#choicestomake

The double gates leading to the bridge over the Styx that only he had access to groan open, demons scurrying about as the King of the Underworld returns from his journey. It was a quick war, two human groups fighting against one another for reasons underneath him to know in particular. 

You set the book aside and take a final last look in the mirror, smoothing back your hair and placing a single flower on your ear, just like you did every time he returned. Except today, instead of just a white flower, it was a red rose, one that the demons had prepared for you separately. You had a hunch even the demons were beginning to enjoy the gardening you were doing in the room Yoongi built you. 

Cerberus bounds out of the room, with you following close behind. 

And then, he enters. 

Hair tousled and messy, face rugged from tiredness and work, skin weathered and smudged. His frame covered from shoulder to toe with heavy armor, dark and obsidian as his hair and his castle. He leans to set his sword and helmet down, and immediately two demons scurry to take them away. His eyes when he straightens up sweep the room, finally landing on your timid figure waiting for him in the entrance to the throne room. 

Immediately, his eyes light up, darkening with delight and the corners of his lips twitching as he takes a few steps towards you. 

“Y/N.” He calls out, the low tremor of his voice reaching you from meters away although its nothing above a gentle murmur. 

You break out into a run, bare feet tapping against the cold floor the only sound as you launch yourself into his embrace, arms encircling his neck and nose buried into the crook of his shoulder. 

He grunts, chuckling lowly as he sets you down, but not letting you go. Your toes rest on the floor as you still crane up to meet his embrace, and he obliges, leaning down so you can continue to hold him, and he you. His arms are strong, the armor around his forearms firm and hard, as the press against your ribs. Hands are roughly splayed against your backside, sending shivers through your entire body as he grazes the surface area there. How was it that everything he did was so...erotic? Yet innocent in every intention. He made your head spin. 

You forget how long you stay in that position. It had been too long. These trips had become less and less endurable, the absences of weeks, months, becoming much too long for your little heart to bear. Somehow...somehow within the times since you arrived here, the man in your arms had taken a stronghold within your heart. He never forced his way in, but instead waited patiently and gently until you were ready to run to him. 

As you just did now. 

“I missed you, my flower.” 

My flower. You bury your face more firmly into him, breathing in the familiar scent that had recently been fading from the bedsheets. 

“So did I, my King,” you murmur, and you distinctly feel him smile against your neck. The sensation tingles down, down, down. 

Cerberus snorts from a corner, and the moment is broken as Yoongi chuckles and his head turns towards the dog. Immediately, a demon scurries in to retrieve the monster, but the moment is over and you finally untangle yourself from his neck, the coldness rushing into your torso as you move away from his warmth. 

You stare up at him, thumb stroking the delicate skin underneath his eye. Unlike other times, thankfully, he seems unharmed. You would cry and cry whenever you saw him stagger into the Underworld with huge gashes across his torso or bruises and scabs marking his beautiful skin. You rub lightly at a dirt stain just below his lip, and it curls into a smile as you pout. 

“I am happy you’re okay,” you whisper, and Yoongi plucks the rose from your hair. His brows raise at the bold color of the petals, and brings it up to his nose, inhaling deeply whilst maintaining eye contact with you. Your legs almost buckle under the tension of the moment, but instead he asks, “Have you eaten, my love?” 

You shake your head. He curls a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Let us eat first. And wash.” 

You’re fidgeting, restless being even a few feet away from him. You’d refused to take the other seat at the other head of the table, instead dragging the heavy chair to be adjacent to him, on his right. Barely touching your meal, you watched him eat, as he quickly finished the plate in front of him, a bit quicker than usual. 

He tells you of the war, of why it took so long and why the gods eventually had to get involved. He tells you of the things he saw, good things. Of jewelry, of art.  

“Ah,” he stands, to your disappointment, and laughs at your expression. “Give me one moment, I’ll be back with something.” He returns within the minute with a package wrapped in paper, and sets it in front of you. 

“What is this?” 

“Open it, love.” 

You undo the twine that holds the package together, and the paper falls away to reveal two leather-bound books. Your eyes widen, “More Shakespeare? I--ho--how?” 

He smiles, “It was abandoned in a library. I had to take it aside so I could bring it to you. You can add it to your ever-growing collection.” 

It was true, the Shakespeare section in your library had been growing by the week, and some of the books you had were weathered, pages a bit flimsier than others because of how many times you had read through the immersing tales with gusto. 

You reach out to him, hand intertwining with his over the table. “I love them.” 

He looks up at you through his lashes. “I’m sorry it took so long. You got my letters, yes?” 

You laughed, folding away the papers and tucking the books away. “Hand-delivered by Hermes himself. It was a big delight to see him fluttering around here in the Underworld.” 

Yoongi laughs, “Hoseok, that rascal. I hope he didn’t cause you any distress.” 

“No, he was an absolute delight to have here. I enjoyed his company very much, and he was eager to tell me tales of what you were doing as well.”  

The conversation lulls to a comfortable silence, and you squeeze his hand, and his eyes flicker back up to yours. They darken, and his lips twitch. 

“Hoshi,” he calls for his demon. “Please draw me a bath.” 

The faithful servant bows. “Shall I light the fireplace in your bedroom, your Highness?” 

Yoongi stands, nodding as he sheds the first layer of his armor. “Yes. And after, you may be dismissed.” 

Hoshi bows, “And your clothes, your Highness?” 

You chime in. “Please don’t worry Hoshi, I shall do them myself.” 

The demon nods, keeping his head respectfully bowed, and dismisses himself.

Yoongi smiles down at you, offering his arm. Together, you walk towards the bath room, where Yoongi stands in front of the steaming hot tub, and you help him remove his armor. 

Piece by piece, the dark leather and metal come off his body, the breastplate, the shoulder plates, the leather covering his arms and shins, and finally, he stands in just thin pants. Shy, you turn as he chuckles, and removes them himself, stepping into the warm milky water, the dissolved Ambrosia soothing his sore muscles and healing any wounds. 

“I...I will wait for you in the bedroom, my King.” 

You excuse yourself.

You pace, chewing on your lip as you check your reflection in the mirror once more. Your heart was hammering out of your chest and your breath short as the sounds of Yoongi finishing up his bath echoed through all the way to the bedroom. You had laid out your favorite outfit on him, a white loose blouse and black pants. The soft white complimented him incredibly well. 

Should you sit on the bed? Or stand? 

You gnawed on your lip again, sighing as you hug the thick books closer to your chest. The fireplace flickers loudly in the corner, casting a soft golden glow around the room.

In your worry, you don’t realize that Yoongi had already finished and dressed, and the King of the Underworld emerges from the bathroom with the clothes you picked, eyes soft and lids heavy as he settles his gaze on you. 

Your lips fall open, and all worry and thoughts fleeing from your mind as you meet your husbands gaze from across the room. All feelings of coldness, of fear, anxiety, loneliness, guilt, shame, fly from your conscience. All you can see is the god standing a few meteres away from you. And he sees only you. 

He crosses the room in only a few swift strides, and this time, contrary to earlier, he is the one that walks to meet you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him, the way his eyes settle down on your lips and back up to yours with a dark glint that you’ve seen before, but never entertained until tonight. 

“May I?” He murmurs, hand reaching up and cradling your chin, thumb sweeping over the tiny wound from your earlier worrying. 

You nod minusculely, but it’s enough for him, and he leans in, slow, gentle, and patient as he meets your lips to his. 

It’s just like the first time, a dark explosion happening in your chest and blossoming to every part of your body like never before. Your eyelids flutter shut and your body loses all of its tension, relaxing in his scent and warmth, and his other hand comes to cup your cheek, as he gently moves his mouth against yours. His lips are soft, plush, and warm. Everything you ever wanted. You would die for him. 

He breaks away, and the rims of your eyes are watery at the realization that finally, you would become his and he would become yours. Forever. 

“I love you, my queen.” He says lowly, with all the adoration and love and passion a man can muster in his gaze alone, and you’re overwhelmed, overtaken by how much you love him back and how ready you are to leap into him forever and always and never look back. 

“I love you, my King.” 

This time he moves in swiftly, his lips capturing you, and you’re so startled the books in your arms fall to your feet. The space now in between your torsos he makes up for by gathering you in his embrace, strong arms pressing against your back up to him, molding your bodies together. You reach up to his face, caressing the skin there, and he begins kissing you with a passion you’ve never felt from him before. 

His mouth moves delicately, yet greedily. Like Yoongi has all the time in the world, yet if he doesn’t kiss you right now, he’ll die. He deepens the kiss as he slowly walks you back to the bed, and you shiver as his hands wander the span of your back, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric to splay warm on the skin there. His tongue insists against the seam of your lips, and you open your mouth and he tastes you, deeply, and a low whimper escapes you. 

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you sit, but Yoongi keeps your mouths connected as he stands over you, mouth breaking from your lips to trail down to your neck. His fingers dexterously undo the ribbon at the nape of your neck, and the blouse top of your dress slinks down your torso, baring your shoulders and neck. He leans in to take advantage of the exposed skin, groaning under his breath as he kneels over you, cradling your waist in his arms with reverence. You don’t know what to do with your trembling hands, your breaths staggered as he mouths at your collarbone and licking hotly up your neck. 

The second ribbon at the middle of your back is undone, and the white material slips down even further, exposing the swell of your breast. Yoongi detaches from your neck, hands sliding from your back up to your chest with awe, large hands splayed over your ribs and the tops of his thumbs barely grazing the undersides. 

You’re sure your pupils are blown out by now and your hair a mess and your lips swollen and splotchy, but all you see is him and he looks at you with such honor that it makes your heart clench. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, and your core clenches as he descends right to your sternum, lips hesitating at the base of your neck and breathing in harshly and then slowly kissing down until he meets the tops of your breast. The dress is moved down farther, and it’s useless, pooling at your hips on the bed while Yoongi laves at your nipple with his hot tongue, and you buck, crying out. 

He immediately grasps you by the waist and lifts you, placing you back at the center of the bed and resuming, letting you relax back on the black silk sheets as he continues to suck with sweet insistence. You’re sweating and your breaths are labored, and you can’t stop making noises. He stops in the middle when you cry out his name helplessly, and notices the way you squirm underneath him, and glances up at you with a wicked chuckle. “You’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

His hands settle on your waist again, slowly urging the material past your hips and down your thighs. He kneels up between your legs, and slowly begins descending, peeling back your underwear with two hands as he goes, kissing down your stomach and your hipbone as he descends, lips skimming the bare flesh of your thigh and then your calf as he finishes and discards the fabric somewhere. 

You’re now completely bare and flushed from head to toe and insanely wet, and you’re scared he might be able to smell you, or worse, hear you, and so you stop him when his head descends towards your pelvis. 

“Please,” you cry, and he smiles down at you. 

“What do you want? Please as in yes, or please as in no?” 

You don’t know what to say. Your mind is completely gone and obliterated in the heat of the moment, and all you can think about is him. You squeak back, “I d-don’t know. I-I’ve never...” You trail off, and he understands. 

He smiles down gently at you. “I want to taste you. Please.” He finishes, with a croak to his voice. There’s a hard angle at his jaw, and you can tell that he’s breathing heavily too, his pupils blown out as much as yours, and his breath as labored. You nod, and he leans down to press another breathtaking kiss against your lips and then immediately descends to kiss you there. 

“Yoongi!” You cry, and immediately you’re reduced to just chants and gurgles of his name, his lips and tongue hot against your flesh, opening you up and skillfully tasting you and licking you all over. Every graze of his mouth against your clit has you bucking up, and so he reaches up to grip your hands and heavily weighs both your intertwined hands onto your hips, simultaneously anchoring your hips down, spreading you wide open for his mouth. 

He groans into you, lashes fluttering closed with such reverence. “The sweetest,” he remarks, and he opens his eyes to meet your gaze from above. Immediately, the eye contact sends you over the edge, your body convulsing with tremors as your first ever orgasm rushes through your body. You cry his name, sobbing with pleasure and wonder and love and amazement all at once. 

“Please, please, please pleaseplease,” you stammer when he detaches, not wanting any of it to stop, and he nods, letting you help him slide off his clothes. 

You’ve seen his torso before, but your hands roam his firm abdomen anyway, fingertips skimming the cold skin. His hips are narrow and he immediately leans down to kiss you, and you feel him, hot against your thigh. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, smoothing back your hair from your forehead, and topping it off with a kiss. 

You nod, and he reaches down and slides into you, bracing himself with a hand on the mattress right next to your head, and the other cradling your neck. He lets out a grunt, eyes squeezing shut at how wet and lewd and profoundly good everything was. Your voice peaks to a sharp cry, and a new pleasure runs its course through your body, and you have to stop him for a second because it’s just so much and so good and you love him until the day you die. 

“Y/N,” he groans, lips descending on your collarbone, and the change in angle of his cock in you makes you cry out again, the point of pleasure focusing to a pulsing ache somewhere deep within your gut. His voice is hoarse as he begins moving, low and heavy breaths feathering over the places he laves with his tongue. “This,” he rasps, “You, are what I’ve been waiting for.” 

He fucks you deep, but patiently slow. It’s so tight and slick and wet that you have no idea what to do with yourself and all you can manage is disjointed mewls and versions of his name, and he does the same. Everything is misty, your vision, your hearing, clouded by him and only him, and everything is too much and yet not enough and tinged with fire. He tongues at your skin, everything hot and cold at the same time, rough fingertips grazing your ribs and your breasts, another pulling your thigh up over his hip. 

He’s beautiful, so beautiful, and you tell him. “Y-yoongi,” you rasp, “Oh my gods, Yoongi, please don’t stop. Please, please don’t let me go, please!” 

He groans as he picks up his pace, hips more intentional as he grinds into you, pressing into your clit with every thrust as he leans down against to grate against your lips. “You are my queen,” he reminds you, “I will never let you go.” 

The pleasure mounts, swelling and budding until it’s at a breaking point, and you reach up to kiss him, lips pressing against his as you tip over, throbbing even harder than before, muscles trembling at the overexertion. His rhythm grows sloppy, and and he lets out a groan, low and deep into your ear as he hugs you close. 

He cums into you, a gush of liquid heat filling you, pulsing within you, and you just lay there in blissful agony, unable to say or do anything underneath the man that you love. 

He holds you close, lips against your lids, and muttering sweet nothings into your ear. 

But each time, he reminds you who you are.