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readerstories · 2 months

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beg for it

– miguel o'hara x male reader.

cw; dom!miguel, sub male!reader, miguel is mean in this, a little non-con but you (the reader) is into it, rough sex, impact play, praise, degradation, breeding kink, a little surprise at the end, miguel speaks spanish in this (i google translated it so if it's not good, sorry). also, this is 4k words and no, i won't do the "MDNI" because y'all ignore it anyway.

It seemed like you were just rubbing it in his face that he couldn't catch you, no matter how hard he tried. Sure, there were times where he almost caught you, but you slipped out of his grasp before he could finally put a stop to this.

Until one day, Miguel did catch you.

And he wasn't nice about it.

+++

You were swinging through rooftops, easily dodging Miguel, laughing underneath your mask. The chase was so fun and enthralling that adrenaline began to pump through your veins, kindling a fire to brew and burst through the crevices of your chest and —

And then your foot slips, causing you to lose balance as you stumbled off the rooftop and landed on the dumpster, back erupting in agony as you gasped.

Fuck, you couldn't help but think as you rolled off the dumpster and landed on your side, air rushing out of your chest as you once again gasped. You laid there for a few seconds, breathing — no — gulping in air desperately. Then, you hear feet smack on the ground by the end of the alleyway and you freeze.

You almost forgot about Miguel because of the white-hot flashes of agony coursing through your body, nails digging into the filthy ground as you forced your gaze up and there he was, standing menacingly.

You could make out his broad chest, his wide shoulders, his tiny waist, and how his fists were curled up.

In other circumstances, you would find him drop-dead gorgeous, stunning, beautiful. Miguel isn't gross, or ugly, or any negative symptom.

But at this moment, you aren’t thinking about his beauty or his fat voluptuous ass, or his deep voice, or—

Goddamn, stop being down bad! And so you focus on the fact that you're absolutely screwed as you turned around and tried to crawl — your muscles burning and aching as you did so, panting.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Your words are cut off as you heard Miguel’s callous, harsh laughter.

You could hear him approaching — footsteps slow, but loud enough to ring in the otherwise empty alleyway.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Miguel rasped, chuckling to himself; it's muffled because of his mask and you tried to crawl more, but your muscles were screaming. “And here, I thought I could never catch you, after all this time.”

You grunted, hearing Miguel’s footsteps stop before the heel of his foot digs into the lower end of your back, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

“And now?” He presses harder on your back, making you groan, “I have you here. Alone. Maybe injured.”

You can't help but shake your head, attempting to crane it upward so your gaze can meet his own; a throbbing sensation in your head forces it back down, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I–I’m not alone—”

Miguel laughs again, digging his heel harder. “Stop the lies,” he hissed. Then, he removes his foot and you decide that it's either definitely getting locked up or trying to salvage what you can of yourself.

You begin to lift yourself up on your elbows, arms trembling as you try to use one of your web shooters to yank a broken chair down the alleyway, but Miguel is faster.

He immediately drops to sit on your fucking backside, pressing down, down, down, until you're forced on the ground again; his hand had encircled around your wrist and he slams it down, uncaring and unkind as you grimced in pain.

“Fuck!” You cried out in pain, trying to wriggle from beneath the man, but he quickly used his other hand to grip the base of your neck and slam it down onto the cement; pain explodes in your skull, affliction rushing through your blood and you weep.

“Stop fucking moving,” Miguel growled in your ear, and you do, chest wheezing with bated breaths. Everything fucking hurts and you let yourself become limp for a moment; the presence of Miguel doesn't leave. In fact, he leans away for a moment before he’s leaning over you again, minty breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

A shudder ripples through your frame and you have to hold yourself back from whimpering, feeling Miguel's hand tangle in your dark tresses as he grips them, yanking your head back.

“You’re trapped, you little shit, I have all of my crew on speed dial.” Miguel says, warning in his voice.

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing. Warmth pools in your stomach and you're trying, desperately, to fight against it.

Not now, you think to yourself as you could feel Miguel’s talons scraping and digging into your scalp, causing beads of crimson to drip down the slope of your temple.

And sure, like any other person, they would have cried in pain because it hurts, but you? No. You liked it.

“Fuck, I—” Your voice is breathy, quiet. You can feel yourself slowly getting hard in the suit; it constricts around your cock and you squirm, holding in the moan at the contact. “It wasn't — I was just…messing with you.”

Miguel is quiet for a moment, his breath harsh before he snarls out, “Just messing with me? You kept ruining the multiverse, and we had to clean up your damn mess! Eres estúpido,” He finished in Spanish and wow.

You swallow again, trying to clear the lumpiness and tightness in it as you whispered, “I…It wasn't like that …I just—”

Miguel slams your head back on the concert and hisses, “Save it! I don't want to hear your fucking excuses, maldito mocoso.”

His tone is harsh, yet there's a hint of huskiness and rasp in it that makes your back bow, just a little. Of course, nothing goes unnoticed with Miguel, and he grabs your neck; his talons barely missing the fabric of your suit.

“You think I haven't noticed?”

You freeze, nails digging into the dirty ground, trying to control the storm brewing. “Noticed…what?” Your reply is quiet, but Miguel is in your space, in your face, his breath fanning over your ear and over the side of your face; your mask had slipped a little to expose these features, and you were terrified that he would know who you were.

“The fact that you're enjoying this,” he breathily says, warm lips brushing along your ear. “You like this, huh? Does it turn you on when men like me chase you?”

You don't know what to say. He isn't wrong, the evidence in your suit that is too damn tight, a bead of precum dribbling from the tip of your shaft.

And — when Miguel pressed his hips against the curve of your ass — you could feel him and fuck, he’s big.

“S’fine, I—” Miguel huffs, before pushing some of your mask up a little more, making you try to claw at his arm and he quickly pins that.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Miguel growled, before he forcefully twisted your head to the side as he hungrily pressed his lips against yours; it's rough, unkind, as he devours your trembling whines. He swallows them as Miguel wrapped an arm around your neck, fingers caressing over your jaw, squeezing it until you mewl.

He pulls back, inhaling sharply as spit connects your lips before he leaned in again, kissing you once more.

This time, he's a little more gentle, swiping at your bottom lip and you open your mouth, letting him inside.

Your tongues brush against each other and you moan, swirling yours along his and he groans, scraping his talons along your cheek.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away as he pressed more kisses along the curve of your cheek, then your jaw, until he huffs and pulls back. “Fuckin’ look at you, cariño, you're a mess.“ He thumbs at your swollen lips and you can't help but whimper.

Your eyes are blown wide and your face is flushed, body warm and hot and needy as your hips bucked against the ground; Miguel easily noticed and pushed your head back down, making sure to sit back on your legs for a moment as you writhed.

“What are you…what are you going to do?” You asked, voice quiet; hints of nervousness slips into your tone and you wonder, briefly, if Miguel can notice.

When he replies, he either hasn't noticed, or doesn't care enough to comment. Both seem suitable. “Use your brain, what do you think I’m going to do?”

You hear his talons rip down your suit and you gasp, trying to crawl away; you knew what was to come and you wanted no part of it.

“No, no, stop—” You cried but Miguel held you down, pinning both of your wrists and squeezing them so hard until you sob, face buried into the ground.

Yet, your cock twitches, more precum leaking and your suit is stained; Miguel is an asshole, a menace, but he makes your body so hot that it feels like it could boil over.

You want this.

It seems like Miguel has read your mind because he leans down and whispers, “Don't fucking pretend you hate this. Remember, you got hard first.”

He's not wrong.

“Miguel, I—” You gulp, accidentally brushing your ass against his clothed cock and moaning.

He leans back his hips and tsks. “If you want it, you gotta beg for it, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy. Pretty boy. Pretty—

Miguel just said you're pretty and your brain is melting, so you're nodding, words almost slurring as you whispered;

“Please.”

He doesn't shift for a moment before a shallow “fuck” escapes his lips and you can hear movement, a zipper sound, then something is rubbing along your ass and you know it's his cock.

“Can't wait until I’m filling up this ass of yours, what do you think, hm? I know you can take me. Boys like you will do anything to be fucked. Isn't that right, querido?”

You nod, moaning as he ripped more of your suit until your ass was exposed; Miguel easily maneuvers you until you were onto your hands and knees, a groan escaping your mouth as your cock hung between your thighs.

God, you were so hard, that it physically pained you.

Miguel's large hands roamed over the dip and curves of your supple ass, before squeezing it and giving a nice, rough smack; the flesh jiggles you and you groan, arching your back deeper.

“Mhm, good boy, just like that — keep that back arched,” Miguel muttered as he spread your cheeks and leaned forward, blowing warm air over your hole.

A whine escaped your lips as you wiggled your hips, desperate. “Please, Miguel, need it—”

“Is that so, slut? You think you deserve this? My tongue, lapping over your hole, hand wrapped around that pathetic cock of yours that just keeps fucking leaking,” Miguel growled out the last part as his large hand engulfs the base of your dick and squeezes tightly, forcing a muffled cry from your lips.

You were trembling, toes curling as you nodded, breaths ragged. “Please, please, need it—ngh—so badly,” you begged, nails clawing at the ground as Miguel stroked from base to tip, tightening his palm around the head as he stroked over the glans; sensitivity flowing through your veins as tears sprung to your tears.

Miguel curses, “Suenas hermoso — necesito hacerte sentir bien,” and then Miguel dives forward to push his warm tongue along the curve of your hole before flicking it, making you moan as you sink your head down onto the ground. Pleasure wracks up and down your spine, thighs trembling.

You peek one eye open as you watch Miguel wrap his hand around his cock and squeeze the base, grunting into your hole; he pulls back and spits on it before slurping, relaxing you enough so he can ease his tongue inside, making a surprised groan leave your mouth.

“Oh, god, please–” You whined, back arching deeper, trying to get a hand around your dick to release some pressure but Miguel is quicker, slapping it away.

He pulls back, making sure to collect the precum that has been leaking on his palm to smear it over your asshole, before easing one finger in; it's easy and you relax, grunting. His fingers are thick as he pushes past the tight ring of muscle, groaning himself.

“Just like that, babyboy,” Miguel’s voice is encouraging and you shudder, letting yourself relax more as he pushes all the way knuckle deep. A gasp leaves your lips and you squirm, uncomfortableness stretching across the pane and curve of your frame.

Miguel wraps his other hand around your cock, tugging on it. It's clear he’s trying to distract you. “I know you can take it, like I said.”

You pant, but nod anyway. “I—I can,” you stumble over your words and feel sweat roll down your temple.

“That’s right.”

You think about his talons and shift, “You haven't scratched me with your talons, at least, in my ass.”

Miguel thrusts another finger inside, making you grimace. Wrong thing to say, then?

“Sounds like you're asking me to do it.” He says it like a statement, not a question, and you shake your head quickly before opening your mouth; no words of such slip out, instead, a moan falls from it as he scissors you open easily.

He keeps stroking you, making you pant and moan in bliss. Miguel then proceeds to curl his fingers upward and —

“Fuck!” You cursed in the open, gasping as he hit your prostate, and you moaned wantonly. Miguel continues to press on the bundle of nerves, forcing back-to-back cries and squeals from you.

Miguel grunts, leaning over you as he eased his hand off your cock. “You sound so good, sweetheart. Like a little mutt in fucking heat, dontcha agree?”

You're nodding, but you're too deep in your pleasure to really think as you gasp, feeling him stroke over it consistently. The tightness in your balls, your stomach, in your chest slowly begins to unfurl as you claw at Miguel's forearm that rested next to your head.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, Miguel—ngh, hah—so close, m’so close—!” You squealed, but then he slips his fingers out, forcing your climax to settle down before it could explode. You slump down onto the floor, limbs quivering.

Miguel easily rolls you onto your back, his suit pooling around his waist and the front part tucked under his heavy balls; broad chest covered in little scars here and there, nipples hardened, waist snatched and wide shoulders hunched over as Miguel caressed over your smaller frame.

“Even though your mask is halfway up, you still look good—” You tried saying, but Miguel slaps a hand over your mouth, narrowing his eyes.

“Shut up,” and then he pulls his hand away before he lifts your legs up and settles them over his shoulders, forcing your body to slide up as one of his large hands grip your waist, the other wrapping around the base.

You look down and swallow, tongue darting out to lick your chapped lips. “I know you said, uh—”

Miguel glares at you, face scrunching in annoyance, fangs poking over his bottom lip.

“But…I don't think it’ll fit, I mean, you only prepped me a little and–”

Miguel rolls his neck as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your wet hole, looking up; his dark, crimson eyes stare into yours as he says, “Then we’ll make it fit, you fucking slut.”

Then he pushed the head inside, slowly, but the stretch was unbearable as your back bowed and your chest was exposed; Miguel greedily touched your nipple and rolled it between his fingers, making a whine leave your lips.

“F–Fuck, Miguel,” you moaned, feeling him push his cock deeper, carving himself in and out of your hole. It felt amazing, yet it hurt so much, you knew it was gonna ache after, but in the moment? You didn't care.

He keeps pushing, panting as he wraps his hand back around your trimmed waist, squeezing it. “Fuck, you feel so good around me, so goddamn tight — might make me cum raw in you,” and then he eased more of himself into you.

You freeze, blinking as you look at him. Shit, you forgot to ask if he had a condom or not, and you know you wouldn't get pregnant but still…STDS and shit.

“Condom?” You pant, trying to push against his large chest, but he’s quick to shove you back roughly and essentially trap you so you can't move; you realize belatedly that you're in the mating press position and moan, writhing.

Miguel is all the way in and fuck it hurts yet the stretch is so good, you find your hands digging and clawing at his muscular biceps because of it. You can't tell if you want to beg for more or ask him to pull out.

“Too late for that, cariño, but it's s’fine, isn't it? Whores like you just take it like this — raw and deep so they can breed you, right?” Miguel’s voice is husky and raspy, it brings a shudder down your spine and you can't help but whimper at his words, writhing some more.

“Not—” You gasped, toes curling as you felt his hips roll forward, almost pushing you back. “Not true, Miguel, not—”

He’s shaking his head and leaning into your space, large frame pressing you down, down, down, until you whimper. “It is true, and you can't deny it. Admit it, baby, admit that you're a fucking whore.”

The thick head of his dick is pressing against your prostate and you moan, arching your back as he slowly pulls himself out, then pushes back in.

“Say it,” Miguel hissed, pushing himself out faster before ramming his hips forward, jolting you back and you have to hold onto him; your eyes are watering, cock twitching and leaking precum, it ends up smearing across the pane of your stomach as you nod.

You sob out, “Yes, yes, I’m a whore,” and moan as he grinds against your sweet spot.

“That’s it,” Miguel murmured, a wicked grin on his pretty lips. “Since you said it, I’m gonna reward you like the good little slut you are.”

Miguel begins a deep, but hard rhythmic pace as his hips and balls slap against your ass, his head near your face as he grunts in your ear; his harsh breaths fanning across your sweaty face as you cling onto him and squeal when he pulls back and forces himself back inside, each time.

“Hah—ah—yes! Miguel, please, harder—” You cry out, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he folds you completely in half, making a gasp rip from your throat as he placed his arms next to your head and tangled his fingers with yours.

He continues to fuck you like this, making your eyes roll back as your mouth falls open; streams of unfiltered, breathy whines escape your mouth and you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Look at me,” Miguel rasped, his own voice cracking as you trembled.

Miguel buried himself to the hilt, grinding against your prostate as you sobbed, eyes flying open as you writhed.

“M–Miguel, please…” You begged hopelessly, jolting from the constant pleasure on your spot. “Keep going, need it, need you to fuck me stupid and–”

He looked at you and then boldly pushed your mask off, gazing into your watery eyes as he brushed away your locks. Fear sinks deep and low into your stomach and you quickly look away, trying — (failing) — to hide your face.

“Chico hermoso,” Miguel whispers, before using his hand to brush off his own mask, then he dips down to kiss your bruised lips. It's soft, too soft, before he rested his forehead against yours.

You feel your throat tighten. “M–Miguel?” Your voice breaks.

Then, he pulls away and settles his arms around your head once more before saying; “You wouldn't look at me like I asked.”

Miguel then keeps pounding into you, mercilessly and ruthlessly as you hold onto him, nails carving into his flesh. Your cock is trapped between both of your sweaty bodies and you wrap around him, moaning into his ear.

“Taking me so fuckin’ well like I knew you would,” Miguel groaned, thrusting into you faster. “Been wanting to do this since I laid eyes on you, muñeca.”

You rake your nails down his broad back and hear him moan, hips spluttering before he resumes; not stopping, even though your limbs are trembling as you feel your stomach begin to tighten.

The orgasm from earlier is creeping on you and your back barely arched as your head pushed back against the ground, eyes rolling back. You can feel it getting closer, rolling in the pit of your stomach, settling beneath your bones and in your cock.

“Miguel, please, please, s’close, please–!” You cried, holding him closer as he erratically rutted into you, panting in your ear.

The rope in your stomach is loosening, forcing you to hold onto Miguel even more and you sob, “Miguel!”

He groans, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “You wanna cum for me, hm?”

Nodding, you claw at his back again. “M’gonna cum, fuck, I’m so close—ngh—let me cum, Miguel, please, I need it–”

Miguel huffs and tangles his fingers with yours again, removing his face from your forehead to whisper into your ear, “Beg for it, mi amor.”

Your voice pitches into desperation as your orgasm begins to unravel, “Please, please, please, Miguel I need it, I need to cum—ngh—please, I’m desperate, I’ll do anything just to cum, let me cum,” and you sob, tears rushing down your cheeks as Miguel groaned.

“Go ahead, baby, let go for me — be a good boy and cum for me,” Miguel rasps and you do, your orgasm untangling at the seams as it washes over you in waves; your heart thrumming hard as you wailed into his shoulder, body jerking and spasming from the intensity.

Ropes of cum paint both of your stomachs but Miguel doesn't even seem to care as he ruthlessly fucks into you. He’s animalistic in the way he pounds into you, unrelenting and unforgiving.

You can't even formulate a response or a moan because of how hard he’s fucking you; all you can do is hold onto him and rut your softening cock against his toned stomach, the aftershocks of your orgasm still making you spasm.

“Gonna fill you up sweetheart and breed your pretty hole — joder cariño, ya voy..” Miguel hisses, giving a few more hard thrusts before his hips stutter as he lets out a breathy moan. His talons accidentally dig into your hands and cause blood to spill because of how much he’s coming.

Both of your breathing is heavy and ragged as he slumps against you, releasing your hands as Miguel sighed, propping himself onto his elbows.

“I hurt you—”

You shrug and mumble, “S’fine. I’ve been a brat recently.”

Miguel hums before his tongue darts out to lick up the blood easily, soothing his tongue over the cuts before he pulls back, grunting. “All cleaned up.”

“It’ll heal, Mig, so it's fine,” you stressed and the man huffs, nuzzling against your cheek with a grunt.

His voice is muffled as he says, “I know, but still. We didn't plan that part out.”

“You know how much I’m a slut for pain, though, so is it really a problem?”

Miguel is quiet before he pulls himself away and gently eases his softening cock from your hole, which immediately allows his seed to spill from your asshole and you flush, cheeks in a deep shade of red.

“No need to be embarrassed, pretty boy, I did just fuck you in this alleyway, knowing anyone could see us,” Miguel brushes away your hair and gives you…a small smile? You can't tell because it's so dark, but his red irises stick out and your hand strokes along his sharp cheekbone.

“Yeah, you're right. We definitely needed this, but, uh, can we go? I’m absolutely starved.”

Miguel chuckled. “Of course, baby.”

Back at the apartment, Miguel gives you a massage, a well-deserved blowjob, and fucks you in multiple positions after you beg for it.

#spiderverse rec #miguel rec #fic rec #smut #yes yes yes #queue

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readerstories · 2 months

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characters: vampire!shanks x gn!human!reader x vampire!mihawk

contents: flirting, reader is old enough to have wrinkles, seemingly unrequited love, communication issues, an entire decade of pining, shanks sleeps around a lot, also spreading my bisexual shanks agenda, reader is oblivious and i mean oblivious, jealous shanks, meddling mihawk, you could make the case that shanks is an a jerk and id agree, its not on purpose hes just an idiot

word count: 3.4k words

note: happy late halloween!! i meant to finish this yesterday, but i was so exhausted after my trip to the amusement park, i needed a day to recover. plus, this was a lot to write. im excited it's finally done though, ive been sitting on this for a while now :33 i hope all who read enjoy this. theres some things left unsaid by the end of this, i do wanna do a part two though hehe

playlist: lust for a vampyr - i monster

When the sun rose, it was time for the humans of Red-Haired Shanks’ crew to work.

It was a simple arrangement, one that was built on necessity rather than any need for control. As the majority of the ship were unable to step into the sun, Captain Shanks included, human familiars were needed to keep things running in tip-top shape during the day. The idea was: if you work for Shanks for a few years, or prove your worth, in time, you would be turned. Eternal life was quite the sell, especially if it meant centuries of adventure under the Red-Haired Pirate’s jolly roger. It drew countless humans to a life of piracy.

That wasn’t what enticed you, though.

You were happy as a human. The idea of drinking blood and never feeling the warmth of the sun did not appeal to you. What drew you in was the natural charisma of your captain. His voice, his presence, his charm, you fell victim to it all. After one night at a bar together, you knew you would follow him to the ends of the earth, all he needed to do was ask.

And ask, he did.

You knew enough about vampires to know it was easy to fall under their spell. Equipped with an uncanny knack for mind control and manipulation, all it took was a glimmer in their eyes before you were putty in their hand. You had seen it happen before. A single word to a marine back in the East Blue had them leaving in a daze. You recognized that this power could explain your willingness to leave everything behind.

The truth was you trusted Shanks. You never regretted your choice, not for a second. Besides, what use was a captain you second-guessed?

A part of you believed that you were made for him, crafted from the same clay that he was. A bigger part of you wondered how you could ever fall in love with such an idiot. Maybe it was the thrill of wanting someone you could never have, or maybe the attention he gave you left you pliant. Either way, you knew where you belonged. You’d been in his crew for a decade now, following him from the East Blue to the New World, and you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.

Not even as you dragged Shanks’ intoxicated ass in from the deck and to his room before the sun rose.

He was more muscle than man, way too heavy for you to carry so you settled on linking your arms under his armpits and dragging him as fast as you could. Shanks groaned, his stomach surely churning under the weight of the grog and blood he’d consumed throughout the night. You had always found the combination to sound unappetizing, you wondered how Shanks could stand it every night. Then again, he did have a more “refined” palate.

The first pale rays of the sun crested the horizon right as you shut the door to the captain’s quarters. Now all you had to do was dump him in his bed and you’d be free from him for the rest of the day. Your heart panged at the thought. Gently so as not to wake up, you brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

Shanks’ lips twitched, eyes squeezing enough for you to yank your hand back as if he burned you.

“You’re awake.” You tried to keep the indignation from your voice to no avail.

He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “If I say no, will you still help me to bed?”

With a scowl, you dropped him in a heap on the floor, ignoring how his laughter caused a hoard of butterflies to erupt in your chest. Embarrassment at being caught warred with the natural affection you held for your captain. It left you dizzy.

The room was pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted, it was hard to see anything that wasn’t in front of your face. You listened to your captain shuffle to his feet, still unsteady from his earlier drink. Sighing, you offered him your arm. His grip on you was firm, but not rough as he hauled himself upward, still chuckling under his breath. It was easy to forget how he could break your bones with a squeeze of his fist. Shanks could rip you apart like tissue paper if he wanted.

His hand was freezing, even through your shirt. In the dim light, you could barely see the glint of Shanks’ fangs as they poked from between his lips. You couldn’t help but shiver. If Shanks noticed it, he didn’t say anything leaning against your side as you led him to the mattress.

“You’re lucky I like you, captain.”

Shanks ignored you with a hum and buried his nose against your neck. It felt like there was an ice placed directly against your sensitive skin. You swallowed thickly as he took in a deep inhale, his hand curled in your hair, pulling you closer.

“Let me turn you. It’s been too long.”

You rolled your eyes and patted his stubble ridden chin. Shanks leaned into your touch ever so slightly. This was your least favorite conversation, one only brought up when he was drunk these days.

Two years after you joined, Shanks had been incessant. You’d proven yourself time and time again, it was time for you to be given the “gift.” The first time you turned him down, his jaw dropped and you wondered if anyone had ever denied him before. Shanks must have assumed you were shy, offering to drink from your wrist instead of your neck. As time passed, his requests tapered off. Sometimes, though, he would trace your wrinkles, something akin to sadness in his eyes. You tried not to think too hard about those moments; the one’s where you could delude yourself into thinking you were more than a friend.

Tonight was the first night in a long time that Shanks hadn’t taken someone to bed with him. While you didn’t judge him for being promiscuous, it reminded you of where you stood. He could have you anytime he wanted, all he had to do was chase you. You supposed you simply weren’t worth the chase.

“If you want to feed off me, I’ll donate some blood later. For now, bed,” You said, covering up your grown captain with a blanket like he was a child.

“You’re getting old,” Shanks slurred.

You shrugged. “It happens to the best of us.”

After a final pat on his cheek, your captain passed out, drool spilling from his lips. It was easier to ignore his offers when he slept. The more you aged, the more your body ached.

An eternity of pining after a man who would never love you sounded like torture.

—

Once night fell, the ship came to life.

Lights lit up the night, and the smell of booze filled the air as music played. You didn’t know if it was the vampirism or the piracy, but Shanks’ nighttime crew was a rowdy bunch, always yelling, always drinking, always singing, always <i>something<i>. Sure, the human crew were boisterous in their own way, however, they were completely outshone once the moon rose and stars blanketed the velvet sky.

With a yawn, you stretched your aching arms over your head, and waited for the inevitable.

A familiar pair of footsteps approached “Are you headed for bed soon?”

You turned to see your captain staring down at you with a smile, mug filled to the brim with blood. When you patted the spot next to you, Shanks sat down, legs crossed. The red liquid sloshed in his cup, some dribbling down the side. It smelled fresh, likely from today’s drive.

“Is that mine?”

He smirked and took a sip, rolling it around in his mouth as if it was a fancy brew. “What can I say? You’re the most delicious human on the ship.” Shanks’ eyes glimmered before he prodded you on the side. You shrank back with a giggle. “I could just eat you up.”

“Then who would drag you inside when the sun’s coming up.”

Shanks’ eyes softened slightly, his eyes reflecting the moon's rays enough to make them glow. “That is true. Where would I be without you?”

“A pile of ash in the middle of the deck,” You laughed.

“Then where would you be without your beloved captain?”

Knocking your shoulder against Shanks’, you stood with your hands on your hips, “Don’t get too big for your britches. When did I ever say you were beloved?”

Before Shanks could respond, the call for land rang out. You squinted your eyes to see the bundle of lights approaching on the horizon. If you could see it from here, it was sure to be a good sized town, hopefully primed to be overrun by the undead for the night. Or two. Or several. It all depended on how much supplies were needed.

Despite the promise of excitement, your heart sank. You knew what a new island meant. Shanks would party it up in a pub, flirt with people who weren’t you, and inevitably, bring someone to bed. It was a tale as old as time. You would nurse your heartbreak at the bar while your captain drank his worries away, in blood or beer, it depended on if there were any consenting humans around.

Shanks tugged on your arm in an attempt to get you to sit back down, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come drink with me once we land. You always go off by yourself, you don’t have to be so lonely.”

Sit with Shanks so he can see your heart break in real time? You’d rather eat glass. With a laugh, you shook yourself free, though you sat back down next to him, taking care to leave some space between the two of you.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I like my alone time,” You replied.

He chuckled, “And I think you’re lying.”

“What do you know about me, captain?”

Shanks turned to meet your gaze, head tilted to the side and an eyebrow raised. “More than you think.”

It was the cold night air that made you shiver. Nothing more.

“Whatever, you say.” You averted your eyes, unable to stand his stupid grin for much longer. Sharp canines poked from between his lips and you wondered how it would feel to have the graze against your skin. Your face felt hot.

As the ship approached the island, you soaked up Shanks’ presence like a sponge. He was physically cold, but his jokes made you laugh and his smile made you warm. You would only have his attention for a short while before it was turned to some pretty young thing that you could never live up to, it was better to enjoy it while you could.

For now, though, you would take comfort in the fact that no matter who went home with him tonight, it’d be you Shanks spends the early hours with.

—

Three hours later, you wished you were back on the ship.

There you were, as you always seemed to be, hunched over your drink, and glaring daggers at the far wall. Behind you, Shanks had his good arm around a man with a woman leaning against his other shoulder. He was laughing, mouth stained red to match the bite mark on the woman’s collarbone. She looked a little pale, but no worse for wear. Shanks was always careful never to take too much.

Not that you would know. Your worst fear, on the off chance he ever fed off you directly, was that you would make an embarrassing noise. A whine, or god forbid a moan. That would be something you would never live down. Shanks would tease you to hell and back.

“Is this seat taken?” An unknown voice, smooth like butter, asked.

You didn’t bother to turn. “Knock yourself out.”

You heard the stool squeak as it was pulled out. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a dark shape settle next to you. A pale, almost dainty hand cradled a wine glass full of rich, red fluid. You shook slightly when a pair of golden eyes landed on you, realizing who had settled himself next to you.

While you knew of Mihawk, though you never met him personally. He was an old rival (friend?) of Shanks’ who visited the crew every so often. Mihawk never stuck around too long. You figured the captain got to be too much for him to handle, not that you could blame Mihawk for his frustration. As much as you loved the captain, Shanks was especially annoying sometimes.

A booming laugh from behind you made your eye twitch as Shanks pulled the man closer against his side.

Like right now.

“There’s no need to glare. I don’t believe your drink is going anywhere. ”

Your head shot up, blinking a few times at the swordsman. “You never know, odder things have happened.”

Like your captain, he was a vampire. If you didn’t know that before, you sure as hell knew that now. Mihawk was almost ethereal in his beauty, with piercing golden eyes and alabaster skin that seemed to glow in the dim light. His fangs were longer than your captain’s. Where Shanks could almost pass for a human, you knew from a glance what Mihawk was. There was no mistaking it. He was a vampire in peak form and you had his full attention.

You watched Mihawk cock his head to the side, sizing you up. “Odder than a walking mug?”

“We are sitting in a bar full of vampire pirates. My mug could start flying and I wouldn’t blink an eye.”

His lips twitched upwards into an almost imperceptible smile. “What is truly odd is why a beautiful creature such as yourself is sitting all alone. Don’t you know there are predators about?”

“I’m with Shanks.” You didn’t have to say anything more than that. Both of you knew no one would dare feed from a human that belonged to Red-Haired Shanks.

“Are you now? It’s a shame it took me so long to make your acquaintance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you studied Mihawk while he watched you in return. Though your gaze was intense, your smile was easy. You were enjoying the banter. “That’s funny, because I know you know who I am. I’ve been on Shanks’ crew for over a decade now, and I wouldn’t have escaped your notice for so long.”

Mihawk’s expression shifted to what could only be described as pleased. “You’d be right. Shanks talks about you <i>incessantly<i>. Now I see why.”

You couldn’t help but flush. It hadn’t processed that Mihawk took your hand in his until his lips pressed against the back of it. That only served to make your face burn hotter.

Before you could respond, Mihawk’s lips twitched into a smirk. “That expression on you is enchanting.”

“A-Are you flirting with me,” You stammered. It had been a long time since someone had shown interest in you. Sure, people were friendly, but genuine flirtation was hard to come by. To have someone as beautiful as Mihawk giving you attention made your head spin.

He gave you a slight smirk, muttering into his skin, “Now I see your captain isn’t the only one at fault here.”

There was a sharp prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Mihawk must have felt it too because his eyebrow twitched. Whatever you expected when you turned, it wasn’t Shanks glaring daggers at the man in front of you, his pupils barely visible slits. He looked dangerously mad.

Mihawk gently turned your hand over to reveal the inside of your wrist. Right on your pulse point, he took a deep inhale, savoring you as if you were a fine wine. “Ignore him. He’s a child who's had his favorite toy taken away.”

“Y/N is not my toy.” Before you could blink, your back was pressed against Shanks’ chest. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you against him as Mihawk’s fingers tightened around your wrist. Shanks pressed his nose in your hair, lips against your ear. “Is he bothering you? Say the word and he leaves.”

“No, no not at all. We were just talking.”

Shanks squeezed you against him. “He was looking at you like you were a meal.”

“Hilarious coming from the captain who forbade his crew from drinking their blood,” Mihawk said. “I always knew you didn’t like to share your food, Red-Hair, but this is ridiculous.”

“Wait, were you flirting or were you hungry,” You asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice. Both men noticed, Mihawk responding with amusement and Shanks by tightening his grip on your shoulders.

“Why couldn’t it have been both?”

A low growl rumbled in Shanks’ chest. “You are not eating my crewmate.”

Mihawk ignored him, piercing your eyes with his own. “Originally, I introduced myself with the intention to meddle, but you have captivated me, Y/N.” His thumb rubbed cool circles around your pulse. “What do you have to say about that? Surely, you can take responsibility.”

“Um.” Stuck between two gorgeous men, one audibly snarling at the other, you couldn’t begin to reign in your thoughts. “That’s very sweet.”

Shanks must have felt you trembling and assumed it was from fear. His hold on you loosened, hand rubbing soothingly against your upper arm.

“It’s not sweet, it’s creepy,” He argued. “You’re scaring them.”

“Actually, he’s been very kind.” You leaned your head back to look at his face in time to see Shanks’ eyebrows jump in surprise.

Mihawk cocked his head to the side. “Unlike you, Red-Hair. How many times have you left this adorable little human by the wayside to take others to your bed.”

“They don’t care about that, we have our thing.” Shanks looked at you, expectant. “Right?”

Your brow furrowed. “What ‘thing?’”

“Our thing,” Shanks insisted. “Our cat and mouse. I chase, you push me away, I keep chasing. It’s been going on for years.”

Flipping around to face him, you fought to keep your jaw off the floor. “Shanks, are you telling me that you think we have had a ‘cat and mouse’ romance brewing for the better part of a decade?”

“Are you telling me you don’t know?”

“You sleep around all the time, but you never make any advances towards me! How am I supposed to know you’re interested in me when you flirt with anything that has a pulse?” You hung your head and sighed. “I’ve spent all this time pining over an unrequited love that isn’t even unrequited.”

“I always thought you weren’t ready for that step, I was waiting for you to initiate.” Shanks looked more flustered than you’d ever seen him. It was strange to see your normally confident captain flounder. “I can be patient when I want.” He paused for a moment, swallowing hard. “I had no idea that was how you felt. I’m sorry.”

Mihawk interrupted by slipping around you to stand beside Shanks. “As amusing as this is, I have a proposition for Y/N.”

You ignored Shanks’ pout and turned your attention to Mihawk. “And that is?”

“Allow me to take you on a date.”

Shanks butt in before you could respond. “Let me take you on a date. I want to make it up to you and I have ten years to make up for.”

You had two options before you. Your long time love, who idiotically strung you along with his poor communication skills, or the handsome vampire you met at the bar who may or may not eat you. You were a lowly human in the face of a supernatural choice. At times, you were sure you would wake up back at the ship, the entire night having been a dream.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hard to make your decision, you already knew what you wanted.

With a smile, you said, “Why don’t you both take me out tomorrow night?”

The two men shared a glance, the spark of old rivalry flashing across their faces before they gave you their answer. Shanks with a one-armed hug, and Mihawk with a final kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s a date.”

#op rec #fic rec #oh i like this very much #shanks rec #mihawk rec #queue

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