#BAD DECISIONS ••

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one. 

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse. 

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this. 

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous. 

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you. 

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared. 

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment. 

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips. 

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him. 

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this. 

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No. 

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace. 

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive. 

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s. 

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour. 

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is. 

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news. 

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open. 

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors. 

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place. 

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind. 

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice. 

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you. 

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want. 

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him. 

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors. 

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings. 

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him. 

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place. 

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock. 

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips. 

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head. 

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams. 

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version. 

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him. 

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan. 

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new. 

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration. 

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably. 

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute. 

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both. 

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point. 

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information. 

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling. 

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more. 

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so. 

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious. 

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema. 

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day. 

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you. 

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him. 

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home. 

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head. 

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm. 

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet. 

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference. 

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt. 

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love. 

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels. 

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go. 

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted. 

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick. 

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval. 

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch. 

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again. 

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited. 

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk. 

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too. 

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done. 

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south. 

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral. 

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you. 

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants. 

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver. 

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive. 

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens. 

But it is a surprise when he lets go. 

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer. 

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Not immediately, at least. 

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself. 

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him. 

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first. 

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away. 

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.” 

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch. 

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you. 

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal. 

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you. 

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night. 

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away. 

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you. 

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him. 

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more. 

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you. 

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you. 

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure. 

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot. 

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible. 

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t. 

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him. 

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.” 

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to. 

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps. 

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before. 

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning. 

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you.  Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you. 

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up. 

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom. 

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept. 

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change. 

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 1)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: When Vox proves incapable of cutting Valentino out of his sex life despite his many reassurances, you decide to break it off with him and leave for good. He doesn’t take it so well.

Just to be clear, reader is an artificial intelligence demon, looks super realistic and human-like, but is actually composed of nanotechnology. She was human once though, like all of the other sinners.

INSPIRED BY THIS POST

Part 2—> Chapter Index

"Y/n?" Charlie poked her head through your door. "There's uh, someone here to see you."

You narrowed your eyes, rising from your bed. A bone-weary sigh escaped you. It was obvious who your supposed "visitor" was. "Did you tell him I'm busy?"

Charlie pursed her lips, looking down. Great, so that meant he was throwing a temper tantrum. And she wanted you to sort him out.

"Alright, fine," you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I'm coming." She was generous enough to let you stay, after all. The least you could do was clean up your messes.

When you finally reached the main floor, Vox and Alastor looked about two seconds away from clawing each other's faces off. Cyan blue electricity was sparking along Vox's entire body, and Alastor's shadows curled dangerously behind him, ready to attack at his call.

Seeing him made a hot fury like no other claw its way up your throat. "What the fuck are you doing here?" You growled lowly, balling your fists at your sides.

At the sound of your voice, Vox immediately broke away from Alastor, a giant smile spreading across his screen. "Sweetheart! There you are!"

You stormed up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him harshly into a corner. You let go of him once you were sufficiently out of earshot of the others, crossing your arms and leveling him with a furious glare. "You have five seconds to explain yourself."

"Okay, let's just calm down for a second here," he chuckled, but it was an empty sound. "Is it really that weird for me to want to check up on you? After all, you kind of just disappeared," his smile strained.

"Has it ever occurred to you that the reason you couldn't find me was because I don't want to see you?" You smiled sardonically, patience running thin.

"Uh, what?" He laughed, but his smile was frozen. "Why would you not want to see me?"

That was the last fucking straw. "Are you that fucking delusional, Vox?" You snapped, poking him harshly in the chest. "When I said I was done, I meant it. This," you gestured between the two of you. "Is over. I'm done."

Vox twitched, electricity sparking off sporadically from his antennae. He stared at you in stunned silence, his breathing starting to pick up speed as he processed your words. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were being untruthful, and when he found none, he glanced up at the small crowd of residents and staff gathered, only to lock eyes with a smug Alastor.

Vox's screen glitched, his features twisting in a rage. "So you're replacing me with the radio fucker now, is that it?"

"Oh, really?" You narrowed your eyes. "Just like you replaced me with Valentino?"

"That's different," Vox gritted out.

"Is it?"

"Yes, for one, Val isn't some archaic cannibalistic fucker with a vendetta against me!"

"Who has the vendetta against who here? Cause it seems like you're the one who can't let things go." You watched him splutter on his bullshit for a few seconds before you shook your head in exasperation, the pounding pressure increasing at your temples. "Alright, that's it, we're done here. Get out."

"Y/n," he narrowed his eyes. "You need to think about this."

"Oh I've had plenty of time to think," you grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to bare your teeth menacingly. "Now get out before I put a goddamn virus in your software Vox!" Your face pixelated from rage at the end of your sentence. You let him go with a harsh shove.

For a long moment nobody spoke, a tense silence blanketing over the two of you. You glared at him venomously, chest still heaving from your outburst. And him, he was looking at you like he'd never seen you before. Good, you thought spitefully. It's finally getting through to him.

Vox's mouth hardened into a thin line, his sharp claws nearly drawing blood from his palms. "Why here?"

You closed your eyes. "It’s not a forever thing. I just—I need to be away from everything for a little while, okay?" Everything that we've built together. Reminders of you. "No flashy shit, no fast life, no technology—"

"You're an A.I. model," he said dully.

"Yeah well, you win some you lose some," you sighed, rubbing at your temples. "Look, I don't want to say it again. Leave Vox, I'm serious."

For a hot second, it looked like you were ripping his entire world apart and stomping on the broken pieces, the way he looked at you so lost, before he hastily pulled himself back together. "Fine," he spat out. It sounded like it physically hurt him to say it.

He lifted his chin, adjusted his lapels, and stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door so hard it blew straight off of its hinges, blue sparks of electricity still sizzling from it.

For a few seconds, a thick tension suffocated the room, as everyone took the time to process the shit show they'd just witnessed.

"Well, that was fun!" Alastor's cheery voice punctuated the silence. You glared at him tiredly.

***

If you thought that he would give up like you so nicely asked, you were sadly mistaken.

Turned out it was just a pre-game warm up for this asshole.

At least thrice a week, he made sure to fuck up your peace somehow. Last time it was spray painting the entire hotel electric blue (how, you didn't even want to know). The time before that, it was trying to sneak some of his peeping gadgets in through the window. And the time before that, it was putting your name up on every billboard in the goddamn city with a red heart next to it.

Now, you stood incredulously in front of half of the hotel. As in, the other half was missing. Blown off by a fucking missile. You couldn't make this shit up if you tried.

"What the fuck is going on?" You gritted out, before taking a deep, calming breath.

Vox's electric laughter rang out from a speaker of unknown source. You turned angrily to face the open air.

"Pathetic," he jeered. "You still want to shack up with these losers, Y/n?"

You shook your head slowly, laughing in disbelief. "Wow," you said sarcastically. "You really showed us, didn't you? Feel better about yourself now?"

You punctuated your sentence with a glare, before turning and storming towards the remaining half of the building.

Vox watched you from twenty different angles across his screens. The moment you turned your back, his wide, toothy grin dropped, eyes squeezing shut. He slammed mute on his microphone.

“FUCK!” He banged a fist on the table, breathing heavily. It had been two weeks already, and you still hadn’t come back to him. He was getting desperate now.

A quick glance at the screen showed Alastor’s glitching picture. The radio bastard snapped his fingers with a raised brow, the missing half of the hotel repairing itself instantly.

“Fucking show off,” Vox growled raggedly.

He needed to change tactics. And fast.

***

Nothing. He had nothing.

No plans, no blueprints, no smart and suave moves to get you back.

Every scenario he ran through his head would inevitably end with you walking away from him. If only he could hypnotize you like with everyone else—but you were a tech demon, just like him. More advanced, even. Your firewalls were just too strong.

Vox poured himself another glass of scotch, solemnly glaring up at the ceiling in frustration.

A clawed hand clasped his shoulder, making him grit his teeth.

“You’re looking a little tense, Cariño,” Valentino purred, trailing his fingers up Vox’s neck. “I can help with that~”

Vox shrugged him off, annoyed. “Not in the mood, Val.”

But Valentino was undeterred. “Is this about Y/n?” He murmured, knowing he hit the nail on the head when the other demon tensed considerably. “What’s so special about that bitch anyway, hm? Is it the pussy? You know I’ve got whores lined up for you, baby. Just say the word and—”

“Fuck off, Val!” Vox exploded, electricity sparking in his eye. “I don’t want just any random bitch from the street, okay?! I want Y/n. I want her back,” he spat miserably.

Valentino went silent, his face twisting into a cruel expression. “Don’t you understand?” He growled. “She left you. Betrayed you. And she’s not coming back, ever. The sooner you see that and stop wasting your time, the better.”

He turned away, his heels clacking against the marble floors until the double doors swung closed behind him.

Vox let out a frustrated yell, arcs of electricity shooting out from him and shattering his expensive collection of drinking glasses to smithereens.

***

A tap sounded at your window, making you tense.

Slowly you approached it, generating a pistol from your nanotech and holding it tightly to your chest. You peered out of the blinds, only to find your ex dangling from the window sill.

“Holy shit!” You screeched, jumping back.

“A lil’ help?” he grinned lazily, reaching out for you. You grasped his hand, hauling him inside of your room.

The unmistakably pungent scent of alcohol invaded your senses, making your wrinkle your nose.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you drunk?” You dragged a hand down your face.

“No,” he hiccuped, shaking his head vehemently, which caused him to lose balance. You grabbed his shoulders, righting him before he fell and broke his screen.

“Oh yeah,” his face lit up in realization, before he reached behind him, pulling out a bouquet of slightly squashed roses. “For you,” he slurred, offering them proudly.

You looked at them in exasperation, before taking them gently from his hands. Bringing them up to your face, you closed your eyes, sniffing them slightly. A sweet floral scent filled your senses as you regarded them.

“They’re pretty,” you remarked quietly.

“Yeah,” he grinned, your eyes flickering up to catch his. “But you’re prettier.” At your lack of reaction, his grin faltered, and he looked down.

“I…” he started, swaying slightly. “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t do this.”

“Please come home,” he continued, expression drooping sorrowfully. He clasped your hand, looking up at you pleadingly. “I’ll…I’ll do better, I promise.”

The ache in your heart grew almost unbearable the more you looked at him, so you averted your gaze. “Why don’t you ever say that when you’re sober?”

Vox let go of your hand, sliding down the wall until he landed on his ass. “Scared,” he mumbled.

You crouched down in front of him, lifting his hanging head from his arms. “Of what?” You said gently.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and the raw emotion nearly stole your breath away. “You still won’t want me.”

“Vox…” You closed your eyes, pained.

“Come home,” he whispered hollowly. “Please.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you said thickly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He looked at you sadly, but resigned. “Yeah, I know,” he lowered his screen back into his arms. “…miss you,” he trailed off quietly, before soft whistling snores could be heard.

You dropped your face in your hands, breathing raggedly. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. You had almost fucking caved.

After a moment to compose yourself, you searched his pockets, pulling out his phone (he didn’t even change his password) and dialing a familiar number.

“What the fuck do you want now, Vox?” An irritated feminine voice answered the line.

“Velvette,” you said cooly. “I need a favor.”

****

Part 2 —> Chapter Index

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[trivia-yandere]

bad decisions

you're getting married on valentine's day - but somehow, you allow a stripper to fuck you in front of your brides' maids and maid of honor. @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @whipwhoops

word count: 1.252

warning: stripper jimin, cheating reader, affair au, public sex, voyeurism, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, slight girl on girl, creampie, bad friends lol, revenge plot???, it's 2 am and this is what i thought of, lolz,

Valentine's Day Masterlist

You were beginning to remember when your fiancee didn’t like your friends. 

“They’re single and you aren’t.” was an argument you heard often. “They’ll influence you to act just as single as them.” was another.

With each argument, you were stern in shooting him down, stating that even if your friends were single and a bit out there - you weren’t. But you would say that the problem came deeper than that. Your soon to be husband had his own secret affairs - a drunk one at that - that resulted in a pregnancy and a child he pays for monthly, but refuses to see. Maybe that’s why he believes you’d do the same to him in an act of revenge - but you got over that part in the relationship (even if your friends were upset with you). You loved him, you thought.

Now as you watch your friends, all equally as drunk as you - if not more - scatter around the man, all on their knees. The sight is truly a filthy one - the hotel room lights were dim while the music played in the background. The man - Jimin was his name - stands before your friends, a cocky grin on his lips. He isn’t hesitating in allowing your friends to wrap their mouths around his cock, even allowing his eyes to flicker to you every few moments.

You shouldn’t be here, were your sober thoughts. You were getting married the following morning to the man you loved - this was just a bachelorette party with your friends. A party your fiancee was worried about you attending, but you assured him that it would be nothing.

This…this was not nothing.

“Just try it, Y/N.” one of your friends - a bridesmaid at that - slurs from Jimin’s cock, her hand pumping it. “Live in the moment.”

“I’m getting married tomorrow.” you shake your head slightly, hot underneath Jimin’s gaze. You swallow thickly - Jimin is an attractive man. His eyes are as sharp as his jawline, and he understands his beauty. He flaunts it and had since he appeared in the room as a dancer - one you were not expecting to see. 

“On Valentine’s day?” Jimin questions, his voice soft and smooth - almost melodic. “How sweet.”

You gulp, feeling your legs tighten together. You were not a prude - you and your friends had been in this position many times before. You all watched one another act far too whorish with a man - but this was different. You were to be wed just tomorrow - and they were inviting you in this filthy mess.

“Then why not enjoy your last night as a free woman doing something scandalous?” Jimin questions. He wraps his own hand onto his cock - thick and veiny with a red tip - and begins to pump. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Your heart is racing outside your chest. You feel yourself become nauseous with Jimin’s stare - it’s as though the room began to spin and it was just you and him, you are under his spell completely.

You don’t realize when you yourself fall to your knees and you crawl to the man - not until your lips are around said cock and you’re sucking him. His hands are tangled into your hair and he’s encouraging you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. You weren’t a free woman in the slightest - you had a soon to be husband. But the adrenaline running through you is intoxicating - it causes you to fit Jimin deeper and deeper into your throat until you’re gagging on him. And even then, you didn’t want to stop. 

Jimin’s moans hit your ears, his breathing hitching with each gag of your throat. Your fingernails clench his naked thigh to bring him even more - if possible - into your throat. You’re wet, lingering clenching onto your body so tight that you wish you could take it off and be free from it.

“Get up.” Jimin commands, soft voice bringing you back to reality. He removes his cock from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connecting it. “You’re sucking like you haven’t been fucked in years.”

Your friends are hollering, all clapping and cheering. You allow Jimin to take you to the large bed, pressing you firmly against it. 

“Your husband’s lucky.” Jimin cackles, as if taunting you - mocking that you were cheating on the man you are to be married to. 

The lingerie isn’t taken off of you. Instead, Jimin hooks a finger into your pantie and pushes it aside. He whistles. “So wet. I knew you liked me, baby.”

The bed dips, your friends surrounding you. One friend - your maid of honor - is behind you. She offers a drunk smile and nods. “It’s okay, Y/N.” she assures  - but it wasn’t.

Your maid of honor holds your arms as Jimin enters you. Your back arches and you release a deep groan.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Jimin laughs, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He’s unsure just how influenced you are with your friends, but it cannot be a good sign if you were willing to cheat on your husband so easily. Yet, he cannot be bothered to care. 

Jimin pounds inside of you, wet skin hitting one another. The voices of your friends are background noise, a mix of laughter, moans and claps. You aren’t sure which friend is clenching your breasts, but you’re positive one has her hands on your clit.

“This is the wildest bachelorette party I attended.” Jimin grunts as you clench around him. Your friends were far too into it as you were, a few kissing one another while the rest pleasured you along with him. If you did this before, he isn’t certain - but neither of you appeared shy.

“Does it feel good?” your maid of honor asks, coming down to whisper in your ear. 

“Feels so good…!” you exclaim, your juices coating Jimin’s cock entirely - you didn’t even assure that he wore a condom. 

“How about you cum in her?” your maid of honor asks, laughing at your fucked out expression. “Give her a little present she’ll never forget.”

Jimin shudders, eyes wide. What exactly was your friend suggesting?

No matter, he thinks. You aren’t protesting, so why should he?

Jimin drills into you even harder, hell bent on doing what your maid of honor asked. You’re not denying him, you’re moaning for more and more and more-

“F-Fuck!” you shout, feeling yourself come undone before them, your friends fingers overstimulating your throbbing clit. 

Jimin’s cock is coated white with your cum and he cannot help but cum himself. He trembles, unsure when the last time he came in someone raw like this - and it was just as exciting. 

You feel tired when Jimin removes himself from inside of you, unable to open your eyes fully. 

“We can pay you extra.” your maid of honor suggests, noticing that you have fallen asleep. 

“No need.” Jimin murmurs, eyeing your sleeping figure. “What did you mean by leaving her a present she won’t forget?”

Your maid of honor chuckles. “No doubt she’ll be pregnant.” she says nonchalantly. “That husband of her’s cheated on her first and had a child. Y/N’s just dumb and agreed to stay with him. I say it’s karma. A little revenge.”

Jimin watches as your friend giggles even more. “Watching him raise another man's child while he ignores the child he had when he cheated on her.”

Jimin swallows, unsure of what to say in the situation. 

It was none of his business, Jimin thinks.

[alphabetboyluvr]

BAD DECISIONS - SMUT INDEX

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver.

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb

synopsis

it's simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook's ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you've a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you've both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions.

note from holly: ask and you shall receive!! i was asked about a list of all the smut chapters in bd, so figured it'd be easier for me to make a masterlist - this took hours because I had to go through the entire story (which is like 450k words LMAO), but if you notice any missing, let me know!! all chapters linked will take you to the wattpad ver.

minors dni

Bad Decision #2 – Park Jimin

tags/warnings: jimin lol, drunk hook-up, slight dom jimin, bratty oc, spanking, fingering, protected sex, fully clothed, no orgasm for oc

Bad Decision #11 - Perry

tags/warnings: first shower, no smut but a lil nakedness

Bad Decision #12 – An Agreement

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation birdie, jk gets himself off in the bathroom sink <3 oc gets herself off in his bed <3

Bad Decision #13 – Work of Art

tags/warnings: Jungkook discovers boobs <3, breast play, nipple play, mirrors, paint (?), shower, mutual masturbation (for realsies this time), he finishes on her tummy <3

Bad Decision # 14 – New Rules

tags/warnings: mirrors, pussy worship, jk has the biggest boner known to man, fingering, one, two, three fingers! Orgasm for oc!!

Bad Decision #15 – Paper Planes

tags/warnings: cockwarming (that escalated!), hand job, fingering, protected penetration (safety first!!), oc on top, mirrors (they love them!), nose nudging!!!, clitoral stimulation, ‘good girl’, both finish &lt;3

Bad Decision #17 – Jeon Jungkook

tags/warnings: cockwarming 2.0, oc is bad a maths!, touching each other up above their clothes <3, mirrors lol ofc, nipple play, spanking, tittie sucking <3, fingering, neck kisses, unprotected (!!) penetration, cockwarming that accidentally becomes fucking! Oops! Jk on top, multiple positions, finishes on her back

Bad Decision #20 – Park Jimin… Again

tags/warnings: oops (kinda wild seeing the progression from 17 to 20 like this lmao), drunk hookup, blowjob, no oc orgasm <;/3

Bad Decision #23 – Cherry Picking

tags/warnings: most read chapter! Fun facts! tipsy hook up, oral (f receiving), pantie sniffing?? lmao, panties in oc’s mouth??? Lol, tittie sucking, spitting, jks nose <3, fingering, oc orgasm!! FIRST KISS!!!! Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he finishes on her tits <3 and licks it up <3

Bad Decision #24 – Resolutions

tags/warnings: hangover sex, shower sex, slight degradation, use of the word slut in a sexy way, praise, temporarily withheld orgasm (f), switch dynamics, unprotected sex, orgasms (f, m), he finishes in her mouth &lt;3

Bad Decision #25 - January

tags/warnings: fingering, f orgasm, mentions of the erotic accordion lmao

Bad Decision #26 – January, Still

tags/warnings: the tie chapter <3 what he does with the aforementioned tie I shall not get into but it’s pretty self-explanatory, oral (f), fingering, lil spanks, rimming (f receiving), spitting, unprotected sex, doggy, finishes on her back!!

Bad Decision #27 – Keeping Quiet

tags/warnings: this ones a lil angsty!! ‘if you’re here to fuck me, then fuck me. If not, you can go.’, they’re fighting but theyre needy! And tipsy! Bad idea!!!! Unprotected sex, kisses ☹ many kisses ☹ she wants him to finish inside ☹ he doesn’t ☹ mmmm rereading this one made me so sad lol! Sad smut!

Dad Decision #28 – Avoidance

tags/warnings: a lil? Lap sitting?? Dry hump??? Not really smut lol

Bad Decision #29 – ‘Daddy’

tags/warnings: the first of the polaroids, slut (affectionately <3) not smut as such, they’re just sorta working each other up

Bad Decision #31 – The Photo Booth

tags/warnings: all the build up for a blowwie without there being an actual blowwie lol (payback for the daddy thing), cute little lick of dick <3 lil precum swap <3 jk outrageously horny for the rest of the day, the photobooth pictures!!!!

Bad Decision #32 – Question…?

tags/warnings: jk’s parents kitchen, freckle kissing chapter!!!! <3 <3!! He finally gets that blowjob!! Fingering, he calls her baby sooooo much ☹ interrupted!!!!!! Nearly caught! Spend the day horny AGAIN, the conversation in a chicken shop is not the kind of conversation you should have in a chicken shop, jk quite literally wants to drown in you <3 TO THE LOVE MOTEL WE GO! Very needy, very desperate, very good <3 unprotected sex! Missionary! Tittie sucking! Ankles over shoulders! He’s going to town! CREAMPIE ! WE CHEER! Brief mentions of fucking again and him finishing inside her AGAIN

Bad Decision #33 – Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

tags/warnings: kisses ☹ so many ☹ ‘last time’ energy ☹ ‘chess’ ☹ against their better judgement, and despite their earlier restraint…. Oops! Shagging! Tittie sucking, dry humping (so not dry), 69, ass eating (f receiving), edging, fingering, clit spanks, squirting, unprotected (v quick!) sex, creampie, happy customers all around (until the next bird falls!)

Bad Decision #37 – Faking It

tags/warnings: angsty!! They are annoyed!!! Dominant jk!!! Arguing in a janitors closet at an art gallery!! Over her ex!!! He’s sooooo mm mm mmmm 😊 lots of ‘good girl’, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, tittie sucking, he wanks himself into her underwear!! While she’s wearing them <3 ‘gonna cum in ur panties, and then ur gonna wear them all night’ <33 they have a show to return to after all!!! He’s being like… so possessive but in a sexy way!

Bad Decision #40 – Spinning Bottles

tags/warnings: sex toys!! M & F !!! solo masturbation for oc, jk hears lol (floorboards are thin!), mutual masturbation, but like way hotter than normal, he’s soooo needy!! Beggy!!! Kisses!!!! Fleshlight creampie lmao, oc cleans it up for him 😊 with her tongue!! Cum swapping <3 so kissy, so lovely <3

Bad Decision #41 – Locked Doors

tags/warnings: shower sex, he like… fucks the little gap at the top of her thighs? Lol, kissy kissy mwah mwah, jk is like… totally in love! Mmmm he compliments!! Pretty standard shagging mechanics, emotion heavy, he finishes inside <;33

Bad Decision #43 – Circles

tags/warnings: dominant oc!! The neediest, whimper-iest handjob known to man!! She calls him a little slut <3 edging!! Oral (f), fingering, his hand is a necklace! Dominant jk! Oc rides!!! Seven had just been released! Sue me!!! Hair pulling, are they fucking or fighting idk, power struggle but sexy, kisses <3 cum! Everywhere!!! Titties and mouth <3 many seven references

Bad Decision #44 – Skinny Dipping

tags/warnings: pretty standard shag tbh, there are people in the rooms closeby but jk simply doesn’t give a shit, creampie, fingers in creampies lmao, eating creampie, too!!, finger sucking, multiple orgasms

Bad Decision #45 – The Rule of Five

tags/warnings: sofa shagging in lieu of speak about feelings! Kissing but v important kissing!! A little bit of cockwarming, unprotected sex, bed sex, creampie, all the good stuff you usually get with bd <33 squirting, jk is so lovely <3

Bad Decision #47 – Time Out

tags/warnings: a lil dry hump &lt;3

Bad Decision #48 – Bickering

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation <3 sex toys (f), he fucks her with it <3 then licks it clean <3 kinda deepthroats it actually lmao, cums on her tummy <3 more polaroids <3

last updated: 20230914

[tanema123]

Part 4 of Just not Velvette.

A huge plot twist?!?!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

@seramilla 😋

[paradoxical-ataraxy]

[ifoundmyselfinwonderlandd]

Say that again... I liked it 😏

[delayedstrawberry]

Mihawks' Echos Of Regret

Summary: 25 year old Dracule Mihawk and you broke up two months ago, and since then you’ve kept out of each other's way. That’s until Mihawk goes to a party, and sees you cozying up with a man he doesn’t know. So to deal with the situation he drinks a little too much and lets his emotional possessive feelings take over, even though the breakup was his fault.

Fandom: One Piece

Relationships: Mihawk x Reader, Mihawk x Female OC

Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Female Reader, Shanks, Trafalgar Law, Boa Hancock and Nico Robin.

Chapters: 2/3

Warnings: Physical/verbal Abuse, anxiety and heavy alcohol usage

Notes: Hello♡ Just to clarify things before you read, this AU is set 20 years in the past where everyone who’s old/older in the current One Piece is now younger. So Mihawk is 24, Crocodile is 26 and Doflamingo is 21 etc etc. Although there are a few characters I have changed entirely to fit the story, like Robin is 23 and Law is 25. I posted this Fanfic on my AO3 as well (DelayedStrawberry). I made Mihawk super possessive and angsty in this, so I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3 will be added in the next few weeks!

Word count: 10,364

Chapter 1: Mihawks Possesive Grip

Dracule Mihawk had been dreadful for the last 6 months of your relationship, it felt like those 4 years together just went down the drain without any explanation. He had suddenly stopped giving you attention, there was no more communication, no kisses or hugs, he barely talked to you anymore, he frequently became angry for no real reason and cuddles were non-existent. The main problem was that he’d be out working longer and more often, so you’d end up spending hours upon hours at home alone, while he was out hunting marines. It was like a switch had flipped inside of him and you had no idea why. He used to be this sweet, caring and loving boyfriend, then he became this heartless jerk. For months you had begged Mihawk to tell you what’s wrong, cried for hours at his feet to at least hold your hand, but he’d always brush you off. So…one night when he had come home from work, you told him you’re leaving. All hell broke loose once you uttered those words. And for the next few hours there was yelling, screaming, tears and hateful insults thrown around like spit fire. You could see how angry he was through your own heavy tears and blurry vision, especially when he ended up demanding that you don’t leave. But it was too late, the damage was done, you had endured too much pain. As you left the house you once shared, he yelled at you at the top of his lungs, but you could barely hear him over your own grieving sobs. It was the ugliest and messiest breakup of your life, that’s for sure.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

It’s a dark night in a town located within the Grand Line, the only things heard are the footsteps of Shanks, Mihawk and the party down the road. The moon casts a dim light on them as they walk towards the chaos, illuminating the damp pathway ahead of them. Shanks seems to be in a pretty chipper mood tonight, thinking about all the different women he’ll get to meet and “hangout” with. Mihawk on the other hand, is in quite the emotional state, his mind is occupied with one thing only…you. His footsteps are heavy and slow, a hint of distress hidden within his blank expression. He feels a lot of anger, but at this point he’s not sure who at.

“Lighten up Hawkeyes, it's gonna be fun!” Shanks swings his arm around Mihawk’s shoulder, squeezing his bicep. “You don’t have to be so grumpy.”

Mihawk just grunts quietly, not feeling in the mood for a party or Shanks’s enthusiasm. “I still fail to see why you insisted I join you.” He speaks in his usual dry annoyed tone.

Shanks grins, releasing Mihawk from his grip and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You need to do something other than work, and you never know…maybe you’ll have a great time.”

“You just need a babysitter once you get too drunk, that’ll really be a great time.” Mihawk sighs, giving Shanks a sidelong glare.

“Aww come on, your pal Crocodile will be there.” Shanks muses, the sound of music and people laughing getting louder and louder the closer they get.

“I don’t like his presence.” Mihawk responds flatley, his eyes wandering to the house parties' front lawn, where some people have already passed out.

Shanks gives Mihawk a punch in the arm and laughs. “You’ll be fine, at least promise me to have a few drinks, for relaxation purposes.”

Mihawk grunts again. “Fine.”

Shanks pats him on the back with a lot of force, making Mihawk groan in annoyance. “That’s a good Hawky.”

As they finally reach the house, the boys start walking up the driveway towards the front entrance, passing by some people on the way up. Mihawk starts feeling a little paranoid, thinking everyones eyes are on him. It’s really freaking him out, since he’d rather not be on anyone's radar right now.

They start strolling up the polished steps to the door, Shanks practically skipping up them. On the other hand, Mihawk reluctantly walks up the stairs, taking one step at a time, trying to drag out this moment for as long as possible.

“Stop hitting me, it’s irritating. And don’t call me Hawky.” Mihawk grumbles, his hand massaging where Shanks had struck him.

Shanks just grins and eagerly pushes the door open. The first thing that hits is the sound of laughter, loud thumping music and talking all mixed together like some sort of hell, at least according to Mihawk. There have got to be at least hundreds of alcohol bottles scattered around the place, and the coloured lighting is so damn bright, it bounces off the walls like someone on crack. And as they step inside, the house seems to expand, revealing a labyrinth of different rooms filled with drunk young adults. Every room seems to have a purpose for the night, each with its own unique vibe. One room has people playing pool, another dedicated to dancing, a few spaces for chilling out and the backyard is lined with tables which harbor mountains of food. Shanks spots the host, this girl named Boa Hancock, and he casually brings up his hand to say hi.

After taking this all in, Mihawk takes a step back, this is all so overwhelming…too overwhelming. He knew he shouldn't have come, he hates parties, noise and mayhem being his worst nightmare. But before he knows it, Shanks is guiding him through the pool of people, heading towards the alcohol at the back of the room.

As they reach the alcohol table, Shanks picks up a bottle of Vodka to inspect, while Mihawk tries to keep calm as he looks around.

After a few moments, Shanks hands him half a cup of booze, a smirk on his face. “Here, drink.” Mihawk looks down at the cup and sighs, knowing he can’t turn back now, and downs the whole thing in one gulp.

Shanks chuckles, pouring himself some alcohol, filling it to the brim before chugging it all down and filling it up again.

Mihawk looks at him, his eyes narrowing. “Careful, Redhair.”

He grins, downing the liquid whilst looking at Mihawk with a smug look. After swallowing, he fills his cup once more. “You think too much.”

“You hold your liquor like a leaf holds water.” Mihawk sighs, putting his cup down on the table and crossing his arms.

Shanks laughs, bringing the cup up to his lips again. “I handle my liquor just fine!”

“Do you want me to remind you of last time?” Mihawk glares at him.

“No no, let’s not bring that up. My stomachs stronger now, I promise.” Shanks smiles, looking over his cup, while Mihawk just rolls his eyes.

As they stand there for a moment, taking in the electric atmosphere, a few girls at the other side of the room seem to be looking Shanks over. They’re giggling lightly between themselves and sharing looks. His face switches to more of a thoughtful expression as he notices them, his eyes wandering over their frames, a hum leaving his lips. “Alright, Hawky. I’ll talk to you later.” Then without another word, he pats Mihawk on the shoulder and starts to walk off towards the women.

Mihawk sighs, his attention going to the rest of the room, his mind wandering slightly. Why does Shanks have to think with his dick all the time? Can’t he relax for once, maybe hangout with the person he dragged along…Mihawk shakes his head, pushing the thought away. It’s worthless mulling this over, it’s Redhair, he’s a lost cause at this point.

Some time passes and Mihawk finds himself standing against the wall, his eyes fixed on the floor. He doesn’t particularly have anything else to do, or anyone else to talk to, especially since Shanks walked off a while ago. He doesn’t mind having no company. The vodka doesn’t seem to be affecting him much, his thoughts still clear and legs still steady. With no buzz to take the edge off, his mind fills with thoughts of self hatred and stress. His inside turmoil is a stark difference to the moods of everyone around him. The party goers are all carefree, laughing, dancing, the atmosphere a drunken mess. Even though none of their attention is on him, he still feels as if everyones watching him, judging him. He softly sighs as he takes his hat off and puts it in front of his face, running his slender fingers through his dark hair, trying not to have a panic attack or a mental breakdown…or maybe both at the same time.

“I just need to pull myself together, it’s fine, I’m fine…” He quietly mutters to himself, a lump forming in his throat which he swallows down. He inhales deeply, trying to keep his composure together, sensing he’s on the verge of falling apart. After a few moments of calming himself down, he takes one last deep shaky breath. Putting his hat down from his face, Mihawk looks around at the party. His eyes land on Shanks who’s in a corner of a different room, heavily making out with a blonde girl, his hands running up and down her body as he squeezes different parts of her. Mihawk feels a twinge of jealousy, which is a foreign feeling, especially when it comes to Redhair. Why can’t he have it that easy? Why can’t he just…not be himself sometimes. Life would be way easier if he could be more like Shanks, maybe he could even be happier, more content. Mihawk doesn’t even understand WHY he’s feeling this way. He feels a little desperation running through him the longer he thinks about it, his eyes darting to the vodka on the table. He groans internally, knowing it may not be the best idea, but he decides to go ahead anyway.

He makes his way back over to the drinks, picking up a large cup and filling it. And he thinks it over for a moment, but only for a moment, since the next thing he feels is the burn of alcohol running down his throat and settling in his stomach. He can’t help but close his eyes, the amount of alcohol in his body feeling foreign. After getting used to the feeling, he opens his eyes again, pouring more liquid into his cup.

When he’s finished, he puts the bottle down back on the table, his hand slightly shaking. Maybe he could pick up some girls tonight, forget about you. His eyes then flicker back to Shanks, the thought growing stronger. But no, he would miserably fail, and the thought of being with another woman makes him feel sick. So instead of going ahead with his plans he decides he’ll switch rooms, a room where he can’t see Redhair, feeling his jealousy rising higher the longer he can see them.

Keeping a hold of his cup, he starts walking through the large house, getting bumped into multiple times, a growl forming in his throat.

Mihawk decided to settle into one of the dance rooms, figuring he’ll be out of the way, and blend easily in with the background despite his height. His back rests against the wall, the cup still in hand as he lazily looks over the crowd, maybe this wall will be different from the last.

For the next few minutes Mihawk stands there slowly drinking his vodka, the people in front of him not seeming to notice he’s there, which feels like a relief. Thankfully the loud hum of people and music drowns out most of his anxious thoughts, for now. He honestly just wants to get out of here, but Shanks would be on his ass for the next few weeks if he goes home early, leaving him with no choice but to endure these torturous hours.

Mihawks’ mind grows a little bored as he finishes his drink, setting his cup down on the nearby table, finally feeling a bit tipsy. The people around him are still dancing, making out, drinking…So for now he’ll just stand here counting the amount of dust particles that fly past his face. But after a few moments of counting he fixates his vision on something, someone, in the crowd. You.

His eyes widen, and it feels like the noise around him disappears. Your memories together come rushing back like a heavy wave…when you’d look at him like he was the only man on Earth, your giggles when he poked your stomach, the way your hair felt between his fingers. And you’re just as beautiful as he remembers. He feels like he’s gonna throw up, not just because of the alcohol he drank, but because you’re sitting and smiling on a couch with another man. Another man who isn’t him. He swallows, not knowing what to do as his hands bawl up into fists at his sides. He studies the man you’re talking to…black hair, tall and slim, tattoos, piercings and unfortunately very attractive. He doesn’t recognize him, at least not at first, not at this angle.

He feels anger running through his veins, how dare he talk to you, how dare he even share a smile with you! His heartbeat quickens as he keeps watching. He can see you’re comfortable with this man, your face lighting up when he whispers in your ear, playfully swatting each other's arms. Mihawk can’t look away, his face growing slightly hot from the sheer amount of possessiveness and jealousy. But after a few minutes of staring daggers into you and the man, he finally tears his gaze away. He begins to scan his surroundings, trying to find anything to distract himself with. He spots a half empty bottle of gin on an end table nearby, and without thinking he grabs it, drinking the rest. He takes a deep breath when he finishes swallowing, slamming the now empty bottle back onto the table. Mihawks’ eyes dart around the other surfaces, to see if there’s any more alcohol nearby. There isn’t. So he strides to the next room over, the kitchen, knowing that’s where he can get some more.

Mihawk finds himself frantically drinking 3 more bottles, not even taking note of what they are because he simply doesn’t care right now. The need to get the images out of his head is urgent, wanting to push his thoughts away as fast as he can. But after putting the 3rd bottle down, it just makes him feel worse. His mind begins spinning and he rests on the kitchen counter, mulling over the options he has right now.

After pondering for a while, he knows what he’ll do. There’s still a lot of full bottles around him, so he grabs a whiskey bottle and brings it with him as he walks back through the rooms.

Mihawks’ decided to keep an eye on you, hoping you won’t see him. When he gets back to the place he saw you last, you aren’t there anymore. His eyes frantically scan the other rooms, hoping you didn’t go upstairs with that dickhead. But he thankfully spots you leaning against the wall with the stranger. His blood boiling again, he moves to a spot where he can watch you. Sitting down at a table, he glares at the both of you. Mihawk doesn’t know what he’d do if you saw him right now, but he’s too drunk to really care about that.

Mihawk sits there watching you from a distance, the man's hand caressing your arm, leaning in to talk in your ear. You ignore the people dancing and drinking around as you listen. And for the life of him, he can’t figure out who that boy is! It’s driving him insane not knowing what's going on between you two, and the fact that you’re so close. It takes all of his self restraint to not get up and rip you away from him, or better yet, rip that boy to shreds.

Two blazing yellow hawkeyes are fixed on every move the two of you make, he can’t stand seeing you with someone else, but he can’t do anything about it. You’re broken up, but it’s killing him, his heart feels like it’s being passed through a blender over and over again. He takes a big gulp of whiskey, not even feeling the burn anymore.

Thankfully, right where he’s sitting, he’s got a better angle on what the boy looks like, feeling like he knows him, or knows OF him. Mihawk turns the question around in his head, looking over his features and inspecting his tattoos intently. And that’s when it clicks. He knows who you’re talking to. Trafalgar Law. There have been a few recent newspaper headings about Law, he’s this new hotshot running around the ocean, causing trouble and seemingly very talented. Mihawks’ vision goes red, tensing his jaw, he can’t believe you’re cozying up with some idiot! You’re not Laws, you’re HIS. No one should be touching you but HIM. No one should even LOOK at you! He takes a swig of the whiskey to try and calm down, and then another, and then another, and then another…until it’s all gone within a few short minutes. He growls deep within his throat when he realizes there’s no more alcohol, and the sight of Law and you together makes him angrier by the second. His mind starts going hazy from the amount of poison in his system.

Mihawk's attention is drawn to Shanks walking down the stairs, hand in hand with the blonde from earlier, making him more furious. He grunts under his breath, watching as Redhair and the girl walk into another room together, to presumably get something to drink.

But his attention doesn’t stay on them, instead his head snaps back to you and Law. Trained on every facial expression, movement, and straining his ears to try and hear what you’re saying. It’s no use, you’re too far away and the party’s too loud.

Just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Law takes your waist and presses your bodies up against each other, a grin on his face as you giggle and begin swaying to the music together. This is the final straw for Mihawk, seeing your bodies against each other makes his jealousy turn into pure rage. He squeezes the empty whiskey bottle in his hand, the glass groaning and cracking slightly. The control he had earlier cracks along with the glass, shattering in every direction. The sight is driving him mad, Law shouldn’t have his hands anywhere near you in the first place. You’re his. HIS. Mihawks’ body tenses, he wants to pull you away from each other, but on the other hand he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

Law looks you in the eyes, and as Mihawk observes his rage only heightens. He knows what that sort of look means. And that’s it. He can’t take it anymore. The alcohol in his system is making him unpredictable and reckless.

He hastily rises up from his seat and begins walking through the crowd. As he makes his way to you, he pushes people out of the way to get to you faster, not wanting to waste anymore time.

Finally, he reaches you. “Y/n.” Mihawks’ voice comes out demanding and angry.

You jump slightly, your eyes widening as you see Mihawk standing beside you, Law raising his eyebrows. “Mihawk??” You stammer.

“We need to talk, now.” He glares at you, making you a little nervous. Law tightens his arm around you, feeling like something's off but overall very confused, and stays out of it.

“W-what??” You feel like your heart is going to combust right here, right now. You haven’t seen him since you’ve broken up, the pain of looking at his face and hearing his voice a little too much.

Mihawk gives out a low growl. “We need to talk, right now, ALONE.”

He leaves nothing for discussion, so you look up at Law apologetically before answering in a firm tone. “Fine.”

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Before you can protest, Mihawk takes your wrist and drags you to the backyard, finding a spot behind some bushes where the two of you can’t be seen. The party is still present in the background but not as loud. You can tell he’s drunk, like you are too, his eyes look hazy and disoriented, but he was never a heavy drinker so you figure it’s not that bad.

He lets go of your wrist and faces you, a dark look in his eyes.

“What the hell is your-”

Mihawk cuts you off. “What were you doing with that guy??” He blurts out, staring daggers into you.

You feel slightly taken aback, not expecting his question. “That’s none of your business, can I go back now?”

“No. Not until we talk.” He crosses his arms, so you cross yours too.

“About what exactly?” You ask sternly, a little nervous.

Mihawk growls, making you tense up slightly. “About you…being so close with that guy! You think I’d just allow that to happen??”

“Wha…what the fuck??” You furrow your brow, feeling a little confused and annoyed.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’? You seriously thought I’d be okay with you doing that?” He raises his voice.

“Drac-” You stop yourself, nearly calling him by his first name. “Mihawk…we’re broken up. You don’t have a say in this.”

You can see Mihawk's brain short circuiting when his name nearly spills from your lips. “I don’t care if we’re broken up.”

“You’re deluded.” You bring your hand up to rub your temple, you can tell this is going to be a difficult conversation.

He scoffs. “I’m not deluded, he just shouldn’t touch you, simple.”

“For the last months of our relationship you didn’t put your hands on me once, so why do you suddenly care if Law does?” You say angrily, thinking that this conversation is useless.

Mihawk visibly stiffens when you say that. “God, you’re still hung up about that? Get over yourself! I had my reasons. And it doesn’t change anything, you can’t be cozying up with another man.”

“Yeah ‘I had my reasons’, that’s what you kept fucking telling me. You have no right to tell me what to do.” You spit back, feeling a dagger through your heart at his familiar harsh and dismissive words.

Mihawk steps closer, his eyes flashing angrily as he towers over you, his voice harsh. “The hell I don’t. You’re mine, y/n. Your body is mine, and so is your attention.”

You start feeling a bit panicked, but that quickly makes way for anger when it sinks in what he just said to you. “EXCUSE me? MY body is yours? MY attention is YOURS???”

“Yeah, you heard me. I put too much effort into you for some lanky nobody to take you away from me.” He responds firmly, furrowing his brows.

“But I’m not yours, Mihawk. I broke up with you and you know it. So stop pretending like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.” You start getting impatient.

This just makes him angrier. “You’ve been mine for years, some breakup isn’t gonna change that fact. I’ve claimed you.”

You’re speechless, looking at Mihawk in bewilderment.

“See, you can’t even deny it.” He glares down at you.

“Well-...what do you mean you’ve claimed me? What are you talking about??” You can’t help but want him to elaborate, but you have a feeling you won’t like the answer.

“Because I’ve fucked you.” Mihawk says firmly, his eyes not leaving yours.

Now you’re really speechless, this man has gone insane, and he looks serious about this too. It chills you, your fight or flight kicking in. You step back from him and try to walk away, but you gasp, feeling his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“No.” He says, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Mihawks’ eyes are dark and dangerous, leaving you no choice but to get pulled back to stand in front of him, the hold on your wrist unwavering.

You try to keep your composure, trying to come up with the most logical thing to say back to him, despite your mind being slightly hazy from alcohol. “Listen to me, I’m not yours, and fucking me doesn’t mean you’ve claimed me.”

“You ARE mine. No one, except for me, has the right to be so close to you.” He spits out.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you pushed me away!” You respond angrily.

Mihawks’ grip on you tightens. “We’ve been through too much. I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”

“Too bad, this is YOUR fault. Now let me go, I want to enjoy the rest of the party in peace.” You keep your eyes firmly on his, not backing down.

“No. I…I can’t let you spend time with another man, especially not Law.” He responds, clearly not wanting to back down either.

“What’s wrong with Law, huh? Is it because he’s a better man than you’ll ever be?” You ask, the words feeling foreign and wrong.

“It’s because…he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a rookie and a fool!”

“You don’t know anything about him!” You yell in disbelief.

“I know enough.” He states firmly.

“Well…I’m not yours anymore, so get over it.” Your own words feel like a punch to the gut.

Mihawk clenches his jaw, not liking your words either. “No, y/n.”

You’re getting a little frustrated at his constant ‘no’ answers at this point. “Why can’t you just let me have a nice night with someone? It’s the least you could do.”

“Because you’re mine, y/n. I…I can’t handle the thought of you being with someone else, I saw enough while we were inside.” He responds a little quieter, but anger seeps through his words like daggers ready to strike you.

“Well that’s your damn issue!” You say angrily, getting sick of him.

Mihawks’ eyes flash with anger again, the grip on your wrist unrelenting. “My issue? Do you seriously think this is just MY issue?? I will never be okay with you running off with someone else when I’M the one who put in the work to keep you. I invested years of my life on you, I poured my heart and soul into your every damn breath!”

“Yeah, you did. But then you PUSHED ME AWAY!” As you say this your voice rises, and you try to pull away from him, but it’s no use.

“As I said, y/n. I have my reasons.”

“Uh huh, ‘I have my reasons, I have my reasons’. Blah blah blah, all I hear from you is bullshit because you’ve never GIVEN me any of these mysterious reasons!” You bark back at him, your blood boiling.

The hold he has on your wrist gets stronger, making you quietly groan in pain. “You…you wouldn’t understand.” Mihawk responds in a rough and angry tone.

“You keep saying that…” You say in a defeated voice as you keep looking into his eyes, the man you once loved completely gone.

“I mean it, it’s just…complicated.” He says, frustration clear on his face.

“Whatever asshole, let go of me.” You can’t help insulting him, even though it feels like a knife through your chest.

“As I already said, I can’t let go. I won’t let you ‘have fun’ with someone who isn’t me. But you don’t listen, do you? Typical.”

“Don’t you dare tell me I never listen! You KNOW I do, I was the one person who always listened to you! Why do you have to be like this?” You say a little pleadingly, getting increasingly uncomfortable with the pain.

“You clearly aren’t listening to me, you are MINE.” He says in a dark tone.

This situation is internally freaking you out, he looks like he’ll snap you in half or throw you into his basement. The parties too loud for anyone to hear your fight, plus no one can see you, meaning you need to get out of this all by yourself.

“I’m not yours. We’re broken up! How many times do I have to repeat that? I feel like I’m going crazy. I can hangout with whoever I want, even Law.” You yell at him, feeling like his hand is gonna leave a mark.

“So, what is he to you then? A boyfriend? A lover?? I swear if he’s seen you without your clothes I’ll-”

“Okay, enough. I don’t have to answer that.”

“Yes you do, tell me. Now.” Mihawk leans his face a bit forward towards yours, so close you can smell the strong alcohol on his breath.

“He’s not my boyfriend, happy?” You say in a growl.

“No.” He glares at you, and you know exactly what question he wants answered.

“Fine…we aren’t lovers. Now let me go.” You say darkly as he leans back out from you.

“I’ll never let you go again, I’m not letting a man take what’s mine, I claimed you a long time ago.” His voice low, but there’s a hint of satisfaction after finding out you haven’t slept together.

Your voice comes out harsh and angry. “Don’t start with me again, you don’t ‘claim’ someone. Do you realize how deranged you sound?”

“I spent years caring for you, fucking you and giving you my heart. Nothing will ever change that, not even breaking up, no matter how much you protest or tell me otherwise. ” Mihawk ignores your question.

“All that doesn’t mean shit when you’re the one who poured it all down the drain like it was nothing.” You spit back, feeling like you’re gonna cry from the mention of it all.

“It doesn’t mean shit huh? Well, it does. You’re MY woman.” He says firmly.

“I am NOT your woman! And you know exactly what led to that fact. Now LET GO, and let me get back to the party.” Your voice raising again, desperate to get out of this, deep fear growing in your stomach.

“The only way you’re going back to the party is if you’re going with ME.”

Before you can respond, the intense feeling of his tightening grip grows, so you let out a whimper of pain. “I’m not going to the party with you. I’m here with my friends, people who actually care for me.”

“From now on, I won’t let you out of my sight for a moment. You’re staying by my side, and then we’re going back to our house where you belong.” Mihawks’ response is rough and final.

Dread washes over you, he looks and sounds really serious about that, which is horrifying.

“You’re delusional! Do you really think I’d spend the rest of my night with you, then go back to a house I don’t even live in anymore?” You shout erratically.

“You don’t have a choice, you’re coming home with me tonight. And I will NEVER let you go again.” He growls at you, getting in your face.

Tears sting your eyes from the pain, frustration and fright. You can’t help but speak to him in a frustrated tone. “To hell I’m going home with you! Last I heard you don’t even live there anymore either, you’re living with Shanks!”

“I still own the house. I just…didn’t want to stay there for a while. So stop fighting me, I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

“You’re insane!” You yell angrily, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Maybe I am insane, but I couldn’t care less. You belong to ME, y/n.” Mihawk jerks your arm forcefully making you fall forward into his chest. His hand unwavering as you try to free your arm to move away.

You feel a searing pain in your wrist from how hard he’s holding you, and you whimper out. “OW OW OW Mihawk you’re hurting me!”

He scoffs. “I don’t care if I’m hurting you.”

Those words feel like a stab to the heart.

“You’re mine and you’re coming home with me, end of discussion. You can struggle with your weak pathetic little arms of yours but there’s no use, you're not getting away from me.” Mihawks’ voice is cold, his insults breaking your heart into more pieces.

You feel an overwhelming sense of panic, pain and hurt, as you struggle to get your wrist out of his grasp. “You don’t care that you’re hurting me? You’re gonna leave a damn bruise!”

“I don’t care if I leave a bruise, that just means my mark will be on your skin, telling everyone who you belong to.” He responds darkly.

Tears begin rolling down your cheeks, the pain of your wrist growing, and the terror you feel overwhelming. “Just leave me the hell alone!” You whimper out desperately.

“Stop resisting me, you’re mine and you’re coming home with me. That’s FINAL” Mihawk barks out, his eyes glancing over your tears.

“No, no! It’s not final, please just let me go. Don’t you understand? I barely felt welcome in ‘our home’ when we WERE together!” More tears running down your cheeks, but your pleading only furthering his hold on you.

“Again, that doesn’t matter. I’ll die before I let you be with another man.” He yells at you harshly, you whimper again as your pleads land on deaf ears.

You begin crying a little harder, groaning louder, the pain so intense and constant.

“Stop resisting me. You can struggle and cry all you like, y/n, but you’re coming home with me and I’ll show you I’m the only man for you.” He says darkly, but his voice is laced with slight guilt as you cry harder. Mihawk never liked it when you cried.

“OW! Y-you’re not the one for me, you treated me like I was worthless!” You sob, your knees starting to feel a little weak.

“Oh, shut up. I didn’t treat you like that. I just had a lot going on, I never stopped loving you.” He yells harshly, his voice slightly desperate.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you acted like you didn’t love me, you can’t just say you had a lot going on!” You plead.

Mihawk’s grip on your wrist is only growing fiercer, his eyes dark and wild as you plead and cry. “I do love you, I always have and I always will. You belong in our house where I can keep you safe.”

“Please let go…it hurts…it hurts so much…” Your sobs sounding weak.

“I can’t…I know I was a shitty boyfriend, but you still belong with me. Why can’t you see that?” This time his voice is laced with anguish and stress, the darkness in his eyes lessening ever so slightly.

“No, no…no…please let me go…it hurts so badly…” You plead through your sobs.

“I know I’m hurting you, but I can’t handle the thought of you being with another man. It’s MY job to make sure you’re safe and happy.” Mihawk mutters.

“No…you’re the one who made me UNHAPPY for MONTHS! So let me go.” You whimper in pain.

He doesn’t release you, instead his face twists in guilt. “I can’t…I promise I’ll make you happy, you just have to come home with me, that’s all you have to do. Please…calm down y/n.” His voice softens as he begs.

You sob even harder, knowing nothing would get resolved. “You won’t make me happy! I begged with you for months to tell me what’s wrong, and I tried everything to make you feel loved. But I got nothing in return! Even now, you won’t tell me what happened.”

Mihawks’ frustration rises again, speaking harshly, his voice ragged. “I’ll make up for it.”

“You’ll make up for it? Then what the hell is THIS? You truly don’t care about me, do you? If you cared for me you’d let me have a nice night, but instead you’re inflicting pain on me. Let go!” You sob.

“I can’t…don’t you understand? I’ll do anything to keep you…I promise I’ll take care of you. I’m sorry it hurts…” Mihawk responds roughly, searching your eyes.

You feel intense anger rising up again, but you still sob uncontrollably. “Don’t give me those lies! You won’t take care of me! Did you take care of me while I was crying beside you in bed? Did you take care of me when I was crying and pleading for you to tell me what’s wrong? Did you take care of me when I got really sick and you continued to ignore me? Did you take care of me when I had a rough day and I was crying on the couch? NO!!! I PRACTICALLY SPENT 6 MONTHS ALONE, DESPITE MY BOYFRIEND BEING IN THE HOUSE. BUT YOU ACTED LIKE I WASN’T THERE AND TREATED ME LIKE A CONSTANT NUISANCE!”

He tenses up. “I’m sorr-”

“DON’T! DON’T YOU DARE SAY SORRY YOU BASTARD!” You yell at him through heavy sobs.

“...but you belong with me.” He responds in a ragged whisper.

“I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE EVER AGAIN.” You scream.

“Don’t say that…you don’t mean that.” He whispers, his face grief stricken.

“YOU’RE A COLD, STOIC AND HEARTLESS MONSTER!” You say at the top of your lungs, still crying.

“Please…I love you…” He breathes out raggedly, sounding sincere as he pleads, the grip on your wrist finally loosening slightly.

“No…you don’t! Let me go…please…it hurts…it hurts Mihawk please…” You sob and plead, at this point you’re beyond terrified.

“I don’t know how…” He whispers sadly.

“Then I have no choice…” You sob, while Mihawk furrows his brow in confusion.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swinging your leg back to get some force going, and kick him in the nuts.

He gasps in pain and immediately lets go of your wrist, his whole body doubling over as he sinks to his knees while clutching his groin.

You open your eyes, your hand on your very bruised wrist. The sight of him lying on the ground groaning in pain making your heart clench. You keep sobbing heavily as you force your legs to start moving, your muscles stinging in protest.

“Please don’t go…please…don’t go…” You can hear Mihawk whisper to himself as you leave, but you don’t turn back, and instead stumble into the crowd.

Your eyes try to scan your surroundings through your heavy tears, tripping over people's feet as you try to navigate the rooms, feeling like you’re going to have a panic attack if you stay here any longer. When you finally see who you’re looking for you whimper from relief, quickly going towards her.

“Robin…” You sob desperately.

Robin looks up from the conversation she’s having, her eyes immediately widening at the sight of you crying. “What happened? What’s wrong??”

You collapse into her arms, both of you sinking to the floor. “It was…Mihawk. Please take me home.”

Her eyes narrow at the mention of Mihawk, and she firmly holds you as she helps you stand back up. She swiftly leads you out of the house and onto the front lawn, the cold wind hitting your face, feeling a bit more at ease now that you’re out of the crowded noisy house.. “What did he do, honey?” She gently places her hands on your shoulders.

You can’t help but continue crying, so instead of saying anything you take your hand off of your wrist and show her the damage.

She gasps, immediately taking your wrist and assesses it. “That…fucker.” Is all she manages to say. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you home, you can take a shower and I’ll make you some tea.”

You nod, still sobbing uncontrollably. Robin puts her arm around your shoulders, and starts to lead you back to your house.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk remains slumped on the ground behind the bush, his hands still on his groin, desperately trying to soothe the pain, letting out soft groans. He’s so hazy from the alcohol he’s consumed tonight that thankfully the pain levels aren’t at the max, but it’s still excruciating. He can’t believe you actually kicked him.

The memories of your conversation consume his mind, but everything seems so unreal right now. He starts to silently cry to himself, his emotions too strong to keep bottled up.

He doesn’t know how long he stays on the ground for, but he definitely feels very sick and extremely exhausted. It probably wasn’t a good idea to mix all that alcohol, and so damn much of it.

Notes: I really enjoyed making him so possessive in this, I was giggling the entire time lol

Chapter 2: The Aftermath

Notes: This chapter is a little shorter♡ I wanted to write about what happened after their huge fight! I’ll be getting into the more dramatic stuff in the next chapter, so stay tuned ;) Content warning though, there is a little area that is about throwing up, so if that’s not for you don’t read or skip Mihawks' part.

You slowly come back to reality from your deep slumber. Your bedsheets feel smooth, your heart rate slow, the air you breathe crisp. The sounds of people merrily talking and walking on the street start to hit your ears, letting you know the world has begun moving again. The birds singing melodic songs as they chat amongst themselves, and the ocean crashing onto the shore creates a sense of peace. You start to smell the candles that were lit last night, and the unmistakable smell of waffles drifting through the air. The sunlight from your windows shine past your closed eyelids, kindly telling you it’s morning, gently coaxing you to get out of bed.

But your mind isn’t fully awake yet, so you lay there for a few moments to get used to being half conscious again. Everything's so calm, as if you’re on a cloud, not even knowing who you are or where you are. Unfortunately, when you wake up, the memories of the night before return to you.

As your haziness starts to fade, your focus is shifted to your aching wrist…and your eyes suddenly snap open, the light making you wince. The recollection of what happened comes slamming into you like a train.

The party, dancing and laughing with Law, Mihawks’ angry and possessive demeanor, the loud and heated argument, the strong hold on your wrist, and the kick to his groin. Your heart starts beating faster, and the once calm morning sounds begin to have a bitter edge to them.

You spend no more time laying in your bed, the adrenaline kicking you into high gear. Your body aches in protest as you sit up, and you run your hands over your face.

“Dammit…” You curse under your breath, your head buried in your hands.

Lifting your head back up, you take a deep breath, this is gonna be one hell of a long day. Despite your reluctance, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, standing up, and walking over to the chair where you left your clothes.

As you lazily get dressed, the pain in your wrist reminds you of everything that happened, and you feel a pang of hurt in your heart. You had been enjoying your night, Law was sweet and charming, you were looking forward to spending more time with him. Mihawk just had to intrude, and you were hoping to push him out of your mind for once…

You let out a weary sigh, nothing makes sense anymore. A growling noise from your stomach brings your hunger to attention and reminding you of the comforting smell of waffles. For the time being, you’ll try to push aside the memories so you can focus on breakfast. You open the door and leave your room, starting to walk down the hallway.

There’s music from the radio emitting through the air as you walk down the stairs, and you can hear Robin humming to herself in your kitchen.

Robin gives you a kind smile when she sees you, waving away some of the waffle smoke from her face. “Good morning y/n, how did you sleep?”

You lethargically walk over to the window and open it up, letting the smoke out. “I slept alright I guess…” You appreciate her warm welcome as you walk into the dining room.

“That’s good, honey. I’m nearly done with the waffles, it’s a miracle you have all the ingredients in your kitchen.” Robin says softly as she puts on another waffle.

“Yeah, I haven’t gone shopping for a while.” You reply tiredly, sitting down at the table and resting your chin on your palm. Your eyes look over your bruised wrist, which is resting on the table.

As the waffles keep cooking and Robin continues to hum to the music, your mind keeps going back to Mihawk. You feel overwhelming emotions starting to bubble over, now that you’re more awake. A lump forms in your throat and you put your hands over your face, taking a deep breath in hopes that it’ll just go away. It doesn’t go away, and tears that had been accumulating in the corner of your eyes spill onto your cheeks.

A few minutes go by and you hear the clink of a plate hitting the table top. You remove your hands slightly and you see Robin laying out the waffles, plates, cups and cutlery. You sniff and wipe away your tears, doing your best to compose yourself as she finishes setting the table.

Robin sits beside you and gently caresses your back. “Eat some food, maybe you’ll-…uhh never mind.” She smiles and retracts her hand, putting some waffles on her plate.

You smile faintly as you also grab a waffle. “Thank you…” Your voice slightly hoarse.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the music from the radio filling the room.

As you pick up the cutlery, you can’t help wondering why Robin cut herself off, but you shrug it off. You take your first bite, the flavors hit your tongue like an explosion on your tastebuds. They're buttery, not too sugary and the texture is so soft. “Damn, these are really good.” You murmur as you take another bite.

Robin smiles to herself, and the two of you continue to eat.

The taste of food helps take your mind off things a little, but you don’t begin to feel any better. Your minds still clouded, the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks again.

The two of you finish eating and Robin begins cleaning up, assuring you that it’s fine she does it herself as she doesn’t want you to exert yourself.

While Robin finishes cleaning, you retreat to the living room and plop down onto the couch. Your tears take no time to escape your eyes, and you sigh softly, leaning forward and burying your face in your hands.

You pay no mind to the sounds going on in the background, your mind faded into a pit of sadness and distress. The overwhelming feeling of everything crushing you into the ground.

“Let me have a look at your wrist, y/n.” Robin says as you feel her sit down next to you and reassuringly puts her hand on your back. You groan and move your hands, putting your hurt wrist onto her lap, revealing the red marks and bruises.

She looks at you worriedly, gently removing your tears with her thumb. You can see Robins’ got some bandages and ointment bottles on her lap. “…how’s the pain today?” She says softly.

“Mmm…pretty bad.” You wipe some of your tears away, your body shudders as you remember the reason behind the bruises.

“Aww, honey. That’s not good. I’ll get it fixed as best as I can, okay?” Robin says soothingly as she gently takes your wrist to inspect it.

You wince as she touches you, clenching your skirt with your other hand. “Okay. T-thank you.” You choke out.

She sighs as she looks you over, opening one of the ointments and lathers some on her hand. Robin begins to gently rub the cold liquid on your dark purple skin, being light with her fingers.

As her soft care washes over you, you feel the overwhelming tenderness of the injury. The physical, and mental. “Why-...why did he have to do that?”

“He just seems like an angry and sad person, but that doesn’t excuse his actions.” Robin responds, her eyes darkening slightly at the mention of Mihawk.

“It was just so intense…I just-...I just wanted to have a night without conflicts or drama.” You mutter sadly, tears streaming down your face.

She continues to apply the ointment, speaking softer now. “I know, I know. It wasn’t fair on you, he should’ve kept to himself.”

Tears fall down your face faster. “It really wasn’t fair, and I can’t believe he hurt me. When we were together…he promised to never lay a hand on me.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “Any man who hurts a woman deserves to go to hell.”

“What do I do? He said he’s still in love with me, and then threatened to take me to ‘our house’ whether I want to or not. He was so scary, Robin…” You look at her with distraught eyes.

She thinks to herself for a moment, finishing off rubbing the ointment in. “y/n…that’s not how someone in love should act, even if they’re drunk. He was acting extremely possessive and controlling, which is a huge red flag. Don’t go anywhere near him, okay?”

You nod your head, taking a shuddering breath.

Robin starts to put a bandage on your wrist, thinking for a moment before responding. “Do you still…love him?”

Silence falls over the two of you and you avert your eyes, hesitating. Despite everything, you still missed Mihawk. “I…I love the guy he used to be…” You murmur sadly.

“That makes sense. It’s okay, I’ll help you through this, I promise. Just remember who he is now, an aggressive and dangerous person.” She says tenderly.

“O-okay…” You say quietly.

She finishes putting the bandage around your wrist and puts everything to the side. “There, that should help the healing process. Let me know if it gets worse.” Robin says as she puts her arms around you, bringing you closer to her.

You put your arms around her waist and rest your head on her shoulder, softly crying onto her shirt as she rubs your back.

Robin runs her fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you to the best of her abilities. It feels comforting to be in her arms, feeling her kind warmth. The room feeling more pleasant in her embrace.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk wakes up from his restless slumber and immediately groans in pain, his head pounding. The injury he acquired last night shooting through his body, his heart rate spiking. The bed sheets feel rough on his skin, serving as an unwelcome reality check. Sounds of two boys arguing on the street and shuffling of feet are heard through the closed window, letting him know the world is the same as ever. And the birds seem to be silent, or just not around. There’s also an unmistakable suffocating smell of musk, puke, sweat and the heat is close to clammy. The room is dark and unwelcoming, the curtains filtering out the light from outside. Not even a flicker of sunlight touching his pale skin.

He reaches his hands down and clutches his groin, groaning into his pillow and curling into a ball. Mihawk memories from last night wash over him like a cold bucket of water. Anger, self hatred, disappointment and shame fill him all at once. His memories reminding him of how stupid he was last night.

He remembers the god awful party, his unease, seeing you with Law, his extreme anger, drinking who knows how much, dragging you off somewhere, yelling at you, the constant harsh and possessive words, the hold on your wrist that left a dark bruise, you kicking his groin and leaving him there on the ground. Mihawk also remembers the aftermath.

He groans again as he remembers throwing up into the bush for a while on his hands and knees, the pain or the alcohol spurring it on, who knows. Shanks found him a while later, drunk as a skunk, and dragged Mihawk back to his house. For the rest of the night until the early hours, Mihawk spent them throwing up in the bathroom until his throat was sore and his body weak. He doesn’t know when he managed to fall asleep, just that he hasn’t been asleep for that long.

Mihawk whimpers to himself as he tries to keep his bearings, his mind still slightly hazy from just gaining consciousness again. He remembers the look on your face when he grabbed your wrist-...There’s a loud slam of a door opening down the hall, and he can hear Shanks running to the bathroom, hurling into the toilet.

He winces and puts the duvet over his head, wanting to drown everything out, one hand still on his groin and the other rubbing his temple to try and lessen the headache. Mihawk can’t help but feel overwhelming guilt, shame and disgust. He can’t believe he let his feelings blow up like that last night, and towards you of all people. Nothing in that moment mattered when he saw you with that prick, so he unleashed everything on you, all his claims and threats. He hurt you. He ruined everything, more than it already was.

However, anger still lingers under the surface of his skin, even though he’s woken up with a lot of regrets. He still doesn’t like that you were with that dumbass, touching you and making you laugh. A part of him can’t help but be glad he got you away from Law, but at what cost?

A wave of dread washes over him when he suddenly remembers how he talked to you, Mihawks’ possessive side flared up in the worst possible way. He remembers when you liked his possessiveness, but you aren’t together anymore. But in his drunken state he didn’t care, he just wanted you back. He softly whimpers again, shutting his eyes tightly, he hates himself. Hates how he treated you, hurt you and scared you. Everything he did was wrong and idiotic, he was a complete prick.

After a few minutes he decides he needs to check his wound, so he opens his eyes and takes the duvet off his head, opening the curtains beside him. The sun barely makes it into the room, a large tree blocking the sunlight. Mihawk takes a deep breath and sits up, his stomach searing with pain, his head hammering and his nausea still present. He takes a deep breath to try and collect himself for what he’s about to see, before he pulls the duvet off of his legs. Mihawk slips his finger under his boxers, he gently lifts them just enough to see the damage. His eyes widen slightly. His nuts are completely inflamed, bruised and red, they’ve never looked…this…bad before. Despite the sight, Mihawk can’t hold back the half smile at the sight, Miss y/n can really pack a kick.

Mihawk decides to just remove his boxers, tossing them aside. The mere feel of them on his inflamed skin is too much to handle. He takes a deep breath after removing them, the tenderness feeling slightly more calm. But a moment later the heat and discomfort set in again.

He takes a few moments to gather any strength before he slowly pushes himself up off of the bed as carefully he can, his stomach and balls flaring up again. Mihawk slowly shuffles over to the wardrobe to fetch some loose fitting pants, the pain searing the whole way. He slowly opens the wardrobe and looks through it. He hopes it won’t irritate his sensitive nuts and stomach too much, already feeling like they’re being ripped apart.

Thankfully he finds some good pants, but even as they settle on him, the fabric still rubs him in all the wrong areas. But he has no choice but to endure it for now.

Mihawk walks across his room, wincing as he goes, opening the door to step into the hallway. He takes a deep breath and starts making his way down it, going to the bathroom where Shanks is still puking his guts out.

“You alright?” Mihawk says roughly, reaching Shanks who’s hunched over the toilet. His stomach churns more than it already is, watching as he throws up again.

“Yeah…I’m fine. Just…really hungover.” Shanks responds breathlessly, sweat dripping down his nose and back.

Mihawk silently assesses his state, before speaking again. “I’m sure you are, I told you to be careful last night, redhair. Do you have some Aspirin or something?”

Shanks grunts weakly, not appreciating his comment. “Yeah…it’s on the counter behind me.”

“Alright then, try not to puke again while I grab it.” Mihawk says, going to the counter and picking up some aspirin, his stomach doing another flip. He doesn’t wait to get any water and just immediately swallows it.

Shanks murmurs weakly. “So…what happened to you last night?”

Mihawk freezes slightly. “Nothing.”

A heavy silence falls over them, Mihawk can tell Shanks feels disappointed he won’t open up…again. Guilt starts to creep in but he pushes it aside.

Mihawk moves to the door frame and gives one last look at Shanks before leaving, he can see the hurt in his expression and Mihawks’ heart clenches. But he doesn’t say anything, instead he goes to the kitchen, intending to get some food.

He practically limps there, the pain excruciating. Mihawk knows the only option for food is bread, as Shanks doesn’t exactly take care of household needs. So he walks to the container and brings out a piece, unfortunately it’s a little stale, but it’ll have to do. Mihawk then starts his search through the cupboards to find any sort of spread, but to no avail. He groans to himself, running his hand down his face, he knew he should have gone shopping yesterday.

Mihawk cuts his losses and leans against the counter, not daring to sit on a hard surface right now. He takes a bite of the stale bread, the flavors dull on his tongue.

As he eats, Mihawk is accompanied by the sounds of Shanks’ retching echoing through the house, so it isn’t completely silent.

The longer he stands there, the more emotional he becomes. It’s just all so shit. He can’t help but let tears roll down his cheeks as he chews and swallows, dissociating as he looks down at the dirty floor. Mihawks’ mind goes to you. Your fearful, hurt and confused expression plagues his thoughts and he knows it’s all his fault. But also a little anger, not being able to erase the image of Law holding your waist.

He can’t manage to consume any more food, so he puts the half eaten slice down onto the counter, despite still being hungry. He just feels like the worst person in the world. Mihawk slowly walks to the freezer and opens it up. He searches through it, knowing what he needs has to be in here somewhere.

After a few moments he lets out a sigh of relief when his eyes spot it, small bags of ice. Mihawk eagerly grabs one of the bags. He can almost feel the pain and discomfort easing as he holds it.

He retreats with a limp back off to the guest room, shutting the door behind him and immediately removing his pants. Getting into bed and with his back leaning against the headboard.

A deep breath escapes him as he looks at his groin, knowing what he’s about to do isn’t going to feel too good. He slowly lowers the ice onto his nuts and groans, the cold feels good but the contact is still difficult to bear. He keeps one hand on his groin to hold the ice in place, and his other hand gently resting on his stomach. Mihawk leans his head against the headboard and looks at the roof, last night swirling around and haunting his mind.

What in the world is he meant to do? He doubts you’d ever want to speak to him again, or see him again…and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you. It was stupid to make all of those decisions, he made all of his issues into your issues…maybe leaving the party would have been the better move. But on the other hand, he still doesn’t want you with someone else…but he knows he went way too far.

He could leave this town and never look back, forget about you, Shanks and everyone else. Mihawk could live a life of extreme solitude, find a home on some abandoned island, living the rest of his days in isolation.

He sighs, knowing it won’t really fix anything, since he’d just be running away from his problems. And he would probably go insane, since he’d only be talking to himself. He knows he can’t forget about you, no matter how hard he tries. But it’s a tempting idea, maybe he’ll feel less alone and hur-

Mihawk suddenly loses his breath. He’s thinking of avoiding his issues again…just like he did with you. But maybe this time…it could help him feel better for a brief moment.

He breathes out. Maybe he could talk to you, if you let him, and then-…

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, he’s stuck and doesn’t have any control. Mihawk can’t even bring himself to tell Shanks either, so how is he supposed to navigate this? It’s all such a mess, a big ugly mess. It’s hopeless.

He feels his head drop and he puts one hand in front of his eyes, his emotions getting the better of him. Mihawk begins to softly cry into his palm, his tears heavy and thick, his sobs deep and painful. The pain gets worse in his nuts but he can’t control it right now.

It feels suffocating in this empty space, feeling the harsh loneliness. The room feels more unbearable as the only embrace is the darkness that surrounds him.

Notes: This chapter was so fun to make! I LOVED making the parallels between the two, and poor Mihawk is really going through it.

Chapter 3: Turning the Page

Notes: This chapter answers a lot of questions so get ready! I’m sad this fanfics come to an end since I’ve LOVED making Mihawk into the messiest young adult, but I’m really happy with how I made the drama unfold and I hope you are too♡ 

It’s been around 4 days since the party and the altercation, 4 days of aching and misery for Mihawk. He’s barely slept, his swollen throbbing nuts are also a constant reminder of his drunken behavior and your kick. He’s irritable, exhausted and his stern expression is darker than normal. Shanks has tried to talk to him multiple times but he won’t open up, so he’s settled for fussing over Mihawk like a mother. Which Mihawk really does appreciate, even if he doesn’t show it very well. It’s not like Redhair to be so distressed. Mihawk suspects Shanks’ worry was more due to the situation and not his injury, and the guilt he must have felt for leaving Mihawk alone that night. 

Since Mihawk hasn’t been able to do much, he’s been  laying or sitting around, or crying in his room. He’s guessing he could have filled at least a large bucket with his tears by now, maybe even more. His mind involuntarily trails to his relationship with you, the good parts. He reminisces about all the mornings when he was too tired to function, so you shaved his facial hair for him. Helping to get your shoes off while you’re holding a million shopping bags that you insisted you could ‘handle’. But he tries to keep these memories at bay, he doesn’t want to get too consumed by them. Especially since he doubts anything can get fixed now, considering the hell he’s put you through. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk sits at the edge of Shanks’ porch, his feet in the grass, an ice pack at his groin, under the shade of the house. Occasionally wincing from the pain. The trees sway in the wind as a light breeze runs through, the smell of flowers surrounding the garden and frogs jumping into the pond to escape the other wildlife. But instead of really looking at the serene world around him, his mind focuses on all the mistakes he’s made. It’s his default now…thinking about everything that happened. 

He sighs, he finally made a decision this morning. It took a few days and some mental back and forth to get to it. Whether this decision is good or bad, he doesn’t entirely know. But he’s come to his own conclusion on what he has to do next. 

He’s gonna try and talk to you, to apologize. 

Mihawk figured there would be no point in running away again, nothing would be settled and he’d regret it. Even if you don’t accept his apology, which he’s already prepared himself for, it’ll be a sort of closure…he’s hoping. 

But he doesn’t know what’s going to happen when he shows up at your apartment, he’ll probably get kicked to the curb. But he has to try…right?

“Mmm, you should take that stick out for a date since you like it so much.” Shanks chuckles, startling Mihawk slightly. In his zoned out state he didn’t realize he was staring at a stick that lay in front of him, and he definitely didn’t realize Redhair was behind him. 

“Sh-shut it. I was just concentrating.” Mihawk grumbles, avoiding Shanks’ gaze. 

Shanks chuckles again, sitting down beside Mihawk. 

“What are you thinking about? And for the love of god don’t say ‘nothing’.” 

Mihawk opens his mouth to tell him ‘it’s nothing’ again. But before he can respond, Shanks cuts him off.

“Please, Dracule. I’m anxious about you, okay? Just give me something.” 

Mihawk sighs deeply. The troubled and pleading look in Shanks’ eyes makes him feel guilty. “It’s complicated…” He starts, fiddling with his jacket.

Shanks keeps his eyes trained on Mihawk, holding his breath in hopes he’ll keep going.

“I’m going to apologize to y/n, happy now?” Mihawk says slowly and carefully.

“That’s a start, but you still haven’t told me about what you did.” Redhair responds softly. 

“You’ll judge me…” Mihawk says quietly. 

“I won’t judge you, you should know that by now…when are you going to apologize to her?” 

“Tonight…” Mihawk mutters, still not looking at Redhair. 

Shanks sighs, putting his hand on Mihawks’ shoulder, not saying anything more.

Mihawk appreciates the calm silence. He feels like the last few hours before he goes to your house are going to be the quiet before the storm. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

The cold air hits Mihawks’ cheeks, making them slightly red as he walks through the urban area. His palms are clammy and there’s an underlying feeling of dread. His footsteps are the only thing heard in the dark empty avenue, everyone seems to be relaxing after dinnertime. Mihawks’ still walking with a slight limp, the pain and discomfort from his injury still very much present. 

His breathing starts getting a little more uneven the closer he gets to your home, he wants to turn back but he forces his legs to keep moving. Mihawk can’t help but think over all the possible scenarios, each one being worse than the last. 

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches your street. He takes out the piece of paper with your address on it with a shaky hand. Mihawk looks it over quickly just to make sure, before putting it back. 

“Fuck…” He mutters to himself, feeling his heartbeat quicken when he sees your house. This is really happening. 

Finally reaching your doorstep, Mihawk swallows thickly, his body shaking uncontrollably, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He tries taking a few deep breaths but it doesn’t work, he’s too on edge. Mihawk groans to himself, running his hands down his face in distress and overwhelm. 

Before he’s tempted to leave, Mihawk quickly reaches his hand up and knocks on the door before he can wimp out. He’s got no choice but to go forward with it now. 

A few moments pass and he hears someone walking on the other side, making him tremble even more, feeling like he’ll throw up. Which really wouldn’t make a good impression.

The door opens, but instead of you standing there, it’s Robin. She immediately furrows her brow and glares at Mihawk, and starts to swing the door shut. 

But before it closes, he jams his foot in the way. “Please…I need to talk to y/n.” Mihawk quietly pleads through the crack of the door. 

“Get out of here, bastard. She doesn’t want to see you, and I don’t want you near her.” Robin speaks in a hushed angry tone. 

“P-please…I’ll keep my distance, just let me talk to her.” Mihawk pleads again, his voice shaking. 

Robin huffs to herself, looking him over suspiciously. “I’ll go ask her, stay here.” 

Before he can thank her, she kicks his foot hard so that she can close the door, slamming it in his face. Mihawk takes a deep shaky breath, hoping you’ll say yes, and biting his lip from the pain.

A couple of minutes later the door opens again and Robin looks at him with her piercing eyes. He feels dizzy from the anxiety of anticipation.

“She’ll talk to you. But before you come inside, are you drunk?” Robin says sternly.

“N-no, I haven’t drunk since…” Mihawk trails off, unable to meet Robins’ eyes. 

She scoffs under her breath, clearly not happy with the current situation. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

You walk down the stairs, your hand gripping the railing from unease. Agreeing to talk to Mihawk maybe isn’t for the best, but you’re hoping to get something out of it. 

As you step onto the floor and go towards the front door, you see Mihawk standing there beside Robin. He looks like a fucking wreck. 

He’s got dark circles under his eyes, his body visibly trembling and his clothing is anything but neat. You take a breath and look away from him, not wanting to look at him longer than you have to. 

“What do you want?” You manage to say, your voice a forced murmur. 

He takes a deep breath. “I need to…apologize to you. If you’ll let me.” 

You look up at Robin, who’s got her arms crossed and shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well then…go ahead.” You mutter.

“No I-...I want to do it properly, to sit down with you. Please?” He says pleadingly. 

You sigh. “And you won’t come near me?” 

Mihawk furiously shakes his head. “I won’t come near you, I promise, y/n.”

“Fine…Robin I can deal with this, I’ll let you know if I need you.” You say quietly. 

Robin seems skeptical but accepts that you need time alone to talk. She comes over to you and whispers.

“If he does ANYTHING, I’ll be at my house.” She squeezes your arm and you nod. 

As Robin leaves she can’t help but glare at Mihawk again, a shiver running down his spine from her silent threat. Once she’s gone he shuts the door and turns to you, his eyes lowered.

You groan to yourself and start walking to the living room, Mihawk silently following after you. 

Two couches are up against neighboring walls so you don’t have to sit beside Mihawk. You both sit down, taking a seat furthest from him.

Heavy silence falls over the house, Mihawk's unsteady breathing and his rapid heartbeat being the only indication that people are here. 

He finally looks up at you, his face contorted with shame. You look at him for a moment before looking away again, you can’t bring yourself to keep eye contact just yet.

Mihawk clears his throat, speaking shakily. “I’m really, really sorry, y/n. I w-was a prick, an asshole, an idiot and I was completely out of line. I-”

He swallows, the silence looming over the two of you again.

“I made horrible decisions that I really regret. I’m…god, I’m so sorry…I never should have hurt you, and I never should have…taken it so far.” He manages to finish, his voice filled with regret.

You listen to him quietly, taking in his words. He sounds sincere, for the first time in a long while.

“Just because you apologize, doesn’t make it all okay.” You say shakily.

“I-I know, I know that. But you…you deserve an apology.” He responds.

“What happened that night.” You say firmly as you get to the point, leaving no room for him to lie or get out of it. You know it’s a sudden shift to the discussion, but you need answers.

“I lost my mind.” He shamefully whispers.

“Take me through it, all the details.” You say slightly shakily, your body tensing in preparation for what you’re about to hear.

Mihawk quivers slightly, looking at his hands. “Well…it started when I saw you dancing with that assh-I mean uhh…Law. I saw how close you two were, like you were flirting or something. I just…couldn’t handle it, I lost it. And it didn’t help that I was already on edge, I was dealing with anxiety just by being at the party, especially when Shanks left me alone. So to try and deal with it all, I drank…a lot. I had…5…maybe 6 bottles…I don’t know. I was just so angry, overwhelmed and jealous, more than I ever have been in my entire life.”

You had suspected he drank a lot, but not that much. And you’ve never seen or heard Mihawk this broken before, he’s usually calm, keeping his emotions and speech in check. Instead he’s fumbling over his words like a moron. 

He continues. “So then after I drank, I sat down to..watch you…” He whispers the last part, his cheeks flushing.

“You watched me and Law?” You ask with a hint of disbelief.

“Y-yeah…I’m sorry for that too. But after a while I had enough, so I went to confront you and then…you know the rest.” Mihawk says, taking another deep and shaky breath. 

While you keep silent his eyes flicker down to your wrist, that’s still bandaged, another wave of guilt etched on his face. “I’m sorry for hurting you, I can’t believe I did that…” 

“I…” You begin. “This is a lot to take in, I wasn’t expecting you to apologize.”

He nods. “Yeah, I honestly thought that I’d…”

Another silence falls over the house. You glance over at Mihawk who’s white as a sheet.

“Seeing you with that guy, it was like the breakup was set in stone.” He says quietly, his voice laced with despair. “Like I could never get you back.”

You look away from him. “You should have gone home.”

He visibly flinches, taking another breath. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and lie to you. I don’t regret taking you away from him. I regret how I did it, I regret drinking so much, I regret how I hurt you and yelled at you. I should have calmly talked to you, but I was too out of my mind for anything like that.”

“I wouldn’t have listened to you either way.” You mutter, pain clutching at your chest.

“But it would have been better than what I ended up doing.” He sighs.

“I looked into your eyes and you weren’t there. You were so…scary. ” You say quietly. 

He leans forward and puts his head in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I know I was. I wasn’t the man you used to care for, I don’t even recognise myself. Never in my life did I want to be seen as scary to you, seeing the look on your face…I’ll never forget it. I always swore to protect you, not hurt you. I hate myself for it.” 

A few tears roll down your cheeks as well, the pain in your chest only increasing. “Why didn’t you let me go? I was crying…”

Mihawk shudders, the reminder of the incident taking over. “I regret holding onto you so tightly. I just couldn’t let go. I didn’t know how to…I don’t know how to let you go. You’re the love of my life. I can’t even begin to explain the irrational fear and possession I felt that night. 

“You said you didn’t care that you were hurting me.” You mutter chokingly. 

“I wish I could tell you I didn’t mean it, but I did. I didn’t care about anything else, I needed you to be mine again. Even if that meant I was hurting you. Although, after a while I came to my senses a bit more…that’s when you kicked me.” 

You nod, remembering that a few minutes before you kicked him that he had panicked a bit, his guilt seeping through his anger. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“Served me right, I threw up into the bushes a few minutes later. Then when Shanks took me to his, I spent the rest of the night puking my guts out which I deserved as well.” He states, wiping away some tears.

Despite everything that’s happened, you can’t help but feel worried over his health. “Really? All night?” 

“Mhmm, I couldn’t stop, everything I drank just got hurled out of me for hours. I couldn’t get a decent sleep either…” Mihawk cringes to himself as he trails off, the memory clearly being unpleasant. 

“Oh…” You would say more, tell him you’re glad he’s okay, but you shouldn’t. 

“And the next day…god. I was disgusted with myself. Remembering what I’d done to you…the things I said to you.” He mutters. 

“Yeah it was pretty brutal…” You whisper. 

“It was, I was. I-I hate how I treated you, it was physically and emotionally damaging. You really didn’t deserve that.” His voice raw.

“Yeah…” 

He looks at you, jealousy thick in his voice. “I didn’t…ruin your relationship with Law, did I?” 

“I don’t have a relationship with him, we met that night and we were just having fun. I told you that.” You look back at him.

Mihawk takes a sigh of relief. “O-okay, I know you told me that. I would apologize for stopping the ‘fun’ but I don’t think I can bring myself to do that. I’m sorry.” 

“I honestly didn’t expect you to apologize for that thing in particular, it’s fine.” You say quietly. 

He nods slowly.

You add on. “And umm, if I saw you with another girl I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I wouldn’t go to the lengths that you did, though.” 

“Yeah, you’re strong and I’m…a complete mess.” He sighs, running his hand down his face.

You look at him, feeling a bit of empathy, but you push it aside.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I’m sorry…I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for making a good night into a bad one, I’m sorry for the words I said  to you, I’m sorry for acting insane and unhinged, I’m sorry for harming you…and I’m also sorry for how I treated you in our relationship, I really am sorry…could you ever…forgive me?” He pleads, searching your eyes for anything he can grasp onto. 

“How do you expect me to forgive you when you haven’t even explained half of it.” You sigh, leaning back into the couch and looking up at the ceiling. 

He goes deathly silent, and you can practically feel the cogs turning in his head. 

Eventually, he sighs. “Shit…” 

“Look…I don’t think I-” He begins, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t.” 

Mihawk shuts his mouth immediately and looks away from you, and you feel a pang of disappointment.

“You don’t understand…I can’t tell you, you wouldn’t understand, no one would.” He says quietly. 

You groan. “Then MAKE ME understand! I need to know why you distanced yourself from me, then the other night you…you said you still loved me. Nothing makes any sense.” 

He hesitates. “I know I don’t make any sense…I’m sorry…”

Frustration starts to bubble up to the surface. “Please, I deserve to know. You owe me an explanation.” 

Mihawk fidgets, opening his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

Tears form in your eyes, you feel like you’re getting nowhere. Even if he’s apologized, at this point it just isn’t enough. 

You hunch over and put a hand over your eyes, the tears trickling down. 

He immediately notices your crying, and becomes slightly frantic but not moving from his seat. “N-no! I’m sorry, y/n! Please don’t cry, I’m sorry okay?” 

“Just tell me what happened, did I do something wrong??” You softly sob as you finally look up at him again.

His face turns from frantic to mortified and breathes out. “W-what?? No! Of course not!”

“You barely even looked at me, all you did was focus on being a marine hunter and ignoring me.” You choke out.

Mihawk looks distressed as he watches you, and you can tell he wants to comfort you but he keeps his distance as promised. “I-I know…I shouldn’t have…been like that, I’m sorry.”

“Please…tell me why.” You say pleadingly. 

He’s silent for a moment, before saying quietly. “Everyone will judge me…you’ll judge me…especially you…”

“Please, tell me. I won’t judge you, I promise…” You plead once more.

Mihawk goes silent again, looking at the floor. You feel desperation take over as he shuts down, breaking you down even more.

“Please! Dracule…” You sob heavily. His body reacting slightly at the sound of his given name from your lips. 

“I thought…pushing you away would fix all my issues…” He confesses in a hoarse whisper, closing his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” You sob.

He starts getting overwhelmed, his demeanor shifting. He suddenly stands up from the couch. “It’s too much…I came here to apologize a-and that’s what I did.” 

Your eyes widen as he starts walking out of the living room, so you quickly get up and grab his arm. He stiffens at the contact, but obliges as you turn him around to face you. 

“Please…” You look into his uncertain eyes, heavy tears covering your face. 

“I should go back to Shanks’ house, I’m sorry I turned up.” He says quietly.

“No..please! I won’t judge you, just tell me what happened. Please…don’t go, don’t shut me out again.” You whisper desperately. 

Mihawk stands in silence for a few minutes. Your hand still gripped onto his arm as he looks at the floor. 

He finally looks back at you, shame and guilt written all over his features. “Okay…okay.”

Your heartbeat speeds up, gripping his arm a little tighter.

Mihawk lowers his eyes again, taking a deep breath. “It all started because…I had a rough childhood.”

You feel slightly taken aback. He’s opened up about his childhood briefly before, but never in detail. And what has that got to do with anything?

“My parents abandoned me when I was a kid. They just…left me. Ever since then I’ve been scared that…t-the people I love will eventually leave me as well.” He whispers sadly.

You slightly loosen your  grip on his arm, his confession sinking in. 

“I guess I’ve never really gotten over that. I was worried you were going to leave me like…like my parents did. ” He takes a deep shaky breath before continuing. “I decided to distance myself from you. I was paranoid that you were going to break up with me, I thought it wouldn’t hurt as much when it happened if I’d already pushed you away. It just consumed me fully. But..when it did happen…when you…I couldn’t handle it.” 

The air seems to leave your lungs.

Mihawk gets overwhelmed again, taking another deep breath. “You have to understand y/n, I thought it would be easier. I was so scared you’d leave me! I-I didn’t want to be hurt again. I thought if I put my walls up, and you left, I wouldn’t get hurt. But I was wrong…so insanely wrong. Pushing you away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

You stand there in a shocked silence, your mouth slightly agape, your lungs screaming for air. 

Heavy tears start falling down his cheeks, his breathing slightly labored. “I’m sorry…it was the biggest mistake of my life. It pained me to distance myself from you, you have no idea how many times I broke down in the bathroom. I just thought it was for the best...” 

Nothing prepared you for this.

“I became a different person, I wasn’t the man you fell in love with. I was cold, distant, angry…and it was all my own fault.” He whispers hoarsely. 

Before you can control it, you let go of his arm and sink to your knees, your sobbing starting up again. All this time, and this is what he was afraid of? You feel your emotions falling apart, confused and sad. 

He looks down at you with horrified eyes, not knowing what to do as he continues crying. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I can go, if you want.”

“You can’t just leave!” You shout through your sobs, startling him heavily. 

“O-okay I won’t go anywhere…I just don’t…” He fumbles. 

Mihawk watches you cry for a moment, before carefully sitting on his legs in front of you. He takes your upper arms gently, trying to give you some sort of support. 

“I’m sorry…” He repeats quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You question him, looking into his eyes again.

He swallows. “B-because…I was afraid you’d want nothing to do with me after you found out how truely damaged I am. I was scared that you’d see me differently and think I’m pathetic. And I didn’t want to burden you, all I wanted to do was protect you.”

“I never would have done or thought that…I would have tried to help you. To reassure you.” You sob.

“I didn’t…know that…” He whispers, a sigh leaving his lungs.

You sob a little harder, making him panic.

“What is it?? What’s wrong??” He says desperately, his heartbeat quickening.

You speak to the best of your abilities. “Knowing that you were going through so much, for months, years. That you were scared…that hurts me, Dracule. All of this is so much worse knowing you were in pain too.” 

He nods his head slowly, understanding where you’re coming from. He gently caresses your arm with his fingers, trying to calm you down somehow. “Dammit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, I should have communicated with you. Please don’t feel bad for me.”

“Why couldn’t you be a heartless asshole, it would have made it easier.” You heavily sob.

“I’m sorry for not being a heartless asshole…instead I’m just this huge mess. You deserved better.” He says shakily. 

“This is so much to take in at once…” 

“I know…I…I should have told you years ago. I let it snowball into the biggest mistake of my life.” He says shamefully. 

“I just…I can’t believe it…” You choke out.

Mihawks’ eyes widen impossibly large. “Y-you don’t believe me?? I promise I’m telling you the tru-” 

“NO! Not…not in that way. This is all just so…I didn’t expect this to be the reason.” You sob.

“O-oh, thank god. What did you think the reason was?” He whispers nervously.

“Either…you were a heartless monster, or I did something wrong, maybe you stopped loving me…anything but this.” 

“Fuck…I’m sorry for making you that worried. I was so caught up in my paranoia of you leaving, that I didn’t think you…really cared.” He whispers, tears in his eyes.

You sob a little harder. “But I cried beside you in bed, many times. I was upset, Dracule. You saw that.” 

Shame constricts his features again. “I did…yeah. But I was too trapped inside my own mind, I convinced myself you weren’t being serious. That it was just you guilt tripping me.” 

“Guilt tripping you?” You repeat slowly.

“I thought that was a way for you to make it my fault because you were going to leave me. I know it doesn’t even make any sense…I’m so sorry…I can’t even imagine the pain I’ve put you through.” He whispers brokenly. 

You look at him with confusion, your tears falling rapidly.

“I’m gonna start working on myself, I promise. Whether we’re together or…not. The party was really eye opening for me, I can’t keep living in this mental state. I’m destroying myself and everyone else around me.” He says shamefully, looking into your eyes.

“All the things you said to me that night…” You whisper as another strangled sob leaves you.

“I was at the end of my line, the emotions I had been feeling for years boiled over.” His cheeks go slightly pink from shame but he holds your gaze. “I didn’t mean any of it, I was angry and drunk. I definitely didn’t mean that you belong to me because I’ve fucked you, I said that out of pure drunken possessiveness and jealousy. I was grasping at anything and everything to make you listen to me.”

“So you aren’t possessive over me…?” 

He takes a shaky breath. “I am possessive over you, but not to that extent. I promise. It still shouldn’t become your problem though, the way I acted that night isn’t who I want to be. I’m sorry for acting so unhinged.”

“I just wish you would have come to me before it got this bad.” You stammer.

“I wish that too, I wish I didn’t push you away. But you have to understand, at the time I thought that…you’d leave.” He lowers his gaze.

“I never would have left you, I loved you. I would have done anything in my power to be there for you, I’m not your parents.” 

“Dammit…why’d I have to mess it all up…” He mutters to himself.

Another silence falls over the two of you, except for the sound of your crying. Both of your minds working overtime. 

“Is there any way…you can forgive me?” He finally whispers, lifting his head to meet your gaze again.

You take a deep breath, sensing the anxiety radiating off of him. “Y-yes…”

His eyes widen and he’s speechless for a moment. “Thank y-you, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear on my life I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

All of these confessions and decisions are too much for you to handle, and you start crying even harder. Mihawk panics slightly.

“H-hey…don’t cry, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry for not telling you about it all, just please…” He says shakily, looking at you with a worried expression. 

You can’t help but keep crying, overwhelmed beyond belief. 

“Y/n, look at me.” He says shakily as he cups your cheek, guiding your face so he can look into your eyes. “I promise I’ll be better, and it’s all going to be okay. I’m so sorry for taking you through hell, I’ll never forgive myself.

Mihawk then hesitantly wraps his arms around your body, bringing you flush against his chest as you cry. He rests his head on your shoulder, his hand soothingly caressing your back. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

You bury your head into the crook of his neck, your arms going around his waist, needing comfort more than anything right now. 

“Please stop crying, I can’t take it when you cry so hard…it breaks my heart...” He whispers pleadingly, but you can’t stop. 

Mihawk sighs deeply, knowing you won’t slow down. So he holds you tighter and settles for whispering positive affirmations in your ear in hopes that it’ll help.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

You’re not sure how long you’ve been crying for, all you know is that Mihawks’ embrace feels like the most comforting thing you’ve felt in months. His words have a soothing effect on you, bringing you back down from feeling so overwhelmed. The touch on your back feels nice, like home.

As your sobs become small sniffles, your body resorts to trembling from the intensity.

“That’s it, can you take deep breaths for me?” He whispers. You start to take deep breaths and begin to take note of his familiar scent, calming you further. 

He keeps you like this for a while longer, making sure to tread carefully. Mihawk then leans out and cups your cheek again, looking into your eyes with his warm honey coloured gaze. 

“Sorry for getting this close to you…”

“It’s fine…I needed you.” You whisper.

He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, keeping his voice soft and quiet. “Okay, I was just making sure.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, making him freeze for a moment. 

“Please don’t thank me, I’ve done too much to-”

You cut him off. “You’ve been going through hell as well, it must be hard to navigate abandonment issues all by yourself…”

He sighs. “It has, but there’s no excuse.” 

Your arms tighten around him. “Yeah…” 

Mihawk nods slowly, processing your words before changing the subject slightly. “Can I…look at your wrist? I need to see what I’ve done.” 

“Sure.” You whisper, and unwrap your arms. 

As you remove the bandage, his eyes are locked onto the area, his heartbeat quickening. 

The bandage falls to the ground and your dark bruised wrist is exposed. Mihawk takes a moment to look over the damage, his hand coming up to gently hold it. 

“I’m sorry…” He whispers in utter guilt for the millionth time.

All you can do is stay silent, there’s nothing much you can say right now.

Mihawks’ eyes fill with tears, letting them fall down his face. He takes a shaky breath, putting your wrist down and wrapping his arm around you again to keep you close.

After a moment, you speak up. “Umm…how do your nuts feel…?”

He chuckles lightly, which catches you off guard. “I’m in constant agony, I can barely walk properly.” 

“I kicked you pretty hard, I won’t be apologizing for it though.” You mutter with a slight smile.

“Good, don’t. I think you kicking me in the balls brought me to my senses more than anything else. I should be thanking you.” He whispers, holding you closer. 

Taking a deep breath, you breathe in his scent again. “I missed being held by you.”

“I missed holding you.” Mihawk responds, his face deep in your hair and his voice filled with remorse. “I hope you know that I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you and I don’t think I can even if I wanted to.”

“I…” You pause. “As I told Robin, I love the man you used to be. And right now you feel like the man you used to be.” 

You feel his heart skip a beat and he whispers quickly to himself, so quiet you nearly don’t catch it. “I can work with that.”

He tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, and you feel him close his eyes against your neck.

“Y/n…this may be asking too much but…” He whispers hesitantly. “Is there any possible way you’d give me a second chance?

“Y-yes, there is. But only if you promise to communicate properly with me.” You whisper back nervously.

“I’d do anything to get you back and keep you, so yes. A million times yes. I’m done pushing you away and hiding my feelings. I couldn’t bear losing you again.” He says sincerely, his body trembling again.

“I’ll give you that second chance, but you don't get a third. Got it?” You whisper sternly. 

Mihawk leans back out, his hand going to the side of your neck as he looks into your eyes. “I got it, you have my word.” 

“Okay…good.”

“Does this mean that…you’re mine again?” He whispers chokingly, his hand trembling. 

You nod, your heart skipping a beat. “Yes, I just want my boyfriend back. I need you back.” 

“You have me…I promise you do. We’ll get through this, I’ll work on myself and treat you like you deserve to be treated.” He whispers, caressing your cheek again.

“O-okay…” You whisper back.

“Can I kiss you?” He says in an unsure tone.

“Please.” You murmur.

Mihawk sighs in relief, and leans forward. He gently connects your lips in a sweet and tender kiss, pouring all of his feelings that have been in a dark corner for months. 

The two of you pull out after a minute and you look into his eyes, his gaze full of love.

“God…I’ve never seen anything more beautiful…”

“I’ve been crying…” You whisper back.

“I don’t care, you’re still the epitome of beauty in my eyes.” He murmurs. 

You rest your head back onto his shoulder, holding him tightly. Mihawk goes back to caressing your back, holding you close to him.

As the two of you spend a few minutes calming down and process everything, you stay silent. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Your breathing and his has mostly gone back to normal, but there’s still an air of unease.

“Can we…take a bath?” You whisper softly, breaking the silence, your body still slightly trembling from the aftermath.

“Sure, anything for you. Would you like me to-”

“Yes.” You reply quickly.

He can’t help but smile, before helping you up to your feet. “Lead the way, I haven’t been here before.” 

“Oh yeah…that’s right.” You mutter, intertwining your fingers and starting to walk to your bathroom with him.

As you walk, he looks around your home properly for the first time tonight. “How did you get this place so fast?” 

You shrug as the two of you get to the bathroom, flicking the light on and shutting the door. “I was lucky, it was for lease when we uhh…broke up, so I decided to rent it. How did you know I lived here, by the way?”

Mihawk leans down and turns on the bath, his hand under the water to test the heat. “Shanks knew where you lived. He was at the local tavern, and it slipped out while he was having a conversation with the owner about houses.” 

That damn tavern owner never seems to keep his mouth shut about everyone's business. 

He gets the right temperature for the water and fills the bathtub up fully, then stands up, turning to you. “Come here. I can remove your clothes, let me take care of you.” He looks at you with soft eyes.

You nod, feeling a tiredness grow. 

Mihawk smiles and starts taking your clothes off, being sure to be careful with every movement of his hands. 

When he’s finished he looks over your body, admiring it. “You’re just as gorgeous as I remember…”

You lightly blush, and then watch him as he takes off his own clothes. 

He sets everything to the side and extends his hand, you take it without hesitation and you step into the bathtub with his help. He slowly follows behind and sits down, guiding you down with him. Mihawk gently sets you down between his legs, your back up against his chest, his arms encircling your waist and his head resting on your shoulder. 

The warm water surrounds your bodies, making you both sigh in relaxation. 

“Are you comfortable, darling?” He murmurs, the nickname making your heart skip a beat.

“Very comfortable, thank you.” You murmur back. 

“Good, now just relax. I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.” He mutters, taking your bruised wrist in his hand and bringing it up to his lips. Mihawk softly kisses your skin, his arm tightening around your waist. 

You relax against him, being careful to not hurt his nuts further. He continues to kiss your wrist as his hand caresses your stomach.

“I love you…I’m sorry for everything.” He whispers in a low soothing tone through kisses.

You sigh deeply. “I love you too…”

“I’ll never do something like that again, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He says softly.

“Mmm.” Is all you manage to say, making him smile lightly. 

Mihawk puts your wrist down and wraps his other arm around you, breathing in your scent. He begins slowly kissing your neck and shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

The two of you stay in the bathtub for around 30 minutes, letting your bodies rest and soak in the heat of the water. 

When the water begins to cool, Mihawk carefully stands and helps you out, then dries you off carefully. He then dries himself off, and when he’s finished you take his hand.

“Can you stay tonight?” You say pleadingly, making his eyes soften.

“Of course, darling. I want to take care of you.” He says softly as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

You start leading him to your room in a comfortable silence, with him tightly holding onto your hand. The two of you haven't even bothered to re-dress.

The two of you make it to your room and you get into bed, pulling the covers over you. Before you know it, he’s wrapping his arms around you again and pulling you close to him. Your arms wrap around him as well. Mihawk looks into your eyes, his hands gliding over the smoothness of your skin.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Can you kiss me, Dracule?” 

He smiles, leaning in and gently kisses your cheeks, eyelids, forehead, nose. He kisses all over your face until every inch has had his lips on your skin. “I love you so damn much…is that enough kisses for you? I’ll give you hundreds, thousands, if that’s what you need.” 

You sigh, making him furrow his brow in worry. “Not good enough. You have to kiss me for every tear that’s fallen because of you.”

His eyes soften even more, slight guilt in his gaze. “I can do that, but how many would that be, my love?” 

You think really hard for a moment, looking back on all the times where you’ve cried because of his shitty behavior. After a few moments you come to a conclusion. “One thousand, six hundred and eighty three.”

Mihawks’ eyes widen the moment you announce One thousand, six hundred and eighty three, and you can tell he’s got an urge to laugh. Despite the serious night, you can’t help but be grateful that he’s amused by this. “One thousand, six hundred and eighty three, huh? Darling, are you absolutely sure you counted that many in…a few seconds?” He pinches your cheek lightly.

“Did I stutter?” You whisper, holding him tighter. 

Mihawk laughs softly, gently pinching your cheek again. “You’re adorable…but no, you didn’t stutter. I guess you’re just a fast counter.” He talks between laughter.

“So…will you do it?” You whisper, a slight smile at the corner of your lips. His laughter lighting up the room.

“I could never say no to such a wonderful request.” He giggles lightly, then leans into your neck to kiss it.

“One.” He whispers softly against your skin.

He presses another kiss into your neck. “Two”

You melt into his kisses, your eyes fluttering closed as you surrender to the feeling of his soft lips. 

“Three.”

You’re finally in his arms again.

“Four.” 

His heartbeat.

“Five.” 

His warmth.

“Six.”

His scent.

“Seven.”

His breathing.

“Eight.”

His skin.

“Nine.” 

Mihawk stops kissing your neck and moves his lips to your own. He kisses them gently, his lips moving in sync with yours for a few seconds. Both of you know you’ll be here for a while with how many kisses you demanded. 

He pulls away briefly to say…

“Ten.” 

You only want him whispering sweet things in your ear all night long, for the rest of your life. 

Notes: I had to make the ending for this really sweet, after all the angst♡ I hope you enjoyed reading! 

[clubdionysus]

TEASER [BD #61]

a/n: we've reached the uncharted territory of being caught on here! never thought i'd see the day!! chapter 61 isn't yet finished, but i'd like to give you a little something to tide you over---kofi subscribers will have already seen this (I do teasers and early access type things over there! (and on that note, kofi girlies, I'll have something for you tomorrow!)), but it will be new to most of you! hehe hopefully I shouldn't keep you waiting too long for the rest of the chapter x

wc: 1.4k (takes place midway through the chapter!)

Life dissolves with Jungkook. Days merge into one. Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time just melts.

So does Jungkook, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. Turns into a supernova like stars often do.

He lets himself merge into a shared identity with you. Is certain it isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship. Doesn't care, regardless.

Days have rolled on by since the auction without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jungkook’s had meetings with realtors. Everything has happened with little thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jungkook’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so many years fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jungkook’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost.

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jungkook. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jungkook is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can.”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jungkook nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to help.”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. Also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jungkook is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jungkook. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you to never play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get free access.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him all while under the ruse of thinking he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your king, and had been preventing Jungkook from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but—fuck—he’ll never understand your brain. You're so smart most of the time, but every now and again your brain seems to melt.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate.

Groaning, you realise what’s happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There’s no way Jungkook actually enjoys this. 

“Not again,” you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jungkook’s ceiling. It’s without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

“B,” Jungkook laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You’ll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, “What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king.”

“I tried!” You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

“You left him wide open for me to take!”

“You could have gone easy on me!”

“I was!” He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. “I swear you didn’t listen to a single thing I told you—”

“I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place,” you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn’t deserve niceties in times like this.

He’d argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against your throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Go on.”

“Strip chess.”

“Pervert.”

“For every move you make, I’ll take an item of clothing off,” he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a sock on either foot, and underwear — that’s only five moves, but then again, Jungkook normally has your king trapped by that point.

“I think you’re just trying to get me naked.”

“I’m always trying to get you naked, B,” he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. “So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?”

[heygirl-gosling]

there is nothing that ryan gosling as colt seavers can’t fix in my life. no I will not be elaborating.

[wahroh]

Not funny that is though.

[vintage-tigre]

[drwgs]

only you my love!

[littlemisspractical]

Nadia makes bad decisions sometimes ... and Nathaniel has to patch her up afterwards. In her defence, she won the fight.

Text transcript: Nathaniel: So let me get this right. You met a demon - Nadia: A devil Nathaniel: -A devil. Who you know wants to kill you Nadia: She's a bounty hunter. Nathaniel: A devil who you [italics] know [end italics], and knows wants to kill you. Nadia: Yeah. Nathaniel: And you reaction to this is to leap off your horse, yelling "Ambush this, you bastard!" Nadia: Yeah Nathaniel: [italics] Despite the fact [end italics] you were riding along a gorge. Nadia: Well ... Nathaniel: It's called Long Drop Gorge for a [italics] reason [end italics] Nads! Nadia, as an asside in smaller text: Well it was a pretty long drop Nathaniel: And if that wasn't bad enough, you kept fighting when you hit the bottom! Nadia: If an infernal bounty hunter was after you, you'd keep going too! Nathaniel: Can you please just be more careful next time? You scared the shit out of me! Nadia, in smaller text: Sorry ...