#dracule mihawk x Y/N | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunshinescribes · 6 months

Text

Between Your Name and A Prayer

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: There are few who can say they elude Dracule Mihawk, and even fewer who have held his heart. You’ve done both, and it only serves to complicate things when Mihawk seeks to collect your bounty…or so he tells himself.

Warnings: SMUT! Ex!Mihawk, Angst, Yearning, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Rough Sex (PinV), Reader is a little petty/bratty

Mihawk knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Not again.

He shouldn’t be slipping through a sleepy port town in search of you.

He tries to blame it on your wanted poster, a reminder that you continue to evade the world government—evade him, but the lie is hardly convincing.

Not when he had spent more time than necessary staring down at your new wanted poster, his sharp eyes following the curve of your playful smile and catching on to your eyes, as bewitching as he remembers, and with that familiar glint of mischief shining in them. The look you give is reminiscent of the one you used to grace him with, just before you stole a kiss, or persuaded him back to bed—what feels like a lifetime ago now.

Mihawk tries to shake the aching feeling that blossoms in his chest. Your bounty has gone up significantly. Vice Admirals hiss your name over snail responders; wonder why you haven’t been caught yet. Mihawk is quick to retort sharply that he isn’t at their beck and call, despite what the Admirals might think, and that they can send someone else to catch you, or better yet, find her yourself.

He knows they won’t. It’s as difficult for them to track you down as it is for him, maybe even more so. Besides, they have an…inkling of an idea of what you two once shared. Feelings once held that they think he can use to draw you from the shadows. If only they knew how wrong their assumptions were.

He may be a hunter of sorts, but you are no prey. Mihawk has come to realize that he only finds you when you let him. You leave little clues—hints dripping with nostalgia. You tease him, dare the world’s greatest swordsmen to come and find you, and he accepts the challenge every time with the eagerness of an undisciplined child.

He has only found you twice, and on both occasions, you looked far too pleased, not surprised in the slightest to see his dark figure slipping from the shadows. You had smiled and teased him in a way only you (and a certain red-haired pirate) would be brave enough to.

You finally showed up, Hawk Eye.

Mihawk despises the epithet from you—the distance it creates, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? It makes it easier to fall into a night of ravenous bliss without considering that you two once shared a home and your hearts.

Mihawk continues to shift through the lifeless town, the chilly midnight air working like a balm to his tortured soul, allowing him a moment of respite as his eyes flit between dimly lit shops. This venture started nearly a week ago with Mihawk idly flipping through the newspaper, curious to see what troubles were brewing in the Grand Line. Little caught his interest as he read, but when he turned to the last page, his eyes lingered on a single photo. An unexpected offering.

You, disguised well and hidden in a crowd, your face was obscured by the hat you wore, similar to the ones donned by those beside you. To anyone else, you were nothing more than another spectator, but the necklace that rested against your collar screamed your identity—the same one Mihawk had placed around your neck a year prior.

What fun you must have finding new ways to reel him in.

The first time Mihawk sought you out, he had been certain of catching you. His objective left him the second your warm eyes fell on him, and your mouth ventured where his body had missed you most. The second time, he had sworn he would not be tempted, but his will had shattered easily. Mihawk lost himself as he pressed you up against the wall of a cramped room in a seedy hostel, your nails digging into the flesh of his bare back while he took you apart as he had done so many times before.

What would he do this time? Mihawk had tried to reason that he would not be so weak-willed—so foolish as to let you reduce him to a man incapable of thinking beyond the flesh—but the certainty he once held was steadily slipping out of reach with each encounter.

A frustrated sigh escapes Mihawk’s parted lips as he stops in front of a shabby tavern. His eyes follow the curves of the poorly painted sign, faded and scuffed from lack of proper upkeep. It’s lifeless. No music pouring out the doors or cheery carols of drunken men. No heady scent of rum or grog. The tavern is completely devoid of life, save for the soft, flickering candlelight that paints the windows in a warm orange hue, and a single slippery patron Mihawk knows is inside.

He ignores the warring voices in his head as he pushes the door open, and there you are.

You sit perched on the counter, legs crossed, and head tilted slightly as you cradle a bottle in your hand. You hum a soft tune, your eyes downcast and far off in thought. Mihawk thinks perhaps your thoughts might be of him, because he recognizes the melody. It’s the same one he used to whisper against your skin in the dead of night, ushering you into a peaceful sleep—just as it had been used for him, back when he was young and hopeless in the arms of a tender-hearted nun.

Your hushed singing halts when the floorboard creaks under the weight of his boots. Your eyes lift, and the somber expression on your face is gone so fast that Mihawk thinks he might have imagined it.

An impish smile graces your features, and your eyes lower as you take in the sight of his lean body, shameless and hungry.

“And here I thought you’d stood me up.”

You’re always quick to crack a joke, dispelling some of the uncertain tension that always brews at the beginning. You want this to be as uncomplicated as possible.

And Mihawk realizes suddenly that he complies, says little beyond your name, and takes what you offer, lying to himself that it is enough—that he will hunger no more afterwards…but his appetite is endless, vicious in how much it craves something it can never have again.

Mihawk takes a step forward, and you uncross your legs instinctively, spreading them in a way that would make the nuns he grew up with faint. Ramera, they would whisper harshly, before slipping into prayer. They would surely have some choice words for him as well.

Your smile slips when he settles on the stool beside you, instead of between your parted legs.

You want this to be uncomplicated, and Mihawk can oblige, as he always does—he can steel his unruly heart and silence the voice that reminds him of better days, sweet and silent moments in a drab castle that seemed to burst with life with you in it. He can do all this, but why should he give you what you want right away?

You sigh disapprovingly, before taking a swig from your bottle.

“So, you’re here to collect my bounty, then?”

Your voice is flat and unamused. Mihawk can’t tell if it’s a display of false bravado or if you believe he wouldn’t be able to manage it.

“I haven’t decided,” he lies.

Of course he has. He always decides. Before he even sets off to find you—before the clues bare themselves before him—deep down, he knows he’ll never raise Yoru against you. Never bring you to the admirals who have hunted you for as long as he can remember. He can play the part of the heartless hunter, but he never truly fulfills the role.

Your sly smile returns. You lean towards him, positioned in a way that makes your collarless shirt dip, exposing the soft flesh of your breasts. Mihawk is quick to look away, but you’re just as perceptive as him. Your eyes catch everything, no matter how minuscule.

You reach for his hat, placing it on your own head.

“How can I convince you to spare me?” You ask sweetly, setting your drink aside.

Stop running away.

The words catch in Mihawk’s throat. He knows why you’re running, why you won’t come back to him, not even if he swallows his pride and asks. The moment the words pass his lips, you’ll pull away. Stop being a warlord, would be your quick reply, and it would spiral into the same argument that had created the impossible distance between you two.

Neither of you would let up. You both would tear open tender scars. It would complicate something already too fucking complicated—shatter the delicate peace you both allow in moments like this.

It will do no good to start a fight he can’t win.

Instead, Mihawk lifts from the stool, reaching to unsheathe Yoru. Your eyes go soft for the briefest of seconds when they fall on the decorated black sword—such a stark contrast to others who have seen him wield it. There’s always fear, sometimes envy, but never fondness. Then again, only you know his sword as intimately as he does.

“You don’t need to convince me,” Mihawk starts, leaning Yoru against the counter, far enough so that it doesn’t become a nuisance. “You only need to take what I give you.”

You raise a curious brow. You’re used to leading these little liaisons, quick to chase pleasure you’ve been deprived of, but this time Mihawk needs something different. He needs you to want just as badly as he does, to see you as helpless as you make him feel.

“And if it’s not enough?” You taunt, always so eager for a reaction.

Mihawk doesn’t humor you with a response. Instead, he positions himself between your spread legs. A myriad of images flash in his mind—delicious ways to break you apart that almost make him shudder in anticipation.

He notices your pert nipples through your collarless shirt, untended. Desire takes him hostage, makes his hands almost shake as he works quickly to unclasp the delicate buttons that keep your skin hidden from him.

“Someone’s excited.”

Mihawk rolls his eyes when you chuckle, low and lovely. You think you have him in the palm of your hand, and you’re not exactly wrong for believing so. Though you’ll learn soon enough how easily he can turn your smart remarks into desperate pleas.

You let out a shaky gasp when you feel Mihawk’s warm mouth kiss your collar, slowly trailing down while his rough hands cup your exposed breasts, kneading the soft flesh. He whispers your name against your skin—perhaps a warning or a promise—before he takes your sensitive nipple in his mouth. A pretty moan rips from your throat when he adds the soft pressure of his talented tongue.

You try not to picture Mihawk between your legs, lapping at your needy cunt with fervor. If the wetness between your thighs is anything to go off of, you’re doing a piss-poor job.

Mihawk breaks away from your tit, a string of saliva following him as he tends to the other. It’s a lovely sensation, but you want more.

You snake your hands downward, attempting to unbutton your pants and slip your fingers where you need them most, but Mihawk denies you. His hands catch your wrist the second you finish with the buttons. Your breast falls from his mouth, and he fixes back to his full height, peering down at you with those piercing eyes of his.

“Hard of hearing, are we?” Mihawk arches a sharp brow, ignoring the murderous expression you wear. He can feel the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What I give you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You glare up at him like a petulant child…such a shift from the confident, easy smile you displayed only minutes before.

Mihawk revels in it for a moment longer before choosing to be altruistic.

He leans close, his soft lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “If you want my fingers inside of you, you’ll take off those pants. Quickly.”

He practically purrs in your ear, his voice richer and deeper than you remember it being. You want so desperately to defy him. His words drip with arrogance that makes you want to bare your teeth at him, regain a modicum of control, but you also burn with such torturous lust—and maybe something sweeter.

You school your emotions, look as irritated as you can manage when you slide down from the counter, quickly pushing your pants down the length of your legs. Mihawk mirrors you, peeling his black coat off, before neatly placing it near Yoru.

Damn him and his stupid, perfect body.

You kick your pants to the side, tossing his hat along with it for added measure—just in case he thinks you’re happy to do as he says.

Your faux frustration dissipates the second you’re back on the counter, and Mihawk’s fingers glide across your cunt, coating his digits with your slick. You hear the words he doesn’t speak when he pushes a finger into your hungry hole—who’s excited now?

You shake, eagerly watching the way his finger disappears inside of you.

“Mihawk—”

He shushes you before adding another digit. You hiss—oh god—andhe pushes a little deeper, fucks you a little faster, desperately seeking that soft spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

Mihawk curls his fingers suddenly and knows he found it, because you make the most wrecked noise he thinks he’s ever heard.

Your lashes flutter, sharp curses spill from your plump lips, incoherent and crude. Magnificent…Mihawk muses, transfixed on your micro-expressions—the way your brows pinch together, the subtle tremble of your bottom lip after each pretty sound.

You clench around his fingers, teetering on the edge of your release. Mihawk’s free hand moves as if it has a mind of its own, finding your neglected clit.

Your fingers weave into his hair, pulling him closer. "Fuckfuckfuuuck," you practically cry into his shoulder. You shudder beneath him while a pool of pleasure builds in your core, so dangerously close to bursting.

“More,” you choke out.

The tortuous circles that he rubs against your aching clit are divine, but it isn’t enough. You want to feel full—fuller than his fingers alone can provide.

“Wanna c—hmmmng—c-come on your dick.”

You’re thankful you catch the plea that tries to crawl up your throat.

Mihawk swears under his breath, pulling his fingers out of your sopping pussy. His eyes are heavy, his expression is like that of a drunken man as he glances downward. He groans, watching the way you clench around nothing.

Mihawk doesn’t make you wait long. He’s quick to undo his dark trousers, works with speed even he might not know he possesses to free his aching cock—it’s so lovely, pale with the prettiest shade of pink dusting his thick head. Evidence of his own arousal pours from the slit, mixing with your own slick when he wraps his fingers around the base.

You watch him pump into his hand, getting his dick nice and wet for you. It’s such a beautiful sight, so fucking obscene. You can’t stop the desperate moan that pours from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from calling his name with a hint of urgency in your tone.

“Impatient—” Mihawk hisses, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He gives no warning as he buries himself in your soaking heat. You all but shriek as you feel the brush of his wet fingers against your clit again. “You have what you want. Now come.”

You try to hold out—you don't want him to think that he can make you shatter with a simple command, but your body betrays you. Pleasure rips through you before you can even consider a snide remark, making you cry out loud and cling to his lean frame. You shudder through your orgasm, curse between gasps, and Mihawk can’t look away—can’t stop the way his hips jerk reflexively when your walls flutter around him.

It feels so good, it almost makes him lose what little self-control he has left. Mihawk stills, grits his teeth painfully until his desire becomes just a little manageable. He won’t let this be another quick, meaningless fuck.

Mihawk lifts you with his dick still buried deep inside you. It almost takes you by surprise until you remember just how strong he is. He wields Yoru as effortlessly as one wields a dagger. He has taken down entire fleets with a single attack. Maneuvering from the bar counter to a booth is hardly work.

And you’re thankful for the change, feeling the cushion beneath you. It’s not the softest you've ever felt, but it’s certainly more comfortable than the damn counter.

Though it hardly matters, you don’t get much time to relish it once Mihawk cages you in with his powerful body.

“Missed me—” He thrusts into your heat, his pace downright brutal as his hips slam into yours. “Oh—OH, can’t you feel how much you missed me?”

God, you hate how right he is. Despise the way your cunt sucks him in and clings to his length. You feel the sweet spasms that wrack through you with each vicious thrust—how your walls pulse with a need to be filled in more ways than one.

It feels so fucking good—always does with him—and you’re past trying to deny it. Would you even believe yourself if you tried?

You blink up at him, watching the way Mihawk’s face contorts with pain and pleasure. How his long, dark lashes flutter. The way his delicate lips part and a sound that goes straight to your core escapes. He’s so beautiful—it almost drives you mad thinking about how effortless it is for him, as if he is something divine and otherworldly.

Is this the same way he sees you? When his eyes linger and he looks a little dazed?

His golden eyes lift suddenly, finding yours. Your breath catches at the expression you see hidden in their depths—the unguarded adoration. It’s so different from how he looks at anyone else—a gift only ever meant for you.

Mihawk slows the roll of his hips, moving his hand from where it’s positioned near your head. You can’t anticipate what he’s planning—can’t think beyond the tender look in his eyes.

And then you feel it.

The warmth of his palm as his fingers laces with yours.

The act is intimate, full of loving intent.

Your heart bursts as you blink up at him. Countless emotions flood through you—unceasing affection that you try to bury, the pain that still lingers, loneliness, frustration, desire—it’s overwhelming in its intensity, chases away the unrelenting conviction you’ve nurtured for months.

“Mihawk,” you call out desperately, “kiss me.”

Mihawk stills, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. He considers it for a moment, leans in ever so slightly before pulling away, cursing in his mother tongue.

He tries to focus on the feeling of you beneath him. Your warm skin, the rhythm of your erratic heart—but your request snags his like a twisted vine. It takes every ounce of defiance to deny you this.

Not unless you tell me you still love me.

Not unless you come back home.

“Mihaawk…”

You hate how your voice comes out in a low whine, but the need to feel his lips against yours is paramount. One final request to satisfy your heartsick soul.

“Too much.” His voice is tight, pained. “You want too much.”

His golden eyes find yours again. You expect his notorious glare, maybe even a sneer for good measure, but you receive neither. His eyes are soft…and a little sad, as if he wishes he could give you everything you desire, but to what end?

Hot, frustrated tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You try so hard to blink them away, but they fall without your permission, running down your cheeks all while Mihawk watches, his sharp brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no venom in your voice, no spite. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate yo—”

You taste his lips before you feel them—ripe plum from a silver chalice, salt from the sea.

Mihawk melds his mouth with yours, reminding you both of just how perfectly you always fit together. You melt into him, feel lightheaded when he pries your mouth open with his tongue, desperate and hungry, as if he’s trying to siphon the air from your lungs.

Your nails scrape against his scalp, tufts of his dark hair curl around your fingers, and Mihawk breaks.

He rocks his hips suddenly, harshly fucking into you with renewed fervor.

“I hate you,” you say again when he finally breaks away, a string of glistening saliva still connecting you two. The sight alone rips a breathy moan from his throat, and he nods.

“I know,” he dips down, pressing phantom kisses to your lips.

Mihawk knows what you really mean. What you won’t allow yourself to say aloud.

You still love him. You never stopped loving him.

He tries to show you how much he still loves you, pushes himself as deep as he possibly can. Mihawk nearly collapses from the way your velvety walls hug him—so tight and snug that it almost hurts. He knows he’s hitting something delightful inside of you—something that makes you convulse and sob beneath him.

“Please, please—” he hears your voiceless plea.

Mihawk groans, resting his forehead on yours as he pounds into you. He hits so deep that the head of his cock collides with a gummy cluster of nerves, and you tip over the edge with a sharp cry.

Mihawk captures your lips again, swallowing your moans. You tremble, fresh tears slipping from your eyes, while your second orgasm rips through you, so violent and demanding that it feels like it wants to take your soul along with it.

“My heart—” Mihawk grits as your walls massage his tortured cock, take him hostage until he’s pushing impossibly deep. “fuckI’m—"

Mihawk doesn’t finish his sentence—barely even starts it before he’s flooding you. He comes hard, pumping your sweet cunt full of his seed, filling it like it deserves. Your walls squeeze him, milking him for all he’s worth. It’s too fucking much. He shakes through it, euphoria splitting through his body until every ounce of strength is drained from him.

Mihawk collapses, as boneless as you, though he does his best to refrain from resting his full weight on you. He offers you sweet praise. A soft kiss on the corners of your lips, your cheeks, your chin.

“I love you,” Mihawk murmurs against your skin, so low you nearly miss it.

You’re too spent to react, though you’re uncertain of what you would do even if you could. You want the warmth of his touch, his kisses, and honeyed words. You want that fond look in his eyes and the tender care he offers only to you.

But are you willing to forgive? To forget how you two ended up here?

You ignore your mind’s inquiry. You allow yourself to crave, to fall deeper into this pleasant mirage as your eyes grow heavy.

When the sun rises, you will have to face this, but for now, you let yourself slip into a fantasy where you can love him without consequence.

PART 2

divider credit @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x y/n #mihawk x y/n #x reader

706 notes · View notes

latanyalove · 11 days

Note

I don't know if you do requests, but could I ask for a Mihawk x Rescued! Former slave! reader. Lets say she was saved when he tried to destroy Don krieg's battle ship, and she is brought to the mansion and make friends with Perona. But she tries to leave when she realizes she has feelings for him and she feels like dead weight. But he catches her trying to sneak out because he's Mihawk, duh.

Okay, but jokes aside, she gets corner by the baboons and Mihawk shows up and they skedaddle. And then flufffff

Thank you for bearing with me for this chonky request.

Stay

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Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Y/N

Content: Trauma

A/n: This will probably be a series since I want to add pieces that will make it a better story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! WC: <3

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In a tumultuous sea battle between the infamous swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, and the notorious pirate Don Krieg, a mysterious figure caught Mihawk's attention amidst the chaos. As Mihawk's blade clashed with Krieg's forces, he noticed a young woman, a former slave.

Her appearance was a stark contrast to the opulent attire and extravagant weapons of the pirates. Yet, despite her disheveled appearance, there was an air of resilience about her. Mihawk couldn't help but be intrigued by this woman, wondering what hardships she had endured and what secrets she held within her.

Unexpectedly, her eyes met his from that far distance, and Mihawk felt himself freeze for a second, captivated by the intensity and determination he saw within her gaze.

He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this young woman than met the eye, and he vowed to uncover the secrets she held, even if it meant venturing into uncharted territories.

"Hey! Focus on me!" Don Krieg yelled, releasing at least a hundred missiles at Mihawk.

With a swift movement, Mihawk deflected the bombs with his sword, effortlessly dodging the explosions. He knew he had to concentrate on the battle at hand, but the image of the mysterious woman lingered in the back of his mind, fueling his curiosity.

As Mihawk engaged in a fierce duel with Don Krieg, his sword danced through the chaos, effortlessly parrying each strike with calculated precision. The clash of steel reverberated through the air, echoing the intensity of their struggle.

Mihawk's focus remained unwavering, yet his thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic woman, her presence adding an element of intrigue to the already tumultuous battle.

After swiftly dispatching Don Krieg and his forces, Mihawk turned his gaze towards where the young woman had stood, only to find an empty space devoid of any trace of her.

"Where did you go?" He muttered to himself, placing his sword into his scabbard. . . .

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Why is Dracule Mihawk here?! You thought finding cover behind a tree to catch your breath would provide a momentary respite from the chaos. You leaned against the trunk to feel the pointy edges against your back, confirming that this wasn't a dream.

The only time that the ship stopped on land was because of the best swordsman in the world. What luck did you have?

"It's okay," you reassured yourself, "All you have to do is wait it out and run somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's away from here."

"Where are you supposed to run to when it is an isolated island?"

You jumped at the voice behind you and quickly turned around to see Dracule Mihawk sizing you up. His piercing gaze bore into your soul, as if trying to unravel the mysteries hidden within. The thought of running away vanished as you realized that escape was futile in the presence of the world's greatest swordsman.

As he continued to study you, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his interest in you than mere curiosity.

"What do you want from me?" you muttered, fear gripping your voice.

The intensity of Mihawk's gaze only deepened as he leaned closer, his words cutting through the tension-filled air, "You're different. There's something about you that intrigues me."

"Are- Are you going to kill me?"

"Why would I? You do not pose a threat towards me," Mihawk answered, taking a small cautious step towards you. "Do you?"

"No!" you blurted out, your voice trembling with fear and confusion. Mihawk's gaze softened slightly as he observed your reaction, a hint of curiosity still lingering in his eyes.

"Good," he said before turning around and walking away, leaving you standing there, still shaken from the encounter. His departure only deepened the mystery surrounding his interest in you, leaving you to ponder the true intentions of the world's greatest swordsman.

As you tried to make sense of Dracule Mihawk's presence on the isolated island, a realization struck you - he must have arrived by some means other than the sinking ship. Perhaps he possessed his own means of transportation.

"Wait!" you yelled, trying to stand up, but your legs felt weak and shaky. Mihawk glanced back briefly, his gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

"Is there a way off this island? Can you help me escape?" you asked, desperation evident in your voice.

Mihawk fully turned around and said, "I have my boat, but it won't be easy. The waters surrounding this island are treacherous, and only a skilled navigator like myself can navigate them safely. If you're willing to take the risk, I can help you escape."

With a glimmer of hope in your eyes, you gather all your courage and reply, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get off this island. Please, I'll do anything."

Mihawk replied, his voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction, "Very well. In that case, prepare yourself. Our journey off this island begins now."

Without wasting a moment, you quickly stood up and followed Mihawk, determined to seize this opportunity for freedom.

The anticipation of what lay ahead filled your heart with a mix of excitement and trepidation, as you embarked on a perilous journey alongside the enigmatic swordsman. . . .

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"This is your ship?" you asked, shocked to see the small ship that Mihawk owned. It was nothing like you had imagined, but you didn't have time to dwell on it as Mihawk gestured for you to come aboard.

"This ship may be small, but it's fast and maneuverable," Mihawk explained. "It was originally designed for one person, but I'll made an exception for you. We'll need to make some adjustments to accommodate both of us, but it should suffice for our journey off this island."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt as you continued to stare at the small ship. It seemed inconceivable that such a modest vessel could withstand the treacherous waters surrounding the island.

Nevertheless, you pushed aside your reservations and reminded yourself that Mihawk was regarded as the world's greatest swordsman for a reason.

You stepped onto the ship and made your way to the back, settling into a small space that had been cleared for you. Mihawk, on the other hand, took his place on the main seat at the front, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

As the ship began to move, you couldn't help but feel a combination of nervousness and anticipation, wondering what awaited you beyond the treacherous waters.

You decided to make yourself as small as possible, curling up in a corner to not take up any space. The gentle rocking of the ship and the soothing sound of the water soon had a calming effect on you, lulling you into a deep sleep.

It was the first time that you had slept for so long without any interruptions.

Either it was because you had to change shifts with another slave or a guard thought that you were too comfortable and decided to give you a massage which left you many bruises on your back.

Though you woke up to the sound of the ground crunching beneath you, you realized with a start that you were no longer on the ship.

You opened your eyes to see that you were being carried by someone. Panic surged through you as you frantically looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. It was then that you noticed the familiar face of Mihawk, his expression unreadable as he effortlessly held you in his arms.

"Calm down," Mihawk muttered, his voice soothing and reassuring. "We've reached our destination. You fell asleep on the ship, so I carried you off. We're safe now."

You looked at where they were heading and saw a huge dark castle in the distance, its towering spires piercing the night sky. The sight sent shivers down your spine, as you couldn't help but wonder what mysteries and dangers awaited you within those ominous walls.

"What is that?"

"That's my house," Mihawk said casually, as if mentioning that he owned a small cottage by the seaside.

You couldn't believe your ears as you stared at the imposing castle, realizing that you had just stepped into the lair of the world's greatest swordsman.

"Why are we at your house?"

"Because you need to get bandaged up and I need to rest," Mihawk replied, his eyes scanning the castle's surroundings for potential threats.

"My house is equipped with everything we need to tend to our wounds and recover. Plus, it's the safest place for us right now."

You kept quiet as you saw the castle get bigger and closer, the sense of foreboding intensifying with each step. The eerie silence that enveloped the surroundings only added to your unease, making you question the true nature of Mihawk's "house" and what secrets it held within its walls.

"We're here," he said in a very nonchalantly tone.

As you looked around, you noticed the thick iron door of the castle slowly creaking open, revealing a grand entrance that seemed to lead into the heart of darkness.

Your heart raced with a mixture of fear and curiosity, wondering what awaited you on the other side.

As you entered the castle, the lights switched on by themselves, illuminating the grandeur of the place. The flickering candlelight danced off the intricate tapestries and ancient suits of armor, creating an eerie yet mesmerizing atmosphere. It was clear that this was no ordinary home, but a place steeped in history and power.

"Mihawk! Why are you back so early!" a voice came from inside the castle, echoing through the grand halls. You followed Mihawk's gaze and saw a figure emerging from the shadows, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

The figure that emerged from the shadows was a woman. With her signature pink hair and a frilly black dress, she exuded an air of both elegance and mischief.

Her wide eyes sparkled with curiosity as she took in the sight of you in Mihawk's arms, clearly intrigued by your presence in their mysterious castle.

"Perona, this is our guest for now, treat her with respect," Mihawk stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Perona's eyes widened even further as she assessed you, her curiosity turning into a mischievous smile.

"Oh, how delightful! A new playmate," she exclaimed, her voice dripping with excitement and a touch of malice.

As you tried to process Perona's words, you felt a chilling breeze on your back. Startled, you turned around and to your astonishment, you found yourself being held by a translucent, ghost-like figure instead of Mihawk.

The figure's eyes glowed with an ethereal light as it floated effortlessly, its presence sending a shiver down your spine.

"Come along!" Perona said excitedly, also floating and headed upstairs, her frilly black dress billowing around her.

Reluctantly, you followed Perona, your eyes fixed on the ghostly figure that carried you. Its ethereal presence seemed to be bound to Perona, as if it were her loyal companion in this eerie castle.

As you ascended the stairs, you stole a quick glance down to the first floor, where you had caught a glimpse of Mihawk before. However, to your surprise, Mihawk was nowhere to be seen.

It was as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving you alone with Perona and the mysterious ghostly figure. The air grew colder, and a sense of unease settled over you as you continued to follow Perona deeper into the heart of the castle.

"What's your name?" Perona asked, floating closer to you with a mischievous grin. Her pink hair seemed to glow in the dim light of the castle as she eagerly awaited your response.

"My name is Y/N," you replied, feeling a mixture of apprehension.

"Y/N? That's such a good name," Perona complimented as she continued to float, leading you deeper into the castle. The ghostly figure holding you seemed to emit an eerie glow, its presence becoming increasingly unsettling as you ventured further into the unknown.

Perona finally stopped in front of a door and quickly opened it, getting inside. The ghostly figure followed suit, its ethereal form gliding into the room.

As you stepped into the room, you were immediately captivated by its opulence. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, and the furniture was ornately carved with delicate details.

The room was filled with plush cushions, silk curtains, and a grand canopy bed fit for a princess. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the space, casting a warm and inviting ambiance. It was as if you had stepped into a fairytale, and for a moment, you forgot the eerie presence that had brought you here.

"This is my bedroom," Perona said as the ghost placed you on the edge of her bed.

"It's really nice," you said, speechless of the sight of the room.

Perona chuckled, her mischievous grin widening. "Now let's get you a bath and some new clothes, the ragged look does not fit you," she joked, gesturing towards a luxurious en-suite bathroom.

The thought of a warm bath and fresh attire was tempting, but you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that lingered in the air.

As you tried to stand up, your legs did not cooperate with you and started to make you fall. Panic surged through you as you grasped for something to hold onto, but all you could grasp was thin air.

Luckily, Perona was beside you and was able to catch you in time, preventing you from falling to the ground. She held onto you, her ethereal grip providing a surprisingly strong support, and helped you regain your balance.

"Are you okay?" Perona panicked, concern evident in her voice as she held onto you tightly.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you muttered, trying to downplay your momentary loss of balance. But deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was seriously wrong with your body.

"Let's get you a bath now, maybe that will make you feel better," Perona suggested, guiding you to the bathroom.

The bathroom was an extension of the opulence that permeated the rest of the room. Marble countertops, gilded fixtures, and a large clawfoot bathtub took center stage, surrounded by intricate tilework and a crystal chandelier that sparkled overhead.

Perona guided you into the bath with utmost care, ensuring that you were comfortable every step of the way. She adjusted the water temperature to your liking and gently helped you settle into the luxurious clawfoot bathtub, making sure you were fully supported.

As the warm water enveloped your body, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and gratitude for Perona's kind and attentive nature.

Unable to take the silence anymore, you decided to make a joke.

"Is this how you treat all your guests?" you joked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hugged your knees close to you.

"Actually, you're our first guest," Perona said, kneeling beside the bathtub. "But I must say, you're making quite the impression already. We've been waiting for someone like you for a long time."

"What do you mean?" you asked curiously, facing Perona.

"You see, that old man Mihawk has been so lonely for all his life, it was time that he had some love in his life," Perona explained, her voice filled with a mix of sympathy and affection.

"What do you mean?" you said, feeling your face heat up at her words, unsure if you had heard her correctly. Perona's eyes softened as she looked at you, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Mihawk has been searching for a companion, someone to share his life with. And it seems like fate has brought you to us."

"That can't be," you protested, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "He only brought me here because he pitied me since I was the survivor of the fight that he was in. I can't be the companion he's looking for."

Perona's expression remained gentle as she reached out to touch your hand. "Believe me, it's more than just pity," she reassured you. "Mihawk sees something special in you, something that goes beyond mere circumstance."

You kept quiet, thinking deeply about what she said. Did the greatest swordsman in the world really think that about you? Fall in love with a small peasant? No way.

"Let's get you clean first," Perona said, getting the shampoo and rubbing your hair, getting the dirt out.

As she continued to wash your hair, she whispered, "You may doubt it now, but Mihawk's feelings for you are genuine. He sees in you a strength and resilience that he admires, and that's why he brought you here."

As Perona continued to massage your hair, her gentle touch and the soothing sound of the water made you feel incredibly relaxed. Despite your doubts, the weight of the day started to lift off your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel yourself drifting off to sleep in her caring hands.

"Y/N, Y/N?"

You quickly straightened your back and looked at Perona, trying to shake off the drowsiness. "Yes Perona," you said softly.

"I'm done washing your hair, is my massaging that good?" Perona teased, standing up to stretch her legs and arms.

You blushed and smiled at Perona's playful comment. "Yes, Perona, your massaging is amazing. I've never felt so relaxed before," you admitted, feeling grateful for her presence and the unexpected turn your life had taken.

"My treatment isn't over yet, you need new clothes," Perona said excitedly, running out of the bathroom to find some clothes that would fit you properly.

As you watched her leave, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation filled your heart, wondering what other surprises this new chapter of your life would bring.

Slowly, you got out of the bath and walked over to where the towels were hung from. As you dried yourself, something caught your eye in the mirror; it was your back.

It was a painful reminder of the abuse you had endured throughout your life. The scars crisscrossed your back, telling stories of pain and suffering. As you stared at your reflection, you felt disgust and guilt fill your heart.

How was Perona not disgusted by you? How could you show that to her? She must have pitied me as well.

"Hey Y/N, are you okay?" Perona asked, her reflection showing in the mirror as well, standing at the doorway. She looked at you with genuine concern in her eyes, her expression filled with empathy and understanding.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said, quickly covering your back with the towel. You didn't want Perona to see the scars and be burdened with your past.

"I've got your outfits ready," Perona informed, her voice filled with excitement. "I picked out some clothes that I think you'll love."

You nodded, walking out of the bathroom and seeing the different outfits on the racks. Perona's taste in fashion was impeccable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you imagined yourself wearing the carefully selected clothes.

Though all of the outfits were dresses, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. As someone who has always been in pants and shirts, you wondered if Perona truly understood your personal style.

Nevertheless, you decided to give the dresses a chance and hoped that they would make you feel as confident and beautiful as Perona saw you.

"Sorry, all I have are dresses."

"It's okay," you assured, taking the first dress and going back to the bathroom.

When you properly looked at the dress, you realized that this was a bad idea. It was a style that you would never choose for yourself. Maybe it was because you are only able to wear one set of clothes - too frilly, too feminine, and completely foreign to you.

But Perona had put so much thought and effort into selecting these outfits for you that you decided to suck it up and wear the dress. You wanted to show her that you appreciated her gesture and were willing to step outside of your comfort zone for her.

Plus, who knows, maybe trying something new could be a positive change for you.

As you looked into the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a sense of shock at the person staring back at you. The dress completely transformed your appearance, making you almost unrecognizable to yourself.

Despite your initial hesitation, you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that sometimes stepping outside of your comfort zone can lead to unexpected growth and self-discovery.

You walked out of the bathroom and immediately looked at Perona for her reaction. Her eyes widened as she took in your appearance, and a wide smile spread across her face. "You look absolutely stunning!" she exclaimed, her excitement evident in her voice.

"Thank you," you replied shyly, grateful for Perona's kind words and validation.

"This is why we need to show you off to Mihawk," Perona stated happily, her eyes gleaming with excitement. You couldn't help but blush at her words, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation building up inside you.

Lost in your own thoughts and the rush of confidence from trying something new, you were so absorbed in your own bubble of happiness that you didn't even hear Perona's statement about showing you off to Mihawk.

Then you felt as if you had been picked up again by someone.

Startled, you turned your head to the side and made eye contact with the ghost, who had picked you up once again.

"Let's go," Perona smiled, floating again and led the way. You clung onto the ghost, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity as you followed her through the halls, eager to see where this unexpected journey would take you.

As you followed Perona through the halls, you couldn't help but admire the grandeur of Mihawk's mansion. The elegant decor and intricate artwork displayed in every corner showcased his impeccable taste.

It didn't take long for Perona to lead you to Mihawk's study room, and as you entered, you were immediately struck by the air of wisdom and power that seemed to emanate from the room.

Mihawk seemed oblivious to your presence, deeply engrossed in the book he was reading. His intense focus and the way he furrowed his brows as he turned the pages only added to his mysterious aura.

"Mihawk, I brought Y/N here," Perona said with a hint of pride in her voice, gesturing towards you. "Doesn't she look stunning?" she exclaimed, treating you as if you were a prized possession on display.

When Mihawk looked up from his book, the both of you had immediate eye contact, and his eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of you.

It was as if time stood still for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze as he took in your transformed appearance.

Did he not like your dress? Did he not like you getting too close to Perona?

"Perona, can you leave the two of us alone?" Mihawk ordered, his gaze never leaving yours.

Perona then whispered, "Good luck, even though you might not need it. Mihawk has never shown such interest in anyone before. You must have made quite an impression."

Perona nodded and floated out of the room, leaving you alone with the enigmatic swordsman.

The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, and you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were running through his mind.

"Come sit here," he said, gesturing to the chair beside him.

As the ghost moved, it gently dropped you onto the chair beside Mihawk. You sat in the seat, trying to steady your nerves as you waited for him to speak. The silence in the room was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what was to come.

Even as you tried to settle into the chair, Mihawk's piercing gaze never wavered.

"Is there something wrong with your legs?"

You turned to him in surprise, your eyes widening at the unexpected question. "No, nothing's wrong with my legs," you replied, slightly puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"Perona's ghost carried you all the way here,"

"I tripped once and Perona was overreacting by making me get carried," you explained, hoping to alleviate any concerns he might have had.

Mihawk's expression softened ever so slightly as he nodded. "I see," he responded, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

The awkward silence hung in the air, amplifying the tension between you and Mihawk. You wondered if there was something more he wanted to say, or if he was simply contemplating the situation. Either way, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and anticipation as you waited for him to break the silence.

"You look beautiful by the way," Mihawk said, finally breaking the silence. His compliment caught you off guard, and a blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Thank you," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in Mihawk's words sent a wave of warmth through your body, calming your nerves slightly.

"Do you want to stay here?" Mihawk asked, his piercing gaze still fixed on you.

The question caught you off guard once again, and you found yourself searching for the right words to respond, unsure of what staying in this enigmatic swordsman's presence would entail.

"I like it here, but I don't want to intrude," you said, hesitatingly. The words escaped your lips as you tried to convey your mixed feelings of both comfort and reservation in Mihawk's presence.

"You are not intruding at all," Mihawk started, his voice calm and reassuring. "Perona seems to like you, so you can stay as long as you like." The weight of his words lifted some of the uncertainty from your shoulders, allowing you to relax a little more in his presence.

"I- I can stay?" you said, looking at him with surprise, the words escaping your lips before you could fully process them.

Mihawk was surprised by the sudden eye contact but quickly regained his composure and looked back at his book, nodding. It seemed like he was trying to regain his composure and maintain his usual stoic demeanor.

"Thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude and a hint of relief. The permission to stay in Mihawk's presence felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and acceptance in his words.

"Do you like dresses?" he asked, not lifting his eyes off his book. His question caught you off guard again, and you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well this is my first time wearing something other than ripped clothes. Why do you ask?"

"We can go shopping after you recover, if you'd like," Mihawk suggested, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"I appreciate the offer, but I feel like I would be using you if I accepted. I don't want to burden you or take advantage of your kindness," you said, your voice filled with sincerity and concern.

"You're not burdening me at all," Mihawk reassured, his gaze unwavering. "Helping you is my choice."

"You're very generous," you said, overwhelmed by Mihawk's kindness. The offer to go shopping after your recovery was unexpected, and you couldn't help but feel touched by his willingness to help.

"I understand that nothing can repair all you have gone through," Mihawk replied, his voice filled with empathy.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," you replied, tears welling up in your eyes. "To have someone like you, someone who understands, by my side... I can't thank you enough."

As Mihawk was about to reply, the door opened dramatically and revealed Perona, who had a mischievous smile on her face. "Oh, sorry for interrupting your conversation!" she exclaimed, causing both of you to turn towards her in surprise.

Startled by the sudden movement, you jumped in your seat, your heart racing.

"What do you want?" Mihawk muttered, a sign of anger showing in his tone. His interruption was abrupt, and his gaze shifted from Perona to you, as if silently asking if you were okay.

Perona's mischievous smile grew wider as she said, "I just wanted to let you two know that dinner is ready."

Mihawk sighed and glanced at you apologetically before turning his attention back to Perona. "Thank you for letting us know, Perona. We'll be there shortly," he responded, his voice calm but still carrying a hint of frustration.

Perona nodded, chuckling mischievously before floating away, leaving you and Mihawk alone once again. You took a deep breath, grateful for the brief interruption that allowed your racing heart to calm down.

"Can you walk?" Mihawk asked, placing his book on his desk.

"Yes, I can walk," you replied, relieved that your momentary panic hadn't caused any physical limitations. Mihawk nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Good," he said, standing up from his chair. "Shall we head to dinner then?"

"Yes," you said, standing up as well, and you followed Mihawk out of the room, feeling a sense of comfort knowing that he was there to support you.

As you continued to follow him from behind, it reminded you of your life just a few hours ago.

When walking was not a choice at times but a command enforced by cruel guards who would yell, "Walk faster!" while pulling the chains that were wrapped around the necks and arms of the slaves.

You were only able to answer with a 'Yes Master' or a 'Yes sir'. Other than those two, you would be severely punished depending on who heard your wrong answer.

Unfortunately you were a slave that was passed across many ships for all of their lives and you weren't familiar with that rule yet. Your last ship made you do everything in silence, even cry in silence that you even thought you had lost your voice.

The punishment you had to endure in Don Krieg's ship was indescribable. From physical beatings to starvation and isolation, every day was filled with unimaginable pain and suffering.

It was a constant battle for survival, and the fear of making a single mistake haunted your every move.

"Are you coming?" a voice said, making you jump.

Without thinking, you answered with "yes master," your conditioned response from years of slavery.

But as the words left your mouth, you quickly realized where you were and who you were with. The weight of your past life lingered in that moment, reminding you of the scars that still remained, even if they weren't visible.

You quickly corrected yourself, realizing that you were no longer in that dark place. The presence of Mihawk and the safety of his house provided a stark contrast to the horrors you had endured.

His eyes filled with concern as he noticed your sudden startle. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, extending a hand towards you.

"No, I'm sorry, I should have paid more attention," you said, shaking your head.

The memories of your past sometimes still caught you off guard, but being in Mihawk's presence helped ease the lingering pain.

Feeling a sense of comfort, you slowly wrapped your hand around his arm, finding solace in his presence. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes of the trust that was slowly growing between the two of you, helping to heal the wounds of your past.

As you continued to walk in silence, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the freedom you now had. Each step forward was a reminder of how far you had come from the days of bondage and suffering.

Finally, after walking in silence for a few more minutes, you and Mihawk reached the dining room. The sight of the beautifully set table and the aroma of the delicious meal filled the air, instantly making your stomach grumble with anticipation.

As you approached the dining room, Mihawk graciously pulled out the chair on his right side for you. Gratefully, you settled into your seat, ready to indulge in the nourishing meal before you.

Perona then floated in from the kitchen and sat in front of you, her mischievous smile lighting up the room. "I hope you're hungry," she said playfully, her ghostly form exuding an air of excitement.

It was clear that she had put her heart into preparing this meal, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging in this newfound family.

"Let's dig in, Itadakimasu!" Perona said, sitting down. The words marked the beginning of a joyful feast, as you and Mihawk joined her at the table, savoring the delicious food.

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment as you stared at the unfamiliar cutlery in front of you. Forks and knives were foreign objects to you, as you had never used them before.

"What's your dominant hand?"

"Huh," you said, looking at Mihawk. "I'm actually ambidextrous, so I can use either hand."

Mihawk chuckled softly, reaching across the table to hand you a fork. "Well, I guess it's time to learn something new," he said.

You took the fork and stared at it, feeling a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. As you held it in your hand, Mihawk leaned in and gently guided you through the proper way to hold and use it, patiently teaching you the art of dining with cutlery.

As you held the fork for the first time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unfamiliarity and anticipation. The smooth metal against your fingertips felt foreign yet strangely empowering.

With your heart pounding, you cautiously brought the fork to your lips, trying to mimic Mihawk's guidance.

You fumbled with the fork a few times, dropping food and feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Mihawk and Perona, however, remained patient and encouraging, assuring you that it was completely normal to struggle at first. With each failed attempt, he offered gentle guidance and reassurance, reminding you that learning something new takes time and practice.

With a cautious grip, you tentatively speared a piece of food and raised it to your lips. As the flavors mingled on your tongue, you couldn't help but smile at the small triumph of mastering this new skill, savoring not only the taste of the meal but also the sense of accomplishment that came with it.

You looked at Mihawk in shock, and you could see the slightest smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was as if he had anticipated your reaction and took joy in witnessing your triumph over the unfamiliarity of using cutlery.

"You're a quick learner," Mihawk said with a proud glint in his eyes, rewarding your efforts with a nod of approval.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a sense of gratitude for Mihawk's patient guidance.

You started to eat, savoring each bite and enjoying the newfound skill of using cutlery. As you looked up, you noticed Perona's gaze fixed on the two of you, her eyes shining with happiness.

"What is it?" Mihawk asked, also noticing Peroma's staring.

"It's- It's nothing!" Perona replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be engrossed in her meal once again.

You found Perona's reaction endearing, her blush adding to the charm of the moment. However, Mihawk scoffed, dismissing her behavior as nothing more than a triviality, before taking a sip of his wine and returning his attention to his meal.

You couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, but you decided to focus on enjoying the rest of the meal and savoring the newfound skill of using cutlery.

What would she think if she saw me now? In a fancy dress, at a fancy castle and with fancy people.

You smiled sadly at the thought, knowing that she would never have the opportunity to witness this moment. Her absence was a constant ache in your heart, but you took solace in the fact that you were carrying a piece of her with you, her spirit guiding you through each small triumph and reminding you to cherish every moment.

Mihawk had noticed the sadness behind your smile, but his silence on the matter only deepened the mystery of his thoughts.

The fancy castle exuded an air of grandeur and opulence, with its towering walls adorned with intricate tapestries and sparkling chandeliers illuminating the exquisite dining hall.

The dining hall was a breathtaking sight, with its grand chandeliers casting a dazzling array of light that danced off the polished silverware and fine china.

The walls, adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and noble conquests, added an air of regality to the already opulent space. As you took in the surroundings, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and privilege to be in such a luxurious setting.

"So what are we doing tomorrow?" Perona asked curiously, breaking the silence that had settled over the table.

Her question brought you back to the present moment, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you thought about the adventures that awaited the next day.

"I will be going out to meet up with someone," Mihawk stated, taking another sip of his wine. His cryptic response piqued your curiosity, leaving you wondering who he was meeting and what plans he had in store.

"Who?" Perona asked, her eyes filled with curiosity as she awaited Mihawk's answer.

"That is none of your business," Mihawk answered, his tone curt and final.

The air around the table grew tense as Perona's curiosity clashed with Mihawk's guarded demeanor, leaving you caught in the middle, torn between wanting to know the answer and respecting Mihawk's privacy.

"Oh well, that means the house is all to us," Perona cheered to you, her excitement palpable.

You couldn't help but smile, grateful for her lightheartedness in the midst of the tension. It was a reminder that even in moments of uncertainty, there was still joy to be found.

As the evening wore on, you and Perona continued to share stories from your past, exchanging tales of adventure and hardship. Mihawk remained a silent but attentive presence, his gaze fixed on you both as he listened intently to every word.

It was a rare moment of vulnerability and connection, as you realized that despite his guarded demeanor, Mihawk was genuinely interested in getting to know you on a deeper level.

It would not be too difficult for you to get used to this, you thought to yourself. . . .

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You woke up trapped on a slave ship, embarking on a harrowing journey of torture and suffering. As you lay restlessly in your sleep, you found yourself waking up in a familiar place.

It was a dark and damp room, with shackles tightly binding your ankles and wrists. Panic consumed you as you realized you were a prisoner on a slave ship.

As you slowly regained consciousness, you noticed a group of guards surrounding you. They were cruel and merciless, their faces etched with twisted desires. Each guard carried a whip, which they eagerly used to inflict unimaginable pain upon your flesh.

So it was a dream, you thought sadly, remembering the feeling of being in a majestic dress in a castle with Mihawk and Perona.

As you got up to the yelling of the guards, you realized that the dream was just a temporary escape from the harsh reality of your situation. The pain in your limbs and the stench of the ship's hold reminded you that you were still a captive, desperate for freedom.

The guards showed no mercy as they tormented you. They would strike you with whips, leaving welts upon your body. The whips were adorned with sharp metal spikes, causing excruciating pain with every lash. The guards laughed and taunted you, reveling in your suffering.

It became clear that the guards' sadistic pleasure was their primary objective. They enjoyed inflicting pain purely for their own amusement. Their laughter echoed through the ship, reminding you of your helplessness.

As the days turned into weeks, the slave ship continued on its journey. The stench of sweat and fear filled the air. The guards kept us confined in cramped, unsanitary conditions. We were subjected to constant hunger and thirst, our bodies ravaged by disease and malnutrition.

Your suffering was unrelenting and, as we sailed further, our despair only grew stronger. . . .

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You woke up sweating profusely from the nightmare, your heart pounding in your chest. The vividness of the dream left you shaken, unable to shake off the feeling of despair and hopelessness that had consumed you from your nightmare.

You looked around and saw you were in a fancy yet empty room. The grandeur of the furnishings contrasted sharply with the emptiness of the space, leaving you with a sense of eerie solitude.

The silence was deafening, and you couldn't help but question whether this was another illusion, or if there was a glimmer of hope for escape after all.

You remembered how Perona showed you to this guest room last night, assuring you it would be a safe place to rest and you could decorate it later.

You then slowly got up from your bed and made your way to the door as you walked slowly. As you turned the handle, a rush of anticipation filled your veins. The creaking of the door echoed through the empty hallway, and you cautiously stepped outside, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the deserted grounds. The stillness of the night was unsettling, as if the whole world was holding its breath in anticipation. The moon cast an ethereal glow on the desolate landscape, illuminating the path ahead.

The late hour meant that Perona was likely to be asleep but you were unsure of Mihawk. You weren't able to identify any sleepiness from him during dinner unlike Perona, who was complaining about how she needed her beauty sleep for one hour until you volunteered to wash the dishes for her.

As you tiptoed down the corridor, every step was carefully calculated to avoid making any noise. The silence enveloped you, amplifying the sound of your own breathing.

You knew that any sudden noise could alert Mihawk to your presence, and the consequences of being caught were too dire to contemplate.

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the faint sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs.

Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering who could be roaming the house at this hour. Could it be Perona, unable to sleep and wandering aimlessly? Or perhaps it was Mihawk, patrolling the premises to ensure the safety of his guests.

The unknown nature of the situation only heightened your anxiety, and you knew that you had to proceed with extreme caution.

Despite knowing that it was wrong, your curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't resist the urge to explore the castle further. The allure of the unknown beckoned you, and you silently made your way towards the source of the footsteps, determined to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the walls.

You made it to the grand staircase without any disturbance, its grandeur and elegance captivating you as you ascended each step. The soft moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows added an ethereal touch to the scene, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor below.

As you walked down the stairs, the footsteps grew louder, echoing through the empty hallways. The sound resonated with an eerie intensity, sending shivers down your spine and intensifying your sense of unease.

When you reached the end of the stairs, a figure emerged from the shadows, completely unaware of your presence. Their footsteps faltered for a moment as they glanced around, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

The figure standing before you was none other than the legendary swordsman, Dracule Mihawk. Clad in his signature black attire, Mihawk exuded an aura of mystery and power. His long, flowing black hair framed his chiseled face, accentuating his piercing, hawk-like eyes that seemed to hold a depth of knowledge and experience beyond measure.

The sharp angles of his jawline and the confident set of his shoulders portrayed a man who was both formidable and unyielding. As he moved with grace and precision, his black cape billowed behind him, adding an air of elegance and drama to his every step.

It was clear that this was a man who commanded respect and demanded attention wherever he went.

You had always heard stories of Mihawk's fearsome reputation and his unmatched swordsmanship, but now, as you looked at him up close, you couldn't help but notice his striking features.

His sharp eyes softened as they met yours, revealing a glimmer of curiosity.

The harsh lines of his face seemed to soften, revealing a hidden attractiveness that you had never noticed before. Despite the air of mystery and power that surrounded him, you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to his handsome and enigmatic presence.

"Y/N, what are you doing awake so late?" Mihawk asked as he fully faced you, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and concern. His piercing gaze remained fixed on you, as if trying to unravel the mystery behind your presence in his grand mansion.

You stumbled for words, caught off guard by his sudden attention, unsure whether to reveal the truth or come up with a plausible excuse.

Finally, you mustered the courage to respond, "I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't resist the allure of exploring this magnificent place."

Mihawk's gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Curiosity can be a dangerous thing," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of warning.

"I understand the risks," you replied, meeting Mihawk's gaze with determination.

Mihawk nodded before gesturing you to come over, "Y/N, come here," he said, his voice holding a touch of intrigue. As you stepped closer to him, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with apprehension. What could he possibly want with you?

As you got close enough, Mihawk slowly reached for your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His grip was firm yet gentle, as if he held something precious.

"I'll be back before tomorrow evening, but if you have any problems, just call me on this," he whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of reassurance.

As he released your hand, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty filled the air. With the Transponder Snail now in your possession, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you in the coming hours.

You watched as Mihawk opened the door, said goodbye before walking into the forest. The sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, leaving you standing there, holding the Transponder Snail in your hand, filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation about the adventures that lay ahead.

Feeling tired, you closed the door and headed back to bed, placing the Transponder Snail on the desk close by.

The events of the evening replayed in your mind, and as sleep finally claimed you, you couldn't help but wonder where Mihawk was going, and how you would be involved. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

"Good afternoon Hawkeyes Mihawk, what honour do I have for you to be here today?"

"I have something that might interest you, Garp."

"And what might that be?"

"Have you ever heard of a devil fruit that allows the user to control its own aura and even the aura from other living beings?"

"No, I haven't. Tell me more," Garp replied, his curiosity piqued. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Part 2?

219 notes · View notes

badgerbl00d · 1 year

Text

one piece boys confessing their feelings

☆ characters: zoro, mihawk

☆ up next: what are we? (law x reader)

☆ a/n: my two favorite swordsmen.. i didn't realize how much i missed writing for zoro so definitely expect more marimo content in upcoming posts. enjoy lovelies!

zoro

“Let’s go fishing, Usopp,” Luffy laughed, “Oi! Zoro! Wanna fish with us? I heard there’s Sea Kings in these waters!”

Zoro waved a hand in Luffy’s direction to dissent, though he wasn’t really paying attention to anything happening around him.

A third bottle of beer found its way into the hands of the scarred swordsman, and was happily chugged within seconds.

His head was buzzing, though not from alcohol.

He was nervous.

He wiped his sweaty palms against his shirt for the umpteenth time that night, trying to work up a sense of courage.

To his satisfaction, no one else had seemed to notice his behavior,

You were flipping through a magazine with Nami, suntanning in the tiniest bikini he’d ever seen.

He couldn’t think straight when you were around and he really needed to- now more than ever.

For weeks now he’d been trying to think of how to admit his feelings to you- a harder feat for him than most.

To completely let down every wall he’d spent years and years building up for even just a moment or two of vulnerability.

He’d come close to telling you several times already, and he was pretty sure he might have let something slip before when he was drunk, leading to more than one awkward morning after. He’d avoid you, beat himself up over it, get drunk again that night to forget anything ever happened, and repeat the night before.

It was a disaster.

“You know,” Sanji had said one particularly awkward morning after- more to himself than Zoro, “You’d have a better shot if you didn’t ignore her completely the morning after a horrendously drunk and half-assed confession.”

Zoro had ignored him and stormed out to cut something in half but his advice- if you could call it that- stuck with him.

So here he was now, looking for a quiet place so he could rehearse what he was going to say.

What did he want to say? He paced back and forth, muttering lines he’d written down from movies or famous love quotes.

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” he’d tried, turning towards a mirror to see how he looked.

Absolutely not. You’d definitely read that book.

“You have bewitched me body and soul- No. No way, I’m not saying that.”

He crushed the piece of paper in his fist and opted to take a nap and have a drink, failproof support systems that had yet to fail him.

“I don’t know, Nami,” you said, “I mean he’s been drunk every single time and it’s starting to really piss me off.

It’s like… every time I’m stupid enough to believe it! Even though I know he’s drunk he gets so sincere for a moment or two and says stuff like ‘You're really beautiful you know that?’ or ‘I feel… a connection with you’. And I’m dumb enough to believe it every damn time.”

“And then he ignores you the next day and pretends nothing happened.”

“Yeah. It’s so weird though, ‘cause I swear- it’s like he gets possessed by rationality and calm in the midst of being a drunken idiot and he says these things with such intent! It’s jarring. I mean he goes from a moron to a Jane Austen romantic hero. What the hell is that?”

“I mean, no offense,” Nami started, your stomach churned with dread before she could even continue, “But maybe he’s just.. you know, trying to hook up. Drop some half assed compliments and hope that’s enough to get him laid.”

An uncomfortable feeling of sadness swallowed you whole. You sighed, taking a sip of your drink.

“I know. I don’t think he’s lying about the attraction, but it would save me a lot of grief if he was just straightforward. That way I could just hook up with him and get it over with.”

Nami laughed, “Gross! You know he showers like once a week right?”

“I can fix him,” you said, laughing with her.

The boys had caught a mountain of fish and sea creatures, so Sanji had promised you all a feast.

Brook had started playing before the sun had set and Robin and Franky were dancing.

You played some beer pong with Luffy and Usopp, while Nami helped Sanji in the kitchen.

You loved nights like these, but as much as you wanted to enjoy yourself you knew that with parties and fun came booze.

And with booze came a certain drunken swordsman promising you sweet nothings.

You tried to focus on the game but were getting badly beat.

You walked into the kitchen to sit with Nami who was sipping on a piña colada, special treatment from Sanji, of course.

“Make me one too Sanji-kun! Please,” you asked.

He gladly obliged.

The three of you talked and laughed while Sanji cooked, enjoying the music and sight of the younger boys playing with Chopper.

The kitchen door swung open and in walked Zoro, who had been very clearly napping. His hair was matted in some places and his eyes still carried the sag of someone who’d been involuntarily woken up from a nap.

“Smelled food,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

You finished your drink and got up out of your seat.

“Leaving, Y/n?” Sanji asked.

Zoro turned to look at you, like he was about to say something.

“Uh, yeah, I’m gonna go read for a bit. Thank you for the food!”

Nami shot you a sympathetic look and waved bye to you.

Zoro sighed, not totally oblivious to the timing of his entrance and your departure.

Sanji and Nami glared at him.

He rolled his eyes at them, “I’ll fix it.”

And he walked out to join Luffy.

Amidst the general excitement that had spread itself throughout the crew over the course of the night was Zoro who was making his way toward the crow’s nest, in hopes of finding you.

You were tucked into a corner of the room, reading a book.

Your knees were up on the sofa and you seemed to be nearly asleep.

He felt somewhat guilty interrupting you.

But it was now or never.

He walked in, not saying anything.

You sat up, closing your book.

Your stomach was in a knot.

The swordsman sat next to you, close enough that his knee touched yours.

He was sitting up straighter than usual, and seemed restless, fidgeting with his hands until he finally set his left hand on top of your right one that was resting beside you.

Your eyes widened, you were surprised by this, but didn’t say anything.

“Y/n, can I tell you something? I’ve been meaning to for a while but I- Well, I’ve never done anything like this before so I fucked it up. More than once. So I’m going to fix it right now.”

You nodded hesitantly, caught somewhat off-guard by his unusual behavior.

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped.

Everything around you momentarily stopped as your brain tried to catch up to speed with everything that had just happened.

In an instant you were suddenly hyper-aware of everything- the strong pulse of your heartbeat, the sweat that had gathered on your palms, how you felt suspended in both motion and time as he sat waiting for some kind of response.

But you knew Zoro, and recognized that rosy glow on his cheeks. You knew that when he approached you after midnight with unusual confidence and gusto, on a night when you’d all been celebrating.

How he always sat next to you, closer and closer every time, this time placing his hand on top of yours.

You broke eye contact to look down at your hands.

“I love you, too,” you chose to interpret it as a friendly drunken slip-up, “Make sure you tell everyone else that you love them too, or they’ll get jealous.”

You turned back to your book, trying to ignore the ache in your chest, covering it up with an unconvincing smile.

“No.”

You turned, confused, “N-no?”

“I meant it.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him.

“I love you.”

The air around the two of you was completely stagnant, full of tension.

He’d done this before; gotten drunk, been suddenly affectionate and touchy, and then acted completely normal the next day, even ignoring you when you tried to talk to him about it.

You weren’t going to let it happen again.

Scoffing, you brushed him off, moving your hand out from under his.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to ignore the disappointment that had started to spread throughout your body, “Why don’t you get some water? Or bread? But don’t do this to me again.”

You got up and placed your book down, ready to make your way to your room and try and forget anything had happened, like he would.

A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

Zoro stood up behind you and turned you around to face him.

“I’m not drunk,” he started, “Last thing I’d want to do is ruin this with some kind of idiotic drunken rant. I-I want to remember this- I want you to remember this!

Everything about this- how damn cold it is up here, what you’re wearing, what I say to you, how it ends, everything.”

His hands were squeezing your shoulders, and his stare was full of an intensity you couldn’t have reciprocated if you tried.

You’d seen him before in battle- swords drawn, back hunched, and eyes settled onto his victim like a hungry animal.

But this was different, it was vulnerable. He was being weak in front of you.

He took a deep breath.

You had never felt so focused in your life, your eyes were intently set on his and your brows furrowed in concentration as you took in everything about this moment.

“I love you! I love you and- and I don’t mean it the way we say it to each other in battle, or as crewmates.

I hate that! I hate calling you my crewmate, my friend, my companion.

You are!

You are, but I hate that that’s all I can call you.

So I came to you to tell you that I love you.

Entirely.”

He brought his hands down to interlace them with yours.

“I love you,” he said again, this time bending down slightly to level his eyesight with yours.

He looked at you with concern, lips slightly parted.

Your breath was shaky and you had unconsciously grabbed onto his forearms to stabilize yourself while you tried to process what was happening.

You stayed silent, your confusion as evident as his desperation.

Another few moments passed with no words exchanged, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath- waiting for you to say anything.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your mind racing through the millions of different things you wanted to say.

How dare you? Are you serious? I love you too! I never want to talk to you again. I love you too! What happens now?

Zoro’s grip on your shoulders softened and his shoulders sunk. A look of disappointment settled itself onto his stoic features and he let go of you, in a kind of heartbroken acceptance.

He nodded, more to himself than you.

“Goodnight,” he said, walking back out.

“Zoro- Zoro, wait! Wait, please.”

He stopped and turned around- Were those tears in his eyes?

“I love you, too,” you said, in a much calmer tone than expected, “I have since I set foot on this ship, since I first saw you. I love you.”

His eyes widened and he picked you up in his arms, wrapping them around your waist as you sunk into his chest hugging him back with all the force you could muster.

He spun you around, pressing kisses to the top of your head.

You cried into his chest, and felt a tear or two fall onto your forehead when you looked up at him as he finally set you down.

“I thought that- I thought I’d fucked everything up and that-”

Zoro was rambling, his hands holding onto you again, with a grip that reassured you he didn’t want to let go.

You interrupted him by crashing your lips into his, sending him reeling backwards.

He landed on the floor, one arm breaking the fall and the other wrapped around you.

You straddled him and deepened the kiss bringing your hands to rest on his chest as he pulled you closer into his body.

The two of you kissed and kissed, pulling away only when you were desperate for breath, before resuming again.

When you were finally tired enough, you simply sat smiling like idiots at each other.

“I should’ve been honest with you months ago,” Zoro said, bringing a hand up to your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek.

You grabbed his forearm, leaning your cheek into his hold.

A smile spread out over your face.

“It’s okay, I knew.”

mihawk

He’d been dreading it for weeks- months, even.

Never in his life did he think that he’d find himself in a position of having to stay on Red Hair’s ship, but here he was. Sat at a table on the deck, an overflowing pint of beer in his hand, and Red Haired pirates laughing and swearing and drinking on all sides of him. And then out of nowhere, there was you.

They told him you’d been part of the crew for 5 months now, a rookie pirate in need of a ship and some stability and had found your way onto the Red Force after winning several games of poker against Shanks.

He’d had an eye on you from the moment you walked out onto the deck, in a pair of deliciously short shorts and a tank top that hugged your curves in the most alluring way he’d ever seen.

You poured yourself a pint and played a game of blackjack with members of the crew whose name’s he didn’t know, or care to know.

He sat with Shanks and the other officers in the crew.

“She’s somethin’, isn’t she?” Shanks asked, laughing as he took note of his friend’s interest in you, much to his evident annoyance.

“I suppose I just didn’t think a woman like that would be on a crew like yours, Red Hair.”

“Neither did we,” Benn chimed in, earning a playful nudge from his captain.

A sudden eruption of noise diverted their attention towards the betting table you were sitting at.

You were smiling, graciously accepting your winnings from your crewmates who were alleging cheating.

“There’s only four jacks in a deck!”

“I saw her hand moving!”

“She was card counting!”

Yasopp laughed and called you over, “Before they start swinging!”

You approached their table, weaving your way toward them through your drunk and rowdy crewmates, before taking a seat next to Mihawk, who was clearly uneasy with your presence.

What was he supposed to do? He felt a strange desire to make a good impression on you, and realized part of him was hoping to form a friendship. His stomach churned at the unusual feeling.

“Didn’t think I’d ever meet a legend like yourself,” you’d said to him, as you extended your hand, “Y/n, pleasure to meet you.

You’re a lot less scary in person! And a lot more handsome.”

You smelled like cherries and whiskey, sweet and addicting.

He took your hand, despite his embarrassment at your compliments and against his better judgment followed up with, “Likewise.”

Shanks whistled, and put his arm around the swordsman’s shoulders, “Never seen you flirt before!”

The table laughed and you asked Benn for a cigarette, bending over to let him light it for you.

“Calm down, Shanks,” you said as you puffed a small cloud of smoke, “No one’s flirting.”

He felt his chest tighten slightly, had you not been flirting? He wasn’t experienced but he figured that you had at least professed some kind of interest.

You turned to look at him and winked.

His chest tightened again.

Lucky had started another card game, and you played as you talked. Mihawk asked about your life before piracy- a story for another time, you’d told him. He talked about details of his life that were unknown even to Shanks- small things like his garden at home, his favorite things to cook, and even certain details of his warlord duties. It was unlike him to share anything with anyone, but the way you stared up at him batting your big doe eyes with a cigarette hanging lazily from your plump glossy lips… he found himself unable to resist the urge to keep you interested in his presence.

The noise of the ship eventually faded into the background, the talking and laughing melting into their own conversations.

Hours passed and eventually music started playing, some other new crew members that had brought their instruments on board with them.

“We finally have some good musicians, don’t we Y/n?” Shanks asked.

“Mhmm,” you replied, looking through your cards barely paying him any attention. You tapped your feet rhythmically against the floor, humming along to the quick paced flamenco melody that was playing.

“Do you dance, swordsman?” you asked, turning to look at Mihawk.

You heard Shanks groan in the background.

“Occasionally.”

You set your cards down, face up, revealing a winning hand. The rest of the table threw their cards down in frustration.

“Will you do me the honors?”

A rare smile settled onto his face. He offered his hand to help you up out of your chair, and you guided him to a more open area on the deck. He placed a hand on your waist, and you took a guilty pleasure in how unyielding his grip was against you. You could feel the pads of each of his fingers holding onto your soft skin, and trailed your hand up to his face, lightly tracing a finger down the side of his neck before resting your hand on his shoulder.

People whistled and clapped.

“Keep up,” you said.

“I’ll try.”

He appreciated your warning, you were like a different person when dancing. The cool, calculated demeanor you adopted when playing cards with your poker face perfected and your breathing steady and even, was completely washed over by a fiery intent to move.

He did struggle to keep up at first, you slipped through his hold like water, your feet moving and landing between and around him like a downpour of rain.

He managed to match your tempo- catch the tail end of your movements and proved a worthy partner, but he didn’t come close to matching your mastery of the art.

By the time the song was finished beads of sweat dripped down his neck, and his heart was pounding loud enough that he could barely hear the cheering coming from the other pirates.

He wanted to give you the credit of wearing someone of his caliber out, he could take on a hundred men and barely increase his heart rate.

This was different though- the beating in his chest, the excitement in his belly, the way his eyes clung to your figure as though attached with string. He couldn’t get enough of you, he inhaled smelling your perfume again.

Another smile settled onto his face, one of satisfaction.

Three week had passed and Mihawk was grabbing the last of his things- a photo of the two of you you’d forced him to take. It was of you pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Shanks lightly knocked on his door.

“Sure you don’t want to stay another week?” he asked, awkwardly standing by the door.

“That’s what you came to ask?”

Shanks rubbed the back of his neck, “No, it’s actually about Y/n.”

This caught his attention.

“What about her?”

“Well,” Shanks walked over to sit on the bed, “I think you should talk to her before you leave, tell her how ya feel.”

“How I… feel? And how exactly do you think I feel?”

“C’mon man, it’s obvious- No offense. The way you two look at each other? You danced with her. In front of people.”

The swordsman scoffed, but didn’t disagree and chose to maintain his silence as he packed the rest of his clothes.

“She likes ya, Hawk-eye. I think you knew that though.

Don’t say anything if you’re gonna hurt her.”

He got up and gave him a friendly pat on the back before heading back out, “We’re headed to a bar right now, so you’ll have the ship to yourself. Take care of her!”

It was unclear whether he was talking about the ship or you.

Mihawk sighed, he adjusted the collar of his loosely fitting white shirt, and set out to find you.

You were in one of the common areas, one of the musicians was showing you how to play the guitar. Plucking at a few strings here and there, you laughed and sang, trying to play a song with your clearly limited ability.

Mihawk stood and watched you for a moment, before clearing his throat.

You turned, smiling when you saw him.

“What do you think? Good enough to dance to?”

He let out a light laugh, “Maybe in ten years.”

You smiled, plucking a few more strings before asking, “What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be packing?”

“I was hoping to speak with you for a moment,” he paused when you stayed put, “Alone.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! Of course!”

You handed the guitar back to its owner, ignoring the whistles that followed you out of the room.

You took Mihawk’s arm and walked toward the deck, your stomach turning.

You stopped at the railing, leaning over it, trying to take deep breaths of the salty air to calm yourself.

What on Earth could he have to talk to you about? Shanks had promised not to say anything… Could he possibly-

“I’m… very appreciative of your company these past few weeks.

You’re a very intelligent, talented, beautiful woman, and I cannot think of a better companion with whom to have spent my time,” he started, interrupting your train of thought.

You softly smiled, a light breeze dancing around you both.

You said nothing and only looked up at him, unsure of how to pick up from where he left off.

Luckily, he continued, “You… You are a good friend. Of mine, I mean. And I hope that my departure from this ship won’t change our proximity.”

Friend. A dull, warm pain ebbed in your chest.

It wasn’t sharp like a direct rejection would have been, it felt more like a heavy rock had been gently placed right on your heart.

You nodded, looking out toward the ocean when you felt some tears well up in your lash line.

Blinking them away you turned back toward him suddenly emboldened by the memory of how he held you that night when you danced.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but can I ask if you hold me in any higher regard than that of a friend?”

He was silent. Color rushed to his cheeks and he stared down at you. His eyes were undersold in legend. To say they were hypnotizing was a disservice. They were compelling- when you made eye contact with him your entire being longed to be with him.

“I do.”

You exhaled, tension lifting itself from your shoulders.

“I like you, swordsman,” you gently wrapped your hands around his, bringing his hand up to your chest, placing it against the left side, “I’ll miss dancing with you. Please visit. Please don’t forget me.”

In a sudden motion, Mihawk wrapped you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders as he pressed you into him.

You wiggled your arms free and quickly reciprocated the hug.

You breathed in a long, long inhale, and as you exhaled sunk even further into him.

“I’ll visit,” he promised, “I’ll write. I’ll call- I’ll think of you always. You’re quite unforgettable, you know?”

You laughed and looked up to him as his hold on you softened.

You inched yourself up onto the tips of your toes, hovering your lips just slightly over his.

A smile creeped onto his face, and his hands dispersed across your body, one grabbing onto your ass- something he’d longed to do since the first moment he saw you. The other hand wrapped around your waist to provide you support.

You brought your hands to the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him toward you.

His lips closed around yours, and you deepened the kiss- pulling him closer into you, your tongues swiping at each other as you closed your eyes and indulged.

You inhaled each other- the taste of wine and mint flooding your mouth, the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses.

The strong grip he had on your ass was so deliciously indulgent.

You let out a soft moan into his mouth before you pulled away from one another.

He tucked some stray hair behind your ears, and you gently wiped some of your gloss from his bottom lip.

“I’ve been waiting for that for weeks now.”

He picked you up, making his way toward your room, peppering your face and neck with kisses and you laughed and kissed him back.

“Let me make it up to you, hermosa.”

1K notes · View notes

gingernut1314 · 6 months

Text

Little Game Pt. 2

Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader

Summary: Mihawk has found you once more after a month of hunting after you--a month of playing your little games. Found you in yet another poor excuse for a bar, except it seems you have forgotten all about your game. Forgotten and were dulling your usually sharp sense away with drink after drink. But Mihawk hasn't forgotten. Your game is still on and he plans on winning.

Tags: angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.9K

Setlist:

Emotions

I Wanted to Leave

A/N: I'm soooo sorry it's been such a long time! I'm in my last year of college and it's absolute hell on earth and the work is insane. Anyywway, there's no spice again, but I'm slowly getting there! I hope you all enjoy! 🩷

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠ Part 1 | Part 3

Mihawk had traveled thousands of miles from his Marine-ravaged home. Had smuggled himself onto cargo ships and luxury vessels to get to island after island. Had begged to join the first pirate crew he could find so he might learn to sail and build his strength. Had begged on his knees, forehead bowed so low it had touched the ground with anger-fueled tears in his eyes to the first swordsman he could find to teach him the delicate art of the blade.

Had begged on hand and knee to every swords master he came across to teach him. To help him draw closer and closer to that end goal he would do anything to achieve.

He would become strong. Become the greatest swordsman the world had ever known and then he would lay waste to the Marines. He would spare them no mercy, just as they had spared his home no mercy. Just as they had spared his mother no mercy.

It was a goal--no, a vow bound by blood and death herself that led him here to this small island. An island covered in ancient, towering trees. An island home to a secluded and unknown people. Home to the greatest swordsman of a long-ago era. A swordsmen who had lived 180 years and had never lost a fight.

His yellow eyes scanned the dark wood he had been warned was full of monsters--devils waiting to tear any traveler brave enough to enter its thick, fog-filled brush. His last master had warned him many men had gone in looking for the great swordsman to learn from him, just as Mihawk, but they never reached his log cabin at its center. They had hardly stepped foot into the wood before its guardian attacked.

Mihawk calmly stated he would be the first to make it. Would face this Guardian of the Wood and all its devilish monsters and win. He would find the great swordsman and prove to him he was worth his teachings.

The forest hardly looked dangerous. Especially when he spotted the yellow-gold petals of marigolds that he could see littered the leaf-covered floor.

No monster in sight. No devil. No Guardian.

Mihawk placed his hand over the hilt of his sword at his side and started into the dark forest. Had just passed a rather large bunch of marigolds when someone landed on the ground before him, having hopped down from their spot amongst the treetops.

Mihawk scolded himself for not having spotted the figure, knowing he would have seen them had he not been so preoccupied thinking about devils. The tip of a naginata pressed into his chest.

“Are you a pirate?” The voice that came from the figure was silky and calm, yet held dark danger within its melody. It was a voice unlike any other Mihawk had heard and its wielder was just as rare. You looked like some wood nymph. Like the mystical yet deadly creatures Mihawk had heard sung on the lips of pirates and sailors alike come to life.

“I am here for Rivers Achilles.” You frowned deeply, that sharp blade never leaving Mihawk's chest. He looked you over carefully. Looked over your well-trained stance, one only gained from practice and patience Mihawk knew all too well. Took in the fact you must be around Mihawk’s own age of fourteen. No. He could tell you were older. A year--maybe two.

“Do all you pirates have a monthly meeting to discuss such originality?” Mihawk narrowed his eyes the slightest bit. Watched your eyes spark like you enjoyed his small reaction.

“I do not have time to waste on some dirt-smug girl.” Mihawk saw you were hardly dirt smugged. You were pertinently clean as if you had washed before climbing up into that tree. He said it to snuff out that spark of enjoyment you had gotten from baiting his temper. An anger he was slowly training himself to wrangle away. “Now. Move before I move you.”

You laughed. A small thing that grew into an all-out bellow. It was a laugh that matched your darkness. Your rareness. It had Mihawk blinking, as if stunned at its sound.

“You step another inch in my wood, pirate, and I will break your nose.” You threatened, that dangerous tone laying in the background of your voice pooling thick like venom to its forefront. It was--intoxicating to hear. A sound Mihawk wanted to drag from you again and again.

“Are you the Guardian of the Wood?” Your shoulders rose and pride swelled in your eyes.

“If you have heard of me then you have heard of what I have done to many a pirate such as yourself. I make them disappear--vanish them from the face of the earth.” Mihawk watched you slowly. A slowness that sparked anger in your eyes.

It was an anger that Mihawk knew too well. An anger that matched his own in intensity and fury like some twin flame. Someone had hurt you--had taken someone from you, just as those Marines had taken his mother. Had left you feeling so weak and empty it left that anger to fester and grow out of control in you, just as it had in him. It was an anger he wanted to lash out at. One he wanted to direct his own anger at.

“I thought you would be--” He paused, letting his eyes roam over your body again in a bored manner. “--more.” That fiery anger flared brightly. Had your knuckles going white wrapped as tightly as they were around the staff of your naginata. “How disappointing to find you are just some feral, dirt-covered girl.” Oh yes--yes there it was. Such anger. Anger to match his own. Anger that would rival him like none other ever could.

Mihawk had hardly seen you move before you were bringing the staff of our naginata to ram into his nose. A sickening crunch sounded in Mihawk's ears as pain flared in his face, nearly blinding him.

A pain that blinded him from seeing you move to kick him hard in the chest, sending him flying out of the woods and back onto the black sand of the beach he had just landed on near minutes ago.

His anger flared then, but he could only blame himself. He had been distracted by your own anger. By your dangerous voice and your rare beauty. Stupid, idiotic distractions on his part.

“A runt such as yourself should know his place.” You hissed as Mihawk shoved himself to his knees, wiping the blood from under his broken nose as he laid his yellow eyes on you once more. Found you had left the darkness of your wood and stopped before him looking like some vengeful goddess fallen straight from the heavens. “My father does not wish to waste his time training the likes of pirates. Weak pirates such as yourself, runt.”

Your father was Rivers Achilles--yes, it made sense now. Your rarity made sense. Your strength and skill. Your father was no ordinary man, therefor his offspring would be just as inordinary--spectacular.

“I am no runt and I am not weak. I will pass you. I will bow before Achilles and he will train me.” Mihawk declared, cold sea water spraying at his dark leather boot-covered feet. “Your little game will do nothing to stop me from becoming the greatest swordsman this world has ever seen.”

That excited spark flashed in your icy eyes again. A spark that flickered and twirled with your anger. A wicked, cat-like grin crossed your face--a grin that was so stunning it nearly stole Mihawk's breath away--did steal it.

“Game on.”

Mihawk had been tracking you for a month now. A month longer than he liked, but you never gave up the chase. Never slowed or stopped long enough for Mihawk to grab hold of you. All he ever saw of you was the trail of perfect chaos you left behind.

He had followed you through the North, South, East, and West Blues. Had followed you into the Grand Line, full of all its dangers, and back, only to follow you right back into its mysterious waters. And just when he thought he had caught up to you, would have you within his grasp, you had disappeared like smoke between his fingers.

Despite how long his pursuit of you had taken, he found it excited him. Had him looking forward to the coming dawn, something he had long ago started to dread.

He assumed it was because you excited him--had always kept him on his toes. You were a rare woman. One that had always challenged him in skill and wit--that matched him as perfectly as one could match another.

Part of him wished you would just give in. Come with him back to Kuraigana Island and let him indulge you in every luxury he had ever wanted to give you. It was a foolish wish, but one he held regardless. One he knew would never come true unless he won this little game of yours.

A game you seemed to have forgotten for the night, because here you were, in another run-down, dirty, overcrowded bar on some backwater island in the Grand Line, drunk out of your mind. It was unlike you, to be this careless. Not when it came to your games--when Mihawk was playing them just as you had wanted.

But there you were, downing the last of your beer, hardly grimacing at the taste as he knew you usually would, too drunk to even taste it. There you were, looking so--exhausted. It was an exhaustion Mihawk knew too well--that weight heavy on his shoulders as it seemed to do you. An exhaustion that had Mihawk pausing. Almost had him leaving this too-small bar and all its too-drunk inhabitants.

Almost.

A drunk man bumped into Mihawk with a slurred apology, but he hardly heard it. Hardly even felt the pathetic man running into him. Not when he was so close to you. Not when he was so close to winning the game you had started.

“Why is it you continue to frequent such nightmarish establishments?” Mihawk's voice should have had you sobering up. Should have had you scrambling to escape back out to sea and leave him and this island far behind. But his voice--so smooth and calm and utterly bored had you tingling in excitement.

You had missed his all-too-calm dementor. Had missed him, his face, and his stupid hat.

On a small hiccup, you turned to look up into those piercing yellow-gold eyes you had missed the most. Eyes you wished you could look into forever.

With your thoughts fogged nicely thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed, you had no embarrassment or strength for good decision-making when you placed your palm over top of his hard-earned abs. The warmth of his skin seeped into your freezing fingers as you ran them over his skin.

“Mi-hic-hawk.” You purred up at the unamused man, all but fighting against your hiccups. You flashed him a sly grin. “How’d you find me?” You slurred horribly.

“You are being sloppy.” You hummed as you brought your other hand to run along his skin, taking in his warmth and power that all but radiated off of him in dangerous waves.

“You always know just how to--hic-- sweet talk a girl.” You said, running your hands around his waist, where they disappeared under his dark jacket. Where they felt the equally as strong muscles lining his lower back. “Say something mean to me again, Mihawk. Pretty--hic--please.”

Mihawk blinked down at you for a single moment before swiftly removing your hands from his body. You pouted, going to grab for him again, but he brushed you off once more. “Stop.” You whined pathetically, “You’re being mean.”

“You asked me to mean,” Mihawk said the fact simply in that overly bored manner he hid behind. With a huff, you stopped your attempts at touching him and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t say sh-hic-oo me away.”

“You are drunk, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes dramatically, turning back around on the bar stool you sat on to find the bartender again.

“And you’re not. It’s --hic-- boring.” You hissed as the bartender came over. “I will have your finest beer and my --hic-- best friend will have your oldest wine.” The woman’s eyes darted to Mihawk making you fix her with an icy glare. Her eyes looked a little too long in Mihawk's direction. Had looked over his face and body for too long. “Don’t look at him. I can only look at him.” She was quick to snap her eyes away, her face going pale in utter fear.

“Y-yes ma’am. We-we only have a red blend from a year ago.” You sighed.

“He will deal with it.”

“Y/N, we are leaving,” Mihawk said as the woman rushed off. You gave another dramatic sigh, turning back to face him. Those yellow-gold eyes had never once left you and you couldn’t help but enjoy being in their sights.

“Mihawk, we are--hic--not. I just ordered.” He continued to look unamused. Continued to fix you with his own sharp stare. One that never quite seemed to overpower your own. “Is it because I ordered you bad wine?”

“Bad wine or not we are leaving.” You narrowed your eyes up at him. Narrowed them so sharp you willed them to cut him open.

“It’s my--hic--day off. If you are going to be a party pooper then you should --hic-- leave.” It was the exact opposite of what you wanted him to do, but you had landed on this island to get drunk. So drunk you would hopefully wake up with dark spots in your memory.

“I will. With you.” He insisted. You rubbed your eyes roughly, that exhaustion you had come here to escape returning with a vengeance.

“You are such an --hic--asshole.”

“Poetic.” Mihawk monotoned. You hissed, yanking your hands away from your face and flinging them up in the air.

“I’m drunk, Mr. Smarty-Pants. Leave me be.” Your beer was placed before you and you were quick to scoop it up. The bad glass of wine went untouched by Mihawk. “Do you want to know --hic-- something?” You asked the bartender who hesitated. Hesitated and stayed after you fix her with your icy glare once more. “This--hic-- guy acts all tough but really --hic-- he wants to leave because all these people are making him--hic--itchy. He’d rather just sit on his pert little ass in the dark.” You said, a giggle leaving your lips.

The bartender’s eyes darted back to Mihawk and you slammed your fist on the countertop, making the glasses rattle and the bartender nearly jump out of her skin. “I said don’t look at him.” You watched her chest heave up and down in fear as you took a long sip from your beer. “Talking about pert little asses. Mihawk once ran naked--”

“Enough, Y/N.” Mihawk all but commanded you, making you tense. It was a command you bristled at--made your anger begin to heat in your chest rather quickly. Too quick for you to grab hold of and control, especially when you were this drunk. “We’re leaving.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you and fuck the Marines and --hic--fuck you again.” You hissed, standing from your stool only to nearly fall off it in the process. Mihawk stayed planted in his place, even when you ran into him during your oh-so-graceful fall. “You can’t tell me what to--hic--do.”

“You are stumbling around like a no-good drunkard. Collect yourself.” You stomped your foot and pushed Mihawk with another hiss like some child. The swordsman hardly seemed to even feel your attack. A fact that had you seething and going to do it again, but he grabbed your wrists in a tight hold. “Enough.” He commanded again. You yanked against his grip but it stayed strong.

“Let me go.” You hissed at him, yanking again.

“We are leaving. Whether you do so on your own two feet or I carry you out makes no difference to me.” Your anger surged in your chest. Surged in defiance at his orders. You were not one to be ordered around. Especially by him.

“You will unhand me this instant or I will--hic--break your nose.” Something flashed in Mihawk's golden eyes. Something--sad. A sad that called to your own sadness which had been welling and pooling within your chest for years now. Pooling to the point of near flooding. A flood you resorted to drinking to dam it up.

Mihawk’s grip around your wrists fell, but he made no sign of leaving. Made no sign of moving a single muscle from his spot before you. Made no sign of giving up on his declaration of leaving this bar with you in tow.

In your drunken state, you thought this was a perfect opportunity to draw your black blade, which you had left uncovered at your hip. You swung, your muscles moving on near memory, at the frustrating swordsman before you, causing the bartender and a few people around you to scream out in fear.

Mihawk sidestepped your attack and before you could blink, your sword was skillfully pulled from your grasp and you stumbled forward with a roar. “Give it--” Your words were cut off by a yelp as Mihawk grabbed you up in his strong arms, throwing you over his shoulder.

Your right shoulder hit Yoru’s hilt painfully and you had to quickly throw your hands out to stop your face from colliding with the black blade strapped to his back. Mihawk wrapped an iron-like arm around your thighs to keep you in place before starting for the exit.

Your vision blurred from the sudden movement, but it didn’t stop you from pounding on Mihawk’s powerful back and kicking your feet as best you could in your weak attempt to escape. His hold on you never lessened, only seeming to tighten in your struggle.

“Let me go, Mihawk!” You shouted, pulling yourself up enough to try to catch of glimpse of his face, only for his stupid hat to hit you in the face. You gave a frustrated little growl. “This is not fair! I’m drunk!”

“Drunk or not, you started the game. I plan on finishing it.” You huffed in frustration, punching his back once more to no avail.

The bar fell away and soon you were being carried through the night-filled streets of the backwater village you had found. You continued to fight against his hold until your stomach stirred nauseously and your vision blurred to the point you could hardly see.

With a pathetic moan, you let your body go limp against his back, your body bouncing with every graceful step he took. It only made your nausea grow, but you were too dizzy to do anything about it.

“Tire yourself out?” Mihawk asked something like amusement finally filling his smooth voice.

“I’m going to vomit all over your fancy little sword.” You murmured, making the man sigh deeply through his nose.

“Are you serious?” You moaned, feeling bile rise in your throat. Your world spun and blurred around you as Mihawk dragged you off his shoulder, a movement that only had that bile rising sharply and your mouth filling with hot spit. You were placed on your feet, but your knees gave out with little warning. Tiny rocks dug into the flesh of your palms and into your kneecaps.

You cursed, taking deep breaths of the chill night air, hoping to settle your upset stomach. Maybe you had overdone it on the drinks--but unfortunately for you, this is what you had set out to accomplish, and sober you knew she wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nastiness.

You had just opened your mouth to relieve your aching stomach when strong hands collected your hair away from your face. Hands that held your hair in a manner so soft you hardly felt it. You vomited before you could think much more on whose hands were holding your hair up.

“Why were you in that bar, Y/N?” Mihawk asked, voice low and so--gentle. As gentle as the man could make it seem. You huffed in and out deeply, catching your breath.

“Why do most people go to --hic -- bars? To get drunk.” You hissed as best you could between breaths. Bile rose in your throat and your stomach rolled once more. Gods--

“Yes,” He sighed, annoyed at your comment. “But you don’t go to bars to get drunk. Not when you are set on a task. Not ever.” You huffed a moan before throwing up once more.

“I’ve changed.” You huff out, catching your breath once more. Mihawk was quiet behind you. A quiet that ate at you more than you wished to admit. Your vision blurred again. But it was a blur that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the tears welling in your eyes.

You had drunk too much. Way too much if it was bring you to tears. Tears you could do nothing about to control, not in the state you were currently in. Not when the man making you cry was behind you, holding your hair like there was nothing wrong between the two of you. Like you were back on your home island, stealing alcohol from your father and sneaking off to the only bar on the whole island.

Your home. Your father. Your forest. All gone. Just like that in the blink of an eye. How had it happened? How had you let it happen? You had been your home's Guardian, just as your mother before you, and her mother before her. It had been your job, your responsibility to protect it from such dangers.

It had been your life's purpose and you had failed. Failed and lived. Lived when you should have died protecting it.

“Y/N--” Mihawk started, but you swatted his hands away as you turned your body away from your puke. You buried your face in your hands to keep the swordsman from seeing your tears. From seeing your weakened and broken state.

“Leave me be. Please.” You all but begged. Gods you were pathetic. So far from the proud and strong person you had once been in your youth. So old and angry and tired.

“I’ve seen you at your lowest. Some sick and a few drunken tears are hardly going to deter me.” He said on a sigh like you should have already known that.

You pulled your face from your hands to glare at him where he knelt behind you. To tell him to leave on a venomous hiss--to throw insults his way, but his hand disappearing into his jacket pocket caught your eye. It reappears with a golden hair clip, diamonds sparkling in the lamp lights as he showed it to you.

“That’s my--” You started in disbelief.

“You forgot it on my ship when you left.” He said, handing it to you. You took in gently in your hands and before you could even begin to process everything, his hands were in your hair once more. He gently pulled and twisted it, mimicking how you had done your hair a million and one times before without so much as a thought of his ever-watchful gaze. His free hand plucked the golden clip from your hand and nestled it securely in your hair.

He had kept it. Had not only kept it, but had kept it on his person. Kept it close and ready to use if you ever needed it once more.

When he was done, you turned to stare bug-eyed up at him, tears still refusing to halt their endless fall. Calm. He was always so calm. A calm that frustrated you and grated on your nerves to no end, but was such a familiar, comforting presence. A presence you had yearned to be around more than you yearned to hunt down every last Marine you came across.

Hesitantly, he reached for you. So hesitantly he gave you enough to slap him away, but you made no move to do so. Made no move to stop him as he brushed your tears away with his thumb.

His touch sent your eyes watering all over again. His touch and his actions were so gentle and kind and so utterly unfair. So unfair because you couldn’t give in. Not now. Not for a long, long time.

Gods how you wanted to give in.

“I can’t--I can’t go with you.” You said in a low, grave tone. Mihawk brushed his thumb over your cheek once more before pulling away, making you feel that cold aloneness you had been trying to chase away with drink. He gave the slightest of nods.

“I know.” He said just as lowly, his face seeming to harden further. You watched him grab your black blade, which he had placed on the ground beside him. He resheathed it at your side skillfully and reached for you again, grabbing you under your arms and lifting you to your feet. You swayed like a great gust of wind had blown into you, your drunkenness having yet to wear off.

Mihawk hardly made a single sound before he was lifting you off the ground once more. Made no sound as he prompted you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You did so without much thought, the action having been memorized by your body.

It was something the two of you had done many times over the years, whether it be you clinging to his back or front. Whether it be because you were too drunk or injured to walk, you would cling to him and he would hold you tight. It was something he had grumbled endlessly about the first few times you’d insisted upon it, but had slowly grown used to it to the point he would pick you up as such without your prompting.

Your eyes catch his own briefly. Eyes so bright they were like the sun. A sun your soul begged to orbit one more, but your pride beat it down. Had you looking away and placing your cheek on his shoulder, taking his rose and expensive cologne scent deep into your nose so that you might hold on to it for that much longer.

Mihawk felt like a teenager again, holding you like this. It was--refreshing, though if anyone of importance saw him in such a way, there was sure to be trouble. But for now, in this small village in the middle of the Grand Line, he could get away with it. Could hold you close and keep your seemingly ever-cold body warm.

He had marked where your ship was docked before he had ever docked his own, so finding it again was hardly a chore.

Your ship was just a tab bit larger than his own, still designed for a single crew member to sail, but large enough for a much more spacious sleeping quarters and kitchen. That had been something you had complained about endlessly when having sailed with him on his own ship.

He readjusted his hold on you so he might open the door that led to the inner workings of your ship. It was neat and tidy, just as his own was, though the walls covered in numbers and markings were unlike anything on his own ship.

They were Marine branch numbers, ones you had come across during your journeys. Underneath each number were tally marks which he assumed represented how many ships you had destroyed flying those same numbered flags. The branches you had completely whipped off the face of the earth he found were crossed out.

It was impressive how many Marines you had wielded your perfect chaos against. Impressive and worrisome because he knew as the number grew, the more you would be noticed. And the more you are noticed, the more likely it was they would send another one of the Warlords to slaughter you.

Garp had warned him of this the last time they spoke. Had commanded Mihawk to get you under control or you would be spared no mercy. It was Mihawk's first and final warning to stop you before you got yourself killed.

And as much as Mihawk wanted to take you away to his new home, to keep you out of the prying eye of every last Marine and pirate that sailed the seas, he knew he needed to wait. To play your game and win it, or there would be no victory. No having you back by his side.

You had fallen asleep sometime during the walk, so you made no fuss as Mihawk placed you in bed. You merely grumbled something in your sleeping state as he pulled your boots off and took your sword from your side, propping it against the wall.

He watched you for a long moment. Watched your softened features as you slept.

So rare. You were too rare to let go. To give up on and allow to die. You were Mihawk’s twin flame. A flame he would fight and die for if given the chance. You were the only person alive he would truly bend to.

And bend he did by letting you go. By playing your little game. A game he vowed to win the right way.

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#mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x Y/N #dracule mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x Y/N #one piece #opla #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #dracule mihawk opla #dracule mihawk one piece #dracule mihawk #dracule “hawk eyes” mihawk #hawk eyes mihawk #little game #divider by saradika graphics #divider by saradika

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itjazzbicch · 5 months

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Be Careful What You Wish For

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Reader

First time writing for Mihawk, so I hope I did well

Summary: After running into Shanks and having a lot of drinks, the reader finds fun in poking at their rival, Dracule Mihawk, who arrives; their poking and teasing at one another leads them to a predicament that makes the reader see Mihawk as more than their rival

Warnings: Drinking, Shanks being a drunk goof (LOL), flirting

Word Count: 0.8k

“Y/N!! Sit down and have a few drinks with us, yeah?!”

Red Haired Shanks. It was no surprise to run into him, and I should’ve known that ‘a few drinks' would be a lot.

I was laughing and chatting it up with Shanks at this bar he and his crew stopped by, nearly clearing the place of liquor. There were no hard feelings between Shanks and me, so I wasn’t scared to let my guard down, even when my rival walked through the door.

“Mihawk?! What a lovely surprise! It’s just one big pirate party in here, aye?!” Shanks was so drunk he was wobbling in his seat, encouraging Mihawk, “C’m ‘ere and get a drink!”

“Drunk as usual,” He shook his head at Shanks, coming to the bar where we were sitting, eyes darting over to me, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s a crazy world we live in,” I shrugged, smirking at him, “You, of all people, should know that.”

“That I do,” He mumbled, obviously having an attitude when Shanks butted his head into our conversation:

“OH MAN! I just realized you are both here! A little birdy told me that Y/N can rival your skill, Mihawk! Is that true?”

“Don’t make me- “

“Oh, it’s true,” Laughing and cutting off Mihawk, which filled in his words with a bit of annoyance:

“I’ll admit, Y/N is very skilled with a sword. “

Mihawk sounded like he meant those words but was staring at me. I wasn’t in the mood for any hostility, ignoring Shanks’ drunk ranting and winking at Mihawk:

“Relax, hon. I’m not in the mood to have a duel unless you show me a new sword.”

I referenced a specific ‘sword’ of his by quickly glancing between his legs then back up into his eyes, giggling as he got a drink from the bartender, till he leaned over the bar and mumbled:

“What’s so funny? I know for certain that is a ‘sword’ that you wouldn’t be able to handle.”

“Is that a challenge?” Cocking my eyebrow, we just stared deeply into each other’s eyes, but of course, this conversation was ruined by Shanks, who only heard my last words, exclaiming:

“Holy shit! Ya gonna have a duel and put on a show for us?!”

“Shanks, you drunk fool,” Mihawk groaned to himself, taking a sip of his drink while I handled Shanks:

“Sorry, stud, but we’d probably destroy this lovely establishment.”

“Awe, c’mon!” Shanks was too funny to me, cheeks bright red as I stood and said my goodbyes:

“Maybe next time we meet, I’ll put on a show for you.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Y/N!”

Waving and heading out of the bar, I needed to sleep off this buzz before leaving this island in the morning, but footsteps behind me caught my attention.

“Why am I not surprised? Did Shanks convince you to ‘put on a show’?”

“If I did, he’d be stumbling out here to watch,” Mihawk was telling the truth, but my hand rested on the hilt of my sword instinctively, “It’s a bit tempting, though. I noticed that you have a new sword.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Rolling my eyes, I wielded my sword, standing up straight and offering the duel, “Looks like Shanks is going to get what he wanted after all.”

“Who said that I was lying,” Running a fingertip across my blade, he analyzed it before pushing it down to the ground, standing before me, and getting his dig in on me, “Besides, I’d hate to break your new sword.”

“Oh my, I didn’t know you were a comedian in your spare time,” I dished back, putting my sword away.

“How funny,” One thing I didn’t expect from Mihawk was how soft his hand was as he patted my cheek, leaving me speechless for a change, a slight smirk on his face, “You should be grateful that I enjoy having a sparring partner.”

“Sparring partner?” Brushing off my fluster with a scoff, I gave another smirk back, my boldness shining through as I stepped closer to kiss his cheek, whispering to him, “I’m your rival, honey. Now, maybe a little grateful that I don’t show you what I can do?”

“I’m so scared,” He murmured, the tips of our noses brushing together, and it was hard to deny how much I liked having him as a rival, very much enjoying the teasing we kept dishing at each other.

“I wasn’t talking about my new sword,” Licking at my lower lip, I began to fight screaming temptations, observing as he removed his hat.

“You drank too much with Shanks,” He sighed, leaving a peck on my cheek, “We’ll have to see if those feelings remain next time we cross paths.”

Standing there holding my cheek, I was too stunned to speak as he stood tall, put on his hat, and turned away, ready to go about his way.

“You better prepare then,” I couldn’t let him walk away having the last word, but he surely did when he turned his head to me, smirking before disappearing into the night:

“Be careful what you wish for, darling.”

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece fluff #one piece imagine #one piece oneshot #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk imagine #dracule mihawk fluff #dracule mihawk oneshot #read and enjoy

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iluvzaddies · 8 months

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♰ mihawk with warlord!reader ♰

— you are another warlord of the sea.

— just like mihawk.

— you are someone who is notorious and strong enough to inherit the title “warlord”

— out of all the other warlords, mihawk finds you the most interesting and worthy of his time.

— he doesn’t like people. he doesn’t like being bothered, especially from his naps, but you are an exception.

— actually, you are the only exception.

— he lets you stay in his castle, or rather, his home.

— and he allows you to travel with him across the four seas; the east blue, west blue, north blue, south blue. hell, even the grand line. wherever the wind takes you.

— whenever each of you are given tasks by the world government, you help each other, even if the task is easy and can be dealt with quickly.

— or you just watch each other do your own things, playfully criticizing and degrading each other.

— you and dracule mihawk = an unlikely duo but a very powerful combination.

— pirates, marines and civilians flee before you. even the dead flee. only fools would ever think of challenging you or mihawk. no one stands a chance.

— people call you and him a “literal power couple”

— mihawk isn’t bothered by it. in fact, he enjoys the dating assumptions.

— he likes to tease you about it because he gets to see your face turn red. he likes to flaunt it as well, so that way, everyone knows you are off limits.

— you think he is joking and doing it for fun.

— but is he really?

#mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #one piece live action #onepieceliveactionxreader #one piece #one piece netflix #one piece dracule mihawk #one piece headcanons #headcanons #mihawk headcanons #one piece fanfiction #opla #opla mihawk

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sordidmusings · 6 months

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Let Go and Grip Me Tighter

Moot request! Mihawk struggles with guilt from the nature of his fantasies about you and begins pulling away. You won't let that happen.

A/N: Omfg this one was cooking for awhile but it's finally ready. It starts with some angst (living without sex ed or resources on that causes Problems) but then there's like a lot of smut then a quick wind down with some aftercare! Has some “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails vibes 💀

Word Count: 9.3 k

Warnings: afab!reader, fem!reader, NSFW all over the place, dom!Mihawk, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, spanking, praise, degradation, biting, marking, rough treatment, claiming, prone bone, missionary, creampie, manhandling, established relationship, Mihawk is very deeply in love with you and struggles with wanting to be a strict dom, he gets condescending 👌🏻, Mihawk orders you around, miscommunication angst up front

@fanaticsnail thank you for your patient encouragement 🙏🏻🖤 so much love for you

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

More than anything else, Mihawk was certain that the depths of his guilt were vast enough to have the breadth of the seas shrink to a mere droplet in their stead. He loves you so, so much, but his mind has been tormenting with thoughts he feels unforgivable. It started small; his fantasies of you started to latch onto that whiny, pathetic moan you’d let out when he grabbed you a bit too hard. He began to imagine himself purposefully digging his hands into you to leave bruises there, which then turned to smacking handprints into your skin. The thought of your ass red and bouncing with each hit had him cumming faster than he’d like to admit the first time it played behind his eyelids.

He began to get used to those ideas and started to get a little more… creative. What would your neck and shoulders look like littered in bruises and bite marks? Would your moans be as whiny and pathetic if he tied your hands and feet to the corners of the bed, leaving you with no option but to struggle and beg? Maybe he could just tie your hands behind your back and use his grip on the rope to pull you back to him harder on each thrust. Maybe he’d grab you and move you around as he liked, overpowering any attempts to move on your own and eating up the high-pitched whines from the force. He’d hold you down and fuck you until any unease became begging, and begging became “too much!”.

Mihawk felt a feral place in his heart burn every time he spit filthy words at you in his dreams. Tucked away in his nightly unconscious entanglements, he claimed you as his whore, his cocksleeve, his slutty little love. Many claims came and went but they were always possessive and you were always perfect, just as you were in his waking life. The heart that held such devoted and worshiping love for you ached at the idea of calling you such insults, but they set his cock aching just as greatly and he felt as if he was splitting in two.

How could he want to treat you in such a way? Mihawk loves you. He loves you and you love him and you always treat him with ceaseless care and support and he repays you by cumming to the thought of hurting you? Would you run from him if you found out? You knew the power he held; you’d helped him wash off the stains of those foolish enough to challenge him many times. Surely you would flee if you knew that the wielder of such power held ill intent towards you.

No - ill intent wasn’t right. He couldn’t hold ill intent towards you if he tried. So what was this then? He didn’t want to hurt you but he wanted you to enjoy being hurt by him. He wanted you at his whims as far as he could press before any real damage could happen. He wanted to come at you, teeth bared against your throat, and have you respond by offering your jugular. He wanted you to take pleasure in being moved and taken by his charge. That was it then - he wanted to own and control. To dominate. But how could he ask that of you if it required such beastly treatment?

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk’s hands on you have felt different. Normally, you could feel their comforting weight resting on your body or their firm press, born of the need to keep you held tight. You are still held but more by the will of gravity than Mihawk himself. Laying half draped over his body, as you are now, is one of your favorite ways to end the day. The unfamiliarity of his hands, though, will not let you find rest. Where is the sweet indulgence of fingers threading through your hair and scratching gently at your scalp? Where is the healing service of kneading fingertips releasing you from the aches of the day? Where is the steadfast protection of the grounding hold anchored to your hip?

In place of these daily devotions are the hesitant, whispering touches of a man you’ve never known. Your Mihawk has always been sure in his movements. That was certain from the very first touch - a tender grip on your fingers and lips at your knuckles, then a quick flip of his wrist so that lips could move to warm the inside of your wrist. Your Mihawk doesn’t know how to falter. He can wait and assess and test but none of that encompasses the way he shifts to shy away from your seeking touch. It happens incredibly slowly to hide from your notice, but you need his touch too much to overlook its retreat. Your body and heart take to it like roots to water, always reached out and ready to soak in the vitality it brings.

You lay and continue to wonder fruitlessly at the nature of the trailing fingertips moving from your shoulder to your elbow. The endless circling thoughts are wearing at you, and you snuggle your cheek further into his chest for comfort. At the feeling of his meager caress stuttering in response, you resolve to find and fix the problem immediately.

Lifting your head up, you seek Mihawk’s gaze. His head remains tilted away and his eyes remain shut despite the fact that he can definitely feel you staring at him. After giving him a few moments to do it on his own, you bring a hand to his chin and guide him to face you. You delicately trace the lines of his facial hair, which look extra sharp in the shadows cast by the warm lamplight. He opens his honey yellow eyes and circles them all around your face. He meets your gaze last.

“You’re hiding from me.” You state it as what you know it is; a fact.

“I do not hide-”

“Yes, you do,” you interrupt. “Every time you’re afraid to talk about something, you live in that head of yours.” You shift your hand to cradle his jaw, brushing your thumb lovingly across his cheek. “But, you’ve never pulled your presence from me too. You know we always figure it out, love. What has you like this?”

Mihawk closes his eyes again. Your answer is kept somewhere behind those lids. You wait for it to appear, but it seems less likely to happen with each passing second.

“I miss you,” you whisper. The little warble that snuck into your voice twisted the pit in Mihawk’s chest. His eyes open to mirror the concern roiling in your own.

“I’m right here,” he says, finally using his hold to press your body into him. The gesture pleases you but not enough to distract you from the way his words weren’t reassuring; they were begging to be believed. You let him have some time to try and let his eyes speak to you when he could not. Deliberately deep and measured breaths set rhythm for the way his chest floats you like calm waves beneath a ship. Taking in his unspoken cues, you could only understand that he was putting in great effort to hold something back. The conflict you felt in him between the need to shield you and the need to comfort you set you on edge. What could he hold in himself that he thinks so catastrophic? What does he know that could cause you such harm?

“Mihawk, please,” you beg. Your plea works against you; his eyes and grip harden.

“No.” Mihawk maneuvers you off of himself and moves to get up. You chase right after him, trailing rumpled sheets behind you. He makes it two steps from your shared bed before you catch him, locking your arms around his waist. You burrow your face into the warm skin between his shoulder blades and press your body as close to him as you can, clinging desperately. He remains silent but his hands move to your wrists in warning.

“Don’t run from me,” you plead, throat tight to hold back the whimpers starting to build in your lungs. He’s never left you during an argument - he had said it’s because he couldn’t stand to leave you upset. This sudden change leaves you shaken, holding tight to him in the hope that he is still your greatest stability and comfort. He begins pulling your arms away. The distress you feel lets him.

Mihawk at least turns around to see the damage he has caused. You see his regret in wet eyes, bowed head, and caving shoulders. Contrition compels him to rub circles on the wrist he still holds and the affectionate gesture pulls the first tear from your eyes. He begins reaching to brush it away but instead pulls back, his hand curling into a fist at his side. In a quick burst of anger, you snatch that hand and push it to your face. You hold it there even after it opens to embrace your cheek, scared it’ll leave you again. Mihawk hates the tears wetting his thumb and the shakiness of your breath, feeling the weight of his guilt become unbearable in their stead. He shrinks into himself even further from the way your eyes have narrowed in accusation.

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me with your problems?” You bite out at him. He can no longer look at you, choosing to gaze unseeing at the floor instead.

“No,” he mumbles like a child facing the rage from authority.

“Then what is wrong?” You press, voice turning from vicious to exasperated. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you. I love you, Mihawk, that won’t change! And I can help-”

“No you can’t!” He roars, snapping his head back up to bare his teeth at you. “You can’t help me! Not with this.”

Wide wet eyes stare back at him, shaken of their fight. Your lips tremble around stuttering breaths and his own angry breath puffs out into the small space between you. They’re all you can hear while you try to process his anger and the way his fingers begin to sink onto your wrist and jaw like claws.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, trying to get things back under control. “I shouldn’t have pressed so hard when you weren’t ready.” Mihawk scrunches his eyes shut and bears his teeth again.

“No. You don’t understand,” he starts. A deep breath flushes his whole body and rattles him on the way out. He’s staring right into you again. “I want to hurt you.”

Confusion strikes you before fear has a chance. “What?”

Both of Mihawk's hands are now cradling your face, and the pressure of his fingertips betrays the controlling nature of his hold. He steps in close so your bodies just barely brush and he looms his head and shoulders into your space. His golden eyes burn molten, looking down on you.

“I want to hurt you,” MIhawk repeats, beginning to stalk forward to force you backwards. “I want to grip you ‘til you bruise, bite and leave marks.” You simply listen and follow as he speaks and the relief of releasing his fantasies has the confessions rushing out of him. “I want to force you down and fuck you so hard you scream.” Your calves hit the bed and you sit down on it when his hands continue leading you back. Your easy compliance has his mind blurry and spinning, now beyond his own will.

“I want to control your breath.” One hand clamps down next to your neck, shoving you quickly onto your back. Mihawk’s thumb presses threateningly into the base of your throat, not enough to halt your breath but enough for your veins to pound back against it. “I want to bend you over and watch your flesh tremble and burn red while I strike you.” His knees spread your legs wide, before he lifts one knee onto the bed, forcing your leg up with him. “I want to tie you like a captive and fuck you while you’re bound and have to take it.” His other knee is on the bed, making your other leg open up for him too. He’s hovering over you, letting some of his weight bleed into the grip beside your neck before releasing it. The hand moves to dig into your upper arm. Mihawk crawls forward into the middle of the bed, using that grip and his shoving thighs to drag you with him. “I want to own and command you.”

You have never felt so small and exposed and it’s sending an addictive thrill through you. Your heart is pumping bubbling adrenaline through your veins, most of it moving to boil between your hips. Looking up at the fierceness of Mihawk is bringing back temptations you had locked away long ago. Your hands move to fist into your own shirt, too unsure to touch him but needing to hold onto something.

Despite his rough grip, the way Mihawk bends down to brush his forehead against yours is reverent. “I want you to let me touch you however I want, fuck you until I’ve had my fill, until neither of us can move.” His eyes close and his hold softens and his nose nudges yours. His breath is soft against your lips, smelling sweetly of the wine you shared over dessert. His voice loses its power and creaks with defeat. “I want to do so many awful things to you, but you’re my love - my life.”

You tilt your chin up to press a soft kiss against his lips. Mihawk stays still, simply letting you mold your lips to his, until his resolve breaks and he’s lunging forward to kiss you ravenously. He’s in immediate control of the kiss, needing to take everything he can from you while you’re still willing to love him. His hand moves to the side of your head, helping guide you to follow his frantic movements. You’re immediately lost in the heat of his touch and tongue, relieved to receive his affections again. Needing to feel more of him, you brush your thighs against his, your skin sliding easily against his silk sleep pants. When your thighs make it over his hips and you feel the muscles of his sides tickling the insides of your knees, you hook your legs around him. He fights you when you try to pull him down.

“Dear heart,” Mihawk manages to say between tasting you, “I should not.”

“You should,” you gasp back against his lips. Your kissing has grown to match his in hunger, filling him with joy and guilt. Another light squeeze of your legs fails to bring him down to you. This time he pulls away to look at you, eyes shining with conflict.

“I do not deserve-” You cut him off by using the strength of your legs to pull your hips up to meet his. The thin silk he wears does nothing to hide the shape and warmth of his hard cock. You earn a low moan from him when you grind against it. Trying not to fold to your temptations, Mihawk keeps on his hands and knees while you hang off of him.

“I want you,” you assert, “And you want me.” You grind along his whole length to emphasize your point. Your thighs burn with the effort, but the way his eyes flutter at the bliss makes it worth it. “And I-” you pause and swallow, stealing yourself. “I want all that too.”

“What?” Mihawk asks urgently. He grabs your chin, keeping you centered on him.

“I want all of that stuff too,” you say, letting yourself fall from him and back to the comfort of the mattress. He’s still staring at you with the unreadable, analytical face he usually saves for opponents, so you elaborate. “Your control. You own my heart, why not the rest of me?”

“And the harm?” he prompts bitterly. Not wanting him to pull away, you smooth your hands into his hair and massage at his scalp, trapping him to you in the gentlest way possible.

“That too,” you admit quietly. Your body flushes hot again, but this time with shame. “There were times when I would see your fierceness in battle and find myself more attracted than I should be. The first year we were together it was unbearable and I would fantasize about what it would be like to feel the force of your strength and will on me.” Mihawk’s breath halts and his face slackens. His hand releases your chin to brush fingertips across your cheek in awe. “I’d dream of you throwing me around, commanding me, punishing me. I got myself to stop over time because wanting something like that? I mean, there must be something wrong with me.”

“Never,” Mihawk growls. “You’re perfect.”

He descends on you and all you know of the world shrinks down to only Mihawk. Grasping hands rove over the both of you, pulling at hair and clothes and flesh. This time his hips are chasing yours, lighting your nerves on fire at the pressure of his grinds sinking your hips into the mattress. Your canting moans are muffled by his lips and tongue, but he hears them all the same and feasts on them greedily. One of his hands finds its home at the back of your head, fisted into your hair. You let out a high whine when he pulls back and holds you still.

“You will tell me if I do something you don’t like,” Mihawk commands. Unable to speak with the way the head of his dick is teasing your clit, you nod your head. “Words,” he growls, tightening his grip on your hair.

“Yes, my lord!” you answer, half gasping, half moaning. The pull on your hair relents and his fingers massage your scalp, soothing it.

“And you will tell me to stop if it becomes too much,” he continues, watching your face intently to make sure you’re truly hearing him and understanding what you’re agreeing to. He also needs to soak you in to make sure this is real, that you really want this. You focus in on the violent yellow of his eyes, taking in the seriousness and desperation you see in them.

“Yes, my lord,” you breathe out.

His lips cheat you of your next breath, but you don’t have the will to care. Everything of yours is his anyway. You’re just relaxing into the kiss when he’s pulling away to sit up.

“Get off the bed,” he orders. You only hesitate a moment before crawling your way to the foot of the bed and standing up from it. You turn to look at him for more direction, hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt while you wait. The way his eyes roam over you, assessing you, does little for your nerves; you feel like an unprepared student.

Mihawk turns and gets up from the side of the bed. He prowls over to you, taking his time to unsettle you further. The way his tall form slinks over to you treats you to a show of the shapes of his sloped muscles cutting lines across his body. His Adonis belt in particular catches your attention, on full display by the low rise of his pants. You shudder in anticipation when you follow those lines to the large bulge between them. It keeps your attention until he is stopped in front of you and you trail your gaze up to meet his neutral face. You know him well enough to notice the desire darkening his eyes. He leans his upper body forward, forcing you to crane your head back to maintain eye contact.

“Undress me.”

You fall to your knees, looking up at him while you sneak your fingers into his waistband. Slowly, you lower his pants down his thighs. You miss the way his cock bobs in front of your face when it’s freed, unable to look away from his eyes staring into your own. You let the pants fall when you reach his knees and place your hands on his warm thighs. Still looking to him, you begin smoothing your hands up his legs. Feeling emboldened by touching him, you look down to take in his length. While Mihawk may look unaffected, the truth shows in the flushed and leaking cock in front of you. A thick vein on the underside tempts you to lick it, but when you lean forward a punishing hand holds you by the hair.

“I didn’t give you permission,” Mihawk warns. The way you look up at him with big contrite eyes has his cock twitching but does nothing to change his resolve.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” You get no response except his hand petting down your head and gently cupping your cheek. He leaves you waiting a few breaths while his palm warms your cheek and your eyes soften his.

“Undress yourself.”

Your hands drift slowly from his hips to the hem of your shirt. In a smooth motion you lift it over your head, only losing eye contact when there’s fabric between the two of you, and lay it on the floor next to you. Your thumbs hook into your underwear, holding their position while you stand up to rid yourself of them. Despite your nudity, his eyes stick to your own.

“Back on the bed.”

Mihawk watches you while you crawl onto the mattress, enraptured by the way your ass sways back and forth as you move. The teasing peaks he gets of your pussy as you move test his resolve to take his time commanding you before he sinks into you. When you get to the head of the bed he notices you hesitate, staying still on hands and knees before peeking over your shoulder for direction. The way you look to him, pleading for guidance, has his heart pounding and his mind running feral. He reels it in with a slow breath.

“On your back. You need to be able to look at me for now.” You follow his command, ending up propped on your elbows with your bent legs acting as a barrier between you two. Mihawk has seen you naked almost daily for a handful of years, but you find yourself feeling shy and exposed. This is a deep fantasy finally coming to fruition for the both of you, and what if the real you doesn’t measure up?

“Spread yourself.” You shiver at the command, absolutely dripping from the hunger rumbling in his voice. You look down to your knees and falter, worrying at being completely exposed to his voracious gaze.

“Precious,” he calls, bringing your eyes back up to him. His face is still stern but there is a touch of gentleness in his voice when he softly prompts, “Go on.”

Choosing to focus on your most beloved yellow to ground yourself, you slowly spread your legs apart. They end up in a wide v, still propped bent with your feet planted in the soft sheets.

“Good girl,” he purrs. Mihawk takes his time admiring the curves of your spread legs before he can no longer keep his gaze from your exposed cunt. He admires those curves and lines too and is flooded with delicious memories of having his face stuffed there. Fresh heat washes from his chest to his cock, and he has to swallow from the way his mouth waters.

Your previous worries leave you when you see how Mihawk looks at you. He’s a man possessed, taken and corrupted in the face of immeasurable riches. You see the men of myth, who scheme and steal under the noses of angry gods, in his face. That look of his snaps up to your face and you turn into prey. You love the way it has you feeling so alive.

Mihawk finally makes his way over to you. He takes his time, letting you feel each shift in the mattress from the weight of his limbs. It gives you time to feel smaller and smaller as he overtakes you, overwhelming you as his broad shoulders get higher and higher over your body, enclosing you between him and the bed. Strong arms plant themselves on each side of your head, caging you into his dark gaze. His handsome face, haloed by dark curls, looks striking in the dim lamplight, his sharp features casting shadows across pale skin. You can’t resist the call to reach up and caress him.

“Did I say you could touch me yet?” Mihawk growls, snatching each of your hands from his face. The threat in his tone and the forceful grip squeezing your wrists has bright adrenalin bursting in your chest and tingling in your limbs. He presses your hands down in the sheets next to your hips and releases them as he tells you, “Lay on them.”

Hesitantly, you arch your back and clasp your hands together in the new gap. When you lower onto them, you scrunch your nose at the uncomfortable feeling of your knuckles rubbing into your spine. Mihawk notices and gives you a disapproving look. He places a spread hand on your stomach and presses down, making your knuckles and spine roll over each other. He keeps some pressure there; a reminder of your disobedience.

Your hands grip hard into each other when Mihawk finally lowers his hips flush to yours. The feeling of hot skin is such a relief to your frazzled nerves and pleading pussy. His dick fits perfectly within your folds, rubbing deliciously through them as he ruts against you. There’s no distracting pinch or catch; you’re wet enough to cover him and spread over any skin he touches. A shiver shakes up Mihawk’s spine at the feeling of you clenching around nothing against the base of his cock. He’s treated to the sweet sounds of your whimpers and moans, pulling especially delightful ones from you each time he angles to circle more firmly around your clit.

“Please, sir,” you whine, “I need you inside me.”

“Such a greedy whore,” Mihawk chides, tone so condescending it almost sounds bored. You whimper back to him, but he catches the way your hips twitch and press more firmly to him. He takes pity on you and gives in to his own needs to feel you around him.

Mihawk is big but it was never a problem because he enjoyed taking his time when pleasing you, so the prepping happened naturally by the time he was ready to make his way inside you. Today though, Mihawk finds himself overcome with the need to force you open when he shoves two fingers in and feels you clenching tight around them. He spreads those long fingers to press against your plush wet flesh and keeps pressing as he slides them back out. His fingers move to hold his cock, which is soaked from grinding into you and the precum he’d been uncontrollably leaking, and line him up with your entrance. He starts pushing into you immediately, groaning at how you clamp down tight in surprise.

The way your breath hiccups as he keeps inching his way into you has his mind spinning. He bites into his cheek to keep himself from bottoming out in one brutal thrust; he wants to feel every flutter and twitch of your cunt and body as they try to accommodate him. He needs you to feel every second of him taking ownership of your body, needs you to feel how much more powerful he is. Wet fingers dig into the meat of your hip as he tries to hold himself back. You feel the sweet mix of the smooth slide of every ridge on his cock playing at your nerves and the burn of your muscles stretching almost too far. You surrender fully to your trust in him, releasing all tension from your muscles and all thoughts from your head.

“Much better,” Mihawk breathes against your lips. He stares deep into your eyes and watches them become fully dilated and hazy. You stare right back and give him a lethargic smile for the praise. The rush of giving up control while he takes your body leaves your brain and body feeling like liquid. You almost move to touch him again, but his words are the only things still held in your mind.

Mihawk pulls back slowly, treasuring the way your body tries to suck him back in. You get halfway through an inhale before a quick thrust knocks all the air from your lungs. The satisfying clap of his hips on your ass ricochets through you. You get a chance to breathe when he stays deep in you and circles his hips to feel every inch and detail of your pulsing cunt. Overwhelmed, you whimper, “Mihawk-”

“Not my name,” he snaps. His hand flies up to your mouth and shoves two fingers in, pressing the taste of yourself into your tongue. You suck on them, looking up with apologetic eyes, hoping to placate him. It doesn’t work. “And to think I was giving you time to adjust.”

That’s all the warning you get before he sets a rough pace, each impact bouncing through your body, shaking your thighs, hips, and breasts. You shut your eyes against the onslaught, each nerve screaming its pleasure at you loudly. You feel unbearably full of Mihawk but also unable to feel enough of him. You need him in your hands, on your tongue, ringing in your ears, pulling you apart. The closest you can do now is tilt your hips up to feel him even deeper and offer more room for his hips to rub your skin at the end of each thrust.

When he feels your thighs squeeze tight to his waist, Mihawk falls to his elbows under the instinct to curl into you. With frenzied motions, he readjusts his forearms to be beside your chest, pressing your upper arms into your ribs. His hands clamp down on your shoulders, keeping you trapped against each pound of his thick cock into you. His claim on you flushes through your veins and seeps into your bones. Your mouth, now free, hangs open to pant and moan for him. His forehead presses to your temple so he can feel your breath deliver each sound directly to his ear, persuading him further and further from sanity. His lips hovering so close to you lets you hear his own harsh breath and hushed groans.

“My lord, sir, please,” you beg, needing more from him but too lost to say how. You know he’ll figure out what you need, he’ll take care of you, push you as far as you can go before you snap and become pure pleasure.

“Fuck, treasure,” Mihawk moans, hot breath tingling on your neck, “just be my good cocksleeve - lay there and take it.”

He switches his rhythm, starting to pull out slower to draw out his time in the grip of your cunt. Each push into you is still punishing, taking advantage of his curve to shove the head of his dick across your g spot. The steady hammering has pressure building between your hips quickly. “Sir -hah- I’m so -nngaaaah- ‘s so good I’m -hahnn- my lord -aah-” you continue babbling pleading nonsense to him, trying to let him know how close you are.

Mihawk can tell even without you senseless moaning; your thighs have begun to tremble and jump and you get impossibly tighter with each thrust and he’s sure he’s found heaven in your cunt. His face buries in your neck, sucking harshly at your delicate skin and savoring the light flavor of salt on his tongue. His teeth begin to come into play, worrying against little sections of your neck, mixing a sweet sting into the flurry of pleasure surging to your head. He feels you tip your hips away from him and wiggle in his grip, trying to hold off your orgasm so you can cum when he does and he hates it.

“Don’t run from me,” he snarls, snapping his right hand to grip the back of your neck. You obey immediately, but sob out at the overwhelming pressure pulsing behind your clit. The sound has Mihawk’s balls pulling tight and his cock pulsing but he’s chasing your orgasm, not his. He wants to feel the violence of it being forced out of you. His left hand moves down your back, fingers dug deep into muscle the whole way, and covers your clasped hands with his own. Mihawk licks up the side of your neck to nibble your earlobe. His tone is biting when he taunts, “Cumming already little whore?” and you’re gone.

He manages to keep his pace through your orgasm, each press of his cock making another wave of bliss crash through you. High moans knock from you in time with his hips, but you're deaf to them from the buzzing between your ears. His cock twitches hard in the threat of release, and he bites down meanly into the meat of your shoulder to muscle his way through it. The feeling of you trapped beneath him, legs clinging to him in desperation while you cum is better than any of his fantasies have granted. Through your settling fog, you feel deep moans vibrating into your shoulder through Mihawk’s teeth.

“Thank you, sir,” you rasp, “feels so good.” Teeth release from your shoulder and thrusts become circling grinds.

“Ah but you were supposed to be making me feel good, weren’t you?” Mihawk chides. He licks his burning hot tongue over his bite mark, pleased with how deep the indents are.

“Sorry, my lord,” you whine pathetically, “I couldn’t -hahn- couldn’t help myself.”

Mihawk turns to nip at your jaw before hovering his face above yours. His piercing eyes narrow down at you as he mocks, “Oh, poor you.”

He’s detaching from you, getting up onto hands and knees, leaving you empty. Your eyes widen in panic and you almost reach for him. Instead, all you can do is whimper at him while he pulls your legs from around his waist and hope your sad eyes will entice him back. Mihawk takes them in with a twinge of remorse, but mostly they send arousal shooting through him. At first, he thought of rewarding you for keeping your hands still and letting your legs go limp while he maneuvered them, but he wanted to push you more first.

“Flip over. Chest down, ass up.”

You blink twice to process his words then get to work. Your movements are sluggish and sloppy, your muscles still recovering from your orgasm. Seeing how weak you’ve become from his touch has Mihawk resisting the urge to surge at you again. The sway of your movements causes your ass to wag in front of him and he’s glad you can’t see the way his jaw slackens at the sight. You look divine - no, more like sin incarnate. Your lax muscles cause your upper body to sag fully into the bed, making your ass arch obscenely high in the air. Your tired face is buried in your arms and the sheets. The display has his mouth watering and he can hardly tear his eyes away from your glistening pussy peeking out between your thighs.

“So perfect,” Mihawk purrs, reaching a hand out to touch you. You jump slightly at the first touch then relax into it, humming appreciatively. He massages his thumbs into the curve where your ass meets your thighs. When you ease into that touch, gently swaying with the oscillating pressure, he slides his large palms onto your skin. For a short while, he simply takes greedy handfuls of you, switching and shifting his grip so that every bit of your ass and hips have been squeezed. Your lax body continues to follow his hands as his lovely marionette.

“Since you’ve forgotten the one reason you’re in my bed, I’ll have to take my pleasure from your punishment instead,” Mihawk drawls. He wastes no time delivering the first smack onto the thickest part of your ass. You jolt with it even though it was barely a fraction of his strength, just barely enough to sting. The warmth of his palm settling over the sparking skin soothes any hurt into pleasant tingles. You’re beginning to mourn the fading of the feeling when his opposite hand strikes your other cheek just as hard. This time you gasp and arch your ass higher, forcing Mihawk to take a deep breath to keep his steady pace.

“Careful now or I might think you’re enjoying this,” Mihawk chastises. Beneath his flat tone, he’s positively bursting with excitement. He had worried that you only thought you would be okay with this, but you’re leaning your hips towards him just as eagerly as you do the days he spends hours unraveling you on his face, fingers, and cock. There’s a buzz settling under his skin that’s making every touch feel so sharply in focus. You let out a slightly embarrassed wine, but continue to display yourself to him shamelessly, begging for more.

A harsher smack stings your right cheek, sending ripples down your leg and up your side. You shiver at the burst of brilliant sensation. In anticipation for the next one, you shorten your breath, feeling on edge that you have no clue when it’s coming. The air of the room is electric as it brushes against the goosebumps on your body, vibrating with threat and promise. A breath too long passes with the hand gone and you tense up, immediately receiving a strike to the left in response. It rattles through your bones more with the tensed muscle, knocking the air from you in a loud moan. Your already burning flesh is struck over again, tripling the number of pin pricks you can feel dancing under his hand. You moan, “Sir!”

“Is that all you can take, precious?” Mihawk’s tone is just a touch gentler. He’s smoothing his palms over your marked skin, unable to stop his need to keep touching you. Staring down dark eyed at the first budding handprint, he desperately hopes you’ll let him make more. He’s barely got himself held back as it is now that he knows that sting on his palm, the sight of your ass shaking, the sharp clapping sound, your gasps and moans, the rush of absolute control. His breath is shaking with the need to overwhelm you and fill himself with as much of you as he can shove in his nerves.

“No,” you promise. You shuffle your knees just an inch closer to your chest and give an enticing wiggle of your hips. “More, please, my lord.”

“Good whore,” Mihawk groans. His hand digs into the flesh of your left hip and his right delivers two sharp slaps, each punctuated by a moan from you. You feel the hits fizzle in your skin and echo in a wanting burn rolling through your cunt. Your used pussy already felt swollen but now that’s amplified by bright pounding, feeling like your heart has fled your chest to beat between your legs. A thumb digs and swirls into the center of the bubbling handprint on your skin before disappearing again. You expect another hit, but instead you feel two thick fingers slipping through your entrance, causing you to moan long in relief. You greet them by eagerly pressing your hips backwards, trying to get his fingers to sink in deeper. Mihawk stops at the last knuckle and offers you two indulgent grinds of his hand before it rests still.

“Pleeeease,” you whine. Mihawk responds by adding another handprint to your ass, this time on the left side. His mind is swirling with the sound of your eager squeal, but he’s truly lost at the feeling wrapped around his fingers. He can feel the power of his own hit through you but it is the strong pulsing of your cunt that really makes his hips jerk with want. Mihawk presses his fingers down towards your belly button, seeking the way your pussy trembles with each successive spank. His punishing hand and your body’s spasms have his fingers hooked and twitching over your g-spot and you can feel another climax start to build with each throb of your clit.

“You were made for me weren’t you, treasure?” Mihawk asks, voice tight with desire. Time and time again, his mind has played out the dream of you under him like this but it never could have prepared him for the rush of you getting off to it just as badly. Seeing you become a needy wreck for his strength and will has his heart pounding and cock aching near painfully. He wets his lips and swallows, barely holding back from replacing his fingers with his tongue to taste just how sweetly you’re dripping for him.

You cry out when his fingers leave you, earning a lighter smack to your hip in warning. You claw into the sheets in frustration but aren’t left wanting for long; fingers reenter you and your neglected right side gets groped. His hand massages deep, helping you loosen up again and enjoy the feeling of his fingers on both hands digging into you. Mihawk marvels at the sheen on your flesh where his fingers smeared the wetness from your leaking cunt. He can’t help but leave a harsh strike right on top of the wet patch. With the encouragement of your panting and moaning and writhing, he continues on, making you feel boiling hot and boneless.

At this point you’ve begun grinding back on his fingers, fucking yourself back onto them shallowly, afraid that anything more obvious would have him pull them out for good this time. That fear is more instinct at this point than an actual thought; your mind feels like soup and you only know how to feel and react. It’s becoming clear to Mihawk from the way your voice strains higher and your body squeezes down on him that you’ve got a strong climax building in your core. All you can recognize is more and more pressure gripping through your hips and more and more delicious friction earned with each curl back on his fingers.

Suddenly, that friction is gone.

“Nooooooo, no si-hah-irrrr,” you sob. You’re set adrift with the coil tightening in you beginning to unwind. There’s a hand holding each hip but it’s not stabilizing you at all.

“Be good for me, precious,” Mihawk warns, removing his left hand to tap his finger above your clit. It sends unhelpful jolts through your skin, teasing the nerves you need him to smother.

“I’ll be good, sir, promise, promise,” you cry. The way you move and arch your ass in an attempt to earn his touch back is obscene and has Mihawk's hand planting bruises into your hip. You twist your neck to show him one teary eye over your shoulder. “I’m yours, my lord, pleeeeeease. I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” he presses. His voice is just above a whisper, unwilling to interrupt any of the gasps and whines coming from you. You nod fervently. “Then don’t cum.”

Three fingers shove into you, slightly curled and thrusting with the force you’ve been begging for. The wet sounds from each dive of his fingers fill the air between your pants and moans. Mihawk’s arm hooks around your right thigh so he can start steady swirls of his fingers over your clit, timing them perfectly with the thrusts from his other hand. He tries to resist the urge to bend even closer to you, but he’s helpless to the pull. You feel the thick hair on his jaw brush over your right hip. The loving caress is soon replaced by warm lips and nipping teeth, adding even more sparks to the fire he’s tending in you.

It’s feeling more impossible by the second to obey Mihawk. The muscles in your legs want to curl and lock up and your hips are shaking against Mihawk’s hold. You’re open mouthed and pleading, not quite sure what words are actually coming out, just sure that you have no ability to keep any of them in. Your hands are clawing into the mattress, hoping to find some purchase to center yourself. The rhythmic bursts of pleasure that Mihawk is diligently working from you are so strong you’re not quite sure if you’ve tipped into cumming yet except there’s been no promised snap.

Mihawk is unmeasured in the way he bites and sucks at your flesh, but his hands are another story. He knows your body - has studied your reactions for years - and uses that to slow and lighten just enough each time a wave of pressure around his fingers gets a little too strong or your writhing stills to a tremble half a second too long. Instead of pulling you back or pushing you forward, he keeps you exactly at the edge of climax where he can actually test your will. He’s hard set on knowing how hard you’re going to try to obey him, the thought and sight of your struggle for him filling him with addicting arousal.

Your will over your body is just about to give out so you snap your teeth into the meat of your thumb to pull some attention away from the bliss of Mihawk’s touch. His attention goes up to see the bite when he hears the pitiful moan sneaking past your clenched teeth. He moans deeply at the site. “You’re being so good for me, fuck.” He presses his cheek hard into the burning handprints on your ass and unconsciously mimics the grinding of your hips with his own, finding no relief for himself. One more uptick in force and speed into your plush swollen pussy has you jerking. With digging teeth and a yelling moan into your hand, you manage to hold back against the raging tide of your orgasm.

Mihawk pulls from you and you collapse against the bed, taking in gasping breaths. You’re jostled as Mihawk shifts around quickly, moving to cover you. His breath is loud behind you as he settles there, legs stretched out between your and upper body help up only on his left elbow. That hand has shoved under you to flip around and grip your shoulder tight. His right hand anchors on your hip, guiding you back against his starved grinding.

“You did so well for me, my little whore,” Mihawk breathes into your ear. He nibbles at it before moving down to suck more red marks into your neck and shoulder. The slick way his cock glides through your folds has him burn with satisfaction. He made this pathetic mess of you. Having you soaking for him was no rarity, but the whiny mindlessness, the complete take over by your needy instincts, that was new and only had his need to tear into you grow stronger. He rumbles into your shoulder, “My perfect precious cunt, cum as much as you want.”

Mihawk is guiding himself into you and you shoot right back to being so close after only a few thrusts. You manage to slide your legs a little wider apart across the bed despite his heavy body, packed with muscle, pinning you under him.. It lets his balls tap at your clit with each thrust and just a handful more have a violent orgasm tearing through you. You cry out your bliss every moment you aren’t simply gasping and feel the muscles all the way up your core join the squeeze of your cunt, making the bright ball of pleasure feel like it’s reaching just as high. Your whole body is ringing with the echoes of it, everything feeling so overwhelmingly good.

Mihawk’s hips stutter for only a second before he’s continuing his ruthless pace. His body and mind are flooded with you and he folds to the torrent. A ravenous “more” is mumbled against your skin, barely reaching you through the whiteout in your head. His left hand shoots down to help keep your hips tilted and steady, leaving the weight of his chest to push you deeper into the bed. You’re completely smothered in him, his sweat damp skin pressing and sliding over yours. Unable to fully inhale under his resting bulk, your world gets a little fuzzier. There’s not a single part of you that cares; you feel trapped and controlled and protected and desired. You feel truly wanted and owned, being fucked into the matress under Mihawk while he holds you like a lifeline, sinks teeth into your shoulder, and speaks dark praises to you. When you come back to yourself more fully, having long been suspended somewhere between the crest of your orgasm and settled pleasure, you make little attempts to please Mihawk more. He notices the little turns and grinds of your hips and rewards you by slithering a hand under you to begin petting circles over your clit.

“You feel delicious, precious, you’re so fucking good, held out for me so long.” Mihawk’s voice is a moan and growl and sigh, sounding more untethered than you’d ever heard him. “Need to feel you forever -nnnnnghh- give me more.” The last word is all snarl and he’s shoving his face harder into the crook of your neck, sinking teeth back into your skin.

You aren’t sure if you have more to give him but still try, unquestioningly following his will. You don’t think you’ll need to try for long; both of you are wound precariously tight. Mihawk has lost his will to pull from you, so he moves against you in strong deep grinds. You’ve never felt closer; every sense is filled with Mihawk, every breath, every thought, every piece of you. It feels like he’s fucking you deeper than he’s ever reached, teasing your cervix with his thick tip, pulling you apart as if he’s somehow gotten bigger from the way your muscles have tightened around him. Mihawk feels the telltale buzz of his end flash through his nerves. Desperate, he bites out one more order, “You’re mine. Say it.”

You find the breath to chant, “I’m yours, I’m yours, yours-”

One arm shoves upwards, trapped tight between your breasts and crushing you back into him. He groans out, “Fuck, precious,” before his hips jerk and his cock is pulsing in you. His forehead presses to the side of your head and he’s moaning right into your ear. Fingers twitch against your clit and you feel his hot cum pumping into you and his arms cage you right to him and the friction of it all sends you right into another climax. This one is just as overwhelming as the last but sits in your body more smoothly. It’s a satisfied heat radiating through your muscles, rolling through you instead of jerking. You fall limp under the force of it, left to lay prone and take in every second of your body clutching and reshaping to Mihawk. He guides you both through it with the slow grind of his hips and the points of clarity where his hands grasp you.

“There you go, love, you are divine,” Mihawk praises quietly, as the aftershocks begin to settle out of you both. He gets his arms under him to lift some of his weight off of you and allow you to breathe deeply. He noses at your cheek, peppering you with kisses. You come back to your body slowly as he moves his kisses over the tender skin of your neck and shoulder. Testing the feeling, you open and close your hands, releasing the scrunched sheets. They feel inflated and clumsy, but it will do. Your right hand searches behind your head and quickly finds its way into Mihawk’s soft hair. You scratch lightly at his scalp while your other hand slides across the sheet to find his. Before you manage it, he puts his hand over your own, entwining your fingers in a comfortable hold. Mihawk rests his head behind yours, taking some time to breathe and bask in your touch. He decorates the passing moments with gentle praises, content sighs, and brushing thumbs.

Eventually, he gains the will to pull away from you to prep you both for bed. The moan you give him when he starts to pull away is endearingly grumpy like a spoiled pet roused from a nap. He’s just standing up when he notices your weak and begrudging attempts to get up and follow him.

“Stay down - you’re shaking like a newborn fawn.” The light insult is softened by a loving kiss to your temple. You’re more than used to his dry tone and direct comments anyway, knowing something like that had no cruel intent and that’s simply how he talked. That didn’t stop you from pretending to be a bit upset from time to time for apology affection. You’re pretty certain he was onto you. You were also pretty sure he enjoyed playing along.

You float thoughtlessly in your body, feeling like you’re napping pleasantly without going under. You startle when a hand lands on your shoulder. It’s hot and damp and you understand why when a soft cloth begins washing over your skin. Continuing your heavy-bodied haze, you lay there and let Mihawk wipe over your whole body, only moving to the patient prompts of his hands nudging and turning you. You wince when he works over your ass and pelvis, earning extra affectionate words and touches. You’re on your back, peeking up blearily at him through heavy eyelids, when he finishes up.

“Bathroom?” he prompts and you hum a lazy affirmative. You’re carried like a princess to and from the short stop and are thankful there’s no longer anything to keep you from or possibly interrupt your coming slumber. When you’re placed back onto the bed, Mihawk follows you with the sheets and comforter in tow. With practiced ease, you cocoon together in the bedding. On nights like this, where Mihawk has extra need to feel like he’s surrounding you, he pulls your back flush to his front and curls around you. His skin feels soft on the many places you’re molded together, but you notice it most while you both shift your legs to intertwine.

“Dove?” Mihawk calls, wanting to know you can still hear him. You hum and snuggle your cheek further into his bicep. “I love you,” he whispers into your hair, punctuating the declaration with a lingering kiss.

“Love you, too,” you promise, adding one last gentle squeeze to your hold on his arm.

Tomorrow he would wake you with gentle kisses and caressing hands. Your favorite morning drink would be ready for you to sip on while leaned back against his chest, enjoying the way he massages the soreness from your thighs. A bath with your favorite salts would await your tired body. Mihawk would sit with you and feed you both fruits and sweet bread. Once the candles saturate the air, he would set about cleaning you head to toe. He would gently tend each bruise and bite mark, murmuring his gratitude and devotion. Each act of loving worship would be a balm to you both, affirming that connecting to and caring for each other is both your greatest want and deepest need. For now, you settle into each other for some much needed rest.

#mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #opla mihawk #one piece smut #thirst hours #my writing #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #x reader smut #one piece #opla #afab reader #mihawk smut #fem reader #x reader

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hericaslibrary · 15 days

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ?

featuring : gn!reader + Zoro, Mihawk and Ace

warning : none

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro

His heart suddenly beats more rapidly whenever he sees you smiling, laughing, or even doing the most random thing. On top of that, Sanji's overly complimentary remarks towards you make him want to reach for his swords. No, this can't be. He's stared death down a thousand times, cut through countless enemies. Yet, this new feeling blooming for you – it's terrifying.

Zoro coming to terms with his feelings for you? Buckle up, because it's going to be a hilarious journey. Denial will be his middle name for a while, trust me. This dense swordsman will be in for a wild ride before he finally connects the dots.

Thanks to Nami's interrogation skills (and a little sake), the whole crew knows Zoro has a thing for you. Now, expect endless teasing from Luffy and Usopp, who'll probably try to spill the beans before a certain mosshead gives them his best glare.

Zoro finally figuring out his feelings for you? Great! Now comes the real test: talking to you about them. Because let's be honest, under that tough-guy act, he is probably a nervous wreck, sweating bullets at the thought of rejection.

Zoro's not exactly the Romeo type. So expect a confession that's straightforward, maybe a bit awkward – but heartfelt nonetheless. If you feel the same, a weight will lift from his shoulders. But if not, he'll respect your decision and try to keep things smooth between you.

Dracule Mihawk

Don't be fooled by Mihawk's stoic facade – because he is quite aware of his feelings for you. Years have honed his instincts, and unlike his pupil, he has no time (and he is too old) for childish denial. His emotions are clear, even if unspoken.

That man has a very calculating mind. He'll dissect every interaction, every glance, searching for a sign that you love him as mush as he loves you. Despite his solitary nature, his mind might already be constructing a future by your side – a future dependent on your response.

Mihawk is probably one of the few men in One Piece who are very romantic (Oda told me so). His brand of romance is subtle yet charming. Imagine leisurely strolls through his gardens or watching the sunset with a glass of wine by his side. A subtle offer of his arm, a hint of a blush from you – that might be all the encouragement he needs to take things a step further.

Once confident your feelings mirror his own, Mihawk will approach things in an (VERY) old-fashioned way. Be prepared for a carefully crafted dinner invitation, where he can formally request the honor of courting you. His pride lies in being a gentleman, and rushing into things is simply not his style. He prefers to court you slowly and respectfully, allowing your relationship to develop naturally.

After a series of thoughtful dates, Mihawk will finally take the next step and ask you to be his partner (Perona and Zoro might have placed a bet on the timeline, of course). Like everything he does, Mihawk will approach this new chapter with utmost seriousness. Your well-being will always be his top priority.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace isn't the denial type. The ache when you're gone, the quiet competition with Marco and Izo for your laughter – these are the clues that tip him off. Ace falling for you? It's written all over his flustered face. He stutters and turns red like a tomato when speaking to you unexpectedly.

The entire crew is a nuisance and teases him constantly about his love for you. They have grilled him mercilessly – “When will you confess?” they ask, convinced you feel the same.

Denial ? Once again, not Ace's style. But baring his heart, admitting his love for you ? That's a terrifying vulnerability he fears more than anything. On top of that, I believe he is also afraid of losing your friendship by making things awkward if you don't feel the same about him.

Thankfully, Marco, ever the voice of reason, is there to guide this lovestruck dummy. And honestly, this old man is tired of watching you two pining from afar. A stern talk from Marco might be just what Ace needs to understand that silence could lead to a missed opportunity for a great relationship.

Ace's confession? A masterpiece in the making, at least in his head. Daily mirror pep talks and a meticulously planned romantic gesture – that's how he plans to declare his love. Just imagine the blushing, the stammering, the potential for minor explosions (caused by Ace's nervousness, of course).

Dinner over, Ace reaches for something hidden in his pocket. His nervousness is palpable, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he throws caution (and the letter) to the wind, ready to confess his true feelings directly from the heart.

#divider by cafekitsune #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #zoro roronoa x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #portgas d ace x reader #zoro x reader #mihawk x reader #ace x reader #zoro roronoa x you #portgas d ace x you #dracule mihawk x you #zoro x y/n #mihawk x y/n #ace x y/n

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writingoddess1125 · 7 months

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Morticia and Gomez Effect pt. 2

Mihawk X FemReader

Since people liked this made a part two!

Part 1 <<<

• Mihawk mood had been fowl as of late, Clearly issues had been getting to him silently. His wine intake growing and his irritation rising

• You needed to fix this, Anger was never the most attractive look for your husband anyway-

• He had been home for two days and still hadn't spoke. Instead sitting in his study and doing paperwork while drinking, Sometimes the waft of cigar smoke greeting you as well from the halls.

• "Growling at the wall?" You call out seeing him sitting there scowling at the wall with his face turned up like a beast growling.

• He glanced at you, Seeing you close the door behind you, as well as noticing your done up appearance- mainly the black dress that fit you like a lustful sin he had bought some time again- already lessening his angry face.

• "I am in no mood Wife, leave me" He said with a irritated sigh. He never called you 'Wife' only when truly upset did he say this, Just like how when he was furious he would use your name.

• "I see, so you don't wish for your spirits to be lifted?" You said with a smirk starting to crawl across your face. Walking to the other side of his desk to close a curtain.

• "No- nor do I wish for whatever parlor trick you have p-pla-" Mihawk couldn't even finish his sentence as you pulled down the front of your dress flashing him your naked chest with a smile.

• Just like any man at any age his eyes widened and mind blank at the sight of breast. You quickly pulling the dress back up with a smile.

• He frozen, His drink almost falling from his hand if he didn't clumsily catch it and hold it steady.

• Mihawk stared at you for a moment like he was trying to formulate a response, his stoic face starting to break as a hearty laugh broke through his lips. His woes easily being wiped away by your trick as he tried to wave it away.

• "Dragostea mea (My Darling) you are too much, drawing me from my mood in such a childish way" He mused as he reached his arm out and pulling you into his lap.

• You smile at his words and nestle yourself against his strong chest, Your fingers playing with the cross on his chest.

• "Well anything for you my Love~" You smile and pepper kisses on his face and lips. He gives a delighted groan and his hand travels to find the zipper of the dress.

• "Idle hands my Love" You warn making him grumble for a short while- Mainly cause you both knew what was coming.

• His lips falling from its smile as the door bursted open and Perona March in like she owned the place. Recently you had been in charge of training her- Especially since you felt like Mihawk was too soft on her.

• Mihawk sighed as he sat up and saw Perona standing there making a face at the two of you.

• "So Gross!-" She tried as she stared at you two and invaded the space, You smoothing down your dark gown as you stared at the young woman with a amused face.

• "What do you want Perona?" Mihawk said as she stomped into the room, You watching her glare at you and look away flustered.

• "I never got a thank you from you for my recent mission!" She yelled as she pointed to you

• "Thats because you failed-" You spoke plainly.

• "I didn't fail!" She began to rant about the events of loosing to someone who flashed rainbow colors and worse 'disgusting' pastels.

• "So you lost to someone in pastels, Didn't get the information needed, didn't listen to the advice I gave you for the last mission. Now you come through here causing a ruckus cause I will not reward you?" You spoke very carefully, watching her stiffen at the lace of irritation through your voice.

• She shuffled a bit awkwardly and gave a single nod. You sighing at this-

• "Now your failing in the mission is one thing but my darling girl- Being beaten by Pastels?" You mused, she had fallen prey to a pastel nightmare was just too much of a burn. Her face turning as pink as her dress as she fluttered out screaming and throwing a temper tantrum thankfully she slammed the door closed behind her.

• Mihawk sighing as he leaned in his chair and pulled you back against him properly.

• "Disobedient" You hummed with a tired sigh.

• "If we had our own they would be more obedient and skilled" He mused, You feeling him place another kiss to the back of your neck.

• Surprised by his words you roll so you are facing him now, seated on him like a saddle. His intense yellowed eyes meeting your gaze before continuing to kiss you this time down your throat.

• "You're making it sound like you actually want one?" You said in mused question, a few breathy moans leaving you as he proceeded to bite rather hard down on your soft skin and his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

• Catching his gaze as he pulls back you could read him like a picture book. He did?

• "You actually want a child?" You hummed as your eyebrow raised, Feeling your husband's eyes wonder your form. His arm doing a quick sweep over his desk to push everything to the side and floor, uncaring as he had a goal in mind.

• "I am surprised we haven't already given an army due to us taking caution to the wind" He said calmly, setting you on the desk as his hands made easy work of rolling up the dark garment over your thighs.

• "Well if it's an army you want-" You purr and pull him closer to you by the cross around his neck feeling him close the distance between you two. "We better make up for lost time~"

• He smirked at this as he leaned down to kiss you with wine flavored lips as his hands found the front of your dress and in a fluid motion ripped the fabric down the center.

• Lost time indeed

Tag list-

@who-the-hockeysticks @vexladin

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #op mihawk #mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk x reader

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yoonavii · 4 months

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⌕ ʀᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴀᴘ

⤿ ᴍɪʜᴀᴡᴋ

Mihawk, known for his stoic demeanor, would initially be surprised by your intimate gesture. His eyes might widen slightly, not expecting such closeness.

Instead of pulling away, Mihawk would likely offer a measured response. He might give a subtle, approving nod or a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

Even with your head on his lap, Mihawk would maintain his composed and calm exterior. His ability to keep a collected demeanor is a testament to his control over his emotions.

While he may not express it openly, Mihawk would subtly adopt a protective stance. His posture might adjust ever so slightly, showing a subtle shift in his attentiveness.

Mihawk is a man of few words, but his actions speak volumes. Resting your head on his lap would be met with a silent appreciation for the trust and comfort you’re expressing.

Don’t be surprised if he places a hand lightly on your shoulder or runs his fingers through your hair. It’s a silent acknowledgment and a way of reciprocating the gesture.

The two of you might fall into a comfortable silence. Mihawk, not one to engage in unnecessary chatter, would appreciate the tranquility of the moment.

Whether he’s reading, observing the sea, or contemplating, Mihawk’s focus would remain unwavering even with your head on his lap. His ability to multitask is part of his impressive skill set.

Expect occasional, subtle gestures that convey affection. It could be a rare, soft smile or a gentle squeeze of your hand—small acts that reveal Mihawk’s emotions in a reserved manner.

If he allows your head to rest on his lap for an extended period, it’s a sign that he finds comfort in your presence. Mihawk values the tranquility you bring into his usually solitary world.

⤿ ꜱᴀʙᴏ

Sabo would likely be initially surprised by your gesture. He might blink or look down at you with a questioning expression, not expecting such closeness.

Once the surprise fades, Sabo would break into a gentle smile. He appreciates the intimacy and sees it as a sweet and trusting gesture.

He might subtly adjust his position to make you more comfortable. He wants you to feel at ease and relaxed in his presence.

Unlike Mihawk, Sabo is more inclined to engage in conversation. He might start a light, easygoing chat, ensuring you feel at ease while resting your head on his lap.

Sabo, being protective of those he cares about, would adopt a subtle protective stance. It’s not overbearing, but a comforting assurance that he’s there for you.

You might feel him running his fingers through your hair or gently stroking your cheek. These small, affectionate gestures convey his warmth and care.

If you share a lighthearted moment or a joke, Sabo’s laughter would be genuine and contagious. He enjoys the simple joys of being close to someone he cares about.

He might offer encouraging words, expressing his support and appreciation for your trust. He wants you to know that he’s there for you in moments of vulnerability.

Sabo would create a relaxed atmosphere around you, making it clear that you can be yourself without judgment. He values your comfort and wants you to feel safe.

If he allows you to rest your head on his lap for an extended period, it’s a sign that he enjoys the connection and closeness. He appreciates the bond you share and the trust you place in him.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

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sunshinescribes · 1 month

Text

Sanctuary

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader

Part 2 of this fic

Rating: None

Warnings: Pining, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Soft!Mihawk

Mihawk wishes he could make you stay.

If only he were more convincing, less prideful, perhaps he could speak the words he holds in his heart. Within him is a chamber of contained confessions, a world that exists purely for you, and the voices within rage and plead. Do not let her go. Do not let her leave us again.

But he will.

You run, and he lets you.

Even if Mihawk split open his chest and handed you his still-beating heart, you would flee. You’ve done it all your life. Slipping between forgotten towns and unknown islands. The concept of home is foreign—belonging, a myth.

Every place you have ever escaped to has called itself sanctuary, and every time it was a lie. Even Kuraigana Island.

Even him.

Mihawk considers you as you rest beside him on an uncomfortable cot tucked away in a tiny room at the back of the tavern—a room that appears to house you for the time being. His eyes fix on your face, spellbound by that rare, delicate softness that graces your features—a momentary repose before you wake and the world becomes ugly and unfair once more. If Mihawk tries hard enough, he can almost convince himself that you both are back behind the walls of his castle, curled comfortably in a bed large enough to sleep an entire family.

He had loved you most in those predawn hours—how your hands would move instinctively in your sleep, drawing him closer until you both were chest to chest, heart to beating heart. You would bury your face in his neck, inhaling softly as if you needed to breathe him in, and feel his essence in your very lungs.

Nothing could take him away from you in those moments. The walls of the castle could crumble around him, and Mihawk would still refuse to stir—refuse to be separate from you.

It had been so lovely, so right…and then he went and did the one thing you could never forgive.

A heavy sigh leaves Mihawk, thinking back on that ruinous day. He should have known better; known the news he was about to share would bring devastation, but he had been blinded by hope and compelled by a fear that haunted him like a tortured soul.

Mihawk doesn’t want to remember, but the image is forever burned in his mind’s eye. You, nestled comfortably in one of the castle’s many alcoves. Sunlight streamed through the window like holy light, making you the image of divinity. He had called to you softly, and you stirred, prying a single eye open begrudgingly, nearly on the brink of sleep.

He had lowered himself to the ground, brushing his knuckles against your cheek while playfully chiding you. Your frustration faded quickly as you leaned into his touch, wordlessly demanding a kiss.

Mihawk had been all too happy to oblige, tenderly pressing his lips to yours. He muttered soft words against your mouth—I have something to tell you.

You had been so unsuspecting, completely at ease, running your finger along the line of his jaw, softly brushing his trimmed beard in a way that made his eyes flutter.

God, he should have just pulled himself into the alcove with you. Crowded into that tiny space and drew you flush against him. He should have whispered against the curve of your neck until you drifted back to the land of dreams.

No.

It needed to happen the way it did. Even if the image of you pulling back from him suddenly still snags his heart. You had blinked at Mihawk in disbelief when he spoke his next words, as if perhaps you had imagined them—it couldn’t be true; he would never align with the World Government. He would never...

But he did.

They had requested him many times before, but Mihawk had never cared for their offer. He did not fear the marines nor the World Government, and he certainly cared little for the overzealous fools that threw their weight around like children on a schoolyard—the self-important government dogs, warlords of the seas.

Mihawk had not thought much of it until he had you.

Your bounty posters became a cruel warning, promises of death. Mihawk rarely ever considered his own mortality, but yours haunted him, and his nightmares began to paint tortuous scenes—Mihawk pushing through a crowd that watches with wicked fascination and contempt as you kneel at the execution platform. He calls your name in his dreams, but you never react. All that cheer and fire is stripped from you. Mihawk moves as if wading through water, every step heavier than the last, and he knows he can’t reach you—can’t lift Yoru fast enough to turn the platform into splinters. You are going to die, and there’s nothing he can do.

The nightmares bled into reality, no longer a possibility to consider but a matter of when. Better pirates that you and him had fallen at the hands of the World Government.

And so he turned to them finally and agreed to do their bidding, even if he had no such intentions. His immunity would shield you both. His title would be a warning to bounty hunters and marines alike. If you seek to ruin my peace, you will die by my blade.

Mihawk had expected your apprehension, but he never anticipated your rage. Eyes that had once looked at him fondly now regarded him as if he had pierced Yoru through your heart and swore to drag you to Impel Down. Your words turned viscous, laced with venom and fury and pain.

And all at once, the serenity of a love you both shared had shattered. You left as if you couldn’t stand to be in the same space as Mihawk and swore you could never love him—never share a life with him, not when he served them.

Mihawk blinks through the memory, tries to force it far away, but it’s impossible while you’re sleeping so peacefully beside him, making him painfully aware that he is lacking without you—that the feelings he thought he had mastered had only been lying dormant, waiting for you.

You stir suddenly, a soft sigh escaping your parted lips as your eyes slowly open. You blink a few times, your eyes adjusting to the soft light that pours through the windows of the neglected tavern.

You stare at him, the fog in your mind slowly clearing. Mihawk watches as your brows pinch together and a dissatisfied groan leaves you.

“Fuck…I thought that was a dream.”

You try to sound displeased but your voice is soft with sleep.

“Disappointed?”

You catch the faintest hint of teasing in his voice, so quick and controlled that you almost mistake his response for a genuine question. Mihawk knows you aren’t disappointed—you’re panicking, desperately scrambling to rebuild the wall in your mind that makes it easy to act cold and indifferent. Without it, the playful insults and snide remarks die on your tongue.

“I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with this.” You lift to a sitting position, fixing your gaze on a tiny crack in the wall to keep yourself from looking back at Mihawk. “I hoped, anyway.”

You feel his sharp eyes considering you in a way that you aren’t sure you can take right now. All this attention and newness makes you feel like a caged animal in need of escape. The creeping unease serves to spark the fire within you, hot flames raging with a need to scald.

"Are you sure you can even be here right now?” You attempt to sound genuine, feigning a curious look as you glance at Mihawk from over your shoulder. “Won’t the Admirals miss their favorite errand boy?”

You expect that quick flash of fire in his eyes—the bitter twist of his lips that tells you no more honeyed words will pass them. You can navigate that easily; taunt him until he’s shuffling out the door and you’re swearing to yourself that this was the last time.

Mihawk scoffs, but it’s light instead of sharp with malice, more akin to a laugh than anything else.

“I suppose they wish they had such power over me,” Mihawk muses softly, “but no one does. No one but you.”

You blink dumbly at Mihawk, too blindsided to respond. You want him to argue, not pacify—to meet you head-on with the same amount of fire, bite back in a way you know he’s capable of. Make it easy for me to leave. Make me hate you again.

It startles you how quickly you realize that he won’t. You had asked him to kiss you, knowing what it would mean for Mihawk to do so. You had whispered your hatred, fully aware that Mihawk would understand the true meaning behind your words. Both of you had thrown caution to the wind, fully aware of the consequences. You could run as you always do, but Mihawk wouldn’t make it any easier for you, not this time.

“We always would have ended up here,” Mihawk starts, as if reading your mind. “Neither of us is capable of letting the other go.”

You let out a mirthless laugh, furious at how right he is. You two had only ever been lying to yourselves, trying to push away feelings that refused to be denied. The connection between you is inseverable, no matter how hard you scrape and scream. Mihawk holds your heart in his hands, just as you hold his.

“I can’t come back to you Mihawk.” Your voice is low, barely a whisper. You feel worn to the bone, so fucking tired of this charade. Honesty is…terrifying, a vulnerability easily exploited, but there are no lies to tell that will soothe your scarred heart. “Not now. Not…”

“While I’m a warlord,” he finishes for you.

You nod, detesting the lump that forms in your throat and the way your eyes burn. God, you despise the World Government. If only your fury could give you the power to wage war on Mary Geoise and destroy them. Everything you’ve ever dared to love has been taken by them. Your true home. A life you could have lived. Mihawk.

You feel the softness of his mouth against your shoulder suddenly, a small comfort that has you swallowing a sob.

“I didn't do it to hurt you…” Mihawk admits, pressing another kiss on your warm skin. “But I hurt you nonetheless.”

You feel the apology searing into your skin—words that much like you, he can’t speak. I’m sorry. Sorry I hurt you. Sorry I’ll continue to.

A rough finger brushes against your cheek, drawing your attention back to Mihawk. You blink, your eyes falling to his lips, as Mihawk lifts his head from your shoulder. You feel your heart seize when you meet his eyes. There it is again. That look of worship—fierce affection, as if you burn brighter than the sun.

“Mihawk—” your voice trembles.

He captures your lips before you can say another word and kisses away the agony that tries to tear you to shreds. Mihawk is gentle, delicate in a way you don’t think you deserve, and you find that you’re grateful for it. Happy he can’t see the tear that rolls down your cheek.

I didn’t do it to hurt you.

You know. Mihawk is many things, but not cruel. Never cruel. You knew the day you left, but it didn’t matter. Your hatred of the World Government is vicious. All-consuming. You can’t see past it, no matter how much you wish you could.

“You can run. Hide,” Mihawk whispers against your lips, “But don’t pretend you hate me. Not again.”

You hear the masked plea. Mihawk had spent months wondering, hoping like a fool that you still loved him. It’s impressive how well you shield your heart, hiding behind your quick wit and sharp tongue. Last night had been the first time since you’d left that you dared hint at the possibility that your heart had not abandoned him. The thought of being pulled back into the unknown is worse than any punishment you could impose on him.

“Don’t break my heart again,” you retort, leaning back into him. You think you hear Mihawk say never, but the feeling of his lips on yours again robs you of all thought. It’s agonizing how slowly he kisses you—takes his time tasting as if you two have all the time in the world.

Tomorrow you will be long gone, little more than a sweet memory he’ll hold in the back of his mind as he ventures home, but you’ve given him the one thing he thought he’d lost forever: hope.

Not now.

But someday.

Mihawk is a patient man. He can await the day he’s able to find you one last time, not as Hawk Eye or a warlord of the seas, but as Dracule Mihawk—the solitary pirate. Marine hunter. The freest and fiercest man in the world, bound only by his love for you.

divider credit: cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x y/n #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #x reader #tumblr got it first cause AO3 is down lmao

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shegetsburned · 3 months

Note

Bed talk with Mihawk, please Mac? 🥺💙

bed talk w. dracule mihawk ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .

.nsfw.

a/n. anything for you meg! i know you love him! content. what i think mihawk would say in bed.

“darling, this is not what i call being able to take it.”

“don’t worry. i’ll take you out for dinner before i eat you out for dessert. it’s only the polite thing to do.”

“please, allow me the luxury to touch you.”

“mphh— don’t. your hands are in the way.”

“you do realize i’m not only skilled with swords, my love.”

“don’t hold back.”

“you’re mine and i take care of what belongs to me.”

“don’t even think about cumming yet.”

“louder. i want to hear you.”

wouldn’t he just love to challenge you, watching as he over-stimulates you. he wants to see when you break.

“i had high hopes for you, i’m— mphh… glad you exceeded my expectations.”

“you can pretend all you want. i can see the mess you’re making of yourself.”

“i’m going to ruin you.”

“did i say you could stop?”

“— and i’m still going to do precisely what i want to you, darling.”

“you taste divine, my love.”

“someone ought to teach you some manners.”

“darling, I just can’t wait to be inside you.”

“fuck— what a sight for sore eyes you are.”

“you’re in no position to make demands, can’t you see your panties are soaked through.”

#one piece #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #mihawk smut #one piece smut #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #op mihawk #op #op smut #mihawk

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badgerbl00d · 1 year

Text

one piece boys being overprotective...

☆ characters: sir crocodile, dracule mihawk, captain smoker

☆ up next: drinking with the one piece boys pt. 2

☆ summary: how each of these characters comes to your aid and save u

☆ a/n: definitely want to make more parts to this.. please feel free to make suggestions! enjoy ;3

crocodile:

“Meet me there tonight,” Crocodile yawned, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You closed your eyes as he tucked you back into bed, gently covering you in a mass of blankets and sheets.

Sleep overtook you as you watched him put on his coat and slip out of the door, smiling to yourself as you noticed he’d left his watch on your nightstand.

The bed he’d bought you was unbelievably comfortable and dangerously warm. The biting cold desert nights were remedied with the matching duvet and silk pillow sheets he’d gifted you and the only thing that made sleeping better was when he’d stay the night.

But you understood the nature of your relationship- if you could even call it that.

The affection and softness he showed you were for no one else to know about, and that much had been made clear.

Yet, you couldn’t find yourself worrying too much. Crocodile was, of course, one of many benefactors whose attention you’d grabbed and you were overtly aware of the effect you had on him.

You’d meet him at any bar he asked you to, take care of any business he needed handled, and when he called, you’d come.

But as much as you knew you weren’t entirely his, he knew he wasn’t entirely yours.

The clock read 9:00 when you decided to get ready.

A sleek black dress with a plunging neckline that hugged you where your flesh curved.

Glossy black heels, extending your long legs and paired with a red lip.

You grabbed your wallet and pulled your coat over your shoulders.

It smelled like Crocodile. Expensive cologne and cigars. Last time you’d worn it some wine had spilled and he offered to have it washed. It carried the clean scent of lemongrass that all his clothes smelled like.

You couldn’t help but take a deep breath before stepping out.

The bar was busier than usual, there was even a jazz band playing. The music was soft and cool, you made a mental note to ask them for a business card, as you were sure this was the kind of thing your lover would love to have at his next party.

Sauntering towards your usual spot at the bar, you took the only open seat next to a blond gentleman who was chatting with the bartender.

He had on a blue suit and an obnoxiously loud laugh.

The bartender made his way over to you, “Anything I can start you off with?”

“Just a martini please,” you asked.

“Fufufu~ Put it on my tab,” the man next to you said to the bartender.

You looked over at him, smiling, “Thank you. Do we know each other?”

“Not yet,” he said, he wore sunglasses, but you could feel him looking you up and down and suddenly felt very vulnerable, “But I’d like to.”

Something was off about him. You could sense something predatory in his voice and the hairs on the back of your neck started to rise.

But Crocodile would be there soon and you’d been looking forward to your martini so you decided to at least finish the drink before finding some bad excuse to leave.

You sipped on your drink and politely entertained his odd questions, like Where did you like to shop? What fabric feels best on your skin? and What perfume were you wearing?

The longer you spoke with him, the more you felt an intense and unnerving hunger invading him.

“What brings you here?” you asked, finally reaching your limit to his never ending questions.

“Just waiting for an old friend,” he answered, amused by you.

Silence followed your question. You’d finished your drink a while ago so there was nothing left to do but sit and wait.

You could feel the man’s eyes watching you, almost as though he were trying to look through your skin.

You heard the door of the bar swing open and turned around.

Relief washed over you as you saw Crocodile walk in, extremely tired and in need of a drink and some sloppy kisses. You’d provide him readily with both.

He walked over to you smiling and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, “Sorry about the wait, Sweetheart.”

“Pretty girl you’ve caught,” your ‘friend’ said, the odd lilt in his voice setting you on edge.

You watched Crocodile’s entire demeanor shift in an instant.

His eyes narrowed like a cat’s and there was a shift of energy in the room. It filled with tension and sand from floor to ceiling.

“Doflamingo,” Crocodile stated.

“She’s kept me in good company,” he mused, gesturing towards you, “Clever girl, and such a sweetheart. Didn’t even recognize me. Isn’t that cute?”

“Y/n, we’re leaving.”

You nodded and got up, making your way towards him.

“Ah-” you yelped as a sharp slice of pain cut through your wrists as you felt yourself jolted a few feet backwards, your back hitting against his clothed chest.

“Surely, Crocodile, you’re not too vain to share?”

You felt the air get sucked out of the room, a wave of anxiety flooding through every living thing in that bar.

Awkwardly yet quickly the bar's patrons left, running once out of the confines of the four walls holding the two warlords.

Sweat dripped down your body and your breathing was starting to become panicked.

The pressure along your wrists was getting worse and you had no idea what was happening. A thin line of blood dribbled down your forearms as your hands were raised above your head as though pulled by some invisible string.

A calloused hand pressed your face against his own, and you froze as you felt Doflamingo’s tongue

“I suggest you end your little game now Doflamingo,” Crocodile said, his voice calmer than he looked, “Out of the two of you, there’s only one I can dry out, and it isn’t the one covered in sweat.”

You felt grains of sand rubbing against your skin and looked down to see your assailant's leg was getting dried out.

“Fufufufu~ too much pride to share, but not enough to avoid jealousy.”

With a grunt of dissatisfaction the hold on your wrists ceased and your fall to the floor was stopped by surprisingly soft sand.

Crocodile helped you up, wiping away the blood from your wrists and tearing his pocket square in half to tie around each of your wrists.

He helped you up with a shocking delicacy, and walked you out of the bar. Sending in Mr. 1 to finish taking care of the situation for him.

A car picked you up and your lover tended to your wounds. Brushing your hair out of your face and letting you change into his shirt. Your clothes were torn and stained with blood and dirt.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he assured you.

You laughed, “That’s okay, I did like the coat though. It smelled like you.”

He sighed, rubbing circles on your back.

You’d be the death of him.

“Let me take you back to yours,” he said, pressing kisses to your head, “I- I’d like to see that you’re alright.. and I believe I left my watch there.”

mihawk:

You rubbed your husband’s back in an attempt to console him as you both watched the Red Haired pirates unload their ship on Kuraigana Island.

“You know this means we’ll get no sleep for the next week,” Mihawk said, “And that we’ll be in dire need of food and a maid by the time they leave.”

You laughed, “But it gets so lonely here! You wouldn’t know because you’re always leaving, but I get lonely and bored. And I’ve heard they like a drink or two.”

“Or two.”

The two of you sat and observed as they finished unloading and docking the ship, and you pressed an outburst of kisses to his head, tugging your hand away from his. Laughing at his reluctance to greet his unwanted guests.

“How are ya’ Sweetheart?” Shanks hugged you and pressed a big kiss onto your cheek, earning a glare from your husband.

“I have one for you too, Hawkeye,” he said, approaching the swordsman who reluctantly allowed himself to be embraced.

You greeted the rest of the crew, and only Beckman had the decency to withhold a kiss.

The drinking had started before the sun had a chance to set. By early dusk, with golden rays still streaking the sky, cups were being filled. To your pleasant surprise Mihawk allowed himself slight indulgence and was portioning out a pint for himself.

You’d started off well, just a glass of wine. But by your second you were already messily kissing your husband- much to his (well hid) enjoyment.

Since you weren’t a pirate or a powerholder you rarely accompanied Mihawk on his expeditions, they were too dangerous. And though you couldn’t complain about the castle you were living in, you could definitely complain about the boredom.

There was plenty to do, you’d planted a garden and the island cats had taken a liking to you. You had an enormous library and a beautiful kitchen.

Yet you found yourself incredibly happy to be here, partying with pirates who had stories and scars and were loud and boisterous and dangerous and exciting.

So when the crew’s sniper suggested shots you were the first to participate.

Mihawk stayed seated in the back and gave you a nod of encouragement

“He does leave me here with his wines all day,” you joked, earning an eruption of laughter from the men. “She’s drinking you dry, Hawkeye!” one yelled.

“Oh I most definitely am,” you teased, winking at your husband, who choked on his drink. Another fit of laughter seized the pirates, especially the captain.

“I like her,” he said, taking a seat next to the swordsman.

“How about a drinking game,” one of the men yelled.

A chorus of yeses followed.

“Rules are simple, player says heads or tails, if their guess is right the coin goes to the next person, if the guess is wrong you remove one article of clothing and take a shot.”

The sound of a sword unsheathing silenced the entire party.

“Might wanna adjust some rules there,” Shanks laughed.

“I-if the guess is wrong you take a shot.”

“One more sweetheart,” Shanks laughed, “C’mon!”

You nodded eagerly, firmly gripping the overflowing shot glass in your hand, the bitter brown liquid sloshing over the rim.

You choked down your sixth shot of the night, biting back the urge to gag. You weren’t sure what you’d just swallowed but its effects were nearly immediate.

The sound of your heart pounding throughout your body was making you dizzy, and the sound of waves crashing led to a subtle nausea spreading across you.

The sun had long set and night covered the island. You’d all been partying and drinking for hours.

“Another!” you slurred, grabbing onto the captain’s arm.

The crew laughed and Shanks poured you another shot, bringing it to your lips for you.

“That’s enough,” you felt a strong hand wrap around your waist, and saw Mihawk pull the shot glass away from your lips.

“‘m perfec’ly fine,” you insisted, hiccupping.

“I can tell,” he mused, “Let’s go sit for a while.”

Mihawk held a water bottle to your mouth, wiping the spilling water off your lips with his thumb.

“Tired, cariño?”

You nodded, bringing his arms down around your waist.

You were undeniably adorable with pouty lips and warm, rosy cheeks.

But he knew drunk pirates and didn’t think you needed to be surrounded by them any longer. He lifted you up onto his lap, where you found a worthy pillow in his chest, bringing your arms to rest around his neck.

Mihawk started the walk up to your room, to get you ready for bed and you half-heartedly waved goodbye to the loud and laughing entourage of pirates in your backyard.

You’d have a terrible headache in the morning and be hungrier than usual, and your husband would bring you medicine and breakfast in bed.

smoker:

Vice Captain Smoker was a serious man who was both dedicated and loyal to his work. Morally and legally he upheld his reputation and duty as a successful marine and had a generally better record than his subordinates, peers, and supervisors.

Loguetown’s reputation had been single handedly transformed under his supervision.

More often than not the man’s mind was occupied with quotas and deadlines, meetings with higher ups he was dreading, and whipping the lower ranked marines into shape.

But Friday nights when Tashigi would stay late so he could leave early, there was one other thing he allowed himself to think about.

You.

He wouldn’t admit it to himself and it was more of a subconscious attraction than a spoken one but every Friday, without fail, he’d stop by the bakery you worked at to get a latté.

You had found yourself looking forward to Fridays. The city was surprisingly quiet those nights despite it being the start of the weekend and by the time the Captain came around you were getting ready to close up shop.

He was easily noticed for several reasons, mainly because he was well known (and feared) but also because he always made conversation with you. The first few times you were slightly taken aback at how chatty he was, he was known to be a man of few words and it unnerved you to see him so talkative.

By the fourth cup of coffee you’d served him you saw him as a regular.

In reality, Smoker himself was surprised at his change in demeanor when he was around you.

As though someone were feeding him lines, he found himself able to just talk.

About the weather and the city, but also to ask you about yourself.

After a month or so of visiting you he found himself craving coffee on Mondays. And eventually Tuesdays and Thursdays, and sometimes- when he was in a particularly good mood- he’d even go on Wednesday mornings to pick up coffee for the entire department.

And you, increasingly eager to see your favorite regular, would always have his order ready when he arrived.

A time or two you’d even brushed hands when passing the coffee and in both of you a feeling of nervousness and pleasure was revealed on your skin through a light pink blush.

It was a Tuesday evening, right as you began closing that a new customer came in. He asked for a cake and said he’d need it by morning.

You explained that it wouldn’t be possible, as you were closing now and he was welcome to put the order in the following morning.

“I’ll pay five times whatever you’re selling this stuff for,” he offered, “My captain likes sweets and I was just let on the crew and he gave me this errand and said I had to-”

You interrupted his rambling with a nod and said you’d do it for five time’s the asking price.

฿550 for a single cake wasn’t an opportunity you’d pass up, and you figured you’d compensate for the lack of sleep tomorrow.

You’d stayed up the entire night working tirelessly to make sure the cake was ready. When you say to take a “short break” before opening, you’d passed out on the counter, forgetting to set your alarm.

You heard soft knocking on the window and were jolted awake. Rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes you looked over to see Smoker puffing his cigar outside your shop, a concerned look on his face.

You got up to unlock the door and let him in.

The sun wasn’t up yet. The clock read 5:00.

“You’re here early,” you said.

“Yes.. Well, I walk this way to my office and I saw you sleeping. Are you alright?”

You nodded.

“You’re sure? Did you sleep here? Do you need anything?”

Your eyes widened and the color of your cheeks conceded your embarrassment.

“No! Yes, I stayed in the shop late,” you explained, “A customer needed a cake ready by this morning.”

Smoker nodded.

“Thanks for asking.”

He nodded again.

You started getting his coffee ready as you talked.

“ Don’t those take a long time to make? Do you usually do that? Stay late, I mean.” he gestured towards the display of pastries.

“Not usually, no,” you laughed, at his onslaught of questions, “But he made a fantastic offer. Five times the asking price! He said something about his Captain. I think he was a pirate. I didn’t pay much attention after he offered the money.”

Smoker laughed.

“Oh,” you added, “Please don’t arrest him until after he pays.”

You liked the sound of his laughter and joined him in giggling.

“Any requests for your latté art today?”

“Surprise me.”

You handed him his coffee and refused his payment, assuring him he was a regular customer and it was quite alright.

“Then let me use this to buy you a coffee.”

You smiled and assured him you had all the coffee and sweets you could possibly need.

“But if you’ll let me borrow that bill for just a moment, I’ll leave you something.”

Smoker looked confused, but had no hesitation in offering you the money.

“This is probably the only way I can get you to keep your money.”

You took out a pen and scribbled down your phone number on the bill.

He blushed as you handed it back to him, gently folding it into his pocket.

“If.. you aren’t busy tonight” he started, hesitating, “I’d love to take you out to dinner.”

You looked up at him.

“I’m not busy!” you nodded eagerly, “I’d love to!”

“Is 7 alright then?”

“Perfect,” you said, “Just call me.”

Smoker walked out, smiling more than he thought he ever had,

It was cold out and he went to take a sip of his coffee, he thought to himself that it tasted better than usual.

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