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[anathemafiction]

Unravel Me

Commission made by the lovely AlkinGrim.

The Pitch: The Pirate King and Rafael react to a crushing stage MC waiting for them in their room in fancy lingerie.

Slight NSFW.

Gender undefined MC.

2.8k words

The Pirate's head is pounding harder than a rowboat dropped in the middle of a cyclone.

He snarls at some unfortunate crewmember, pushing the man's shoulder out of his way as his heavy boots hit his ship's main deck with furious strides. His ship. The Pirate's lips curl until his canines flash as his blood boils right through his skin.

His ship.

"Captain, there's a-"

"Not now," he barks, and the Boatswain flinches away. His black eyes then fall on a group of his good for nothing men, lounging about. Hard fingers clutch his axes when he steps forward. "If you don't move your lazy asses right now, I will gut you and throw you overboard myself!" he shouts, and they're smart enough to run.

As one of them falls in his rush to obey, the Pirate's lips twist into a small, amused smirk. His gaze follows them starboard, to where his Carpenter is overseeing the repairs. Starboard, where an enormous hole cracks the hull that spirits damned Leon's ship had the audacity to open.

His smirk slowly dies when the ground under his feet sways violently, the wood snapping and cranking. Men and women run everywhere around him, carrying buckets and hammers and ropes, and one idiot a sword. Shouts and voices fill the air, as the ruined Leonese vessel sinks slowly before their eyes.

May you rot for eternity at the bottom of the ocean.

The Pirate turns his back on the chaos, tailed coat twirling dramatically behind him, as he heads to the hold. His head pounds again, and all he wants is to get to his bloody cabin. The Boatswain, however, keeps buzzing near his shoulder. "I really think you should know-"

"What I should know," he hisses through clenched teeth, his fingers curling around his stump. He feels the shape of the heavy ring around it, and it calms him slightly down. "Is why in the Spirits defected altars are you still following me."

She wavers. "Captain, there's someone inside y-"

He stops and looks back at her, near the end of the lavished corridor that leads to his quarters. The hallway sways around them, furniture overturning and she stumbles, but he keeps upright, back straight and feet apart, black eyes burning into hers. When she stabilizes, he takes a step forward, gaze hard. Grin cruel.

"I said," he whispers, and her eyes widen when he grabs her collar, jerking her to him. "Leave me be."

She opens her mouth, and his blood is screaming. Oh, if you speak little fool...

But then she snaps her mouth closed, and his fingers let her go as she runs down the hall. The Pirate breaths out slowly through his nose, rolling his shoulder and walks the few steps remaining to his cabin. He needs to be alone. Needs to soothe his rage away from his crew.

Lest he does something he'll regret. And ruin everything.

He opens the large polished door, the inside dipped in gloom. His bed is large and his tired body sings for him to dive into it, a song as lovely as the sirens. But his weary eyes shift to his desk instead, where all the contracts are arranged-

His axes are out in a flash.

The sound reverberates through the quiet cabin as a yell in a cemetery, and the shape leaning against his desk stiffens. The Pirate cocks his head, swaggering inside, his boots slowly hitting the carpeted floor. The person doesn't move, but his eyes are fixed on them as they slowly get used to the dark.

A lone candle burns by the desk, coating the intruder in a faint, warm outline of light. His black eyes blink, and The Pirate freezes.

He's two steps away from you.

And if his head was pounding before, it is full-on hammering now.

You stand with your back straight, your hands planted firmly on the desk, so still, he's sure you have stopped breathing. His eyes, however, cannot be still for long. They take you in, as his heart starts pumping. Spirits, is this a gift from you?

By the candlelight, he could see your lovely white stockings, delicately covering your slim ankles, following the lines of your perfect legs, to sink into the soft flesh of your thighs. The small of your back is left uncovered, and your waist curves fluently up your sides until a thin, transparent shawl covers your skin, the rich white fabric dropping loosely over your shoulders and back.

The silent is stagnant. The boat rocks again, and the Pirate sees you swaying in place, but you don't turn your back.

His little, delicious peach. All unpeeled for him.

His lips curl slowly. Hungrily. He drinks you in like a castaway would a fresh bottle of water, as he puts his axes back into his belts. The Pirate takes a step forward...

(…)

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The Commission.

Very fun one ( ͡º˵◞ل͟◟ ͡º˵) Thank you for the request!! 🖤

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