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rainbowmoonstonestories · 8 months ago

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A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Tagging: @gg-trini, @commanderfreethatdust, @canthebest1, @shakysif, @i-am-vita. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the future chapters, feel free to drop me a comment!

Read on AO3.

Dracule Mihawk, a man shrouded in mystery, had an allure that was almost impossible to ignore, even with scant knowledge about him. As fate would have it, this powerful attraction was reciprocated.

Warning: This chapter includes detailed smut!

When you offered that invitation to Dracule Mihawk, your intentions were unclear even to yourself. His heroic deed of saving you from a nearly unavoidable fatality seemed to instinctively provoke this response, and the prospect of an early departure was far from desirable, given the considerable time it took you to expunge his presence from your thoughts.

But now, as he stepped onto your ship and entered your private quarters—a place where no other man had previously been allowed—your heart refused to stay silent. The confined space of your vessel, where the bar area was placed in close proximity to your bed with only a modest couch acting as a divider, certainly did not help the situation.

Fortunately, you had a separate room dedicated to personal hygiene, discreetly placed on the opposite side and hidden behind a modest door. Thus, you allowed him to make himself comfortable, promptly excusing yourself to retreat into the washroom.

You hastily freshened up to restore your appearance after the strenuous battle, fixing your makeup and swiftly changing into a new attire. You didn't want to come across as overly provocative, but as a woman, you felt compelled to look decent in his commanding presence. You opted for a pair of velvety shorts, fastened with a broad belt that featured a striking golden buckle. You also picked a soft, high-quality leather top, adorned with a tasteful set of front laces that ensured it clung flatteringly to your torso. You chose, however, to completely abandon any form of footwear, allowing your legs and feet to be entirely unencumbered.

While looking good was of utter importance, you also needed to feel comfortable in your own space. Perhaps it was a bit too much considering you had a special guest, but you always valued presenting your authentic self, regardless of the occasion.

Or maybe, unbeknownst to you, Mihawk's calming aura instilled such a sense of ease that any need for formality was discarded. This notion struck you as profoundly ironic, especially considering that his initial task was to pursue and capture you.

Or worse.

As you exited the room, your bare feet meeting the cool wooden planks, your eyes locked with his golden stare. He was seated on the couch, legs crossed elegantly with his hands resting on his knees. His sword, tall enough to be mistaken for a menacing figure, was strategically placed beside the couch. Despite the indoor setting, his hat remained firmly on his head.

He was silent, scrutinizing you with an intense gaze. Attempting to maintain your composure, you sauntered over to the counter and fetched a pair of glasses.

With an air of nonchalance, you remarked, "You strike me as the wine type. Do you like it?”

"Wine is fine," he responded, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of indifference.

You acknowledged his response, turning to uncork one of the most exquisite wines procured in the East Blue. As you proceeded to pour the liquid, his expression immediatly altered, his eyes catching a glimpse of the scars on your back, stretching across your right shoulder from under your sleeveless top.

"What is that?"

He shattered the silence with a question that momentarily eluded your understanding. You swiveled your head around to face him, registering how his focus had drifted to your back. It didn't take long for you to discern what had suddenly ensnared his interest.

You answered with a casual shrug, filling both your glasses. "A souvenir from the Admiral I took down.”

Would he even have the inclination to learn about it? Did you harbor the bravery to revisit a nightmarish past you had strenuously endeavored to expunge from your memory?

Mihawk maintained his silence, which eventually led you to decide to lay it all out. "He took pleasure in using my back as his personal canvas to inflict and inscribe his marks.”

The echo of the man's laugh still rang in your ears, his sadistic, malevolent grin imprinted in your mind.

"Everything started with a mere piece of bread. I was starving and my timing was off. They assumed I was a pirate, never bothering to reason with me or listen to my side of the story.”

You made your way back to the couch, extending his glass for him to accept. His hawk-like eyes were transfixed on your form, not blinking once. Gradually, Mihawk accepted the offered wine, his fingers lightly grazing yours in the process.

You resumed your narration, settling down on the plush cushions next to him. "They always label pirates as the scum of the earth, the vilest breed of men alive. I've encountered my fair share of despicable ones, that's a fact, but the Marines can surpass them all in their depravity.”

Mihawk sipped his drink, his focus drifting away as he seemed to be engrossed in deep thought.

"It's not your identity that defines you. It's your actions, your choices. Deeds can resonate more powerfully than words.”

He swallowed the ruby-red, invigorating liquid, and you couldn't help but be captivated by the movement of his Adam's Apple.

"I apologize if I'm boring you," you confessed, smiling. "But tell me something; is your presence here really just a mere coincidence?”

Finally, as he set his glass down, holding it just above his lap, he hummed in response. "I have no interest in chasing after you.”

"Ouch," you answered playfully. "That's unfortunate. I was under the impression I was starting to grow on you.”

The way his eyes shifted back to you from the side, stern yet somehow comical, elicited a gentle chuckle from you.

"Regardless of what brought you here, it turned out to be beneficial for me, so... thank you.”

You changed your position, leaning your back against the couch and bringing the rim of the cold glass to your lips. As you moved, your thigh brushed against his, sparking a fleeting touch that sent a flutter of butterflies to your stomach.

Your hand softly traced your belly, where a few twinges of pain from the kick you received were still lingering. Mihawk appeared to notice this, his eyes falling on your fingers as they curled around the soft fabric of your top.

"I wonder, who is Dracule Mihawk, truly?" You pondered aloud. "You are not the subservient figure everyone portrays when they talk about you Warlords, are you?”

"I am certainly not,” he said with a grimace.

You appreciated the concise and earnest responses he offered when he was perfectly capable of delivering more elaborate speeches out of the blue. He was one-of-a-kind, enigmatic, and undoubtedly a man of many talents.

Once, you were filled with fear at the mere thought of him. Now, all you felt was a pulsing curiosity and a magnetic attraction.

"No, of course. I can see that.”

If only you could probe deeper, uncover more about this formidable man who had the power to erase your existence with the slightest touch.

"What held you back when you first saw me?" You questioned him. "I wasn't even aware of you then. You could have easily trapped me, vanquished me as you were expected to do.”

"Like I mentioned, I wanted to verify for myself if the reputation that preceded you was warranted.”

"Yes, and you also told me that you can become particularly laidback when you don't have anything interesting to keep yourself occupied with.”

He gave an almost imperceptible shrug, raising the glass back to his lips for another sip.

"Was that all there was to it? Boredom? Did you spare my life simply because there would be nothing to gain from my death?”

Was there something more underlying his benevolence?

"Why are you interested in knowing?”

"Because I don't get it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, Mihawk. I do.”

He didn't react, merely looking at you while keeping a calm and elegant posture on the couch. He had the aura of a refined Lord from affluent lands, akin to a king who carried his throne with him wherever he went.

"I left my hometown with the aspiration of finding a better life, oblivious to what I could find. All I was met with was prejudice, cruelty, violence, and greed.”

He listened in silence, gently swirling the half-empty glass in his hand.

"I genuinely thought you were no different, that you would kill me. But not only did you spare my life once, you literally saved my neck today.”

You leaned in, tilting your head to lock gazes with him more intensely. “I wasn't your responsibility, you could have left me there.”

His eyes dropped momentarily, only to return to your face with renewed determination.

"I simply chose not to," he responded.

No explanation or reasoning. His statement just stood as an unquestionable fact.

At that, you smiled. "Like I said, actions can define us better than words will ever do. You might be a Warlord of the sea, and the most formidable swordsman in the world. But more than anything, you're a good man.”

"A good man, you say?”

“Yes.”

"Don't be naive. I operate by my own rules, at my own pace. I can remove anyone without needing a particular reason, and I won't hesitate to topple those who dare to oppose me.”

Clearly, his aim was to sound intimidating and threatening. Yet, for some reason, his efforts didn't seem to impact you as he intended.

"Obviously," you retorted, as if his words were the most normal thing to hear. "But here's the thing; I held my knife to your throat, and yet, here I stand.”

His eyebrows arched as he regarded you with a mix of playfulness and mockery. "Did you believe that would frighten me away?”

"Certainly not. My point is that you didn't even make an attempt to disarm me.”

"So?”

You sighed. "So, we're back to the beginning. You could have overpowered me in a multitude of ways, left me to my fate, but for some inexplicable reason, you decided to help me.”

He hardly even blinked.

"You claimed I was intriguing, yet I mean nothing to you. I don't even pose a substantial challenge in battle.”

"That is your perspective.”

"No, it's an undeniable truth.”

"You were battling against a whole crew of men eager to claim your head.”

"And they would have succeeded if it weren't for your intervention. What do you think would happen if, for some reason, I found myself in a fight against you?”

He rolled his eyes. "All I'm hearing is pointless prattle.”

He definitely had a knack for being unnerving as well.

"What enjoyment could you possibly derive from keeping me alive?”

For the first time, you saw him genuinely struggle, as he parted his lips to speak, but halted himself mid-sentence. He pondered over it, searching for the appropriate explanation to provide.

When he finally did, you felt your breath hitch in your throat due to the spark you saw in his golden irises.

"I'm intrigued to see where your resilience might take you.”

You blinked a few times, feeling the glass almost slip from your grasp. "Are you implying that it would be a waste if I were to die?”

"This world could use a bit of a shake-up.”

The Warlord was artfully sidestepping your questions, not providing the answers you seeked but instead offering new perspectives on his intentions. As the strongest swordsman with no real competitor capable of giving him a worthy challenge, he had no other ambition left to chase after. Was he longing for a new type of world, reformed with more deserving and honorable people like yourself?

Your lips stretched into an even wider smile as you quietly brought the remaining drops of your wine to them.

He mirrored your action, draining his glass without breaking the eye contact, before setting it on the coffee table in front of him and rising to his feet.

From your seated position, he appeared incredibly towering and commanding.

"You ought to leave this town," he suggested, reaching for his sword. "Before someone else decides to come after you again.”

The color almost washed out from your face as you realized that he was about to depart. You knew it was irrational, preposterous, and somewhat immature, but you weren't ready for him to leave just yet.

Perhaps it was the wine, coupled with the earlier Daiquiri, clouding your judgment and bringing forth your most illogical thoughts. But for a fleeting moment, you were tempted to grasp his coat, draw him back down, and ask him to stay for a little while longer.

But you didn't.

"Oh... uh, yes. I should indeed.”

You also rose from the couch, moving towards the counter, intent on procuring more wine to drink. Without even a second thought, you poured some into your glass, watching as the crimson liquid flowed out, reminiscent of the blood that once seeped from your now healed wounds.

"It's ironic, you know," you voiced out, unable to suppress your churning thoughts.

"What is?" He asked indifferently.

You weren't supposed to reveal it, you shouldn't have let the alcohol amplify your instincts.

You didn't bother to turn around, as your mind became chaotic the moment you let it all spill out for him to hear. "There was a time when I wanted to just rid myself of you. But now, I almost wish you didn't have to go.”

As much as you tried to find a reasonable explanation, you couldn't decipher what it was about Mihawk that had you so enthralled. You had only shared a few words with the man; he was a solitary figure with an apparent disinterest in anything or anyone around him, unless it involved a good fight. He was sent by the Marines to hunt you down, only to observe you and then let you be. He saved your life of his own volition, stating that he wanted to see where your path would lead.

He was a stranger, someone you might not encounter again anytime soon.

And somehow, irrespective of the influence of alcohol, you found yourself needing him.

Given that Mihawk had noticeably halted in his tracks, you anticipated him either distancing himself with a harsh retort or simply walking away, disregarding your partially inebriated state completely.

However, he didn't even budge, boring holes into your back with his hawk-like, fiery scrutiny.

You spun around, leaning against the counter and bringing the glass to your lips once more. "Stay safe out there, Warlord.”

How foolish did that sound? If there was anyone who didn't need to worry about a single thing, it was Mihawk. You had heard tales of how he could even slice a bullet in half when someone attempted to shoot him unawares.

And yet, a part of you still felt compelled to worry about him, to wish him safe travels, free from any potential hazards.

Silly, that's what you were. So utterly, ridiculously silly.

However, events took such an unforeseen twist that you didn't even know how to process it. Silently, he returned the sword to its original position next to the couch, before taking a few strides in your direction. He halted right in front of you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He simply inspected your puzzled face, quiet and thoughtful, while you could only return the stare with a questioning expression.

The moment he reached for his hat, your heart rate quickened, pounding so heavily that you could hear it in your ears. For the first time, he removed the accessory, liberating his head from its covering, and placed it on the counter right beside you. You observed his forehead, no longer in shadow, and his eyes seemed even brighter and more golden. The dark roots of his hair were impeccably combed and aligned, with his soft locks following the curve of his head and ending at his nape.

Unable to hold back, you let your eyes fall directly onto his lips. They were perfectly sculpted, the upper lip creating a sinuous curve, looking absolutely enticing and positively delectable.

He continued, slowly taking hold of your glass and removing it from your hands, only to gently place it on the other side of the bar counter. You were left speechless, bewildered, and at a loss for words. Your hands lingered in the air, now empty.

You wanted to ask him why he was standing so close and suddenly looking as if he wanted to devour you. You wanted to understand what was going through his mind, but you couldn't even construct a coherent sentence because he didn't give you the chance to. His fingers brushed along the back of your neck, sliding upward, and gathering a handful of your hair in his fist. He wasn't gripping you particularly hard, but his hold was firm enough that your head was gently tilted backward. Your pupils dilated, and his followed suit. He wasn't causing you any pain, not even the slightest bit... but you could sense the roughness in his actions.

“You do enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?”

His voice was low and alluring, his hot breath on your skin exhilarating.

You smirked, swallowing your nervousness. "What can I say? Water is for the weak.”

He hummed in his typical manner, seemingly approving of your comeback.

"I should warn you, I'm not the gentle type.”

You laughed, your breath slightly shaky. "Is that supposed to scare me off?”

Instinctively, your hands found solace around the edges of his coat, drawing him closer against you.

His grip on your hair slackened, but he kept you securely in place. "If it did, I would be disappointed. As long as you understand what to brace yourself for.”

"Why are you still talking?”

The corners of his lips tilted upward, so subtly that it could easily go unnoticed. It was a faint grin that made your knees feel weak.

“Not a worthy challenge, hey?”

In that moment, you understood he was referencing your earlier statement. You might have been utterly insignificant against him on the battlefield, but he was clearly viewing you as a great adversary throughout your intimate banter.

Somehow, that provided a significant boost to your confidence.

You tightened your grip on his coat, breathing against his lips, your own barely brushing his chin, eagerly anticipating his next move. "Still talking. Come on, you can do better than that.”

It didn't take long for him to finally relinquish his own inhibitions. Without any warning, he crashed his lips against yours, initiating what you could only describe as the most intense, sexiest, and passionate kiss a man had ever bestowed upon you. His mouth was so forceful and quick that you could barely keep pace; his tongue immediately found yours and initiated a sensual dance.

You didn't want to be left behind. Pushing aside the slight haze clouding your mind due to the wine, which you could also taste on his lips, you grasped the lapels of his coat and reciprocated the kiss with equal intensity and a mounting desperation. His fingers completely let go of your hair, only to fan out over your nape, enveloping it in his grip. His mustache and beard were tickling your face, but you found it absolutely enchanting.

Only when you felt the need to breathe again did he detach from you with a wet pop sound, immediately descending to your neck to plant open-mouthed kisses on its sensitive nerves.

You felt his touch on the front of your top, as his middle and forefinger started to tug at the laces, undoing the main knot slowly but with evident eagerness. He wasn't joking when he said you shouldn't expect the gentle type, as he preferred to get straight to the point without much preamble. Given his typically apathetic demeanor, you were taken aback to see him so engrossed in the situation, let alone in you. Never for a moment did you think he could view you in such a manner, and whether he was doing it now in response to your provocation, or because of a deeper interest that began well before that day, you weren't sure.

You surmised that he needed to let go from time to time to release his tension. After all, he was still a man.

And you were completely on board for it.

His lips were impatient, almost hungrily latching onto the skin at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and a soft moan escaped from your lips, which only spurred him on to touch you with even more force.

It was different, and it was new. But he wasn't causing you any pain, and this rougher side of him was rather enticing.

He lifted your top, the fabric brushing along your stomach, up to your breasts and over your chest. You silently complied, raising your arms and allowing him to remove the garment, which ended up tossed on the floor. His eyes were mesmerizing, and you couldn't look away.

Now, with only a thin bra as your shield, a surge of self-consciousness began to creep in. Despite this, you stood your ground, refusing to let it hinder you. Tentatively, you slid your hands along his arms, daring to rest your fingertips on his collarbones. He waited, motionless, anticipating more.

Your exploration continued, descending to his pectorals and lightly brushing the cold metal of his golden cross. Then, you moved back upwards, sliding your hands under his coat, gently pushing it off his shoulders to remove it. His skin was silky smooth and warm, it made your mouth water from your caresses alone. The coat dropped next to your shirt, and without it, he suddenly seemed incredibly bare despite still wearing his trousers and boots.

It was quite amusing to see. His coat was like a suit of armor, a cape, protecting him from all that was undesirable. And now, he stood there, a figure of strength yet imbued with vulnerability, prepared to surrender himself to you.

Once more, blinded by your desire for him, you fervently locked your lips with his. Your arms encircled his neck, fingers entwining with the strands of his hair. The discomfort of your back against the counter urged you to move away from it, unintentionally pressing your breasts against his chest in the process.

"Bed," you murmured amidst the flurry of kisses, just before you leapt into his lap, wrapping your legs securely around his waist.

It was a bold move, one that he welcomed with a firm grip and squeeze of your thighs. With careful steps to avoid tripping over the table and couch, Mihawk made his way to the mattress, unceremoniously hurling you onto it. You bounced as he climbed up, encasing you between his legs on either side of your body. His penetrating stare from above served as a vivid reminder of who was truly in command, eliciting a smirk of satisfaction from you.

His right hand gravitated towards the cross pendant on his chest, while his left one deftly located the knot of the black lace that held it around his neck. He loosened it, only to take off the golden cap of the cross, revealing a concealed small knife within it.

Admittedly, you were decidedly perplexed and anxious, observing him gaze down at you with the dagger held delicately between his fingers. However, the moment he guided the blade to your chest, positioned precisely above the center of your bra, his intentions became clear.

The instant he slid the knife under the band connecting the cups of your bra, you stopped him by seizing his wrist.

"Don't you dare," you warned menacingly. "It has a clasp, you know.”

The way he arched an eyebrow at you spoke volumes, subtly hinting that he had no intention of wasting his time with it.

With a frustrated groan, you arched your upper body, managing to reach the clasp yourself and unfastening it within mere seconds. "I swear, men can be so lazy at times.”

As you allowed the straps to slide off your shoulders, maintaining the cups in place, Mihawk reassembled the cross and casually placed it on the nightstand next to your bed. He immediately locked his mouth with yours, quickly removing your bra and haphazardly tossing it into the room, his hands simultaneously finding its place on your waist.

You could feel his palms smoothly traversing your sides and making their way up your spine, but the moment his fingertips grazed over some particularly sensitive scars, you jolted upward, and a muffled gasp slipped past your lips.

He paused, his actions coming to a standstill as he studied you. A sudden rush of embarrassment overtook you, prompting you to cast your eyes downward.

"Sorry about that," you apologized, your voice faint and almost inaudible.

You feared that he might decide to leave, irked or repelled by the unsightly network of scars that was ingrained into your skin, resembling an irregular spiderweb. You instinctively guarded your body, precariously perched on the edge of the mattress, awkwardly biting your tongue.

His tone was firm, authoritative, yet unexpectedly gentle when he spoke to you. "Show me.”

Before you had the opportunity to look at him again, he hastily guided you to rotate, nudging you to sit facing away from him. You found yourself frozen, rendered mute, with your arms protectively crossed over your chest as he inspected your back. He observed every nuance, carefully tracing the outlines of your scars with his index and middle finger.

When your voice finally found its way back, you released your pent-up thoughts. "It's not a pleasant sight, I know.”

"I've seen worse,” he stated.

He sounded unperturbed, casual, as if what he was observing was nothing to fuss over.

You smiled. "And done worse?”

"That might be true as well.”

Somehow, as macabre as the conversation was, it managed to lighten the mood, eliciting a brief chuckle from you.

“Are you scared of me?”

But then, his question took you by surprise. "No. Why?”

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

And you realized that he was right, as your entire body quivered under his soft touch. Despite his inherent deadly nature, it felt incredibly soothing to have him attentively handle the scars you so deeply despised.

It was nothing he hadn't seen before. As a swordsman, he had undoubtedly came across countless injured and fallen bodies in all sorts of gruesome conditions. Your scars meant nothing to him, and yet, he behaved as someone who genuinely felt a need to reassure you about them.

In a way, you got the impression that he was attempting to make you feel proud of the marks you bore.

"I'm not afraid, Mihawk. Not of you.”

Should you have been, really?

"And right now... this feels nice.”

His fingers decelerated their movement, hovering over the lengthy scar that trailed along the back of your shoulders. He tuned into your breathing, shaky and rapid, using it as an indication for his subsequent moves.

He drew you closer, reaching out to guide your arms away from your chest, granting him a better view. The cool cabin air heightened the growing excitement stirring in you, causing your nipples to stiffen instantly. Releasing your wrists, his roughened palms smoothly traveled along your stomach, eventually encircling your breasts, now fully exposed. Holding their soft flesh and lifting them, his thumbs traced tantalizing circles around the tips, making you involuntarily lean onto his elbows for support.

You let your head find comfort on his shoulder, the slight prickling sensation of his beard grazing your cheek. He was relentless, teasing you with his enticing motions, awaiting the moment when you would unravel under his skilled touch. Already, you were a picture of disarray, moaning and squirming within his hold.

Both of you rose to your knees for better positioning, and as he continued to stimulate your body, you could increasingly feel his undeniable hardness pressing against you through his trousers. You grappled to maintain your balance, his thumbs quickening their pace on your nipples, while his hips executed synchronized grinding circles with yours.

To say he was driving you wild would be an understatement. One of his hands left your chest to venture lower, this time, making a beeline for your belt buckle. He quickly managed to undo it, slipping inside your undergarments, and reaching his intended destination.

The moan that escaped you was quite unabashed, but there was little you could do when his fingers discovered your clitoris, skillfully stroking it up and down. Any other man, upon getting to this point, would stop before you could reach your climax, purely to extend your pleasure and ensure that you wouldn't finish before them. Mihawk, however, was not just any man, and judging by the escalating pace of his fingers, it was clear that he had absolutely no intention of severing the physical connection.

He was typically impatient and easily bored, evidently searching for some entertaining diversion to pass the time. Edging you didn't appear to be his goal, and the moment you could sense your impending gratification, trembling and writhing uncontrollably, he applied even more pressure against you. You could feel your clit throbbing, on the brink of release at any moment. Mihawk remained quiet, not making a single sound, his breaths echoing in your ear through his nose.

It was intensely heated, unbearably seductive.

As your legs parted, he took advantage of the moment to gather some of your wetness and employ it to enhance the friction. Your nails dug into the flesh of his arms, yet he remained unfazed and continued. Eventually, he began to move in sync with you, navigating to your entrance and tenderly caressing your clit with the heel of his hand.

The ease with which he curled those digits inside and promptly found your most sensitive area was astounding. He targeted it directly, moving in and out, making a constant beckoning gesture with his fingers. Your eyes rolled back into your head, your voice growing progressively louder, but you found it beyond your control to rein it in.

Your orgasm crashed onto you, exploding from your core like a lightning strike. You jolted and moaned, gasping for breath, as the bed emitted creaks beneath you. He didn't retreat, instead, he slowed his pace but never fully disengaged. Only when he was certain you had no more to offer, did he carefully remove his fingers, affording you the opportunity to regain your lucidity.

It took you a moment to gather yourself, leaning over the mattress and collapsing onto it.

"Well," you declared. "You certainly know what you're doing.”

"Why, did you believe me to be completely inept?"

"Not at all. It's just... you really don't dawdle, do you?”

As you rolled onto your back, you nearly choked on your own saliva. He was hovering over you again, casting a menacing stare from above while he unbuckled his own trousers. Before you could fully process it, the gleaming, flushed tip of his member emerged from the elegant slit in the front of his trousers, a view that subconsciously incited forbidden imagery by putting his navel on display in a normal setting.

He appeared to pause, awaiting something. He glanced at you with a hint of expectation, subtly lifting an eyebrow as if conveying: "What are you waiting for?”

Thus, with your heart fluttering wildly and your stomach churning, you raised your hands to further uncover him, pushing his trousers down along with the undergarments and letting his arousal spring free. It was proud and formidable, as robust as a sword, as fierce as a beast.

Without waiting for him to speak or make any further action, you encircled the base with your palm and guided your hand along its length to the tip. He didn't overtly react, but you noticed him swallow subtly and press his lips more tightly together.

You replicated the maneuver, but with increased pressure and quicker movements. He kept his hands still at his sides, but his fingers twitched intermittently, indicating to you that you were on the right track. You cherished his calmness as much as you relished witnessing his chest heaving at a faster pace than before.

Regrettably, he didn't allow you to complete what you had started. The moment he decided he'd had enough, Mihawk grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand aside. He grasped the hem of your shorts and panties together, swiftly sliding them off your legs in one fluid motion.

He possessed no patience at all, simply taking whatever he wanted, repositioning himself between your legs and aligning with your entrance. As much as you would have loved to see him come undone under your touch, you couldn't truly protest, for you wanted him as intensely as he yearned to be inside you.

His face was stoic, unaltered, almost as if chiseled into a mask. But the way his golden eyes sparkled before you, and his jaw tightened in response to the palpable need overtaking him, managed to stir you even more than the sound of a man moaning in pleasure.

You shifted on the mattress, clutching the covers and spreading your legs further to grant him optimal access. Once again, he hummed in approval, encircling your thighs with his arms and drawing them to his waist.

But he silently stared at you, the tip of his arousal gently nudging your folds without proceeding.

Bewildered, you inquired. "What?"

"Are you truly certain about this?”

Your mouth fell open as you regarded him in disbelief. “I'm right here with my legs spread wide and your damn dick against me. It's a bit late to question me now, don't you think?”

He drew a breath through his nose. “Do you understand what you're about to get into?”

“Uhh… yes? We’re supposed to have sex here. What else could there be?”

Mihawk subtly thrust his hips forward, his warm length nearly entering.

"I won't be gentle," he responded.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

"Even if you plead with me, I won't stop.”

“Do you think I’d ever do that?”

You inferred he simply wanted to ensure you were granting him clear consent to continue. And while you strived to maintain composure, feeling him so close yet so far away, you held respect for his unconventional gentleness. Or whatever it could be called.

“You’re brave,” he stated with a hint of satisfaction. "But don't shed tears later.”

You rolled your eyes. "Mihawk, seriously. Just do it. If you believe I'll break and weep, then don’t.”

To further emphasize your point, you moved your waist allowing his tip to partially slide in. You bit your lower lip to suppress the emerging moan in your throat, and comfortably adjusted by raising your arm and positioning it just behind the pillow under your head.

You were presenting yourself to him, unconditionally, prepared to accept everything he had to offer.

Unable to resist his impulses any longer, Mihawk finally made his move. With a firm, confident thrust, he fully sheathed himself in you. A hiss escaped your lips as you inhaled sharply, your body pushed upwards, head thrown back in response.

You felt unbelieavably full, and without giving you a moment's respite, he quickened the pace. He moved with a rough, and powerful rhythm, his fingertips digging into your skin so deeply that you could feel his nails on it.

At first, your body stretched to accommodate him, a sensation that was slightly painful and not as pleasurable as you wanted it to be. But as soon as you adjusted to it, your muscles relaxed, leading to a wave of delightful ecstasy that ignited your core and sent electrifying sensations through your nerves.

And it felt unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Your moans were soft and melodic, contrasting with his quiet grunts that echoed in his chest. Mihawk quickened his movements even further, generating a set of scandalous sounds that deepened your blush. He was moving with such intensity that you feared your bed might split in half, given the way it vibrated against the wooden wall.

Then he stopped, albeit briefly, to guide you into a different position. "Turn around.”

There was an undeniable ecstasy in the way he treated you. His actions were primal, far removed from romantic, yet paradoxically, despite the evident force in his behavior, he still seemed to treat you with a degree of tenderness and delicacy.

You complied, bending over the mattress, and without wasting any time, he entered you again from behind.

Isaiah had been a wonderful lover, the best you'd ever had, until Mihawk came into the picture. Though you typically refrained from making comparisons, acknowledging that every man is unique in his own way, you couldn't ignore the irrefutable truth: the Warlord was in a league of his own, making you feel guilty for even entertaining such a thought.

The act was carnal and sensual, stirring within you a desire for more when you believed there was nothing else to ask for. He felt absolutely wonderful both in and out, and his touch, tracing over your scars with a strangely protective tenderness that you didn’t expect, ignited a flame in your chest that cascaded downwards. Your clit throbbed, your inner walls convulsed and gripped him with an impossible tightness. You could sense your climax approaching for the second time, spurred on by his relentless thrusts.

Neither of you spoke, but it was fine. You were engrossed in the moment, disregarding the ache in your limbs from the previous exertion. Letting go of the built-up tension post-battle was exactly what you craved, and Mihawk had his fair share of unsettled nerves too. For all you knew, he could have countless women scattered across the four Blues, but the desperate and hungry way his body melded into yours indicated that he wasn't one to frequently seek out or appreciate the company of others.

People often depicted him as a lone wolf, a man enamored with his sword. And yet, here he was, providing you with the most remarkable sexual experience of your entire life.

You found yourself entirely consumed, yielding to his dominant aura, continuously pushed against the mattress, moaning in delight. He had warned you that he wouldn't stop, not even if you pleaded with him, but the only entreaties that escaped your lips were for him to quicken his pace and to continue for as long as he could go.

When he brought his mouth close to your ear, prompting your knees to spread wider with his own, there was only so much you could do to prevent your core from exploding.

Mh. You're managing this better than I expected you would, I'll give you that.”

A chuckle bubbled up from you. "I thought you held me in higher regard.”

“I certainly do now.”

His left arm slithered around your shoulders, securing itself around your neck to encase you and hold you in place. His other hand glided along your side, sneaking to the front and locating your clitoris, so sensitive that you nearly climaxed the moment he pinched it.

You were panting quite heavily now, teetering on the brink of orgasm as you rested your cheek against his arm. You didn't even realize that you were pressing kisses to it, grazing your warm lips along his skin, which was hot and salty.

"Are you there?”

You nodded your head. "Almost.”

"Would you look at that. Your endurance is impressive.”

You laughed, a surge of pride filling your heart. “You're talking too much again, Warlord.”

“Mhh.”

You absolutely adored the vibrations that resonated through his chest whenever he hummed. You felt him pulsing and twitching inside you, signaling that he was as close to the brink as you were. As the resounding slaps of skin meeting skin filled the air around you, his fingers expertly manipulated your sensitive bud. His fingers stroked it, moving in rapic circles, combined with the consistent stimulation of your tender spot inside.

It was too much, and you buried your face in his arm the moment you finally crossed the point of no return.

Your second orgasm was even more intense than the first, a feat you never truly believed was possible. You twitched and trembled from head to toe, tightening around him with each wave of pleasure that took some time to recede.

Eventually, he joined you, quietly succumbing to his own pleasure, grunting softly and brushing his lips against the scar on your shoulder. You were aware that Mihawk did not harbor any specific feelings for you, but despite that, you found his gesture deeply endearing.

And with that, your heart constricted.

As the enchantment of the moment faded, he extricated himself from you and left the bed, fastening his belt and heading back to where his coat lay. As he slipped into it and reached for his hat still resting on the counter, you watched him. Disappointment washed over you for reasons you couldn't quite articulate.

Gathering your strength, you pushed yourself up from the mattress, hastily collecting your underwear and putting it back on, disregarding the shorts strewn on the floor. It took a moment for you to locate the bra he had tossed, which had ended up in a distant corner.

His golden cross knife was still on your bedside table. It felt significantly lighter than you had anticipated as you held it in your hand, lingering on its weight a moment too long. Mihawk was right behind you, his towering presence looming over your smaller frame, waiting for you to return it.

You turned immediatly, smiling, taking hold of the cord on either side and looping it around his neck. You tried to recall the exact length he preferred, gently positioning it on his chest and tying a knot to keep it in place. The ends of his short hair tickled your hands as you secured it, and he allowed you to do so without a single protest or complaint.

Somehow, that act felt even more intimate than what you had just done. His gaze was once again fixed on you, frozen, expressionless, difficult to interpret. The temptation to kiss him again was strong, but with the sexual tension now gone, you feared he might not reciprocate.

And so, you took a step back. "Thank you for the company," you said evenly, feigning indifference to the entire situation.

Whether he believed you or not, you couldn't ascertain. As he casually strolled towards the couch to get his sword, a surge of disappointment engulfed you, leaving you more downcast than you were prepared to acknowledge.

You knew it didn't mean anything. But for the very first time, a part of you had dared to hope there could be something more. You dragged your feet to the bar counter, picking up his empty glass from the table along the way. You quietly cleaned things up, letting the cold water from the sink cascade over your hands.

And just when you thought he had already left, he spoke words that instantly set off a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, soaring straight to your heart.

“Be careful out there.”

You glanced at him once again. His face was as impassive as ever, but the fact that he had taken a moment to express his concern was more than sufficient for you.

You grinned in delight. "Always.”

With a barely noticeable nod, he slung his sword onto his back and stepped away, opening the cabin door and disappearing up the steps. You stayed there, still, listening to the rhythmic sound of his boots meeting the wooden floor as Mihawk steadily departed, until silence engulfed your vessel.

You didn't know when or if you would see him again. The only thing you could do was hope that, sooner rather than later, you would encounter those mesmerizing golden eyes once more.

And as fate would have it, you did.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 4 ->

#one piece liveaction #opla mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader #smut #one piece liveaction fanfic #opla fanfiction

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katuschka · 6 months ago

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Scene One – Lampshade

Jake Kiszka x f!Reader (1st person narrative)

2.541 words

On my bedside table, I have a beautiful art deco lamp. When my lover leaves, he ties a scarf he wore for days on top. And when he’s gone I let my window open just a bit, the gentle breeze sets the scarf on motion, just like the waves in the tempestuous ocean. Once or twice, I swear, I could smell him in my dreams.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: longing, alcohol consumption, penetrative sex, phone sex and masturbation, sex toys, phantasmagorical dream visions

Taglist

It’s been almost three weeks since I last saw him. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s not that bad, but the truth is that I always start missing him the moment he leaves. It’s a bittersweet feeling. I’m a grown, independent woman, engaging in my daily routines...or breaking them, just to stay sane.

But, it feels as if a part of my soul got attached to him. It travels with him wherever he goes and I feel it tugging at my insides every now and then. At first I thought it was just a side effect of the early stages of falling in love. I believed that it would get easier with time, but it never did. If anything, it only got worse.

It’s bearable during the day. My mind’s too preoccupied with my job, thank god. It’s not really much different from when he’s here. I still have my work to do and he’s busy too, until we finally meet at home to share a glass of wine or two. And then we fuck.

That’s why early evenings are the worst when he’s away. The house is just too big, too quiet, and my mind too restless. No sound of the strings being plucked greets me when I get home, no smell of savory dishes waiting for me in the oven or on the stove. I’m too lazy to do it myself, so I just order in, only to be reproached by him later that I’m not taking proper care of myself. My lover does all these things. My body’s spoiled with constant hugs and my cheeks peppered with warm kisses. So, on days like these, this is what his lady misses.

He knows that, so he tries to call anytime he can. It’s easier in between shows. He makes sure to call me around eight, even when it’s already 3 am where he’s at. Him being a night owl, this has never been a problem. Sometimes it’s just a quick hello to make sure I’m ok. Other times we talk for hours.

I didn’t expect anything like that today. He might call late or not at all. Probably not at all because today’s show was too important. He wanted me there, but I couldn’t go this time. I had an important project to finish and came home pleasantly exhausted. In a perfect world, we would celebrate our respective achievements together, but this world is not perfect, so I have to content myself with the fact that he is.

Well, not really, but I wouldn’t change a thing about him.

So, I just poured myself a glass of wine, climbed in bed early and tried to read, only to find myself checking the Instagram updates constantly. I don’t do it very often, because I’m not really keen on seeing hundreds of women swooning over him, but someone might be streaming the show, and I just couldn’t miss it.

Before he left, he fastened his scarf on my lampshade. That little piece of fabric is basically marinated in his scent – his strong, yet religiously comforting cologne mixed with the warm smell of him. I made sure to leave both the bedroom door and the window open, to create a slight draft. After three weeks, the scent had already faded a bit, but I still could get whiffs of him while falling asleep. Just like today. The livestream I found ended mid-show, but I wasn’t really paying attention anymore. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy long before the concert ended and without even bothering to turn off the light, I fell asleep with my phone still in my hand.

Except I couldn’t sleep. The thunderstorm in the distance and the billowing wind kept me awake. The sky was clear when I went to bed, so I couldn’t understand where the clouds came from. It didn’t matter anyway.

He was here. In my bed, sleeping. The intoxicating scent of clove and incense mixed with his musk wrapped around me like a second comfort blanket. The bedside lamp illuminated his disheveled hair and the clothes he had carelessly thrown over the armchair next to the bed. He was naked and all of the sudden, so was I.

It was our bedroom…and it wasn’t. The southern wall was gone, exposing us to the elements outside. Our garden turned to a stony shore, with the waves of a rough sea crashing upon it. Somewhere in the distance, I could see the storm raging.

I was feeling snug under the blanket, the warmth he elicited sheltering me from everything else around. I reached out to touch him. His skin was warm and dry and I snuggled closer to him from behind, inhaling the comforting aroma of his relaxed, sleeping body.

He never slept much. Sometimes I wondered how he could function after yet another sleepless night, and the dark circles under his eyes often worried me. But when he did fall asleep, he looked like a baby boy, his full lips slightly parted and his brows turned upwards. A man of paradoxes. He would fuck my brains out just moments after he spoon-fed me pistachio ice-cream. My doe-eyed barbarian. A romantic adventure, but a reptile too. Always offering something new. Just like the sky outside, with the full moon now illuminating the stormy sky. Where did it come from? It was hanging there in mid-air in front of the clouds, so big, so close it seemed that I could reach it with my fingers if I just stepped outside of the room.

But I didn’t want to. Instead, I slowly swirled around him like a serpent. I could feel him stir, his body responding to mine. It was a silent dialogue. He turned to me and pushed my chin upwards to nuzzle the soft skin behind my left earlobe. I could hear him murmur a prayer, the words of which I didn’t recognize, but I understood it anyway. I could feel his hand travel slowly down my belly, pulling my thighs apart, his palm sliding gently to my pussy and his middle finger slipping in between my folds. It’s been too long… My body reacted immediately. I arched my back and gasped for air as his moistened fingertip glided over my clit in slow circles. He kissed my shoulder and I could feel his parted lips stretch in a smile before he nibbled lightly on my skin covered with goosebumps.

He spread my thighs even more, like the petals of a blooming flower. I felt the weight of his body on mine as he shifted, obscuring my view, silencing the wind, his porcelain face dimming all the celestial lights behind him. He was coming home.

I cried out when he entered me, grabbing pillows on both sides of my head. He, too, yelped like a puppy, laying his head on my bosom just for a while, to gain his composure. I felt every exhale of his quickened breath on my skin, and enveloped his body with my limbs in a false promise to never let go.

He started moving inside me and I felt absolutely lightheaded, as if we were floating in an empty void. It got darker with each deep, long thrust until time and space around us disappeared and the only thing that tethered me to reality was the rhythm of his beating heart and the alluring sounds of his raspy moans. We moved together languidly, drunk in love, and the waves of pleasure running through my body intensified with each passing second. My fingernails dug into his skin…so deep until he suddenly stiffened and screamed in pain right next to left ear…

…nooo…at first I couldn’t tell where I was or who I was until the sound of my phone ringing on the pillow next to my head slowly brought me back to reality. I couldn’t believe it. What? Why? I looked at the screen and saw the name of the only person whom I could forgive for calling me right fucking now!

“Jake? Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I breathed out.

A moment of silence before the man on the other side responded. I must have sounded pre-t-t-y irritated. “Babe? Did I wake you up?”

Of course you did. What day is it? Oh yeah, it was slowly coming back to me. Madison Square Garden… “What time is it?” I breathed out.

“Almost one am here, your midnight. We just arrived at the hotel a moment ago, I haven’t even had a shower yet, I just had to hear…”

“Urgh,” I interrupted him with a groan, not in a reaction to what he said. My still not fully awakened body was just fighting with my mind as I tried to sit. I was still slightly disoriented and my coochie weeped. “I, uhm, I’m sorry baby. I just had a very intense erotic dream…the first one in years. And you just happened to interrupt it at the worst possible moment.”

“Oh, daamn!” he chuckled. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Not funny Jake. No one else but you could ever make me this wet. The sheets below me are literally soaked through.” I heard him inhale sharply on the other side. It took him a few more seconds to respond. “You’re wet?” It sounded a bit like a stifled groan, followed by him clearing his throat. Poor Jake, he was so taken aback by my response that Oliver had to take over. “Thaths probably because I was absolu-te-ly on fire tonight, my love! Telepathy must be one of my many superior powers. Now I need to clean the mess…”

“What do you mean?”

“Phone sex, obviously.”

I laughed. Nah, I’m not a fan. I love his voice, don’t get me wrong, but it couldn’t possibly make up for all the stuff that my subconsciousness flooded my brain with just a moment ago. Also, I’ve always found the idea of phone sex strangely disconcerting. We could do the most obscene stuff face to face without even batting an eye, but to be describing to him how I’m touching myself? No, thank you. I’d be embarrassed. Don’t know why. That’s just how it is, And that’s what I told him.

“Oh come on, let’s try it.” Jake was back. “Besides, it’s a mutual obligation now. I’m already hard.”

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. “Ok Jake,” I crooned monotonously, “what are you wearing?”

“Oh GOD!” he moaned theatrically. “You sound so sexy when you’re bored. Mmmmm.”

I laughed again, in earnest. “Sorry,” I chuckled. “Ok, let’s try it. But I’m not going to describe what I’m doing. You tell me what to do.”

“Deal.”

I heard his sheets rustle as he shifted on his bed, which meant he already had me on speaker, so I did the same. I adjusted the pillows, stripped off my babydoll and tried to find a comfortable position. “Ok Jake, I’m ready.”

“Good girl. Now, close your eyes and cup your breasts. Let your thumbs draw slow circles around your nipples. No pressure.” His voice suddenly sounded huskier than before.

“Are you jerking off?” And then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of his fist sliding rhythmically up and down his cock. Of course he was.

“You can’t blame me sweetheart,” he breathed out. “I got here, still full of adrenaline from the show, only to hear you tell me that I was fucking you in your dreams. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

The sound of his heavy breath made my pelvic muscles contract and my heartbeat quicken. I licked my fingertips and let my hand slide between my legs, trying to ease the ache. “Talk to me Jake. Forget the nipples. Guide my fingers.”

“Who’s impatient now?” He let out an involuntary moan, swallowed harshly and continued: “Squeeze your clit between two fingers, scissor-like. Now rub from side to side and gently pull.”

I knew what he meant. His technique was completely different from mine and effective in its own way. I never tried to recreate it before. I did now, and it all suddenly came back to me. The dream, his touch, his dick, stretching me, fucking me, our loins dancing together to the rhythm of our heartbeats…

“Not enough,” I whined. “I need more, Jake.”

“Ok, time for Mini Me.”

That was yet another thing my lover did for me. We found a company that makes custom dildos using castings of real customers. Now, a cold piece of silicone can never compete with the real jake, but it was the next best thing whenever I needed to release the tension after a long day. I loved the shape of it. It was mine. I opened the drawer and reached for the toy. “Now what?”

“Ride me,” he groaned.

“How am I supp…”

“Let’s pretend we fell off the bed.”

“What?”

“Off the bed! Now!” he commanded. I climbed off the bed and attached the dildo to the wooden floor. “Mini Me’s ready. What now?”

“Now sit.”

I did as I was told. I got on my knees, placed the tip between my folds and slowly slid all the way down. Our roles reversed for a brief moment as I was now guiding him through. I heard him spit into his palm and groan with relief. It was his time to take the reins again. “Move,” he rasped. “Grab your hips and pretend it’s me. Set the pace, but tell me.”

I started moving my hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, while whispering up and down and up and down to him. I was now close to my bedside table, the fragrant scarf only a few feet from me. I closed my eyes. The illusion was almost perfect.

“That’s my girl,” he moaned. “Do you want to go faster?”

“No, this is fine.”

“Ok, continue baby. Let me hear you.”

We continued like that for several minutes, eyes closed, listening to each other. I could hear that he was close as his low moans turned to high-pitched whimpers. My thighs started shaking and I had to catch hold of the bedside table to ease the tension in my legs. I opened my eyes and that’s when I saw it. The multi coloured lampshade. As I was moving, so were the colorful lights before my eyes. It was like being there, under the stage lights, as I was listening to my man. The most beautiful song. It overwhelmed my senses and I came, screaming. From the haze of my own high, I heard him finish shortly afterwards.

I wanted to hear every detail of his show, and he wanted to know about my project, but we were both already too exhausted, so he promised to call me again in the morning. I knew he would, because that’s what my lover does.

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @klarxtr @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @GVFstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction

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bonefall · 2 years ago

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Warrior Bites: Tunnel Buns

For the Warrior Bites series, also check out: The Rules, and The Tools!

[Image ID: Three rabbit-shaped baked goods. The first two have ‘ears’ that connect at the back. The third is darker, shinier, and fancier, with ornate markings.]

"It’s not enough that WindClan has a warren for a diet, all their food has to look like rabbits too!”

Clan of Origin: WindClan

Occasion: Travel ration, trade good

Requires: Oven

An old recipe originally made for Tunnelers, to have a ration that wouldn’t get filthy from all the dirt underground. Unleavened dough is molded into the shape of a rabbit, stuffed and baked with mincemeat and spices, and then fastened to a belt by the ‘ears‘ of the tunnelbun.

Traditionally, the tunnel bun was cut open by a claw and the stuffing was licked out, the dirty crust discarded underground. Since tunnel buns survived the death of tunneling, sometimes the crust is now eaten in bites along with the stuffing. These are a valued good for trade, as WindClan is the only Clan that can create dough.

Step 1: WindClan’s Dough Quest

[Image ID: Breezepelt from Warrior Cats, a solid black cat with yellow eyes, gathers wheat in his mouth. Behind him is a field and blue skies. He is smiling and winking.]

Rye, wheat, barley, and oats are all candidates to create the dough, but the one that WindClan chooses is mostly dependent on what's available. Grains grow best on WindClan territory, but often escape nearby twoleg farms to grow wild which is how WindClan gathers them...

But there are, occasionally, hard years with low yield where the warriors will risk swiping stalks. They try not to take too much, having noticed that twolegs are more likely to invest in dogs when they steal too much.

So, in an attempt to be honorable and polite, WindClan warriors will leave a “gift” at the doorstep of a farmer who they’ve taken some wheat from. Usually a rat or a crow. This seems to work, resulting in less loose dogs and thrown boots and more of the twoleg sound of friendliness, ‘pspsps.‘

Step 2: The Bakening

[Image ID: A batch of tunnelbuns is on a stone slab, ready to roll into a stone oven. Mudclaw, a brown tabby cat, is rolling dough flat with a stick. His brother, Torear, a gray tabby, is sitting off to the side, smiling. They are at the border of WindClan territory, with Fourtrees in the distance.]

WindClan’s general diet consists of an obscene amount of rabbits and they’re always seeking new ways to make rabbit meat taste different.

Tunnel Buns used to just be stuffed with marinated mincemeat, whatever they happened to have laying around after taking the best cuts for other things. Organs, toes, shredded ears, tossed in gravy and baked.

WindClan's oven is specially designed to accommodate making an entire batch of Tunnelbuns all at once. The stone tray rests on a wooden lean, so the edge of the stone is never too hot to grab and roll out.

This oven is considerably more advanced than the simple ones of the other Clans, thanks to the savviness of Tunnelers contributing to an early problem-solving culture and WindClan's unique access to grains for flour.

Step 3: Specialization

[Image ID: 3 traditional tunnelbuns and 2 fancy tunnelbuns are arranged in a row. The white paw of Scourge is reaching for one that has distinctive tabby markings, a notch in one ear, and a stripe across the nose.]

“Traditional Tunnelbuns” were made with function in mind, with clearer emphasis on the ‘ear loop’ to feed through a belt. In the modern, post-Tunneling era, this dish has a WILD amount of variation.

Even the simplest, plainest ‘traditional tunnelbun’ usually has a stylized “face“ so you can tell at a glance which one was made BY whom, and FOR whom. Mudclaw would be very upset if he bit into the wrong tunnelbun and got a mouthful of bug meat, his brother Torear’s favorite!

“Fancy Tunnelbuns” are made to be immediately eaten in camp, and as such, the ‘ear loop‘ is more of a decoration. They’re distinguished by being ornate, and usually full of higher-quality cuts of meat. These ones are also shiny, having been washed with egg during the baking process.

Because they’re traditionally eaten by slicing the bun open from tail-to-chin... there is a new, beloved joke about them after Tigerstar’s defeat.

Tunnel Buddies

[Image ID: Three baked goods in the shape of various animals, including a deer, duck, and large fish.]

WindClan and Tunnelbuns are as synonymous as RiverClan and Fish. No other Clan can access the grains to make them. You could say tunnelbuns are the Clan equivalent of hotcakes; everybody wants them.

So WindClan often makes fancy tunnelbuns in the shapes of other animals, in bigger sizes. Non-rabbit tunnelbuns are colloquially referred to as “Tunnelbuddies.“

They make appearances in trades, festivals, and other multi-Clan events where WindClan is looking to make a display of friendliness towards honored guests.

#Warrior Bites #Clan Culture #Tunnelbuns #Tunnel Buns #Food #Cooking #Warrior Cats #VERY EXCITED TO SHARE THIS #IT WAS A LOT OF FUN #Mudclaw #Scourge #Tornear #Torear #Iceheart #Breezepelt

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hearts4youz · 1 year ago

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"The Captains Daughter" Chapter Two

comment if u want to be added to my tag list <3 @abbiesxox A/N: Thank you all sooooo much for reading chapter one, it means a lot!! Heres chapter two. From here on out you can expect like 1-2 chapters of this to come out per week!! i'm so excited to share the rest of this story that has been marinating in my braincells for so long lmao.

Word count: 1.5k

Reader pov: You marched into the training facilities for your first session with the masked Lieutenant. You donned a hoodie and leggings, the training rooms were chilly. You walked into the changing rooms to lock up your bag, although it was highly unlikely someone would steal it, this was a military base after all. Fastening the lock around the small cubby, you took off your hoodie and threw it inside as well. Leaving you in a thin cropped t-shirt. You left the locker room and took in the smell of the training area, it was the size of a warehouse and smelled like your high school gymnasium. There were multiple different areas of the facility. A gym, featuring endless sets of weights, squat racks, benches, etc. There was an enclosed area for weapons practice, boasting many different kinds of guns, knives, and any other device used for bodily harm. The base also boasts, an impressive, multi story agility course with different obstacles at each level. Last but not least, there is a recovery room, mostly used for warmups and cooldowns.

After you took it all in, you spotted Ghost doing squats with a great deal of weight on the bar. He sported a skull print balaclava instead of the mask he wore at yesterday's meeting. He also had on tapered black sweatpants, a fitted t-shirt which hugged his muscles in a very flattering way, and tennis shoes. You walked toward him, stopping short and standing by the weight rack so you didn't interrupt his workout.

You watched as he did rep after rep of squats, face contorting more with each one, you could see his face more now with the absence of eye black he wore yesterday. Sweat dripped off his brow, his eyes squeezed shut as he finished the last rep, the bar made a clattering sound as he rested it back on the hooks of the rack. Wiping his face with his sleeve he turned to you.

"Do you sleep with your eyes open," he says abruptly.

"What?"

"Your eyes, are they always like that or am I just that impressive," he says smugly

"No- I," You start.

"Save it, lets get started."

He starts walking at a fast pace to another area of the gym, you jog to catch up. Ghost leads you to three boxing style rings.

"lets start with a spar, consider this a pre-test, I wanna see what you are capable of," Ghost gets straight to business.

You gulped, you're not a bad fighter, but he has an unfair advantage. He's at least 6'2, not to mention you just watched him casually squat 600+ pounds for reps. The two of you stepped into the ring, you tried to not let your nervousness show on your face. You weren't going to be able to overpower him, you were going to have to outsmart him, or be faster than him. Lucky for you, you used to be a competitive runner in high school, placing well in state championships for Cross Country and Track yearly. You also practiced Yoga, agility will be your friend in this matchup.

"Ready?" Ghost said.

"Yes, Simon," you taunted.

hopefully your mention of his name caught him off guard, you ran at him, faking a punch and slipping between his legs, popping up behind him. Your surprise worked, his delayed reaction gave you enough time for you to kick the sensitive area behind his kneecaps. Ghost stumbled forward but caught himself, turning to face you. He threw a punch, you tried to deflect it but he was too strong. Quickly recovering you ran at him again, trying to juke him out by performing another fake move. He must have picked up on your style quick because he stuck his leg out to trip you before you could jet by him. Realizing you lost the upper hand, you tried to stand up before he could pin you. Instead, he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and hauled you up from the ground.

"Round two," he said gruffly

The second time around was worse than the first. You didn't have the element of surprise. He took you down within seconds

"I've seen enough," dissatisfaction present in his eyes.

"I know I did poorly, but to be fair," you tried to justify yourself.

"Do you think fights are fair?" He chastised.

"Let me tell you that none of the men you face in the field will be as gentle as I. Your little trick? Do you think an enemy soldier would even give you time to talk?" He continued, voice becoming more of a yell.

"How did you even get here?" He questioned.

"I'm not a bad shot, for what I lack in strength I make up for in speed and agility too."

Ghost raised a brow

"You've got a lot to work on in terms of hand to hand combat, but lets test your aim," He said.

Feeling more confident for this next test, you followed him over to the shooting range. The two of you entered the room, paper targets on one end, soldiers practicing their aim on another. Ghost picks out a variety of firearms. He hands you a Pistol first.

"Go ahead," he gestures to the targets.

You nodded, drawing a deep breath in and exhaling as you lined yourself up with the target 50 yards away. Inhaling again and holding it this time, you brought the gun up in front of your face, extending your arms and firing 3 shots rapidly. Two hit the center circle, one skimmed the edge between the center and the ring next to it.

You turned back to face Ghost, he only handed you the second weapon, a rifle. You repeated the same process before, this time letting the gun rest in the crook of your neck and holding it against your cheek as you fired three more shots in quick succession. All three hit the center this time.

Ghost handed you an SMG when you turned around. Holding the new gun in the same way as the rifle, one pull of the trigger fired multiple bullets, these were less accurate but still impressive. Clicking the safety on the gun, you handed it back to Ghost, he put away the weapons without a word.

"That's all for today, you are excused Sergeant," he says bluntly.

"Thank you for training me sir," You said, Mock politeness dripping from your tone.

"By the way, don't call me Simon. It's Ghost, or Lieutenant." Ghost grunted and turned to go, leaving you alone in the range. You stood for a moment, replaying the last 45 minutes in your mind. You had hoped to impress him with your marksman skills, but he seemed unimpressed. You needed to decompress, a run would relax you perhaps? You walked towards the locker rooms to change into warmer attire, the weather was cold in late November.

Ghost's pov:

The first day training the Sergeant, Y/N wasn't a total bust. I recalled the events of our session as I changed. She was a decent rifle shot, a terrible fighter though. Her use of my name was alarming, a clever move though. Soap probably told her, they talked through the meeting yesterday. Can't blame em' though, Price sure does love the sound of his own voice.

As I was about to leave the changing rooms, I spotted Y/N leaving the building, it was awfully cold outside to be going out. She had earbuds in, so it wasn't hard to follow her out the door. She lingered in front of the door for a moment, I stayed inside the vestibule leading to the outdoors. She took a breath and started jogging, turning the corner and leaving my sight.

I didn't know she was a runner, she mentioned she was fast after our spar though. Training after hours is quite admirable actually. Maybe she won't be such a letdown for the team after all.

I shuddered at the thought, Remember what happened last time you overestimated a newbies skills. I told myself. I will never let that happen to someone under my command again. Wincing at the memory, I tried to push the thoughts aside, but it comes flooding back to me

"It wasn't your fault Simon," Price

"There was nothing we could do," A doctor

"I'm sorry," Another doctor

Two lives

Gone because I authorized them for the mission

I thought they were ready

I didn't train them hard enough

I treated the two of them as friends, as brothers. I grew attached too quickly. I wasn't as close with them as I am the rest of the squad, fuck I barely knew them.

One week

One week they were here, their first mission they were so giddy, so eager to prove themselves, two boys about to become men. I remember the feeling when I was in their position.

Next, they were gone.

Never again will I let that happen to someone.

Never will I let that happen to Y/N.

For now, I'll pretend I don't care.

She can hate me all she wants, she can think I don't give a shit about her. Better that than her trusting me and me letting her down. For now, I won't care about her. Until she can prove herself worthy, I won't treat her as a friend.

Because I don't want to see a friend come back in a body bag.

#captain price #cod 141 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #task force 141 #simon riley x reader

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reality-detective · 2 years ago

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"Marines Were Freed from a Secret Jail That Were Brutally Tortured by Feds"

The six U.S. Marines freed from a secret federal jail said their captors—a mix of FBI agents and private security—tortured them relentlessly, deprived them of food and water, and forced them to defecate in 5-gallon buckets that got emptied only once a week.

As reported previously, U.S. Special Forces on March 8 liberated six Marines the federal government held without trial at a clandestine warehouse-turned-prison in suburban Long Island, New York. The feds had arrested the six for protesting peacefully outside the Capitol on January 6, 2021. Once freed, they were taken to Womack Army Medical Center, Fort Bragg, and treated for maladies and injuries sustained in captivity. This included dehydration, lacerations, puncture wounds, and burns. Alas, one Marine’s wounds were so severe that he went into septic shock and had a leg amputated below the knee.

When debriefed at the hospital, he said their jailors kept them on permanent lockdown in separate cells spaced far enough apart so they couldn’t communicate with one another. He recounted the harrowing ordeal of his arrest. Feds, he said, arrested him off-post near Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, then handcuffed and blindfolded him before driving him to a nearby airport or airstrip. He knew this because the feds put him aboard a small turboprop aircraft. During his debrief, he said he could hear propellers spin up minutes before the plane took off. His abductors shackled his ankles and fastened him to a seat. He was punched in the face several times and called a “traitor” during what he guessed was a two-hour flight. When the plane landed, he was struck a few more times, then, still blindfolded, put in a vehicle and driven to an unknown destination. He tasted blood in his mouth from being pummeled so hard and often and eventually lost consciousness.

He awoke in a decrepit cell that smelled like shit, its only furnishings a urine-stained cot and a 5-gallon bucket in the center of the cell. The guards, he said, beat the living daylights out of him every day—sometimes more than once a day—coming at him three at a time so he couldn’t adequately defend himself. One Morning four guards burst into the cell and tied his arms and legs to the cot, spread eagle, and they took turns stabbing him in the right leg with rusty pieces of metal, then cauterizing the wounds with an iron to prevent exsanguination. He guessed he’d been stabbed 20 or 30 times while the guards taunted him, saying other Marines in custody would share his fate. He said one guard urinated on his open wounds prior to them being cauterized.

The other five Marines told comparable stories, though their wounds were far less severe. They said they were fed only twice a week—stale bread, a few ounces of water, or a red liquid that looked like Kool-Aid but with bugs floating in it. One said the guard tried to feed him mashed potatoes with congealed gravy and tiny glass shards.

“These Marines survived the unsurvivable,” our source said. “There are more service members still in federal custody, not to mention the hundreds of civilians who could be dealing with the same torture. This is how the Biden regime treats combat veterans, as criminals, as domestic terrorists. We are working to free more of them.”

I'm sure we will hear about other experiences like this as the turmoil continues to unravel in our country. These sick fμcks think they are untouchable. I got news for you the deplorables will get the last say.🤔 I did not get any information about the perpetrators involved in these horrendous acts. My gut feeling is, they were executed on the spot.

#pay attention #educate yourself #educate yourselves #reeducate yourself #knowledge is power #reeducate yourselves #think for yourself #think for yourselves #think about it #do your homework #do your research #do your own research #question everything #ask yourself questions #ask yourself

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nethhiri · 9 months ago

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Marooned: Chapter 16

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Rape, torture, gore, violence

Jetsam

Between ransacking the girls' extra clothes and collecting the pants owed to you, a decent outfit was finally made, complete with undergarments to boot! You had a dark-gray, sleeveless crop top, a pair of green, baggy pants with a lot of pockets, and some old, worn boots. You would have preferred if the pants were waist level. They sat low on your hips. Beggars can't be choosers. Honestly, you were surprised they were small enough to stay up on their own. In anticipation of getting your gun back, you also fastened your holster. You tied your hair back in a low pony to keep it from sticking to your face while you were working.

Currently, you were fixing some knots halfway up in the rigging that weren't up to your standards while the sun beat down on your back. You had been avoiding Killer since yesterday. A few more days and you would be free to do as you wanted.

"That's not your job, Rookie," Wire shouted up at you.

You hopped to the deck with a solid thud. "Do you want the sails to break free? " You folded your arms. "Your deck crew needs work."

Wire looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I'll double check them." He didn't trust you as a person. However, your deck work was immaculate. Wire knew he would probably find that you were right when he checked the ropes later. Even when he wanted to give you a hard time, there were no mistakes to harp on. "Captain requires your attendance in his workshop." Well, there was one mistake. Wire noticed that the knots you used on deck were the kind taught to marines. No pirate he knew tied knots like that. He almost pitied you, knowing you were walking into the lion's den.

Wiping your brow, you knocked on the door to Kid's workshop. You glanced towards Mini, who was sunning herself on the deck. There was a slew of metal tinkling sounds followed by a crash, then after a few curses, the captain's voice told you to come in. Looking around, there wasn't anything amiss. Must have cleaned it up with his Devil Fruit. "What do you want, Eustass? I'm busy keeping this ship afloat, since apparently no one else knows how."

He gave you a funny look. "That so?" He tapped the corner of his workbench where your gunblade and log pose.

Your eyebrows shot up, shocked that he actually gave them back to you. You swapped out the glass eye you made with the log pose, after a quick spit-shine. Setting down the eye and picking up the weapon, you tested it in your hands. "You fucked with it."

"Hah?! I balanced it perfectly! Ya should be thanking me!"

You frowned deeply. "Thanks for fucking it up. That better?" Flicking your wrist, you checked to see if it was loaded. It wasn't. "Didn't even load it for me," you mumbled. You spun it around your finger, nearly losing control. The weight was all wrong. You groaned and rolled your eyes. It was going to take practice to regain your finesse with it. You shoved it back in your holster and looked back at Kid, whose darkened eyes gave you a black look. This was different from other times he's glared at you, with playful, enticing, bright, embers. This made you uneasy. This made all the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your mouth to get dry. It was a foreign feeling, feeling like a prey animal. You were no longer questioning why he gave you back your weapon. It didn't comfort you to have it. What was it going to do against him? He only took it in the first place until he knew you would play nice with his crew.

In a low voice, Kid asked, "How did ya fix Killer's mask?" He rolled the small glass eye around on the table. "And this.. ya made this. How?" He held it under his thumb, crushing it without much of an effort.

Watching your right eye be pulverized under his thumb triggered something in you. Your fists tightened until your nails dug into your skin and your heart was pounding. How many pieces of you had to be destroyed? It was traumatic enough when it had been taken from you the first time. Your teeth clenched so tightly that your jaw popped. The frightened look in your face was replaced with a resolute one. "Why the fuck does it matter?! Nothing about me has anything to do with you or your crew, so stop trying to pry information out of me. All I wanted was to be taken off that island and put on a different one. I didn't do anything wrong! I didn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it! Fuck sake, did I not save Killer's life? And do you want to know something else? I did it the same way I fixed his mask!"

"Oh, but yer mistaken," Kid taunted, getting up from where he sat and stalking towards you. "Ya did do somethin wrong." He wrapped his hand around your throat, in spite of you trying to block his hand, and pushed you against the door, hard. "Ya lied to Eustass 'Captain' Kid."

You threw a punch at him that was swiftly caught with a scrap of metal. The same thing happened when you tried to kick. "Go to hell! I CAN'T WAIT TO GET OFF THIS FUCKING SHIP!" You spat at him, struggling to get out of his grasp.

Kid's grasp tightened until you saw spots. "YA SPYING MARINE BITCH." The door gave way behind you. In only a matter of steps for him, you were at his mercy over the ocean as he held you by the throat above it. "Ya want off so bad?!" His lip curled. "FINE!" He didn't let go. A flash of uncertainty came across his expression.

"Do it, coward." You had already done this song and dance once before. You weren't scared, disappointed that you didn't get to carry out your revenge, but not scared. It was hard to talk when you were barely getting enough oxygen as it was. "My name is F/N L/N." The brief interval where Kid processed that information was enough to wrap your unrestrained hand around the wrist holding you. There was a yellow flash at the contact and you were falling. Bull-headed until the end, you were going to go on your terms, not anyone else's.

The water hit your back so hard that it seemed to burn your skin. Maybe it had peeled off, the way the chill seeped into your flesh and directly to the bone. Even if you could swim, the way the ocean sapped your energy left you unable to even hold the remainder of air in your lungs, which were already searing their way out of your chest. Silver bubbles pried themselves from between your lips. Less and less light was reaching your eyes as you sunk toward the blackness below. With your last conscious thoughts, you pictured Minerva and hoped they wouldn't hurt her.

You sat in the dark, on a damp floor, breathing heavily, but trying not to. Every labored breath caused blood to seep from the bullet holes in your side. You slipped from consciousness periodically, usually being brought back to something horrible being done to you. Once it was a knife being twisted into one of the bullet holes. Another time it was being kicked in the head, in the gut. Other times your pants were around your ankles and someone was on top of you. They learned quickly to stay away from your mouth, after permanently disfiguring someone's manhood. It was truly a blessing that you couldn't stay conscious for long.

Your skin was more blue and purple than your actual skin tone. And even if there were unbruised areas, they were probably encrusted with the deep maroon color of old, dried blood. It was agony just to roll onto a different side of your body. It was impossible to say how long you had been down there, in the brig of your own ship. It was impossible to say how long your crew had been plotting against you, if or when they were bought off. You had to believe they were bribed somehow. To admit to yourself that maybe they weren't would be devastating. Did they hate you that much? Were they ever truly loyal? You had been asking yourself these questions throughout your misery.

Boot steps echoed in the hallway, getting louder as they approached. The creak of the cell door made you tense, unsure what to expect. You were jerked up by your hair and forced to look at the man in front of you, already made difficult by your nearly swollen shut eyes. It was Von Kossa. He wasn't the mastermind behind the clandestine trading operation you had unwittingly discovered, but he was the meanest of the upper ranking participants.

"You know it's really a shame you're so much trouble." He ran his thumb over your bottom lip. "We could have sold you for a pretty penny," his grip on your hair tightened, bringing tears to your eyes. "But you can't behave and now you're starting to look quite unattractive, so it's not even worth keeping you alive." Keeping a tight hold of your hair, he dragged you through the open cell door and along the wooden floorboards, towards the deck. The wood scraped your skin. You could barely feel it since your body was in a constant state of pain anyway. "Your screams are just so satisfying, I think I'd like to hear them once more before you're gone. How's that sound?"

Your hands and feet were tied so you couldn't struggle, not that you had the will to. "Sounds bad, Captain Fuckass." The hoarseness of your voice startled you. His swift kick to your stomach had you vomiting blood.

"See you just don't know when to quit." He made a noise of disgust. "Look what you've done. Got blood on my uniform." Red specks sprayed the white of his marine uniform.

On deck there was a mix of what appeared to be pirates and marines. You knew now that it was a collection of purely marines. For an instant in time, maybe they had stopped being marines, though they were certainly back to their roots. Von Kossa had intercepted your ship, and you let him. What was unexpected was that the second you made a move to attack, your crew was not behind you. Physically, yes, they were behind you, and about to help subdue you. Figuratively, they stopped being behind you whenever Von Kossa had persuaded them to his side.

He dragged you to a basin with some kind of liquid in it. You didn't want to guess at what it was. You knew you would find out shortly regardless. He lifted you up like a prize-winning fish. "Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks they can interfere with our business. Even the 'Marine Killer', 'The Sea Snake', or as we know her Ex-Captain F/N L/N was only a mild hindrance. Look at her now: a worthless, ruined, shell of a person." He dropped you to your knees, coming to one knee himself next to you.

The reflection you saw in the liquid was unrecognizable as you. It some other person there, some other person that was getting their head pushed down into it. So why was it you that felt excruciating, white-hot pain on half of your head? Was it the other person screaming or was it you? Your voice was so different, you couldn't tell. The pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared. You saw pieces of skin and floating Y/H/C tendrils in the liquid when you were pulled out, though not for long, as they disintegrated. Blinking, you tried to open your right eye. It was open, you felt with your fingertips. To your horror, it felt sticky, goo-like. There wasn't a lot of time to process what had just happened before blacking out. After that, you only remembered darkness, being cold, and then waking up on an island.

#y'all wanted angst #kid x reader x killer #one piece #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid #marooned #eustass kid x reader #killer x reader #tw: torture #tw: sa #tw: rape #tw: gore

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kryscent · 3 months ago

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tsuki no hikari • teaser

pairing: opla!zoro x gn!reader

genre/warnings: slow burn, with multiple chapters, canon typical violence

a/n: i'm so excited to present this idea that's been swimming around for months since opla first came out, and its finally fleshing itself out. please bear with me as english isn't my first language. my taglist is open!

You’re considered a vigilante of sorts by the people living in the villages you protect and liberate; the name ‘Hikari’, said with their heartfelt gratitude and respect, was your only identifiable feature in their memory, aside from the painted kitsune mask covering your face. Utmost importance was given to the safety and wellbeing of the people you fight for – which meant fighting against bad pirates and bad Marines alike.

It was a given you left Shells Town immediately on hearing of the altercation, and your mind swims with possible reasons for the absence of life – perhaps they fled? Your questions are answered in part, your brows meeting as they furrow at the sight in front of you.

A red, white and blue striped circus tent, fitting to Buggy’s colour scheme, rose up in the centre of the debris, applause and hollering permeating the fabric to reach your ears. As you make your way to the tent, the air breaks to a dull thud, later followed by the sound of loud, running water (high pressure, through a pipe?), and you break into a run, skirting far around its circumference to enter without getting yourself killed by surely armed guards.

All sounds suddenly quiet, right as the wind flaps at the bottom of the tent. Lotto. You make your way to it, leaving your bag at the opening while muttering a prayer to the seas that no one will halt your entry. Crawling under, mask pushing to the side of your face in the midst of your efforts, you stop in your tracks as a man falls limply to the ground from an impressively built arm, strangulated. You quickly get to your feet as a pretty, orange-haired girl, who you assume was in the dangling cage that rocked back and forth behind her, cuts through the rope fastening his other arm with a kunai thrown by the serpent looking man at her feet. She pays you no mind, seeing as to how you haven’t said anything or attacked them yet, gathering her weapons from where they were stored away, and you catch sight of striking blue eyes in the mirror.

Your eyes meet the gaze of the man on the murder-pseudo-wheel of fortune, as he steps off and shakes out his shoulders, levelling you with a scrutinising stare, cocking a straight green brow, matching the cropped hair on his head, a set of three earrings glinting on his left ear. Handsome, you think, eyes darting over his face appraisingly. Warm but hardened chestnut eyes, full lips, broad shoulders and a honed figure. Blinking away the thought, you dart out to the arena stage, leaving the bemused pair behind.

taglist: @starlysama

kryscent '24

#my writing #kryscent #opla zoro x reader #opla x reader #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece x reader

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swagtyphoonlady · 1 year ago

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Why Nobody Cares About Silicon Bronze Fasteners

Marine fasteners play an important duty on the planet of seafaring, guaranteeing the safety and also integrity of ships, boats, offshore structures, and also marine equipment. These important elements secure numerous components of vessels, offering a robust connection that can withstand the severe problems of the open sea. In this write-up, we delve into the importance of marine bolts, their various types, materials, as well as applications, along with the difficulties faced in guaranteeing their effectiveness in maritime atmospheres.

The Significance of Marine Fasteners

Marine bolts work as the supports of the maritime market. They are in charge of holding with each other vital parts such as hulls, decks, poles, rigging, and numerous mechanical systems on board ships and also boats. Given the extreme conditions encountered at sea, consisting of saltwater direct exposure, high humidity, continuous resonances, as well as significant mechanical stress and anxiety, aquatic bolts have to be extremely long lasting, corrosion-resistant, and also reputable.

Kinds Of Marine Fasteners

Screws and also Nuts: Bolts and also nuts are amongst the most typically utilized fasteners in aquatic applications. They are developed to supply a strong, removable link as well as can be found protecting equipment, structures, and equipment aboard ships.

Screws: Screws are used when a solid long-term link is required. They are commonly made use of to fasten timber, steel, or composite products in different aquatic applications.

Rivets: Rivets are bolts that create an irreversible link between 2 or more components by warping the tail end of the rivet after setup. They are widely made use of in shipbuilding as well as repair.

Washers: Washers are utilized with bolts as well as nuts to disperse the pressure and avoid damages to the linked products.

Pins and also Clips: These fasteners are utilized to secure rigging and also various other elements that require constant disassembly and reassembly.

Materials Used in Marine Fasteners

Marine bolts are made from products that show phenomenal resistance to rust as well as wear and tear in aquatic environments. Some common materials consist of:

Stainless-steel: Marine-grade stainless steel, such as 316 or 316L, is widely utilized due to its outstanding rust resistance, strength, and also sturdiness.

Brass: Brass bolts are prominent for their corrosion resistance as well as visual appeal, making them appropriate for sure marine applications.

Silicon Bronze: Silicon bronze fasteners are known for their exceptional deterioration resistance, making them ideal for marine hardware like cleats, hatches, and also port lights.

Monel: Monel fasteners provide excellent resistance to deep sea deterioration and are typically utilized in aquatic applications where high stamina is required.

Difficulties in Marine Fasteners

The aquatic setting presents one-of-a-kind difficulties for bolts, necessitating mindful design and also selection. Some of the major challenges include:

Corrosion: The most significant difficulty faced by marine bolts is rust due to exposure to deep sea, bring about galvanic deterioration, gap rust, and also pitting. Selecting the best corrosion-resistant material is important.

Load and Vibration: Ships as well as boats experience constant loads as well as resonances throughout operation, which can create fasteners to loosen up with time. Proper tightening methods as well as lock nuts are employed to combat these effects.

Temperature Level Extremes: Marine fasteners must stand up to a variety of temperature levels, from freezing conditions in polar areas to scorching warm Copper Nails in exotic locations.

UV Exposure: Fasteners on the outside components of a vessel are exposed to dangerous UV radiation, which can degrade particular products in time.

Marine bolts are the backbone of maritime safety and security and also dependability. From huge cargo vessels to little enjoyment boats, these unassuming elements ensure that ships as well as boats remain structurally sound, reliable, and safe in the challenging marine setting. The option of appropriate materials and layouts is critical to deal with deterioration as well as mechanical stresses, ensuring that marine fasteners continue to satisfy their essential role in the seafaring market. As modern technology as well as product science advancement, aquatic fasteners will unquestionably come to be much more durable, additional boosting the safety as well as performance of vessels around the world.

#Marine Fasteners #316 Stainless Fasteners

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 5 months ago

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☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Eighteen

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Shanks stands in front of you, his hazel eyes burning into yours with a mixture of intensity and tenderness that makes your heart race. The air between you crackles with electricity, the connection palpable and profound. He reaches out, cupping your face in his large, calloused hands, his thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks.

"You're so beautiful, treasure,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe. "I could look at you forever."

"I bet you could," you respond with a playful smile, feeling a surge of confidence at the intensity of his gaze. "But I think it's my turn to look at you now."

Shanks lets you pull his shirt from his body, revealing his toned and rippling physique. You can't help but admire the way his muscles move beneath his skin, the perfect balance of strength and agility that makes him the fierce pirate he is. Your fingers trace the lines of his chest and abdomen, exploring the terrain of his body with a mixture of curiosity and wonder.

Your hands tremble slightly, but with determination, you reach for the fastenings of his trousers. Sliding each button through its hole, you feel the tension in the air grow even thicker. Once the trousers are undone, you delicately tug them down, revealing his underwear beneath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his hip bones, and you pause to truly appreciate how magnificent Shanks is.

Shanks watches you with a mixture of amusement and desire, his hazel eyes burning with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Like what you see?" he teases, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyes barely flicker up to his and your own lips twitch. "If you are expecting me to faint over a cock, I hate to break it to you but I've read medical journals and seen pictures,” you state, eyes remaining locked with his as your fingers jerk his underwear down.

"Whoever has been teaching you those words is in for an earful," Shanks chuckles, his voice filled with warmth and amusement. He watches you intently as you slowly kneel and pull his underwear down, revealing the full extent of his arousal. Shanks quickly kicks his underwear away.

Your eyes travel down his body, taking in every inch of him. The sight of him, fully exposed, sends a thrill through your body. You wrap your hand around his length, feeling the heat and hardness of him. Shanks' breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "Let's see how clever you are when I'm done with you." You almost want to laugh at his half-hearted threat, for anything he threatened you with is now something to look forward to.

You begin to stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate, watching his reactions closely. Shanks' breathing grows more ragged, his hazel eyes darkening with desire. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer as his head falls back in pleasure.

"Aria," he groans, his voice thick with need. "You're driving me mad."

You lean in, pressing soft kisses to his hip bones, your tongue trailing over his skin as you continue to stroke him. Shanks' hand tangles in your hair, his grip tightening as he lets out another deep moan. You love the tugs on your scalp; it makes you feel confident in your actions and inspires you to do more. Just as you feel him begin to shake, Shanks' grasp on your hair disappears, and he stops you by the wrist. "Wait," he gasps, his voice hoarse. "Not yet."

You look up at him, your eyes wide with confusion and a hint of disappointment. "Why?" you ask, your voice a mixture of curiosity and frustration. "You are right where I want you!" you protest. Had you been standing, you would have stomped your foot.

Shanks' eyes burn with intensity, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He looks like he's on the edge, struggling to maintain control. For a moment, you think he will give in, that he will let go and let you take him over the edge as you want. But then, his expression changes. A slow smile spreads across his face, and he reaches out to gently stroke your hair. "Because, treasure,” he says, his voice low and husky, "I want to savor this moment. I want to make it last."

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way he looks at you. This isn't just about desire, about scratching an itch. This is about connection, about intimacy, about something deeper. Something you both want. "Up," he commands, tugging on your wrist. You rise from your kneeling position and are immediately pulled against his chest.

Flames ripple up your neck as your body presses against his. You feel every ridge of his muscles against you, and the apex of your messy thighs throbs when his cock presses against your stomach. It feels so hard, and you wonder if it will even fit. Yet the sensation is intoxicating, sending waves of heat through your entire body. Shanks wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer.

"I want to feel your skin against mine," he whispers, his voice a seductive murmur. You nearly moan at the idea. "I want to taste your lips, to feel your heart beating against mine."

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes takes your breath away, and you can't help but stretch upwards, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Shanks responds immediately, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matches your own.

Shanks kisses you erotically, his lips moving against yours with a fierce possessiveness that leaves you breathless. His kiss is demanding, yet filled with an underlying tenderness that makes your heart race. He claims your mouth with a hunger that matches your own, his tongue teasing yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a deliberate intensity.

His hand moves to cup your face, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair. Shanks' tongue dances with yours, the sensation sending waves of heat through your entire body. Each stroke, each movement, is a promise of the passion and desire he holds for you. You feel like you are drowning in his taste.

Without breaking the kiss, Shanks deftly shifts his weight, his strong arm wrapping securely around your waist. With an effortless movement, he lifts you off the ground, holding you against his chest. The feeling of being held so securely, so possessively, makes your heart race even faster.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, your arms clinging to his neck as he carries you towards the bed. The world around you seems to blur, the only thing that matters is the heat of his body pressed against yours, the intoxicating feel of his lips on yours.

Shanks walks with a steady, confident stride, his eyes never leaving yours, even as he navigates the room with ease. His gaze is intense, filled with a burning desire that makes your breath hitch. The way he looks at you, like you are the most precious thing in the world, sends shivers down your spine.

With a nimble movement, Shanks sets you down on the soft bed, positioning you on your back. His intense gaze never leaves your face as he hovers over you, his breath hot against your lips. Your heart races in anticipation as you wait for his next move. As your eyelashes flutter, the world seems to tilt, only to steady itself again when you find yourself perched on Shanks, his erect cock pressing against your swollen cunt.

"I don't want to hurt you, Aria," he whispers, his voice filled with concern and tenderness. His eyes search yours, looking for any sign of discomfort. "Tell me if it's too much, if you want me to stop."

You see the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine care he has for you. It makes your heart swell with emotion, and you reach out to caress his cheek.

"I'm okay," you reassure him, your voice soft but firm. "I want this, Shanks. I want you."

He nods, his expression a mixture of relief and focus. Slowly, he guides you down, allowing you to adjust to his size. The sensation is intense, a blend of pleasure and a slight sting as your body accommodates him. Unconsciously, you wince.

Shanks immediately pauses, concern flooding his features. "Are you alright? Do you need me to stop?" A scowl appears on your face, and you glare at him, catching him off guard.

"I swear to the All Blue, Shanks, if you don't fuck me right now, I am going to go find the next man I find remotely attractive and ask him." You hiss at him, done with being treated like a piece of porcelain.

Shanks' eyes flare with possessive darkness and an appreciative smirk spreads across his face. "Alright, treasure,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "If that's what you want."

"It is, captain," you state, a challenge.

"If you insist," he replies, his tone filled with a newfound intensity. Shanks' grip on your hip tightens as you bring yourself up, holding back a wince as the withdrawal of his cock is raw against your walls.

The sensation is intense, a raw blend of pleasure and lingering discomfort that only seems to heighten the moment. Shanks' eyes lock onto yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them.

With deliberate slowness, you lower yourself back down, feeling him fill you completely once more. You bite your lip, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you adjust to the sensation. You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Shanks inside of you, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

The world seems to narrow down to just the two of you, your bodies moving in sync as you ride him, slowly finding a rhythm that feels natural and right. With every thrust, you feel yourself growing closer to something you can't quite name, a sensation that builds deep within you, coiling tighter and tighter with each movement.

Shanks' hand moves to your hips, guiding your motions, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he matches your pace. His eyes never leave your face, his gaze intense and focused, as if he is trying to memorize every moment, every expression that crosses your features.

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and something within you shifts. There is a connection there, a spark of understanding and trust that makes your heart beat faster. You truly feel safe with him, protected and cherished, and that knowledge only serves to heighten the sensations coursing through your body.

As the tension within you builds, you feel yourself growing closer to the edge, the urge to move faster becoming almost overwhelming. Shanks must sense it too, because his grip on your hip tightens, his thrusts growing more urgent, more demanding.

"Shanks," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I think I'm... I'm going to..."

His response is a low, almost primal growl, spurring you on. You move faster, more desperately, the world narrowing down to just the two of you, the feelings coursing through your body, the heat and passion that consume you both.

With a final, shuddering gasp, you feel the release wash over you, a wave of pleasure so intense it threatens to consume you whole. Your body arches, your nails dig into Shanks' shoulders as you cry out his name. Even as your body spasms and your fingers claw at the sheets beneath Shanks, you notice how he makes sure his cock slides free of your rippling cunt before he comes.

In a split second that feels like an eternity, you feel Shanks' release wash over you, his hot seed spilling against your cunt. Your body still trembles from the intensity of your own orgasm, your mind caught in a haze of pleasure and satisfaction. The room is filled with a heavy, contented silence, broken only by the sound of your intertwined breathing. Shanks gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and affectionate.

"Are you alright?" he murmurs, his voice husky and filled with concern.

You nod slowly, resting your head against his chest. "I'm okay. More than okay, actually."

Shanks chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. "Good. I just wanted to make sure..."

His words trail off, but you understand the unspoken sentiment. He cares deeply for you, and that concern extends to every aspect of your well-being. The knowledge that he took precautions reassures you, though it doesn't diminish the intimacy of what you've just shared.

"This isn't going…" You struggle to find the right words and tilt your head back to look at his face. "Change anything, is it?"

He gives you his lazy smile and rubs your back. "Well, I was hoping that I would be able to sleep in my bed again," he answers cheekily. "Unless you are opposed to sharing, that is."

"No, not really," you tell him, working to move your body off of his so you aren't completely on top of him. "This bed is a bit big for me."

You receive a blinding grin and a quick kiss on your lips. Too short of a kiss, in your opinion. Scrunching your nose, you wiggle yourself into a comfortable position next to his body and close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the lingering echoes of pleasure.

After a while, Shanks shifts slightly, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. You crack your eyes open. His eyes are filled with a mixture of affection and amusement. "You know," he says with a teasing smile, "you look absolutely beautiful right now."

You laugh softly, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. Naked, sweaty, and with his seed and your release clinging to your thighs? A thought you don't understand but nonetheless smile for. "And you, Captain, are quite the charmer."

He grins, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Only for you," he whispers.

Date Published: 6/14/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

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#shanks x reader #shanks #shanks x you #one piece shanks #red haired shanks #one piece #akagami no shanks

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