eyes meeting with Lucifer’s, both of their wings displaying as neither backed down. Leviathan took a step back as Mammon stumbled forward, Beelzebub and Asmodeus barely catching him before he could fall on the ground. Satan gritted his teeth while Belphegor remained passive, observing the situation.

“We have the right to know. They have the right to know why we’re here.”

“You should have told me beforehand.” Simeon didn’t back down, gaze turning into glare. “It took them two years to be where they are today. You have no right to come unannounced.”

Lucifer frowned. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “We came to apologize.”

“A little late, don’t you think?” the angel hissed.

“You’ve grown quite overprotective in these five years.” Lucifer snarled, their glares clashing.

“Can you please not fight in front of their house?” A new voice spoke, making all turn to the side.

Asmodeus’ eyes widened. “Solomon!” he called before spotting the other angel beside.

Solomon was shaking his head as Luke glanced from Simeon to Lucifer. “We came as soon as possible when you contacted Luke.” Solomon looked at Simeon, who lowered his head in thanks. “And for your information,” he looked at Lucifer; “that spell is for witches as well, not just demons.”

“You made it?” Lucifer asked.

“All three of us did.” Luke answered. “We couldn’t let them be an open target for any of you.” He huffed, his arms crossed over his chest. He yelped at the glare Lucifer sent him and how the tension only intensified.

“Why don’t you all calm down while I check on [Name] and see if they’re okay to meet with any of you?” Solomon was smiling, but his words were sharp. He exchanged glances with Simeon, who nodded once, before he and Luke disappeared inside the house. They found you sitting on the sofa, the smell of cinnamon reaching their noses and it made them smile. “I see you were baking…” Solomon broke the silence.

You raised your head and smiled softly. “I-I thought I b-burnt them…” you stuttered.

Solomon chuckled and knelt in front of you as Luke cupped your face, looking it over for a bruise or any kind of abuse. All they saw was tear-stained cheeks and red eyes.

“You don’t have to meet them anymore.” Solomon’s voice was quiet. He placed one hand on your knee, making you look at him. “Simeon and I can tell them to leave. We can make your trace disappear again. Just say the word and we’ll do it.”

“They’re strong…” you replied, expression turning sadder.

“You’re forgetting I have pacts with seventy-two demons.” He bopped your nose and you chuckled. “And Simeon is an angel. I believe we can give them a hard time while Luke helps you hide.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes. Leaning forward, you let out a shaky breath. “I’m tired of hiding; tired of always looking behind and being scared of my own shadow. I want to end this once and for all.” You hoped you were ready.

Solomon looked at Luke, whose lips were pursued into a thin line. A silent conversation was exchanged between before Solomon sighed. “Alright…” he murmured and stood up. “Then perhaps this spell could be broken until then, no?” he looked at you.

“I… Yes…” you answered with a small nod and stood from the sofa. “Will you be here?”

“If you wish.”

“Please…”

“Alright,” Solomon nodded. He reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. A small smile spread across your lips. Releasing your hand, he turned to Luke, adding; “I’ll leave and talk with Simeon.” before he disappeared from the house.

You remained in the living room with Luke staring at the door. Both of you could hear voices either interrupting or growing louder. Luke unconsciously held your hand and you gripped it a bit tighter, feeling your own heart wanting to break through. It wasn’t long until voices quieted down that your nervousness grew.

And then you felt it. Felt how the spell disappeared around, leaving you bare of any protection. Luke squeezed your hand tighter and you took in a shaky breath before the doors opened. Solomon walked inside, his eyes immediately finding yours. A silent question was exchanged, if you were alright, and you found yourself nodding your head.

Turning back outside, Solomon opened the doors wider. The first one you spotted was Simeon, who was closely observing the brothers and it made you feel slightly better. Having not only Simeon on your side to protect you, but also Luke and Solomon made you feel calmer. You knew the brothers wouldn’t dare to hurt you without a reason, but there was still that what if that lingered in the back of your mind.

Your gaze fell on Mammon second seeing him being supported by Beelzebub and Asmodeus. Eyes welling, you forced yourself to look away from his blue eyes that felt like boring through your soul. Freeing your hand from Luke’s hold, you wrapped arms around yourself, wanting to distance yourself from everyone.

Sensing your discomfort, Luke was quick to reach for your hand once again, this time refusing to let it go. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at the brothers, his eyes focused on their every move. He gripped your hand tighter, a silent; “I’m here,” spoken within the action.

“Let’s…let’s go to the living room…” You were the first to break the silence, tension slightly rising. Without another look or word, you disappeared into the kitchen with Luke beside. Letting out a shaky breath, your knees gave out the moment you leaned on the counter.

Luke’s eyes widened and he was quick to be beside, his gaze filled with worry.

“I-I’m okay…” you whispered with a stutter, but Luke didn’t believe you. “I’m o-okay, just-just overwhelmed…” you forced a smile. You continued before he had time to open his mouth; “Want to help me with drinks?”

“I don’t think they want to drink.” Luke’s gaze hardened, turning into a glare.

With a chuckle, you straightened on your feet and messed his hair. “It’s a courtesy to offer tea or coffee to the guests.” You explained as you reached for a cabinet above where tea and coffee cups were inside.

“But they came unannounced. You only just baked these cookies!” he opposed, pout on his lips.

This time you freely laughed as you put the kettle on the stove. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I have you, Simeon and Solomon beside. I’m not afraid.”

Narrowing his eyebrows, Luke stared at you before he sighed and shook with his head. His pout only grew, yet he helped you nonetheless.

You didn't realize until you put cups in front of each demon that you prepared the beverages they drank whenever you prepared them in Devildom. You felt their eyes focused on you as your hands began to shake, eyes slowly welling up. How could you prepare their favourite beverages after all this time?

Luckily no one spoke of it. Instead, each brother thanked you quietly except for Lucifer, who quietly nodded. You could feel his gaze on your back as you turned before you sat beside Simeon. Simeon smiled at you, his hand reaching for yours and gently squeezed it. The corners of your lips turned up, feeling confident. Facing the brothers, your smile lingered, but slowly disappeared. It was unusual for them to remain quiet, especially Mammon, who was always a bundle of joy that always made you laugh. This time, Mammon blankly stared at the cup, unmoving. Leviathan was meddling with his fingers, while Satan, just like Mammon, stared at the cup in his hands. Asmodeus was pouting, looking defeated and you wondered why. Beelzebub was focusing on Belphegor’s hand instead, examining it while Lucifer stared between you and Simeon.

Sensing the tension, it was Solomon, who first broke the silence; “So how's the exchange program going? It’s been five years since we left.”

“It’s going well.” Lucifer answered, his focus on the sorcerer. “We have more and more exchanges of angels and humans.” He paused, then— “Although I cannot say there are less fights and arguments.” He spared a glance towards Mammon, who flinched and you couldn’t hide the smile that crept on your lips.

He’s still the same. You thought to yourself before you reached for your cup and took a sip of the tea.

There was grumbling, your gaze falling on Beelzebub, whose cheeks turned red in embarrassment as the cup was placed against lips. Half of his face was hidden, but it made your eyes wide when you remembered. Jumping on your feet, you rushed back into the kitchen. Simeon called after you and you heard someone moving, but before Solomon and Mammon, who unconsciously stood up, followed you, you were back. You panted as you placed a bowl of baked cookies on the tea table, eyes meeting with Beelzebub’s wide ones.

“I just baked them.” You stammered out, not looking away.

He was hesitating. He glanced at Belphegor, who was staring at you, and then at Lucifer, who was frowning. Looking back at the bowl, he gulped and reached forward. You unconsciously smiled, assuring him it was alright. With more confidence, he took one and then another. Your smile widened. Next was Asmodeus, who reached forward and took one cookie, followed by Leviathan. Satan shook with his head, but a small smile was present on his lips.

“Why did you break our pact?”

You stilled completely, eyes wide. You gulped and looked at Mammon, who was staring at you with hurt evident in his eyes.

“Mammon!” Lucifer and Leviathan hissed. Satan closed his eyes with a sigh. Beelzebub slowed down his eating, Asmodeus moving in his seat while Belphegor narrowed his eyebrows.

“I just wanna know!” Mammon defended himself, moving further from Leviathan, who was moving his hands.

You spoke before you could stop yourself; “I thought you didn’t want to have a pact anymore.” That brought another wave of silence, all eyes focusing on you. You meddled with the cup in your hand, feeling Simeon’s hand on your back in a gentle caress. It’s okay. Simeon’s here. So are Solomon and Luke. They’ll protect me. “I-I mean, I-I didn’t even k-know I’ll be coming b-back. I waited for y-your messages and-and calls, but nothing … came.” Your eyes and nose burned, itched. “A-and then when I-I got back you all acted so…so distant like I-I’m some lowlife and it hurt.” You choked on the last word.

Beelzebub crumbled the cookie he was holding, gaze hard as he stared at the crumbs on the floor.

“I-I didn’t even k-know what’s w-wrong…” you hiccupped and wiped away the tear that managed to stream down your cheek.

“I’m sorry …” spoke Lucifer. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and it made you look his way. “I …” he hesitated, glancing at Satan, who was nibbling on his lower lip, remaining quiet. He could see how tense everyone was and not just his brothers, but also the angels and Solomon. Their focus was on them, watching every move without any expression to show how they felt. But Lucifer didn’t have to see to know. He could feel the killing intent from Luke with Simeon and Solomon remaining passive.

“We didn’t know what else to do.” He admitted.

You looked confused.

“When you left,” Lucifer continued after taking a sip. You didn’t miss the way Satan’s head snapped his way; “a witch came and threatened us.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, confusion growing. “What does a-a witch ha-have to do with m-me?”

Simeon moved his hand and held yours. You held his back.

Lucifer hesitated, averting his gaze to the side. “She was a descendant of a witch that once hunted Lilith when she was reincarnated as human.”

You flinched at the name of your ancestor when a memory of a police officer telling you of the accident came forth; saying how odd it was for it to lose control. “T-that accident…” you unconsciously gripped Simeon’s hand while with the other the cup you still held. You didn’t mind the heat it emitted. “Officer told me the driver suddenly lost control of the truck…” Mammon and Leviathan froze as Asmodeus glanced at Lucifer in worry. “Did you …” you looked straight at Lucifer.

One look and everything shattered. The cup you were holding was in pieces, tea spilling from your hands onto the floor.

“Leave.”

“[Name]—”

“Leave!” You raised your voice, unable to hide the sadness and anguish you felt. You covered your face, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. You could hear them move, footsteps echoing.

“Mammon!”

You tensed when you felt a pair of arms wrapped around you. Your eyes widened, unable to focus on anything except Mammon’s shaking body and weak, choking voice as he spoke;

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t-didn’t know. No-none of us did. Not un-til you left, di-disappeared.” He hiccupped and tightened his embrace, almost crushing you, but still not enough to hurt you directly.

Being ripped from his embrace, you stared at the white haired demon, whose tears were streaming down his cheeks. Asmodeus and Satan were holding him, regret visible in their eyes.

“Why…why didn’t y-you tell me?” you stuttered, voice weak. “I-I thought you t-trusted me…”

“We do,” Leviathan knelt in front of you. He tried to caress your cheek, but pulled away, when he saw Simeon’s gaze turn into a glare. “We trust you, we were just…scared.” He lowered his head ashamed. “We didn’t want to hurt you, which we did by how we acted. We tried to come up with something, anything to protect you, but we were empty handed.”

“You’re the strongest demons!” you couldn’t help but exclaim. “How could a simple witch make you do this? Just for a mere human?” You shook your head. “I-I don’t understand this…”

Beelzebub was the next to kneel in front of you, eyes staring directly at you. Your shoulders relaxed and you wanted to reach out and hug him, but managed to hold back. No matter how crestfallen he looked, you couldn’t give in into those sad, teary eyes.

“We wanted to protect you.” He began slowly, speaking clearly. “You’re someone very precious to us and we wanted to solve this without involving you more than you already were. We were too blinded by the anger and of being unable to be there for you to realize how much you were hurting.” Tears were streaming down your cheeks. “Not once did we ever think of breaking our pact with you.”

Turning your head away, you looked at Solomon, who took the cue. “I think it’s best for you to leave.” he stepped forward between you and the demons, quietly adding; “For today.”

Leviathan bit on his lower lip and nudged Beelzebub before they stood on their feet. Neither of them said a word, but Lucifer lingered behind, gaze soft as he spoke; “Contact us;” when you’re ready. The last sentence was left unspoken, but was loud and clear.

You closed your eyes, feeling Luke’s arms around you while both Simeon and Solomon left the house.

“It’s okay…” Luke whispered.

Finally, being alone, you burst into tears, arms unknowingly wrapped around the angel. You were scared; scared for a reason you didn’t want to admit. It wasn’t because they knew where you lived, but because you didn’t want them to leave. You didn’t want to be left alone. Not when they appeared in your life like those five years didn’t pass. Not when it took you so long to move on, only for everything to shatter with one visit.

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