#let alone publish it.

[overtaken-stream]

Drunk Deeds

Dracule "Hawk-Eye" Mihawk x F!Reader

Notes 1: I wanted (Y/N) to have met Zoro at some point in the pre-time skip as a foe (She lost) and since Zoro is an exceptional swordsman in her eyes, she (forcefully) choose him as her teacher after their brawl, unfortunately for Zoro, Kuma repelled you to the same place as our fav moss head. Note 2: I completely forgot about ages, but reader is older than Zoro, bc I find it funny for a grown woman to beg 19 y/o boy to teach her his swordsman ways. Note 3: It isn't specified if she is a straw hat, I left that open. Note 4: All this does not matter because I never mention it anyway.

Warnings: Oral(female receiving), wine involvement in a sexual activity.

The taste of grapes remains on your tongue, the calm, an almost invisible buzz of alcohol was underlining your headache that's been long forgotten now that the causes are thrown outside, out of your domain of expertise.

Your eyes wander over to the World Economy Newspaper, the major source of information covered in sweet propaganda and untruthful words regarding the newest attraction, the aftermath of the Summit War of Marineford. The monochrome pictures are scattered on the page and long paragraphs cry out for attention. Truly a tragedy to have greed decor and cover the crimes against humanity committed by the Marines.

Whether it's the gruesome pictures or the liquor you drank to rid of your thirst, the dry feeling on your tongue stays unnerved, it returns every few minutes you take in the wine.

It should be a familiar feeling, you think as you, yet again, grab the wine glass by the base of the stem, the clear rim is tinged with the soft color of your lipstick and there is a small amount of fluid remaining in the bowl, which you gulp down quickly, putting the empty glass back on the red tablecloth, you take a moment to swallow the last of the rich liquid. Then spinning the glass stem in between your fingers, you can feel your ears clog as the drunkenness heats your cheeks, though the wine does little to quench your thirst, the pleasant aftertaste left in your throat spreads throughout your consciousness, warm cozy fondness soon turns you drowsy and gasping for air.

Swift slamming of a cup in front of you makes you snap open your eyes (when did you close them?), and before the panic sets in an unknown voice interrupts the alarms going on in your head.

``You should know your limits.`` As soon as it came, the dread you felt quickly disappeared, and familiarity settled.

``S-Sir Mihawk!`` your flustered self is met with piercing Hawk eyes, thanking away whatever excuse that was quickly dancing on your tongue. ``Y-you have an extravagant taste in... Uh, wine Sir!``

The thought of when he had returned, or how you didn't notice his footsteps get lost in your clouded mind as his judgemental eyes wash over you, they settle under your skin, and for a moment you think pouring ice-filled water over yourself in snow would be better than the predatory gaze he sets upon you.

It isn't like he forbade drinking the wine he has hidden in every corner of the castle. Still, a drop of nervous sweat travels down your neck.

You swiftly turn away from his stare, eyes landing on the cold water-filled cup that he rudely slammed against the table, apparently for you to drink. Without words, you pour the water down your gutter, cool liquid satisfies the overheated core within, to the point that your worn-out teeth hurt from the cold sensation. By the time you set the partly empty cup down, Mihawk had already sat at the head of the table, away from you.

``Thanks for the water...``

For an unknown reason, his choice of seat made your heartache.

``Hm.``

Looking at the man, without his signature coat and the hat, felt surprisingly intimate, despite knowing each other for two weeks, all four residents, including yourself fell into a fresh routine quite easily. A routine that Mihawk adapted quickly and religiously maintained.

The hawk's eyes look up from the morning newspaper that he grabbed without your permission, and if it was anybody else, you might have said a snarky remark.

``Hand me the wine bottle.`` You have no issue being bossed around, you are more confident when following the orders of others, as annoying and humiliating as it is for somebody else, it doesn't bother you, especially when it comes to the warlord in the room, his orders are minimal, rare, and you don't feel any control from him, unlike Zoro who seems to get annoyed on your behalf whenever the older man 'dictates' your actions, leading to pointless remarks sent in your way.

Don't you feel lesser?

You stretch out your arm, sluggishly grabbing the exquisite bottle, and gently placing it in the rough hands of the swordsman.

You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as he pours himself the said wine, grabbing the glass and before he drinks, the man tilts his head down in a thankful gesture toward you.

No, I don't feel any lesser. Why? Because Mihawk does not mean demean.

It isn't until he puts his lips onto the rim that you finally recognize the stained glass. Your eyes widened.

``Wha-Hey! Don't drink it!`` you flung up your arms in the air, however, no amount of blushing could stop him in time.

``That's my glass!`` You watch as his eyes open, the wine and glass still resting on his mouth, his incorrigible face is misplaced as you mumble embarrassed whispers his way while hiding behind your hands.

A second passes, ten seconds pass. The silence suffocates your flustered face hidden behind your arms away from the prying eyes of no man.

``Huh.`` The sound escapes his (probably) lipstick-stained lips, it shatters the awkward pause between you two. ``I... apologize.`` A faint blush on his heated cheeks is swept under the rug.

It takes you a bit to let your hands down, even longer to look at him in his static eyes.

Only after he grabs himself a clean wine glass, do you stop hiding your flaming cheeks away from him, sneaking glances at the open ruffled neck his white button-up shirt includes. The residue from earlier sits beautifully on his chapped lips, giving a faint shine from the lack of proper appliance. The color stains the transparent rim, laughing and teasing you, spreading countless unknown emotions that make you shy away and maintain eye contact with a tablecloth.

``Is there something on my face, (Y/N)?`` His double-ringed eyes land on your form, which you realize is too open for sneaky glimpses you've been giving him. Unaffected by your embarrassment.

You don't know if it's a drunken haze that gave you the confidence out of thin air, but you're sure at some point you've lost yourself in the slow hum of alcohol.

``Mm. Yeah actually.`` He raised an eyebrow at your response.

The feeling spreads like a lit steel wool, the fire following your lines of sanity as it leaves only boldness exposed to a hawk. You bet everything, and by everything you mean your life, the only thing you seem to carry that has any meaning in this meaningless world, on this action.

A chair falls onto the ground. Next, you're bending ninety degrees in angle, right arm rests on your knees as you're standing in the face of a gentleman, left hand travels to the man's lips, pale in comparison to the ghostly skin, rough and torn by the sea, the frown adorns his complexion as your pointer finger pad gently smoothes the color that pops off of him. It sticks to your skin, lipstick revealing your fingerprints.

It sticks like the smell of sake clinging onto the man. The scent that only now you've picked up, due to the proximity. He must have had a great time with Zoro outside.

His eyes watch, stern and unrecognizable as you pull your digit away from his mouth, in slow-mo you let him realize what the subtle, teasing smile on your face was about. He tries to gather what decency remains within, tries to not look down as your shirt reveals soft flesh underneath, concealed in the shadows.

By now you must have caught onto the distant smell of sake clinging to his button up, however, it does not seem relevant to either of you.

Sweat dribbles down from his temple, yet his hand moves up to grab your hip, and his body follows after it. Standing upright.

In your slowly widening eyes, he sees your confidence crumble like the boulders he used for training back in his youth, so effortless to demolish under his eye.

He looked down at the roses that bloomed under your eyes, wide and shaken for an unknown reason.

``Are you flustered?`` There are no words that meet him, his question causes your hands, resting on his chest, to tighten. He already knows the answer.

He drags your body closer, feeling your heat under his skin. His thigh drags your nether region unintentionally rubbing the cloth between your bodies. A hiss escapes your lips, his eyes narrow. ``Y-you're so...!`` You say between your clenched teeth, face heated.

Mihawk's arm tightens around your torso, shoving his knee further until he makes your buttocks meet the edge of the table. The wine bottle rocks back and forth.

``So?``

You are trapped.

``...So... Frustrating...`` Your eyes shut tightly as his lips meet yours. The strong aftertaste of Sake hits your wet muscle since the wine was not enough to cover it. His tongue eagerly entangles with yours, leaving you breathless. Through the clothes, you can feel his hand on your waist trail up your ribs and rest across your chest. It grabs at buttons and frees your body to his eyes.

Your heart thunders in your ear. Embarrassed you grab at his shoulders as he grabs at your thighs, kneading it before dragging you up and on top of the table. With great vigor, his hand removes whatever restriction was between your private parts, dragging and tossing it away. His lips never leave you, even when you struggle for breath, he leans over you, caging your body beneath. The lust drowns everything else, the sight, smell, and sense, for a blissful moment.

It ends unwillingly. The golden eyes watch, and yours stare back, both breathe heavily. The connection is broken when he goes down, leaving you leaning on your elbows to watch as he gazes at your folds with dark desire swirling in his ringed iris.

It's too much. Too blush-making for you. Lying flat on the table as your wrists desperately shelter your eyes. The moment goes on for what feels like forever.

And then the sensation hits you like a truck. 

The cold, wet, bright red liquor drips onto your opening, blazing your face in complete blush as the loud sound of wine meeting ground fills the air.

Your hand flies down to hold yourself stable, letting the uncomfortable feeling overwhelm you.

Turning red, you could only gaze into his eyes that stared at your entrance, hungry for something. After a pregnant pause, he put the wine bottle on the floor, leaving your bottom half shining with red tints.

``Are... Are you insane?!`` your eyebrows turned up, voice shook. ``What are you doing?!`` flailing around you try to move away from his grip, inner thighs soiled in alcohol.

``I apologize for startling you.`` a sly glint lights up in his pupil, proving his apology otherwise. His hot breath disappears as he puts his mouth on your labia and quickly presses his tongue inside you without waiting for your response.

His grasp does not falter, instead strengthens and brings your bottom half closer until his nose finally meets your clit, lips gently travel over your folds, pressing sweet kisses on them that sprinkle over to your inner thighs. Tasting the alcohol with no shame in his actions. Tiny whimpers slip by as butterflies flutter in your stomach, pleasure makes your knees weak as he flicks at your opening. His tongue sneaking around your clit, sucking, circling, discovering with determinded precision what would shatter you to pieces the quickest. The wet sounds escape from his pressings, no doubt tasting and smelling the liquor as his tongue gets closer and closer to that one spot.

He sends shivers up your spine and uses his thumb to harshly rub against your clit, but once Mihawk finally found his desired destination inside of you, there was nothing that would get him to look at something but your pleasure-filled face finally unleash and listen to your cry that he compares to a siren's call, designed to enchant a lone pirate such as himself. He nestles and nuzzles his way through your meager whimpers, enthusiasticlly licking your addicting taste.

It's a shame your time together does not last forever.

[mathildejr]

going back to gouache after about 10 years of leaving it alone 👀 here's Mariam as a kid

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Source

As it came up again: There is a fake/edit of this circling as canon. Specifically the "socks in bed" one

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

i'm very much not actually gonna do this but can you imagine if the gaeltacht vampire story escalates into a book (not improbable with my track record of short fiction growing much longer) and i tried to get it published properly. trying to explain to an irish language publisher that no it definitely has to be under my pseudonym because it's very very indelibly linked to my unhinged internet presence and i can't put my wallet name on that, i've got a day job to think of. yes i know seneolas isn't a real surname but it's what it says on my email account so just go with it

they'd be like ????

(actually i would probably crowdsource a fake surname from youse. it would be great. you'd help me write a bio that isn't just "néide seneolas is an unhinged weirdo from tumblr. they live on the internet")

[endwersed]

I can actually feel the motivation leaking out of me with every second I sit in front of this word document

[uncanny-tranny]

When I find it hard to do certain things, I like to pretend I am a neanderthal living in a cave with my clan, and I must do The Thing in order to survive.

So, when I'm doing cardio at the gym, I'm actually chasing and tracking a mammoth, and when I need to cook, well, I'm not cooking on a stove top, I am hurdled over the first fire and watching the fat of our kill drip down onto the burning wood. And when I find it hard to crochet, I pretend that the first winter storm is coming and our clan needs me to make blankets to hurdle under and that I must contribute.

I hope whatever you do to do The Things will help. It is a uniquely personable trait to motivate yourself through pretend and stories. That's what makes this life interesting - that's what makes you feel larger than yourself 💛

[canisalbus]

What is your favorite Redwall book?

Mattimeo! It's the first I one read and still my favorite of the bunch. I also liked Redwall, the first of the series, and have vague positive memories of The Bellmaker, but I don't really remember them as well as I'd like.

[inkykeiji]

I'm sorry but dabi looks sooo hot in the S7 trailer and I just. Imagines him storming into your blog, seeing you simping for all these new men and just dragging you out by your ear like 😡 can't leave you alone for five minutes, a TV, really? 😆

HAHAHAHA his hair looks soooo fluffy and it just <333 makes me wanna pet him and thread my fingers through the tufts and pull >:) bUT ANYWAY HEHE THIS IS SO FUNNY TO THINK ABOUT????? because he so would. he’s storming through the doors with his big black boots shouting at the top of his lungs, just bellowing, all i can’t take my eyes off of you for a goddamn second, can i!? and then he is indeed knotting his knuckles in my hair and dragging me off to remind me of who i belong to and all of that fun stuff~

[nebulaad]

so many modern posts can be boiled down into a sticky "I hate this thing that all my friends do that I, by extension, feel expected to do with them because it's a fairly common activity/task, but my fear of being left out of my friend group because I don't share any common interests with them forces me to engage with it in spite of my distaste for it and my refusal to actually admit that I dislike it reveals an inherent dissonance in how I live and how I want to live and the enormous gulf between them and so I have to assume that everyone struggles to enjoy this thing because it is impossible to me that the thing I hate and force myself to do anyway is a pleasant experience for anyone because as you can probably tell my underlying anxiety has made me solipsistic to the point where it's difficult for me to honestly engage with life outside of social media which at its worst is just a series of extremely personal snapshots into a highly curated personal experience being traded back and forth" syrup. I'm actually a little tired of it like. You don't have to go to the movies if you don't like sitting at least mostly quietly in a dark room. You don't have to read long, lore-heavy novels just because your timeline is full of series speculation. Most importantly of all, you don't have to write a ten page dissertation about your perfectly legitimate hatred for something you constantly insist upon doing because you don't know how to honestly engage with the people around you. People's opinions of you are, realistically, hugely agnostic about whether or not you routinely finish long books or series or movies. Pretty much the only benefit to seeming as if you do these tasks with pleasure and regularity is clout chasing in those particular communities and more and more it seems like communities spring up around clout chasing for these niche hobbies that seem to associate no true pleasure in the act of actually participating.

[clouds-of-wings]

I'M SAYING LIKE

I don't know if the writers are lampshading here, but apparently the extreme lack of attention and interest that Edith is getting from her family is very obvious to an outsider.

Shit, right, Edith owns a publishing company. That kind of tiny detail is so easy to forget when there are more important things about her like "Visits a farmer's daughter often".

[fridayyy-13th]

i really need to stop staying up late when my intrusive thoughts come up again, they always get worse at night. i wanted to do some writing, but i procrastinated too long and now i feel too bad and when i tried, i couldn't focus. so i'm gonna try and go to bed.

[bentothuglife]

Please I'm begging writers to learn how the expression "let alone" works

In the formation "X, let alone Y" Y IS THE MORE EXTREME OPTION

No: I can't do algebra, let alone add

Yes: I can't add, let alone do algebra

Bonus option: You can use "never mind" interchangeably instead. ex: "I can't add, never mind do algebra"

The meaning is "if I can't even do X (the easier/more basic thing), there's no way I can do Y". Reversing the terms makes your sentence sound extremely strange.

This has been a public service announcement.

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

tbh i got 90% of my sex ed in my late teens from resources shared on tumblr and it's also where i learned everything about queer stuff that i knew before the age of eighteen. i cannot stress enough how much i had nowhere else to learn that. hardly any of the books i read growing up had queer characters, they just weren't a thing in uk teen/YA publishing at that point (thank you, section 28 and its legacy that dragged on for years afterwards), and my hometown is a tory-voting suburb full of old people and young families so there was nothing around me i could learn from either. at sixteen i had no idea how lesbians had sex because the only sex ed i'd ever received was lessons about heterosexual reproduction in biology. when i started to suspect i was queer i panicked not bc i thought I'd face homophobia but because i didn't know who to ask for the absolute basics of any kind of sex beyond reproductive penetrative sex. and tumblr is probably the only reason i realised i was queer while marinating in that sea of heteronormativity and ignorance!

this website is deeply deeply flawed but god. i'd have been utterly lost without it. i really would

[litas-writings]

University AU where Aurora lives and Desmond saved her from the Azran temple and she gets to go to college in London where she meets Flora. Ofc they're roommates.

[erza155-writes]

Just finished watching s1 of black sails and yeah yeah brain rot over an amazing narrative & whatnot, but I've come to an unfortunate conclusion: it would be really funny/hot to watch Flint and Vane fuck because so many reasons but primarily I would love to see their brands of assholery clash and ruin not only their lives, but also the lives of everyone else around them

[sentimentalslut]

i sent you an ask forever ago that was literally just "ghosts of girlfriends past duncney au" and. i'm thinking about writing it. but at the same time i'm afraid i'd never live up to how much i adore yours and hollowboobtheory's fics

listen (and i mean this) we all start somewhere. we’re all scared to upload our fics — we are all our own harshest critics. 99% of the time, i can’t stand to read back my own writing. sharing your work is an act of bravery.

someone will love your words regardless