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rainbowmoonstonestories · 5 months ago

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A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 5

Chapters: 5/? 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

As soon as you returned from Loguetown, good news greeted you. But the minute you journeyed to Mirror Ball Island for a potential deal that seemed dubious, you were destined to regret being so obstinate and reckless. As usual, a certain Warlord was nearby to lend a hand. And a whole lot more.

Warning: Mention of blood, violence, minor gore and death. NSFW content, detailed oral sex description.

Long chapter ahead!

Mihawk found himself at a loss to explain his drive to seek you out. The mere thought of causing you any form of displeasure stirred within him an odd sense of disquiet.

He intentionally chose to disregard the world government's mandates and opted to leave you untouched. In his perspective, handing you over would be pointless, and he undoubtedly had no intent of taking your life himself.

Despite your unrefined power and lack of ample experience, you showcased your deservingness of his attention. There was a distinct trait in you, evident in your direct eye contact, in your unwavering resolve, and in your ethical principles that seemed to call for nurturing. Mihawk was eager to see your development and the person you could become with appropriate training, mentorship, and time. A woman so determined and capable, able to cut an admiral's throat and make a solo escape from a high-security base, who had again and again evaded his meticulous observation.

You had ignited his curiosity.

Over time, his hunt for you became a source of amusement for Mihawk, to the extent that he deliberately allowed you to flee, just to provide himself an excuse to find you again and prolong his assignment. You had categorized it as a game of cat and mouse, but to him, you were not a rat, not a prey he intended to crush.

You harbored a distinctive spark, a flame that he had no desire to extinguish.

As a result of this, Mihawk found himself irresistibly drawn to you.

He was a man enamored with the sea, not one to squander his precious time on meaningless dalliances. He wasn't the type to succumb to a woman's allure, and he didn’t have any inclination towards winning the affection of one. He thrived in solitude, free from complications, and devoid of anyone clinging to him with demands he had no intention of fulfilling.

Yet, somehow, your presence had turned his world upside down. He admired your beauty, your charisma, your quick comebacks, and your steadfastness in standing your ground.

Your scent was marvelous, sweet and fragrant. He liked your attention to your looks, your selection of jewelry, and your distinctive style. And the way you moved, radiating sensuality and confidence, was a trait he found unbelieavably attractive.

You stirred up raw, primal instincts within him. You provoked a sense of obligation in Mihawk to stay in the East Blue, vigilantly monitoring your journeys, from the day he discovered that his non-compliance had prompted the marines to dispatch a larger contingent of bounty hunters after you.

You were essentially a stranger, an unknown. He shouldn't have been worried about your destiny or whereabouts. He had done his part, he had released you and saved your life once, he had granted you a second opportunity. What else could there possibly be?

The more he sought an answer, the more his mind was inundated with recollections of your trembling form beneath his. Echoes of your moans, your heartbeat, your silky skin, and your delightfully exquisite, temptingly enticing, heated womanliness enveloping his arousal.

Meeting you in Loguetown was not something he had foreseen, and admittedly, it took him a moment to penetrate your disguise and identify you. As soon as he saw your hair cascading down, your familiar eyes locking with his, he was immediately filled with an unusual feeling of worry for you. He tried to brush it off, to keep his space, and return to his peaceful solitude by the fire. But, in his attempt to do so, he inadvertently hurt your emotions and pride, leading you to shoot him the most scornful look he had ever received.

And he found it utterly distasteful.

Under different circumstances, he wouldn't have pondered over it too much. He was used to being chased by ambitious swordsmen trying to seize his title and more, and he couldn't have cared less about how others viewed him. Still, for some unfathomable reason, the thought of you nursing a grudge against him was... surprisingly hard to stomach.

And he would be deceiving himself if he denied that he didn't thoroughly enjoy the passionate tryst you both shared for the second time. Hell be damned, that was unquestionably fantastic.

Being with you felt like sheer bliss. Mihawk never really held much fascination for sex, or any form of physical contact in general. As long as he could vent some adrenaline in a fight with Yoru, he didn't see the need for anything else.

In some way, you guided him to uncover something new, something that presently, he could not fathom sharing with anyone else. You were extraordinary, adeptly handling his energy and rhythm, even asking for more when he thought he was pushing you to your limits.

Locating a deserving adversary in battle was difficult enough, bordering on the impossible. It was uncommon to encounter someone who could hold their own till the end, without instantly yielding to his overwhelming power. Discovering that he had found a well-matched partner in matters of intimacy was, against his initial beliefs, delightfully satisfying. He had never made a conscious effort to seek one, as he could always achieve quick self-gratification if the need became particularly pressing. He was accustomed to handling things himself, both metaphorically and literally, never craving company.

You had bewitched him, as he now seemed more than willing to endure your presence around him after all.

Leaving your vessel was unequivocally necessary. Awakening next to you felt unfamiliar, and your slumbering figure looked so delicate, endearing and warm. He needed to clear his mind of that image, seeking solace in a breath of fresh air.

Admittedly, it was a bit mortifying for him, but when he noticed the small strap of your top sliding off your shoulder, exposing a considerable portion of your upper breast, Mihawk felt compelled to tighten his jaw and inhale deeply, as a means to master his physiological reaction in the morning. For someone as disciplined and self-restrained as he was, it was inconceivable to be so agitated over a woman.

He had spent a lifetime sailing the open seas, encountering numerous women who endeavored to enchant him over a casual drink and similar enticements. Yet, he never spared them even a fleeting glance, regardless of how attractive they might be. Occasionally, some resorted to more drastic measures to capture his attention, but the sight of an unclothed woman had never provoked such an intense response in him. It was part of human nature, it was merely a body, it was nothing out of the ordinary.

So what was it about you that had suddenly ensnared Mihawk so profoundly? Why did he even opt to spend the night beside you?

It was preposterous. Absurd. Ludicrous. He had more important matters to handle than filling his mind with thoughts of someone.

And as he strolled through Loguetown's quiet lanes at the break of day, he grappled with finding an explanation that held any logic.

Unsuccessfully, at that.

You repeatedly webt through the message Mihawk left behind, imprinting his distinct handwriting and the words he composed deep into your consciousness. There was an instance when you doubted his presence, questioning whether your drowsy state had fabricated an apparition that had never claimed a spot in your bed.

And if that piece of paper wasn't sufficient proof, the residual fragrance on the pillow, which you found yourself breathing in for a whole hour, provided further confirmation of its authenticity.

In line with your plan, you assumed a new disguise and set off on another expedition around the town. Your bag was packed with a generous amount of trinkets, new clothes, and essential supplies that would prove useful during your sea voyage. A part of you had wished for another run-in with the Warlord, but it didn't happen. His note had mentioned 'seeing you around', but it didn't provide any specific timeframe.

For all you knew, it could be weeks or even months from that day before your paths crossed again.

Your muscles were aflame, and even the simplest movement felt like a daunting task. He was an absolute beast during sex, and despite your ability to keep up with his stamina, there was a threshold to what your body could endure without experiencing the repercussions afterwards.

Instead, it seemed to amplify your desire for him, a progression that was somewhat disconcerting for you and an aspect you didn't anticipate. You had no plans of becoming reliant, or overly emotionally tangled with an unpredictable man like Dracule Mihawk. You valued your liberty, a fundamental principle that had formerly kept you away from any potential romantic involvement with Isaiah.

You were familiar with the notion of physical closeness without any additional expectations. You had the chance to settle down far before that day, in spite of the bounty on your head that forced you to hop from one island to another. You consciously relinquished it all.

For your own sanity, whatever influence Mihawk had imposed on you needed to fade as quickly as possible. The last thing you needed was a shattered heart, especially considering that you seemed to be nurturing authentic feelings for a man who would probably never be able to return your affection.

Your expedition to Loguetown turned out to be notably successful. Despite the high presence of marines surveilling the area, it posed no apparent threat to you. By this point, you had become skilled at assuming disguises, seamlessly blending into any role you decided to enact. There was a certain level of enjoyment in it, if it weren't for the serious consequences that were at stake.

On your return to Isaiah's headquarters, you slipped into one of your newly acquired outfits and reclined on the ship's deck. With your arms comfortably propped behind your head, you found yourself gazing up at the unblemished blue sky, breathing in the familiar salty air that you had grown to love. Occasional cramps continued to bother you, but they couldn't stop you from reminiscing about your fervent night. However, you had to swiftly suppress the emerging picture, or you'd find yourself growing increasingly flustered, merely envisioning Mihawk's sturdy chest and the sensation of his arousal penetrating your depths.

Undeniably, the fact that he was so devastatingly sexy didn't make things any easier.

Frustrated by your thoughts persistently reverting to places you didn't want to linger on, you rose to your feet and took several deep breaths to calm your senses and steady your nerves. You found tranquility in watching the pulsating waves and ripples of the ocean, the horizon line sharply separating the sea from the sky.

Although you savored the solitude and tranquility of your travels, there were occasions when you found yourself craving for some companionship. You yearned for someone to converse and share your explorations with, someone to sit beside under the celestial canvas of stars.

You wavered on the brink of giving in to the temptation to use your portable snail phone, considering reaching out to your family, to talk to them, to assure them of your safety. A part of you still harbored anxieties about their views of your predicament, the bounty the World Government had put on you, and the transgression you had committed for your own survival, a detail that no one seemed to consider.

It distressed you, but you stopped yourself midway. That had to wait. As for how long, you couldn't determine.

You were unaware that such a harrowing ordeal was finally drawing to a close.

The moment you set foot in Isaiah's home, he hurried towards you with a beaming smile and outstretched arms, pulling you into a tight, unexpected hug. His right hand gently glided up and down your back, while the other tenderly brushed through your hair.

"Uhh... it's good to see you too," you said, hesitantly returning the gesture. "It's only been a few days though, I didn't think you'd miss me this much.”

Isaiah chuckled into your ear. "Oh, come on. I mean, of course I missed you, but we both know this calls for a celebration.”

You regarded him as if he were inebriated. "How many bottles did you have?”

"Hey! You know I'm not like that. Well, sometimes... maybe. But I swear, I only had one glass after finding out.”

"Finding out... what?”

He let out another hearty chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah yeah, let's play the clueless game now.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, slightly tilting your head to the side. "Isaiah, I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about.”

Watching his smile dissolve into a look of utter disbelief was quite entertaining to observe. "Wait, are you serious?”

"I just returned and came directly to your quarters. What did I miss?”

His jaw slackened and his eyes ballooned in astonishment. "Holy crap. Sweetheart, this is big. I'm surprised it escaped your notice.”

You shrugged. "Well, perhaps you could shed some light on it then?”

Isaiah let out a breath, his wide smile making a comeback. As he briskly navigated through the room towards his desk, your eyes followed him. He began rummaging through an array of maps and papers strewn all over, looking for something specific.

"Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon this in the street.”

He passed you what seemed to be a bounty poster. It required a moment of processing to realize it carried your name, along with a troubled image of you captured shortly after your daring escape from the Marine base. But what truly gripped your attention was the text at the bottom; the former bounty of berries for your capture or death had been wiped out, supplanted by newly inked words stating "BOUNTY CANCELLED BY ORDER OF THE WORLD GOVERNMENT".

You had to read the statement at least ten times consecutively to fully comprehend what it conveyed.

Bounty cancelled.

Cancelled.

Your bounty had been cancelled.

You were quite sure that all color was draining from your face, and the shock was so intense that you couldn't even gather the strength to blink.

"Y/N? Are you okay?”

"I.... how.....?”

"What did you do to convince that group of jerks?”

You shook your head. "Isaiah, I did nothing. I swear to you, this is completely unexpected.”

"Huh, strange,” he responded, rubbing his nose. “Regardless, this is good news, isn't it?”

Such a miracle had been the object of your longing for several months, and you had resigned yourself to the likelihood of it remaining a far-fetched dream. After all, how could their opinion of you change, particularly after finding that Admiral in a pool of blood? There was no conceivable way they could interpret that episode from a different perspective. When you were in their grasp, not a single one of them demonstrated any shred of sympathy. What compelled the marines to change their decision?

Unless…

…Someone with close ties to them, wielding enough influence and strength, somehow managed to alter their viewpoint.

Someone like Mihawk himself.

There was no other feasible explanation. You knew the marines required him far more than he could ever possibly need them. Despite repeatedly telling yourself that you could be seriously wrong, that he wouldn't waste his time advocating and making threats for your sake to the World Government, there was a persistent inner voice suggesting otherwise. Because, what other reason could there be?

Your legs gave way beneath you, and you collapsed into a seated position on the floor, knees bent and spread out in a frog-like stance. Isaiah was initially stunned, but as soon as he saw the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, he realized that your reaction was entirely appropriate given the joyous turn of events. He was well acquainted with the trials you had faced, and the anxiety you felt each time you came across your bounty posters strewn across the East Blue. And now, finally, after such a long period, you were completely free. Free to roam without the constant dread of a bounty hunter lurking at every turn, free to live the life you wanted without the looming threat of marines ready to seize you.

"Please tell me this isn't a joke," you managed to utter through choked emotions.

Isaiah squeezed your shoulder affectionately. "I can assure you it's not. This isn't the only poster I've seen of you with the cancelled bounty. I just grabbed one as a keepsake of this monumental occasion.”

And with that, the floodgates burst open, tear after tear spilling onto the poster, absorbing into the paper that you gripped just a tad too firmly, leading to its partial crumpling.

"I can finally see my family again," you whispered. "I can speak to them.”

"Are you planning to return home?”

"Not permanently. I should pay them a visit soon, but for now, I want nothing more than to hear their voices. It's been so long, Isaiah.”

"I know, Y/N, I know. You can't imagine how happy this makes me. You always deserved so much better than the nonsense they heaped upon you.”

A hiccup convulsed through your body, and your crying escalated with every passing minute, as a torrent of pain, relief, joy, and shock swept over you simultaneously. Isaiah stayed there, holding you like the trustworthy friend he was, providing support as you weathered this emotional storm. It was only when your tears had entirely dried up that your chest stopped heaving, and you managed to regain your composure. Your eyes, now red and swollen, smarted slightly as your makeup smeared against your skin. But in that moment, you couldn't have been less concerned.

Isaiah allowed you to use his bathroom to quickly freshen up, while he whipped up something sweet and scrumptious for you to eat and poured quality wine into your glasses. You always felt at ease and content in his company, which served as a stark reminder of the attraction you once held for him. Reflecting on it now, it felt almost absurd, given your current lack of feelings towards him. Of course, you still cared for Isaiah, but only in a platonic way that was no deeper than the sibling-like bond you had forged with him over the recent weeks.

Even the mere notion of being intimate with him felt utterly strange.

After savoring a few drinks and a selection of homemade cookies (he, unexpectedly, had a knack for baking and did it exceedingly well), you found a spot on his plush couch while he positioned himself on the opposite side, reclining in one of his signature straw chairs. Suddenly, his face took on a grave aspect, and he began to diligently sketch something onto a map. A short time later, he presented it to you, his apprehension palpable.

"You know, a pirate came by two days ago, asking about you and the kind of deals you're involved in.”

��Oh?”

"He requested me to arrange a meeting for you at this location, which is a day's journey away.”

“Okay…?”

Isaiah, with his far-reaching network of contacts, was well-known among many pirates and individuals alike. Although this wasn't his first time serving as an intermediary between you and other parties, he appeared significantly more troubled than you had ever seen him before.

"Y/N, to be honest, I don't think you should go.”

"Why is that?”

"I don't know... just a hunch. I did some research, and these pirates are not exactly reputable. Their captain is highly dubious and, quite frankly, potentially dangerous.”

You sat up straight. "Do you think this could be a trap?”

"Perhaps? I can't be sure. It's possible that the guy was a fake envoy and they've arranged for a group of bounty hunters to capture you.”

"If that's the case, then it wouldn't make any sense now, would it? My bounty has been cancelled, so even if they were to kill me, they wouldn't gain anything from it.”

He pursed his lips. "Yeah, you have a point. Given the recent development, it's possible you won't even find anyone waiting for you there.”

You smiled. "Well, I'd say it's worth a shot. You know I can handle myself, and any possible deal is a good deal for me. I can't afford to miss an opportunity.”

"Eh, I knew you would say that.”

He stretched his arms, standing up from the chair while stifling a yawn midway. "I know you're capable of protecting yourself, and I also realize that I wouldn't be able to dissuade you either way. If you want to investigate, then go ahead. Just... please be careful, okay?”

You nodded in response, thanking him for his concern as your gaze fixated absently on the marker on the map. Were his apprehensions justified? Were you on the verge of more unwanted trouble now that you were no longer a wanted criminal? You didn't know what to expect, but you had no intention of backing down from what could be a rewarding situation.

Moreover, you were known for your incredible stubbornness. Sometimes, it was among your most admirable qualities, yet in different contexts, it starkly highlighted your most conspicuous imperfections.

In any case, you were bound to find out soon enough.

Before withdrawing to his room for the night, Isaiah paused, only to falter and scratch his chin. He stared at the back of your hair, filled with uncertainty, before releasing a prolonged sigh.

"Hey, um, I wanted to ask...”

You turned your head, giving him a sidelong glance over your shoulder. "Hmm?”

He looked anxious, seemingly ill at ease, stumbling over his words. "There's something I.... that they.... I mean....”

You frowned, the corner of your lips twitching slightly. "Isaiah, what are you stammering about?”

He laughed awkwardly. "Ah, don’t mind me. I believe I've had one too many drinks.”

"Eh. What's new, right?”

"Aye, you know how I am.”

He fell silent, his eyes getting lost somewhere on the floor. You waited for him to continue, but ultimately, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Nah, I don't even recall what I wanted to say. It's probably better if I sleep on it.”

You nodded, offering a gentle smile. "Of course. Sleep well, Isaiah.”

"You too.”

It was strange, given that you had seen him intoxicated numerous times, yet he appeared to be perfectly lucid and walked without any difficulty. Whatever he had intended to say, you were left in the dark.

And that was, in fact, another revelation that would come to you in a short span of time.

The rhythmic beat of music permeated the air as you set foot on Mirror Ball Island, a place celebrated for its endless parties and vibrant nightlife. The streets were teeming with color and activity, even in broad daylight — an ideal camouflage for any potential danger lurking within.

The instructions that Isaiah had provided were quite vague. They hinted that you were supposed to be at the Neon Mirage, a well-known club that was perpetually open to locals and tourists alike. The name you were supposed to keep an eye out for was Nicholas Burke, the pirate captain who had arranged the meeting through his trusted messenger. You had certainly heard of him before, but struggled to recall the face depicted on his bounty poster.

The nightclub was situated on the fringes of the main strip, a hub for the island's more covert activities, a place where deals were made away from prying eyes. As you maneuvered through the crowd of party-goers, your senses remained keenly attuned.

Admittedly, you weren't particularly drawn to this kind of lifestyle. You greatly preferred your privacy and peace, without the concern of random people colliding into you. You had to repeat the pirate's name several times, inquiring about him from anyone you encountered. Eventually, the bartender, dressed in a flamboyant purple suit, pinpointed the man's exact whereabouts, directing you toward a remote couch in a corner.

You could barely make him out, partially obscured by the other men around him and the energetic dancers that were circling and obstructing your path.

A few of them even tried to involve you, coaxing you to join their dance by taking hold of your arms and swinging them up and down to the beat. It was unsettling, and you had to suppress the urge to punch them in the face.

You managed to extricate yourself, almost tripping over your own feet in the process, but as soon as you had a clear sight of the man in question, your blood seemed to halt in your veins.

While you couldn't remember his face from the wanted poster, you could definitely recognize him from your recent meeting with him. Right there, just a few inches away, sat the same pirate you had run into in Loguetown, the audacious man who dared to challenge Dracule Mihawk in a bid to seize his title. For a moment, you wondered whether he had recognized you, seen past your disguise and known your true identity all along. But the more you dwelled on that possibility, the more you convinced yourself that it couldn't be the case.

You had met your fair share of dubious individuals and despicable pirates, yet you were strongly tempted to simply turn around and leave, not wanting to waste a single moment with someone of his ilk. But then, the smuggler within you prevailed, reminding you that you needed all the money and artifacts you could gather to sustain a decent life on the open sea.

It couldn't be that terrible, could it? Just a few minutes to strike a suitable deal; there was no need to pretend to be friendly.

Gritting your teeth, you took a few steps towards the crew, purposefully keeping a menacing demeanor that would live up to your former nickname.

His attention immediately shifted to you, an eyebrow raised. Considering your bounty posters were quite prominently plastered all over the East Blue, it didn't come as a surprise that he could readily identify you. “Ah, look who it be," he bellowed over the booming music. "If it ain't the bloody Cutthroat herself!”

Your smile felt strained, but you didn't feel the need to impress him.

"Or should I say, the not-so-Cutthroat anymore.”

"What can I say," you responded, folding your arms. "Clearly someone's gone and printed the wrong thing.”

The pirate let out a laugh, his mouth gaping so wide that it seemed almost inhuman.

"You must be Nicholas Burke, I gather. I heard you have something for me.”

"Straight to the point, eh? I like that.”

The pirate, radiating a deceptive sense of camaraderie, rose to his feet and motioned for you to follow him to a more secluded area. "I've got a private spot where we can chat uninterrupted," he stated, his voice smooth and enticing.

You mentally grumbled, because he couldn't appear any more suspicious than he already did.

"My, what an honor. Did you reserve the VIP room just for me?”

Nicholas shrugged. "Aye aye. Only the best for a fine lass such as yourself.”

Ugh, what a nuisance.

Playing along, you trailed behind him through a labyrinth of winding corridors, the clamor of the club receding as you left the main hall behind. You arrived in a dimly lit back room, secluded from the watchful gazes of the other patrons.

The room was sparsely furnished, with just a few chairs and a sturdy beam spanning across the ceiling. It felt more like an interrogation chamber than a lounge area. Only two of his men had accompanied you, stationed at the closed door like vigilant sentinels.

Oh yes, not dubious in the slightest.

Once again, you did exactly what was expected of you, sitting across from him with an air of pretended obliviousness. "So, what is this all about?”

The pirate tilted his head to the side, regarding you with a pair of lazy, inquisitive eyes. "Have we met before, love?”

Gross.

"I would have remembered that," you replied.

"Mh. And yet, you remind me of someone.”

"Clearly. You recognized me from the bounty posters.”

He sat up straight, his eyes narrowing. "Nay, it's something else. I feel like I've conversed with you already.”

You crossed your legs, blinking innocently. "I meet many people.”

His head bobbed repeatedly, as if he were attempting to unravel your disguise and see through your falsehood.

"Now, can we please get down to business and discuss why you summoned me here?”

His expression darkened, and the way he leaned forward, licking his lips and shifting his right hand into his pocket, certainly did not signal anything good.

"Ah, you see, my dear, I've caught wind of some rumors.”

"That seems to be the trend these days.”

Nicholas flashed a wicked grin. "Indeed. But these particular rumors piqued my interest.”

You tightened your grip around your knee. "Is that so?”

"Would ya like to know what they're all about?”

No.

"It appears you're itching to tell me anyway.”

He nodded again, silently, seemingly taking pleasure in the visible erosion of your patience.

"That's quite a piece of news. Word is that one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, none other than Dracule Mihawk, has been seen around the East Blue quite frequently in recent weeks.”

Your eyes drifted towards the ceiling. "Yeah? And that should matter to me because...?”

He erupted into another boisterous laugh, and you had to restrain yourself from pinching your nose to block out the terrible stench of alcohol wafting from his mouth.

"Oh, you're good at this.”

"Good at what?" You inquired.

He cleared his throat, reverting back to his serious, intimidating demeanor.

"Now, don't play coy, sweet thing. There's no need for you to act oblivious.”

"I'm afraid you'll need to be more straightforward than that.”

He snickered, and you couldn't help but continually glance at the hand that was restlessly gripping his pocket for no apparent reason.

"We both know what those rumors suggest."

"Do I, though?”

He growled slightly. "Damn right you do. As a matter of fact, the Warlord has been seen in the company of a woman. The Cutthroat, they say. You, my dear.”

Well, that was unexpected.

Given that Mihawk had come to your aid in a public tavern, it wasn't entirely absurd. But when you took into account the pirate's lingering bruises and his determination to seize the Warlord's title, you started to grasp the real motive behind this encounter on Mirror Ball Island.

Nicholas Burke wasn't seeking your services, nor was he looking to negotiate a deal with you. Or at least, not the kind of deal you were used to.

No, this was likely nothing more than a contrived scheme he had concocted to draw the Warlord's attention, and that could only imply one thing: he had no intention of letting you leave the Neon Mirage. Not of your own accord and certainly not without restrains.

At that point, your feigned smile disappeared from your face. "I came here because you said you had a job for me. I didn't travel all the way to this island for a bunch of rumors.”

"Oh, but I do, in fact, have a job for ya.”

With your heightened senses, you could feel the other men approaching with the stealth of a cat, prepared to spring into action. You heard the faint sound of something heavy being drawn from their holsters, noticed their shadows and looming presence creeping closer.

"All I expect from you is to be a good lass.”

It all unfolded so rapidly, and you had to respond on instinct when one of them lifted his rifle, preparing to hit you in the head with the stock of it. You propelled yourself upwards and swiveled around, ducking and grabbing the weapon with all the force you could muster. Before the other pirate could hurl his enormous hammer at you, you grabbed the dagger at your side and plunged it directly into your attacker's abdomen. You evaded the second blow as the injured man whimpered in pain and coiled into a fetal position on the floor. Pushing the chair aside, you landed a strong kick to the chest of the other man, making him reel backward. Immediately afterward, you pulled out your gun and took a precise shot, targeting his leg.

Streams of blood trickled down from their wounds, staining the polished floor.

Unfortunately, you had misjudged the odds at your disposal, as there was a third man in the room to whom you had forcibly exposed your back. You barely registered a hand coming from behind, pressing a piece of cloth against your mouth and nose. It didn't take long for you to realize that the fabric was drenched in some sort of sedative. You immediately felt your muscles becoming numb and your body weakening moment by moment as the arsenic disseminated through your limbs.

You tried to resist it, flailing your arms and legs in a vain attempt to break free from his grasp.

"Shhh, don't fight it," Nicholas murmured into your ear, his voice reverberating in your head and growing faint.

The world around you blurred and dimmed as the drug took effect, and you slumped into his arms, unable to free yourself from his vile grip.

"Sweet dreams.”

When you regained consciousness, you found yourself in a very grim situation. A thick, rough rope coiled tightly around your torso, securing your wrists to your spinal column. The rope was threaded through a pulley system affixed to the beam above, and you were hoisted into the air, your feet suspended several feet off the ground.

Your head was foggy, but as soon as you fully came back to your senses, you pulled and thrashed to no avail.

Nicholas was now occupying the same chair you had been seated in, looking at you with a satisfied, venomous smirk. More of his crew had filtered in, lounging casually around the room with drinks in their hands. The red stains were still present, but you couldn't locate the injured men anywhere.

The tightness of the binding restricted your movements, and the coarse material bit into your skin with every slight motion.

The pirate rose to his feet once more and advanced, his malicious smile highlighted by the dim light. "Comfortable?" he jeered. "I hope so, because you're going to be up there for quite some time.”

The sound of the party continued to echo faintly in the background, a stark contrast to the silent, heavy atmosphere of the room you were in.

"What exactly do you hope to achieve here?" You demanded angrily.

"Ah, it's quite simple. I have no interest in killing you, you're nothing more than a tool.”

"A tool for what? You're merely wasting your time.”

He shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Oh, I know precisely what I'm doing.”

"Mihawk isn’t even aware that I'm here.”

"I'm not acting blindly, Miss Cutthroat.”

Did he really think that Mihawk would monitor all your movements? Granted, he had proven more than capable of doing so, finding you wherever you went, pursuing you at the behest of the World Government. But now that he no longer had a valid excuse to follow you with your bounty out of the way, it seemed unlikely that he would seek you out solely for the pleasure of your company.

As painful as it was to acknowledge that to yourself.

"Aren't you his woman or something? You of all people should know that Dracule Mihawk is exceptionally resourceful. He's a predator, the marines' lapdog.”

You chuckled, feeling the bindings holding tight. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm nobody's woman. Least of all his. Whatever rumor you've heard about us, there's no truth in it.”

You could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the concern of having made a colossal mistake.

"You're just saying that to throw me off.”

"Oh no, I assure you. And besides, you're delusional if you think you can defeat him.”

He squinted at you, taking another step closer. "Where have I seen you before?”

"Again? I've already told you we've never met.”

He brought his fingers to his chin, scrutinizing your face in contemplation. "Nah, I'm not buying it. There's something in your eyes, even in your voice. You look familiar.”

How could he even recognize you considering the vast difference between your normal behavior and the masculine role you'd played in Loguetown? Was he truly that astute to realize you were the same boy he'd agreed to bring along?

And then, his eyes widened, and he repeatedly pointed at you, his index finger moving in a gesture of recognition. "Wait, yes, of course! You were that boy, weren't you? That skinny runt from the tavern in Loguetown.”

Apparently, he was indeed.

And that suggested your disguises weren't as foolproof as you had believed.

“Who?”

"No, no, no, don't even try to deny it. It was you! I'm certain of it. That's why you were so desperate to be there, you weren't interested in watching the fight. You were looking for the Warlord.”

Damn it.

"Can you believe this, lads? Our lady friend over here is the same cabin boy from Loguetown!”

Suddenly, all eyes were focused on you, and a wave of collective amusement erupted around you, punctuated by cries of surprise and disbelief.

"Oh, you must have run into my younger brother," you fabricated.

"Yeah, right. And I'm a fish-man.”

It was now futile to attempt to persuade him, as this pirate proved to be far more intelligent and observant than you had initially estimated.

"Heh. If I had known you were so... enticing, I would have interacted with you differently.”

A knot formed in your stomach as he swept his lustful expression all over you, gnawing on his lower lip and unnervingly hovering his fingers near your belt. The menacing laughter from his crew sent shivers down your spine, prompting your mind to envision situations you'd prefer not to be involved in.

You exhaled a sigh of relief the moment he retreated back to his seat. "Such a shame, really. For my plan to be successful, we must ensure you remain entirely... intact.”

How did you land in such a predicament? You possessed an uncanny ability to land yourself in the most dreadful situations, even now, when the constant threat of bounty hunters lying in ambush was no longer a concern.

"Whatever plan you're cooking up, it's bound to fail. You stand no chance against him”

Nicholas drew in a frustrated breath. "Don't you think I'm aware of that? That rascal could have cut us down in one sweep if he'd wished.”

"You were the one who provoked him. You appeared quite certain of your ability to best him.”

He shrugged. "You know how it goes. You'll never know unless ya give it a shot.”

Your arms throbbed from the strain of the rope, but the knots were so meticulously tied that only a knife could grant you freedom.

"I fail to understand, then. If he were to stride through that door, your crew would be finished.”

The pirate clasped his hands before him. "Ah, but this is where my strategy comes into play. With you suspended up there, directly within my reach, he will be helpless. It's either you or his reputation. That's the real reason I needed you.”

"You're joking, right? You know how fast he is. You can't seriously think he'll stand by and let you have your way.”

He appeared indifferent, slouching further into the back of his chair.

"He's not the type of man to sacrifice everything for a woman, anyway. He would never grant you your desires, not even if you threaten to kill me.”

"Yeah, whatever.”

His strategy was riddled with flaws, a testament to his clear desperation to usurp Mihawk's position, regardless of the fallout for him and his entire crew.

"Your bounty was rescinded," he declared. "The World Government never does that unless there's a specific reason that serves its interests.”

You could sense the bitterness in his tone, the unmistakable tinge of envy.

"Your association with him has earned you this privilege. How is that fair?”

You exhaled. "I was under the impression that pirates took pride in their bounties.”

"Oh, don't misunderstand me, I never cared that much. But having the marines hounding me wherever I go is bothersome. A Warlord of his status doesn't need to fret about anything or anyone standing in his way.”

"So that's your ambition? To become a Warlord and do as you please? To usurp his title when your swordsmanship is nowhere near his level?”

"That's enough.”

You laughed derisively at him. "And you believe the World Government would even consider you? The gap between you and Mihawk is exponential.”

He rose so quickly that the chair skidded backward, and his fury was so palpable now that you were certain he could incinerate you with his eyes alone. “Hold your tongue!”

The bile in your mouth was too toxic to suppress. "Mihawk earned his title. You only want to steal it because you know you can't achieve it through merit. How pitiful can you be?”

Nicholas drew his gun, the elongated barrel aimed squarely at your forehead. "I could simply conclude this here, pull the trigger right now.”

You knew he wasn't bluffing, and once again, you had to tread carefully with your words. "Then you're signing your own death warrant either way.”

His hand trembled, and you could hear the telltale clink of bullets shifting within the metal confines. “The bait is set, and the prize is right here in my hands. Say what you will, I couldn't care less about your unsolicited opinion, lass.”

You could feel the blood circulation in your limbs being cut off, with prickling sensations painfully shooting through your elbows, forearms, and hands. There was a possibility that Mihawk would never make an appearance, potentially leaving you in an extended state of suspense before Nicholas initiated a counteraction. Worse yet, he could completely dispose of you the moment your presence was deemed unnecessary.

If only you had heeded your instincts the moment you encountered him in Neon Mirage, instead of sticking to your obstinacy and avarice. What would a lost deal have signified? It wasn't as though better opportunities were out of reach.

With your hands constricted, you couldn't grab anything even if you wished to, and all your weapons had been carefully confiscated. You pulled and scraped at the ropes in a bid to slacken the knots, but it only served to tire your fingers and nearly snap your nails.

You were starting to accept the grim reality that survival might not be in your cards this time around.

Until the thunderous noise of the wooden door splintering, catapulting forward to hit three pirates simultaneously and subsequently knocking them unconscious before splitting in half, caused you to startle in surprise.

A piercing, icy atmosphere pervaded the entire room. The air appeared to turn colder, and the light wavered as if reacting to the aura of something—or someone—genuinely fearsome. There, at the doorway, stood Dracule Mihawk, his eyes gleaming with a foreboding intensity. Yoru was securely gripped in his right hand, his distinctive hat partially veiling his face, casting it in shadow.

He progressed agonizingly slow, stepping into the room while the rest of the crew recoiled in fear.

The pirate captain, momentarily taken aback, quickly regained his composure by clearing his throat. "Mihawk," he called out, forcing a confidence he didn’t truly feel. "You've come. Just as I hoped.”

Mihawk's gaze swept over the environment, zeroing in on the sight of you hanging in mid-air. His eyes tightened, and his grip on Yoru's handle subtly intensified. Without a spoken word, he moved forward, each step measured and deliberate.

“Stop right there!" The pirate captain barked, his voice shaking. "One more step, and I'll-”

In a fraction of a second, four men rallied and formed a defensive wall, brandishing their swords and guns in a show of intimidation. In a blink, Mihawk launched an air slash, propelling the pirates through the air to land with a thud.

You noted just how severe their wounds appeared to be, with one man lying on his back, his eyes wide and his face growing pale, with bits of his insides showing from the nasty opening.

Mihawk didn't even physically touch them; he struck them all in one swift move, distributing his attack evenly.

Panic broke out among the leftover pirates, but it was too late. Mihawk moved with an efficiency that bordered on the supernatural, his blade gleaming and humming. Every strike was lethal, every movement nimble and graceful.

The ones who survived, wisely chose to flee for their lives, vacating the room amidst desperate cries and guttural screams.

The pirate captain, now frantic, seized his pistol again and pressed it against your side. "Don't move!" he shrieked. "Or I'll kill her!”

Mihawk halted, his penetrating gaze meeting the captain's. "You're already dead," he stated, his voice a low, apathetic, yet menacing murmur that induced shivers even in you.

"We can resolve this peacefully, there's no need for further bloodshed," Nicholas proclaimed. "I'll release her, but you must relinquish your title to me.”

Mihawk viewed him as if he were a mere reject, a man lacking in any semblance of dignity. When his golden orbs landed on you, you responded with a shake of your head. You held deep skepticism that he would ever prioritize your wellbeing, but you still wished to ensure he wouldn't act on any sudden impulses.

His shoulders appeared to relax, and as he fastened Yoru to his back, Nicholas cackled like a lunatic, "Good choice.”

You sensed the cold metal barrel of the gun leaving your side, and watched as Nicholas slid in front of you, tauntingly waving the weapon at Mihawk.

And that was a tremendous mistake on his part.

"What do you need this for anyway? You're strong. You already have the power to do as you please.”

Now, he was the one left exposed, his back enticingly within your reach. Given the choice, you would prefer to spare his pathetic life, letting him wallow in his own despair. However, this pirate had displayed a worrying degree of determination, and there was a substantial risk that he might initiate another assault, targeting either you or Mihawk.

And while it wouldn't pose a real issue to him, for you, it could be rather perilous.

"I'm not a fool, Warlord. I know I can't defeat you. But I could fire at both of you before you have time to react, and as invincible as you may be, I doubt you'd be immune to a bullet in your head.”

No, you couldn't let that happen. Despite potentially overanalyzing the situation and having confidence in Mihawk's abilities and survival instincts, it was a risk you were not prepared to take, regardless of how insignificant it might be.

And quite honestly, you had grown tired of these men treating you as nothing more than an object to be shackled and tormented.

Without wasting another second, you initiated a pendulum motion by swinging your legs back and forth, then wound them around the pirate’s neck from behind, tightening your thighs and entrapping his head in a vice-like grip. Nicholas was struggling for breath, grasping at your left leg with one hand as you endeavored to maintain your position, careful not to twist excessively. Before he could pull the trigger and fire a bullet into your knee, Mihawk flicked his wrist, launching his golden knife straight into the pirate's hand. A groan of pain echoed as the pistol clattered onto the floor, and Mihawk's compact dagger pierced through the pirate's thick glove, dyeing the leather a bright crimson.

You were enraged, throttling him forcefully while gritting your teeth. Mihawk stayed emotionless, observing the scene without even a blink. You could have let up, allowed the man to fall unconscious and collapse, but you persisted. Nicholas fought back for as long as he could, keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground in an upright stance.

With a final effort, you twisted your hips and a resonating snap echoed through the room. Nicholas' arms finally went limp, and his legs buckled like melting gelatin. You let him go, his body falling forward, void of any motion, completely lifeless.

It wasn't your first instance of claiming a life for self-protection, but it never brought you any hint of satisfaction. It was something you did out of necessity.

Furthermore, you were weary of being rescued like a damsel in distress. You wanted to demonstrate to Mihawk that you could hold your own, without behaving like a helpless doll awaiting liberation.

You gasped for breath, the rope gently rocking, strands of your hair falling onto your face. Mihawk casually reclaimed his knife, extracting it from the dead man's hand and using the pirate’s clothing to wipe the blade clean of blood. The pendant was whole again, its other half coming together with a clink against his chest.

As he rose to his feet, he extended his hand to Yoru's hilt once more, severing the rope suspending you with a diagonal stroke. His speed was extraordinary, executing an elegant twirl to ensure you didn't plummet, catching you around the waist the moment you descended. You found yourself nestled against his chest, your feet softly landing on the floor as though you had gently floated down. His robust, inebriating scent wafted into your nostrils and permeated your lungs, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting blanket on a chilly night.

You raised your head, your eyes meeting his, your breath catching in your throat. He was observing you with his usual detached expression, yet you could detect something else hidden in those golden irises. Could it be guilt, perhaps? You couldn't be sure. It was likely just your mind creating illusions.

Your fingers let go of his coat and you disengaged, turning away with a subtle smile. "How do you always manage to find me?”

As you moved towards your belongings, Mihawk replied, "This pirate ensured that I knew your precise location.”

"Ah. So he did have a clue about what he was doing, after all.”

“Hardly.”

You laughed lightly, repositioning your weapons and soothing your sore arms. "We should probably leave, before someone stumbles upon the chaos we've caused.”

You had scarcely finished your sentence when Mihawk was already crossing the threshold, where the door once stood. You kept up with his long strides at a quick pace, as the two of you walked through the corridors, the music intensifying and growing closer with each passing moment. The quest to reach the exit proved to be particularly amusing, with Mihawk tensing and pursing his lips in distaste whenever someone dared to graze his arms or boldly tried to tug him onto the dance floor.

Needless to say, drawing in some fresh air again was quite a relief, despite the equally boisterous and festive atmosphere outside. It appeared that some sort of dance competition was underway, but Mihawk wasn't the sort to show even the slightest curiosity about it. Without uttering a word, he pivoted on his heels and strolled away, not even bestowing a single glance in your direction.

His dealings with you were over, after all. He had come to your rescue a second time, journeying to a place he clearly found unappealing. What else could possibly keep him on the Mirror Ball Island now that his task involving you was accomplished?

And yet, this time you were resolute in not letting him depart.

"Where do you think you're going?”

He managed to catch your words, even amidst the chatter and ongoing festivities in the street. "Anywhere that isn't this jarring parade.”

Without overthinking, you grabbed his clothed arm and pulled him away from the main path, heading into an alley that seemed quiet enough for conversation without straining your voice. Itriguingly, Mihawk acquiesced, and you both seemed to find a measure of peace in that corner that felt detached from the rest of the town, shrouded in darkness and seclusion, with no one else in sight.

You positioned yourself in front of him, arms folded. He waited silently, barely inclining his head as he studied you.

There was so much you longed to express, but your heart held you back. Without beating around the bush, you dove straight into the crux of the matter, as it was the primary reason why you could likely abandon your disguises entirely now.

"It was you, wasn’t it? You persuaded them to revoke my bounty.”

A trace of satisfaction surfaced on his features, though he was careful to mask it. "If that's what you believe.”

"Are you suggesting they changed their minds out of the pure kindness of their hearts?”

His eyes drifted away, resting on a random point beyond your head. "I can't read their minds.”

"Mihawk, seriously. There's no way they'd just cancel it out of the blue. Especially considering they’ve even sent you after me in the first place.”

His focus fell back on you, steady and earnest. Yet somehow, you could detect a hint of gentleness.

"Mihawk, I owe you my gratitude. You've done so much for me that I can't even begin to fathom how I could ever repay you.”

"You're not in debt to me.”

"Yes, I am. You've saved my life, what, three times if we consider the fact you ignored the orders? And now you've managed to get my bounty removed in the blink of an eye.”

He pondered over it, searching for the appropriate response to provide. "I have no interest in any form of repayment. I've done precisely what I wanted, no more and no less.”

You smiled, for his words were an indirect admission of his involvement. You were already conscious of that, but it was reassuring to know you weren't wrong.

"Why did you choose to come here today?”

"Why wouldn't I?”

"Because I'm not your responsibility. But you always end up saving me from the worst kind of situations.”

His eyes rolled upwards. "You have a particular talent for getting yourself into those.”

“Fair point.” You moved a bit closer, casting an even larger shadow over him. "But that doesn't answer my question. Did you have… concerns about me?”

His jaw clenched, and Mihawk remained entirely silent.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to show up.”

His eyes were deep and magnetic, riveted on your face as if to hypnotize you, unblinking. How could he weave such a spell on you? How could he make you succumb to his charm, right when you were meant to fear him more than anyone else?

And then, his reply came, surpassing anything you could have ever imagined.

"No one touches what’s mine and lives to tell the tale.”

His abrupt proclamation caught you entirely off guard, spoken as though it was the most straightforward and self-evident fact. You had to replay it over and over in your head, simply because you struggled to believe you'd heard him correctly.

Had he really confessed to viewing you as significant? Or, at the very least, did he regard you as valuable enough to deem you as someone worthy of his affection (or whatever that was supposed to be)?

A blush heated your cheeks, but the dimly lit alley was kind enough to keep it concealed.

"Did I miss something?" You questioned aloud. "I wasn't aware of the fact that you considered me as yours.”

The way he diverted his gaze, displaying a touch of irritation, yet so noticeably disconcerted and mildly anxious, caused your heart to race and stomach to flutter.

"If you see this as a game, I have no inclination to participate.”

Was that uncertainty in his voice? The fear of you treating what you had as mere amusement? You had been forthright with him that you weren’t toying around, and you deeply cherished every kiss you exchanged, every touch, every sigh or groan.

If anything, you believed he was the one taking it less seriously than it meant to you. And now, witnessing his determined possessiveness, you felt as though the floor had vanished beneath your feet.

"This isn't a game, Mihawk. It never was.”

You guided your hand upward, allowing your fingertips to graze the smooth skin of his chest, trace the outline of his cross dagger, and lightly touch his collarbones. One might assume that he didn’t enjoy it, that your touch left him unaffected. But the rhythm of his heart, steady yet robust, could be felt against your palm.

"About that payment thing," you whispered, bringing your nose to his coarse cheek. "I might have a suggestion. Of course, only if you're open to it.”

Merely thinking about it made you feel improper, even indecent, considering you were still in a public location. Still, you couldn’t suppress your instincts, as having him so close to you again sparked that familiar fire within, that sexual tension, that instinctive tightening in your core.

Mihawk picked up on it immediately, judging by the sensual tone of your voice and the growing desire evident in your darkened eyes. The sun had long set, which only served to provide the two of you with even greater privacy. Given that the alley ended in a dead end, you could easily prevent anyone from sneaking in from the other side.

Everyone was preoccupied with the music, watching the competition that had just begun. No one was sparing even a single glance in your direction, it was just the two of you, secluded in your own bubble of physical longing.

"Do as you see fit," he responded indifferently. "Kneel and make use of that mouth of yours.”

You froze, your lips halting their motion against his jaw. Did he really say what you thought he said?

In the end, it wasn't much different from what you had envisioned. As you looked at him, slightly shocked but delighted that his desires matched yours, Mihawk remained motionless and commanding. Even in the darkness, you could see the molten gold of his irises, as if they glowed with their own vitality.

You grinned, bending your legs and situating yourself in an improvised sitting position on the ground. Your knees ached against the asphalt, but you had more pressing matters to think about. Much more appealing matters.

You refused to break the eye contact, staring at him from below. Even from that angle, he was absolutely breathtaking, with the outline of his abs catching the nighttime illumination, his eyes shimmering, his lips curving, and his Adam's apple probing forward.

You moved your hands along his thighs, up and down, at a torturously slow pace. His baggy pants did little to hide the swelling bulge between his legs, but as much as you wanted to deliver him the satisfaction he deserved, you didn't want to rush the process.

You began to unbuckle his belt, pushing his pants just low enough to reveal more of his V-shaped waistline, his chiseled sides, and the beautiful, spongy head of his arousal. He didn't react at all, remaining as motionless as a sculpture, watching your every move.

You kissed him around the navel, leaving a trail of light-as-a-feather kisses all over his marble-like abdomen. You could see the outline of the veins spreading out and leading lower, the tip of his arousal reacting with a satisfied twitch.

Tentatively, you pushed the front of his trousers further down, being careful not to leave him entirely exposed. As much as you craved him, and despite the thrill you felt from the remote risk of being caught, you respected him too much to shame him. Undressing him was something you wanted to reserve for another occasion, either within the privacy of your cabin or anywhere else that offered ample seclusion.

"Get on it. I don't have all night.”

You stifled a laugh at his sudden impatience, which perfectly reflected how you tried to rush him the last time you lost yourselves in your heated intimacy.

"Do you really want me to finish so quickly? Where's the fun in that.”

Mihawk snorted, and you absolutely adored how riled up he was from your minor ministrations.

"Alright, just give me a moment.”

His arousal was perfect in every way, from every facet that you had the privilege to imprint in your memory. It was long, solid, rigid and smooth as velvet, decorated with a few pronounced veins running along his shaft. You wrapped the base with your dominant hand, sliding it up to the crown, and down again in a rhythmic motion. The sigh that slipped from his lips was barely discernible, but it was a clear indication of his momentary relief.

Then you increased the pressure, intensifying your grip, and running your thumb against the tight underside. His jaw clenched and his lips thinned into a line, providing you with the confirmation you needed about a job well executed.

In retrospect, you never really favored kneeling before a man. It invariably conveyed a sentiment of weakness and submission, and for this reason, you typically preferred to partake in this sort of physical exchange while lying on a bed. Mihawk had completely transformed your world, and you felt compelled to give him everything you had to offer, everything you were, inside and out.

You were starting to love him in your unique way. To love his reticence, his total disinterest in most things, his seeming indifference and nonchalance towards anything that didn't involve a good sword fight.

Brushing your hair aside, you enveloped the tip with your mouth, and closed it as soon as you had completely covered it, softly sucking on it a few times. You let it go with a moist popping sound, only to slide your tongue over the rest of it, treating his entire length to a sensual, tender lick.

You felt his fingers reach for the back of your head, gripping a handful of hair between them. It wasn't harsh in any way, but you recognized his silent encouragement for you to give him more, to take as much of him as you could handle, to present him with that special reward you'd been yearning to give. Your heart seemed on the verge of exploding, and you repositioned yourself on the ground, widening your legs for improved stability, and descending onto him while easing your throat.

His hand tracked your movements, but he let you progress without pushing you. He was in control, but at the same time, there wasn't a single trace of severity in his actions. You descended onto him, using your hand to stimulate what you couldn't reach with your mouth. He didn't seem to mind, holding your nape in his fist, and patiently waiting for you to adapt and accelerate your pace. You hollowed your cheeks, moaned against his skin, and found the perfect rhythm that wouldn't exhaust you, but also wouldn't bore him to the brink of irritation.

The cheering from the background reached your ears as if it were intended for you, accompanied by the sound of hands clapping fervently, whistles, and howls. His chest was rising and falling more rapidly, but he maintained his expression as impassive as it could possibly be.

His arousal, however, told a different story. You felt it shake and pulse in your mouth, growing in size and heat as you persisted. You gave it your best effort, drawing your other hand up to his stomach, feeling its contractions and vibrations.

It was astounding. You weren't even the one receiving pleasure, but for the first time, you felt more than fulfilled merely by being able to satisfy him.

You liked him. You genuinely did. That fact was indisputable.

It didn't take long for you to notice just how eager his erection was for release, how near you were bringing him to that delightful climax you both wanted. With his discipline and physical control, he resisted the urge to thrust his hips forward, giving you complete control to handle it on your own. And so, you alternated your movements, using your hand to caress his length while you focused more on the plush tip, only to lower again.

He was almost there, you could sense it.

"Don't spill a single drop.”

Again, his remark came entirely unexpectedly, but you valued his boldness just as much as anything else. Very slowly, you brought your lips up and lingered on the tip, only to let his full length go after a kiss on it. Biting your lower lip, you scarcely blinked as you echoed his forthrightness, smiling with contentment. "Who do you think I am?”

His hold on you eased, and as your hair tumbled back, he slid his fingers to the front, along your jawline, only to halt at your chin. His thumb brushed over your lips, from bottom to top, and settled at the corner.

"Oh, I know you are more than capable.”

Your body moved on its own, grabbing his wrist, and turning your head so that you could bestow a gentle kiss on his thumb. Mihawk's eyebrow slightly lifted, but he neither attempted to pull away nor reprimanded you for it.

Your smile broadened, and a chuckle came naturally to you as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and returned your attention to his arousal. And you went all the way in, moving your head more rapidly, ensuring that your tongue was stimulating all the right areas, your hand speeding up on the remaining length.

Your eyes instinctively shut, and in that instant, Mihawk's own gaze landed on the wall ahead of him, his throat working to swallow, and his lips parting. He didn't moan, he didn't make a sound. Or, to be more precise, none that you could hear over the music playing around you. The moment his climax reached him, his hips jerked, and your mouth was flooded with his essence, which you diligently kept secure and swallowed down, drop by drop.

It was unsurprisingly salty, with a mixed taste that ranged from sweet to sour. You kept your lips attached to him until you were sure there was nothing left for him to give, and true to your promise, none of it ever spilled onto the ground.

Under normal circumstances, you would consider it exceedingly filthy, distasteful, and utterly repugnant to do. But with him, even the things that seemed outrageous before now felt entirely natural. There were times when you felt extremely uncomfortable even with Isaiah, notwithstanding the guy's gentleness and respect for you.

With Mihawk, you felt as though anything was possible.

Now completely done, you ran one finger over your lips to ensure there were no remnants left, and he adjusted his clothes with his characteristic composure as you rose to your feet. You waited for him to finish, smiling like a little girl who had just carried out a secret mischief. When your eyes met again, your grin transformed into a tender smile. You took a step back, then another, and you turned to walk out of the alley without waiting for him to follow you.

You left him there, cooling down while you made your way back to your ship, navigating through the large crowd and leaving the booming music behind.

This time, you didn't lock the door of your cabin. You took off your leather jacket and tossed it over the couch, massaging your neck and taking a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. The fatigue was gnawing at you, with the soreness in your arms from the tight rope, your eyelids boring the weight of your exhaustion. And yet, the thought of sleep or pause was far from your mind. You wanted that moment to continue, your departure to be delayed, for Mihawk to remain present and not fade into the ether.

You idly loosened the laces of your shirt, allowing it to open and gently slide down your shoulders. You waited, you hoped, you even prayed.

You didn't have to do it for long, because soon enough, you heard the sound of his footsteps, and the click of the door closing behind him. You were beaming, your face illuminating at the sight of him, halting in front of you with an ostensibly blank expression, but one that held so much more.

Your lips met, colliding into an open-mouthed kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hands made contact with your lower back, lifting the fabric of your shirt and slipping underneath it. You had just satisfied him, but that earth-shattering orgasm didn't seem even remotely sufficient to fulfill his desire for you.

And as your tongues intertwined, he could taste himself on it, which only ignited the wildness he was struggling to keep at bay.

You nudged his hat aside, holding its brim delicately between your fingers before letting it settle next to your jacket on the couch. Your shirt cascaded down to the floor, and in an instant, you found yourself drawn to the bed, pressed against the mattress, your wrists firmly held above your head.

The night promised to be lengthy and unforgettable, punctuated with whispers and intimate echoes, artfully veiled by the rhythmic tunes resonating from outside.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 6 ->

#one piece liveaction #opla mihawk #dracule mihawk #opla mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader

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