Captain Hector Barbossa X GN!Reader (POC friendly)
Pronouns: You/Your
Summary: As dark thoughts about your cursed existence threaten to consume you, you find comfort in your captain.
Warnings: Depressive thoughts, canon typical body horror
Word Count: 1338
A/N: THIS GROSS OLD MAN IS MY ACTUAL WIFE!?!?!??!
It is a cold night on the Caribbean sea, or so you assume, it is not like you are capable of feeling it.
The crew is celebrating below deck, we found three pieces of the cursed of Aztec gold today. Three pieces closer to being human again. Only one of the eight hundred eighty two left, we are getting so close.
Despite this victory you cannot find it in yourself to celebrate. You climb up on deck and wander over to the Pearl's railing.
As you trace the grooves in the black wooden planks with the tips of your fingers you listen to the faint sounds of the crew celebrating, the waves of the sea gently beating against the hull, and the rigging knocking against the masts.
It is peaceful. And yet you feel anything but.
Before your depressing chain of thought can begin to spiral you feel a sudden, familiar weight on your shoulder.
"Heya, Jack." You scratch the capuchin’s head and he makes a small noise of content, closing his eyes for a moment before jumping down from your shoulder onto the railing next to your hand. You notice something shiny in his hands.
"Whatcha got there?" You questioned the monkey, already knowing the answer. He proudly holds up the golden coin to show you and confirms your suspicions.
You manage to fish a few non-cursed coins out of your pocket and hold them up to him. "Care to trade?"
Jack looks between you, the coins, and the golden piece for a second, torn between the options. You hold out your hand closer to him, shaking the coins, causing them to make a clinking sound.
"C'mon, when have you ever refused new shiny trinkets?" As if he could understand you he snatched up the coins and dropped the golden piece into your expecting hand and ran off, presumably to his owner.
You look at the coin in your hand, tracing the intricate markings with your thumb. The heavy gold pressing down into your palm, it is heavier than other gold coins you’ve handled, though you suppose that is because of the curse. You can’t tell whether the coin is warm or cold.
You let out a deep sigh. Your soul is full of longing for a state of being you haven’t experienced in too many years. You ache to taste again, to feel again, to be alive again.
The sound of heavy boots approaching catches interrupts your thoughts full of grief over your past life. You don’t need to look up to know who those boots belong to.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Turning around you face your captain, Jack is perched on his shoulder.
“If only it wasn’t. Would have saved us a whole lot of trouble…” You sigh out, handing him the coin and turning back to the railing, looking out over the dark sea, moon hidden behind the clouds.
Barbossa hands the coin to Jack an tells him to put it with the others. You hear the pitter patter of the monkey’s little feet on the deck as you feel your captain lean on the railing next to you.
“Why aren’t you celebratin' with the rest of the crew?” He questions, you can feel his eyes on you.
You start tracing the wood again. “Didn’t feel like celebrating.”
“Aye, I suppose I can understand that.” You hear a pain in his voice, a pain you share.
“I miss feeling the rain.” You lament. It has been so long.
“I miss feeling the sun.” He speaks, gaze upon the horizon. You look at him, the light of the lit lanterns framing his sorrowful face. You can see every detail of his face so clearly.
You catch yourself staring before he can and turn your gaze back to the sea. If you weren’t undead you would be able to feel warmth spreading over your cheeks by now.
“Do you believe we can actually do it, break the curse? I mean, we’ve lost the kid before.” The question falls from your lips before you could take the time to think the repercussions of such a question aimed at your captain through.
Luckily he doesn’t take it in a bad way and decides to tease you instead. “Not losing faith in me are ye?” You laugh at that, suddenly feeling more at ease.
“Please, I have been with you since the Cobra. I helped pull you from the wreck if you care to recall.”
Now he’s laughing as well, a barking sound you haven’t heard in ages. Both of you shift to face each other.
“Aye, ye have been loyal since the very beginning, that be true.” He closes moves closer to you as he speaks, shoulders bumping into one another. It feels good. Comforting.
“How could I not? You accepted me into your crew when no one else would. You took care of me, and still do. I thank you for that.” You speak softly and earnestly, causing the mood to switch to something more vulnerable. You have been wanting to get that off your chest for so long now.
He smiles softly at you. Well, as softly as an aged sea-hardened pirate like himself can manage. “It has been a genuine pleasure to have ye aboard.” He nods his head in a mock-bow.
You smile at that, staring into those piercing blue eyes of his, finding him to be staring back into yours.
You lose yourself for a moment. Your mind coming up with a whirlwind of what ifs about possible scenarios with him. In these fantasies you would be happy, alive, with him.
Your wishful thoughts were interrupted by the moon appearing from behind the clouds it was previously hidden. You watched as the moonlight revealed your true selves, flesh melting away to reveal the cursed undead skeleton appearance underneath.
You bring your hand up to inspect it. Even after so many years it was still a shock to see the withered bones.
“C’mon.” Barbossa takes your skeleton hand into his own and gently leads you toward his cabin.
Once inside, hidden from the moonlight, you don’t look dead anymore.
Barbossa sits you on a chair near his desk, still holding your hand, running his calloused fingers across the back of your hand in a soothing motion.
You close your eyes for a second, letting out a deep sigh while hiding your face in your free hand. You would be crying if you could.
Barbossa’s free hand reaches towards your chin and gently tilts your head to face him. “Now, none of that. No point in mopin’ around. We will get our lives back, I promise ye that.” He mumbles, your faces are but a few inches away.
“Swear to me.” The sentence came as a mere whisper.
He kneels down to your level, his lips almost touching yours as he whispers your name. “I swear to ye, upon the very stars guiding our way, under the watchful eye of any deity willing to bear witness.” The hand holding your chin drifts towards the point where your jaw meets your neck.
“Captain, I-”
“Hector.”
“Hector, I-”
Your eyes flit down towards his lips. They are chapped, but then again, yours are probably as well.
A pause. Then your lips finally meet.
You don’t feel the familiar warmth or contentment you have come to associate with kissing over the years, and yet it is the best kiss you believe you’ve ever had.
Hector parts from you for a moment, forehead resting against yours, eyes closed. “We will find Bootstrap’s little whelp, and the cursed final piece he sent away.” He presses his lips to yours again in a sweet peck. “If I have to sail to the very ends of the world to find them.”
His lips are on yours again before you can find the words to reply. The slightest flicker of comfort blooms inside of you.
You may be cursed, but right here, right now your existence doesn’t seem so hopeless as it did before.
What it would be like if Barbossa was in love with you 🏴☠️🌊🌌❤️
It was unplanned. He hadn't expected you, nor did he expect to react too hardly. You had arrived with Captain Jack Sparrow on the black Pearl with Henry and Carina, under the guise of Captain Jack Sparrow on board the dying gull. Then—under Hector Barbossa's authority on the Queen Anne's Revenge and finally on the Black Pearl.
As time drifted on, he found himself staring at you. Whether it would be through his brass spyglass or as he's on top of the helm.
He didn't acknowledge his feelings. He was baffled by what they were and chose to ignore it. Despite this, it still lingered, creeping up on him. His thoughts, ambitions, and goals came in the way, though. They soon ceased as he would once more stare at you at the prow.
If you caught on or glanced back, he would take it out on any of his crew mates—Mutogg and Mullroy—to furiously get you off his track. Albiet, whether it would be to keep a closer eye or to trim the main and gib sails.
His thoughts would silence as he stared at you like a hopeless school boy with a crush. It was baffling and embarrassing. Once before, in his past, he would've taken the opportunity to intimidate you into giving him what he wanted. For his own personal gain and ambition.
When he would try to talk to you, he would only hobble a few feet with his crutch, but even then, he would hesitate. He wouldn't move. Perhaps it was better to settle on one's goals. He's never been in this state before. It's addle. He felt like a sappy love sick fool chasing something he would've laughed at and tossed to the side.
When he did try to speak to you, it was often short, straight to the point. Even then, he would let you go about your business or mock you for your absent knowledge on ships. Or the stars.
One day, at the helm, he stood overlooking the stars guiding him when he saw you at the prow. Seeing your hair billow in the wind, looking at the moon. You were to be a prisoner. You should've been tied to the mast.
He snatched Jack's compass he "burrowed" earlier as a way to find the triton. Opening the lid, he held the compass in the air as the arrow spun—think of triton, the triton, the triton!—the arrow stopped. His eyes trailed from the tip of the arrow's red point to you. It didn't lie. What his heart desired most was right in front of him.
His weathered face furrowed with denial as his chapped lips slightly parted. How was this possible—it can't be—he'd never felt this way before—was it even possible?—he was three times your age—is it worth the risk? To risk his position and life of piracy for a chance with you—no. No, it's not.
With an exhale of annoyance, he hoisted himself on his crutch, hobbling further to try and distract himself. He needed to find that triton and smartly before El Matador Del Mar catches fast winds to their stern, and they were all doomed.
When alone, even with the grand gourmet feast, he would find himself gazing at the food with little to no interest. He would day dream, imagining a life with you, marriage was more so at the weighted end yet—he thought of your soft skin, your silky hair, and your smile. The memories that played back in his mind when you spoke or complimented you, he would genuinely smile—like an addled fool. He would lift his finger, tracing it along the outline of the table. Envisioning as though it were you glinting your eyes with a smile, touching your chin. Following from the outer table, his finger landed on the fabric of just the edge of his waistcoat. He touched your smile, then your shoulder. He shouldn't be thinking of this. Then, finally, the lower layer of your clothing, your lips parted with joy. This dream turned to you leaning in. The scent of you lingering. He could only ever envision your smile. This was so wrong—or was it?
He wasn't an ill-desperate man, rather, a romantic at heart. But—this was love.
Though these dreams would soon be interrupted with a knock at the door. He would often become either annoyed at himself or feel like a fool. There's no way he should be dreaming about such things at his age. At this point, he might as well pick up a strumpet from a brothel in Tortuga. Though, he had standards and often his ambition did lead him to become quite a lady's man.
Anyway, continuing on from when he was at the mast. He heard a familiar voice—a voice he did not need to hear—
"Keeping a weathering over the horizon, eh hector. You know the stars are bright tonight, but I couldn't help notice. There's one in particular I presume you're absolutely fascinated by." It was Jack sparrow.
Jack, as the bounded rope, restricted his movements. He pointed his finger to the prow. Clearly indicating you.
In that moment, Hector froze with not realising Jack of all people had caught on. He should've known Sparrow knew him better than most.
Jack glanced at Hector, astounded by his shift in expression, emotion.
"What do you want, sparrah." He said with annoyance.
"Well, clearly, since you oh so unkindly commandeered my ship. Twice mind you. I'm willing to offer an accord, an ultimatem of sorts." Jack said in spite, he was not over Hector stealing his ship, leaving him on that spit of land and leaving him in tortuga. Though he did steal Sao Fangs charts.
Barbossa, appearing more intimidating, slammed his hand against the mast with an expression that would have Jack dead if he slipped one more word from his tongue.
"Firstly, I want my ship." Jack gestured with his hands. Hector snapped "No deal" with a sarcastic gaze.
"I mean, she is a fetching creature, but I have to admit, you are very, very ugly, so how do you think she'll come about when she realises an old sea dog that's what—eighty—eighty-nine stares at her day by day." Jack pointed out. This infuriated Hector, and he knew it.
Jack could tell Hector's face, becoming redder and redder every minute he yabbered on. He just didn't want to admit it, that he was in love. To Jack, he would've thought it would be different, to sweep a lass like that off her feet.
"Tell you what, drinks all around if there's a wedding, after all, I always knew you'd settle down eventually."
Hector scoffed, seeing how Jack's words reflected from when he reunited with Jack—at a wedding. Ironic.
"I wonder what her name is, I'll remember it. She's the one who yabbers on about stars or something." Jack cocked his head. "Oh, what was it, it's on the tip of me tongue?" he stuck his tongue out.
Hector, having enough hoisted the sword of triton from his scabbard. "Do you wanna lose that tongue!"
"The lass is notin' but a simple-minded fool who dwells in nonsense. After all, do you really think a feebled doe would give a thought to a swine?".
He hobbled off, using his crutch. He really didn't need to hear Jack speak of his reality. Oh yes, she'll fall for a swinish blaggard. That'll be believable.
The one moment he truly showed emotion for was when you approached him in his quarters. He was imposing. He threatened you in a sarcastic manner; mocking you.
The moment he allowed his real emotions to take over was when you grabbed the locks of his wig, pulling it off. If this were anyone else, he would've shot them but—
He was more baffled than anything.
Allowing you to see the real him. And he smiled like a fool when you said, "It's you."
As demise comes tragedy. He only ever kissed you once. That was when Salazar was pursuing the black pearl, and he needed to rescue Jack, Carina, and Henry.
He told his coxswain to man the helm only for a minuet. He rushed to you hobbling as you were pulling the halyard for the main sail to maintain speed.
As you reached them when the sea split. You dashed to the bow where the anchor was, leaning over the guardrail. As he commanded to drop anchor. He pulled you back. His hand on your shoulder. Your eyes stared at him in worry.
Without a second thought, knowing this was his last voyage. He pulled you in and pressed his chapped lips against yours. As you were in confusion, he muttered, "You're the brightest star that's guided my fate."
"I love you, y/n." He said in a hoarse voice.
Unfortunately, that was the only time he confessed for—he died—after saving Carina Smyth. Your heart sank, not only losing a fine captain—but only to realise he was in love with you this whole time.
Warnings: phonetic spelling of accents, p in v s/x, possessive behavior / language, hints of soft Barbossa, men hit on reader in a pub but not for long
Summary: When you and the rest of the Black Pearl’s crew finally docked in Tortuga, you hoped for a night of celebration in the pubs— of course, things never quite go to plan, do they?
Or;
Drunken men hit on you in a pub and Barbossa gets jealous.
Pairings: Hector Barbossa/fem!Reader
A/N: gods this dialect was hard to pin down, so so fun to work on tho omg
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Word count: ~5.3k
~
As much as you loved the sea, and you did love it, you were excited to stand on solid ground that didn’t shift and shudder beneath your feet with every wave. As sturdy as the Black Pearl was, you couldn’t help how the creaks and groans of the wood at night reminded you that you really were at the sea’s will.
This fact popped into your head once more as you hopped easily off the boarding plank and onto the pier below. Despite the disorienting feeling of walking on steady ground again instead of the familiar pull and weave of the ship, the earthy (and alcoholic) scent steadied you. You stretched your arms over your head, cracking your back with a grunt as you felt your muscles stretch.
Before you could take a step forward there was a familiar warmth pressed against your lower back. You let out a curious hum, tilting your head back to meet your partner’s gaze. Barbossa’s cool blue eyes met yours with a smug cock of his eyebrow. His fingers tapped a rhythm on your lower back before settling on your hip, tugging you into his side.
“Attached already?” you teased quietly, nudging his side with your hip, “We’ve barely docked, Cap’n.”
He scoffed beside your ear, rolling his eyes with a scowl you knew was just for show by the way his hand squeezed your hip with faux warning. “Be it a crime now to lay claim in what’s mine?” he asked. His voice dropped an octave as he leaned a bit closer to rumble sarcastically, “Forgive me if I’ve… concerns about the ingrates that swarm the bars of Tortuga.”
You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out, cheeks warming at the reminder. “...Maybe,” you retorted lamely after a moment, clearing your throat.
He hummed, tapping his fingers on your hip once more before drawling, “Well, what’s another crime added to our list, hm?”
You groaned playfully, turning away from his faux curious gaze. His breath puffed against your neck as he laughed at your demeanor, pulling away only to lead you alongside him as the rest of the crew crowded past you, scattering through the streets of Tortuga.
You let yourself be dragged towards your usual pub, slipping inside the rowdy bar with ease. The familiar warmth of Barbossa’s hand on your hip faded as you both weaved through the crowd, ducking beneath potted plants being thrown and beer spillage. It was easy for you after all of these years, the pub becoming like a second home (ship?) away from home with how often you all stopped there. The musicians played a hearty tune as you spun through the sea of people, eyes scanning any available seats.
As you slipped into an unoccupied bar seat you felt a familiar presence looming over your shoulder. You glanced to the side to find Barbossa leant comfortably on the stool beside you, scanning over the crowd with an elbow twisted to rest on the bartop behind him. He briefly met your gaze, raising his brows in acknowledgement before turning back to the crowd. You watched as Jack, the little monkey that had grown quite fond of you, scittered down his arm to the counter before grappling onto your shoulder.
“Hi, Jack,” you cooed, reaching a finger up to scratch behind his fuzzy ear. He let out a trill of contentment, butting into your finger encouragingly as you relayed your order to the bartender. The presence was one you were all too familiar with by now; Barbossa often had Jack “watch over” you when he couldn’t be around to do it himself.
It was sweet really, how protective Barbossa was over you when he claimed to be otherwise. It was also, admittedly, a bit annoying how often he seemed to swoop in whenever you were faced with the tiniest bit of danger. Even now you remembered how, when you two had first started seeing each other, he would shove you out of the skirmishes on deck in favor of banishing you to his cabin. Despite how furious you always were at the end, he ended up brushing off your complaints with a sneering reminder of who was Captain.
It had taken you a long while to see through his cold demeanor and realize it wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself, rather that he hadn’t wanted to risk anything happening to you. It was a startling yet sweet realization, one festered with his taunts of how “there be a reason naught but few ladies on these seas”. It was bullshit, of course, an insult to keep you at arms length from his feelings.
Still, the concern from him was… touching. You rarely saw the softer side of Barbossa, even when concealed with his snark, and any reminder of it left your heart clenching in affection for the man. You supposed Jack was proof of that, regardless, though– your furry friend only ever left your shoulder to perch on Barbossa’s.
You were snapped out of your thoughts as a mug was placed in front of you, the bartender already whirling around to serve another patron. You took a big gulp of the drink, nose scrunching up at the burn that followed. You suppressed a cough, favoring swirling in your barstool to survey the bar once again. Your gaze flitted through the crowd, searching for any familiar figure.
You barely made out one of your crew, Ragetti, trying in vain to grasp his wooden eye that you assumed was rolling on the floor. You snickered into your mug, taking another gulp as you appreciated the view of Ragetti’s frantic crawling and weaving through the crowd’s legs. The blasting bar music muted whatever he was trying to yell, and you huffed out a laugh when someone ended up tripping on the eye, setting their angry sights on Ragetti as the culprit.
Before you could witness what was certainly most entertaining fight of the night, you felt Jack’s tiny claws sink into the cloth of your shirt with a quiet chirp. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to see whatever had caught his attention. Before you could turn fully, you felt a weight snake around your waist from your side. Assuming it to be Barbossa, you swiveled in your seat with a growing smile.
It immediately faded into a scowl when you didn’t recognize the patron. His eyes were hazy, already way too drunk to be in the bar, a sleazy grin on his face that you were sure he thought was sexy. You cringed, leaning away from him with a roll of your eyes, “Not interested.”
“H-hey gor-rgeous,” he slurred out, batting his eyes. He either hadn’t heard you, or… didn’t care. Either way, it made your frustration spike.
“Take y’er hand from my hip or you’ll be losin’ it,” you growled, shoving his chest. Jack screeched in what you assumed was agreement, quickly clawing at the man’s face for emphasis. Too drunk, Jack’s claws easily met with the man’s cheek, blood already clotting from the scratch.
“Y-ye fuckin’ rat!” the man shouted in surprise, stumbling backwards. In the time you’d taken to reject this man, another had saddled up on the other side of you, his smooth voice booming in your ear uncomfortably.
“The lady said nay,” the new man scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist. You cocked an eyebrow in disbelief at the bold move, turning to see the, slightly less, drunk man who took it upon himself to “save” you. “Ye okay, lass?” he asked with a crooked grin, sending a wink towards you before continuing, “I can keep y’a company, lass. Keep these scoundrels away.”
“Nay, she won’t be needin’ the likes of you to assist her,” another voice growled, one that sent a flutter through your chest. Jack screeched in greeting, scampering off of your shoulder to race up the inky black sleeve of your beloved.
“An’ who are you to speak for th’ lady?” the man scoffed, tightening his grip around your waist. You’d forgotten his arm was still around you, scrunching your nose in disgust as you made eye contact with Barbossa. The corner of his lip curled up into a scowl you’d seen far too often, his hand instinctively snaking down to his holster.
“Her lover,” he ground out with a snarl of his lips, eyes narrowing dangerously. In a flash, Barbossa’s gun was pressed to the man’s jaw, prodding uncomfortably as he toyed with the trigger. “Whaddya think, Jack?” he taunted, tilting his head to the monkey, who chittered in response. A sick grin grew on his face at the supposed response, cocking the barrel with a practiced thumb, “Aye, you be right, Jack. He be worthless.”
Within seconds the man’s arm was jerking away from your waist, palms raising up in surrender. You watched the man gulp, trembling as Barbossa leant in closer to him. Your chest squeezed once again at the display. Another reminder of his care for you. …Even if he was about to shoot someone in a bar.
“Cap’n,” you tried, raising a hand to rest it on his forearm. His eyes flit to yours briefly, raking down your form to check for anything that might’ve happened. His thumb didn’t relax until you stepped closer, squeezing his arm with a silent reassurance. You were fine.
His scowl deepened momentarily, and with a flourished spin his gun was back in his holster. Jack let out a whine that you swore sounded disappointed as the man stumbled back. “I’d advise y’e keep y’er hands to yourself, boy,” Barbossa hissed, watching intently as the man scrambled away, “Lest ye lose ‘em to a man far crueler than I.”
Before you could process what had happened, Barbossa’s arm was curled tight around your waist, fingers digging into your hip almost painfully. Within moments you were dragged out of your own seat, hands scrambling for purchase on his sleeve. Your feet bent awkwardly as he pulled you onto his lap, his arm steady around you.
Your back hit the solid warmth of his chest, thighs slotting between his as you shifted to get more comfortable. His chin settled on your shoulder, and when you felt his warm breath puff against your cheek, you instinctively leaned your head against his. You huffed softly, leaning back into his embrace as your brows furrowed in annoyance.
“Thank y’e,” you mumbled, reaching out to grab your mug of rum for a sip, “Gods forbid I spend more than a few minutes alone lest the dogs swarm.”
He hummed in your ear, his arm shifting around you more securely, “Dogs be a lackluster term for the vermin here.”
“An’ what would you choose?”
“Feckless ingrates, horned mutts, cockroaches–”
“Aye, aye,” you laughed, leaning back into his chest and earning a huff of laughter against your cheek, “Well, it be not our problem now–” you were cut off by him suddenly shifting beneath you, raising you both up from the seat.
You felt yourself being tugged away from the bar, eliciting a surprised exclamation and a final gulp from your mug. “Hector,” you whined in his ear, squirming in his hold, “I didn’t even get to get tipsy–”
“I’ve rum in my cabin,” he muttered, not relieving his grip on your hip.
“The crew–?”
“Will find their way back,” he shot you a sharp glance, squeezing your hip lightly as he dragged you out of the bar.
You groaned in frustration, struggling to hold back the amused grin trying to worm onto your face. “Is that how ye thank y’er savior?” he mocked, rolling his eyes as he shoves open the pub’s doors.
“Thank you,” you retorted sarcastically. Despite your tone, you readily leaned into his side as he weaved through the alleyways of Tortuga. He huffed in response, and you’re sure that if you’d seen his face he would be rolling his eyes once again. He was silent the rest of the short trip. Silence wasn’t unusual for you two; many nights you two spent in his cabin silent, him charting his maps and you milling around with his trinkets or reading.
You admired the stars above as he led you back to the boarding plank, wood creaking beneath your boots. You hopped onto the ship easily, noting the way Barbossa’s hand slid from his ironclad grip on your hip to resting firmly on your lower back. You resisted a shiver at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip as he guided you to his cabin.
“Were I a dumber man,” he started finally, kicking his door behind him shut, “I’d say y’e enjoyed that little show.”
“Enjoyed?” you scoffed, sending a grin over your shoulder, “Sure, if you call me getting two sips of my rum enjoyable–”
You were cut off by his hand snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing one cheek between his nimble fingers. A startled noise was ripped from your mouth, back arching instinctively to flinch away from his hand. “What was it you were sayin’?” he taunted, his other hand raising to trace his nail along your jawline.
You scowled at the action, twisting your head to angle a half-hearted glare at him, “I said,” you repeated, a pout gracing your lips as his hands left your form, reaching for his own stash of alcohol, “I only got two sips of my rum before you interrupted me.”
“I interrupted you?” he guffawed with an obvious roll of his eyes as he poured you a replacement mug of rum, “An’ I suppose we’ll just be ignorin’ the attention you got, then?”
“Aye,” you tutted, crossing your arms defiantly, “We will be.”
“Ah,” he gave you a thin smile as he placed the rum in front of you, “So, am I right t’be assumin’ you liked the attention y’got?”
“You know I didn’t,” you shot back, snatching the cup from in front of you to bring to your lips, “I just want one night where I’m not dragged out by the end of the first hour.”
“Be it my fault those ingrates–?”
“No,” you groan frustratedly, “But do we have to leave the second it happens?”
“Well, apologies for not enjoyin’ the way those boys were tryin’ to take what’s mine.”
“Why d’you care, Hector? You know I be yours,” you sighed again, rapping your foot on the wooden floor quietly.
“Aye, you are, and it seems y’e need a reminder of it,” he rumbled, taking your chin between his fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his. You met his icy gaze, resisting a shudder at how intensely he inspected your features, as if trying to commit them to memory. He thumbed gently at your bottom lip, almost tender in the way it traced over every curve and dip. His gaze trailed over your features, his own softening slightly, only enough for you to notice how his brows unfurrowed the tiniest bit, how his nigh permanent scowl seemed to quirk up into something almost affectionate.
You swallowed hard, heat blooming in your cheeks at how vulnerable you felt under his eyes. When you tried to glance away, feeling embarrassed at the attention, you only heard him tut quietly, similar to a sound he makes when scolding Jack.
“Shy?” he asked, the corner of his lip raising to reveal a crooked smirk.
“...Nay. Hard to concentrate when y’er looking at me like that,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose in defiance at his taunt.
He hummed in response, using his grip on your chin to turn your eyes back to him, “An’ how else should I be lookin’ at y’e?”
The question made you falter, combing through your mind for any sort of smart retort. It seemed you took a moment too long, for you heard Barbossa’s chuckle as his thumb climbed up your lip and prodded at the seam. Obediently, you allowed his thumb into your mouth, dropping your jaw agape.
“Cat got y’er tongue, lass?” he continued, emphasizing his words by pressing the pad of his thumb down on your tongue with an amused chuckle. You closed your lips around his thumb, nipping the flesh playfully.
Barbossa’s eyebrow cocked, slipping his thumb out of your mouth with a scowl (one that you knew was teasing from the softened curves of his expression) before rolling his eyes, “Charmin’. No wonder I’ve competition for y’er affections.”
“Aye, I’m a catch,” you grinned up at him, placing your rum aside as he drew closer.
“Aye, and y’er mine,” he growled out, eyes crinkling as he grinned crookedly down at you.
You couldn’t stop the shudder that ripped through you even if you’d tried, swallowing hard at the sudden warmth pooling in your abdomen. Fuck, sure he’d said similar before, but never this direct. He seemed to notice your sudden flustering, for he chuckled before tugging you up out of the chair.
“Ah, hit a nerve, love?” he nearly purred, his free arm snaking around your waist.
“...Nay,” you lied, feigning nonchalance. You could practically feel your clit swelling, each throb making your mind fuzzier. His hand squeezed your hip before tugging you closer, pressing your hips flush to his. You were just barely able to suppress the gasp that threatened to slip from your lips.
“Ah, so if I were to…” he released your chin, instead sliding his hand down the side of your torso, tracing each curve before halting just above the waistband of your pants.
“Go ahead,” you breathed out, swallowing hard. You could feel the lips of your cunt already sticking to your underwear, clinging to the fabric as his hand dipped beneath your bottoms.
You shivered as the pads of his fingers traced over your folds over the underwear, tutting teasingly, “Y’wouldn’t happen to be lying, would y’e?” he murmured, pressing a finger down on your clit, just weighted enough to make you gasp.
Encouraged by your response, he let his finger circle your clit through your underwear, applying the slightest bit more pressure. Your knees weakened at the sudden pleasure, clasping onto his sleeve to keep steady. “U-unfair, Hector–”
He cut your complaint off with a laugh, crowding closer to you to guide you back to the bed, “Unfair that I know y’er body better than those slobberin’ mutts?”
“Aye,” you pouted, allowing him to back you up onto the bed.
“Best hope I be feelin’ merciful today, then,” he retorted, eyes glinting in the dim lighting as he climbed on top of you, “Though, somehow, I think that be not the case…”
A snarky reply made home on the tip of your tongue, furrowed brows accompanying the playful scowl that curled your lips. Before you could bite back at him his hand was finally slipping underneath your underwear, calloused fingers dipping through your folds. You shuddered at the feeling, hips bucking up when his thumb joined in by pressing down on your clit.
You gasped out a moan, leaving your cheeks feeling warmer at the sudden noise. Barbossa’s chuckling was not helping your flustered state, and neither was the way his middle finger circled your hole teasingly. You swallowed down another soft moan as the tip of his finger just barely dipped into you, swirling around as if collecting your slick.
“What was it y’e were sayin’, lass?” he laughed breathily, sliding his finger up to swirl your wetness against your clit before pinching it lightly. He grinned as your hips twitched, a noise mixed with pain and pleasure jetting from your lips. You bit your lower lip instead of responding, knowing him well enough by now to know he would just do it again if you tried.
You felt his hand slip out of your underwear, leaving a trail of wet as he glided up your abdomen. You watched with interest as he raised his hand to his mouth, only to gawk when he popped his middle finger into his mouth. “Y-you…” you sputtered, still reeling from the sudden rush of arousal that shot through you at the sight. Your body burned, a deep throb reminding you of how empty you felt without him in you. Gods, was it really this easy to rile you up? You would be embarrassed if he didn’t look so fucking hot doing it.
“Better than apples,” he teased after a moment, licking his lips as if to collect any leftover fluid. He looked over your expression with obvious amusement, eyes crinkling in a silent laugh as he leaned closer to you, “Want a taste, love?”
You found yourself nodding before you even processed his offer, body buzzing in need of any sort of relief, any sort of touch from him. Your hand found the nape of his neck, dragging him down to meet you.
His lips met yours in a passion, his tongue immediately licking the seam of your lips. You bit his lower lip teasingly, refusing his tongue entry into your mouth. You vaguely felt his hand reach up to cup your chin, keeping you in place as his other hand dipped beneath your underwear once again. This time, his finger had no problem slipping into your dripping entrance, eliciting a gasp from you.
Barbossa used the startling to lick into your mouth, slipping his tongue against yours and exploring the familiar grooves of you. You moaned softly as he slowly added another finger, sinking them deeper at a painfully gradual pace as you squirmed beneath him.
Your tongue tangled with his eagerly, pressing closer to him as you faintly tasted your juices on his tongue still. He seemed pleased by the reaction, for he let out a low groan and quickly sped up his fingers, curling up into that perfect spot that made your hips jerk. His mouth quickly moved from your mouth to trail down to the column of your throat, nipping at the skin before suckling harshly on the sensitive area. You tipped your head to the side, encouraging the marking as you grinded down onto his fingers.
“Needy,” he growled against your neck before letting his thumb join below and rub circles on your sticky clit. “Still pissy we left early?” he continued, pairing it with a third finger sliding into you, spreading out to stretch your hole.
Even his fingers inside of your aching hole weren’t enough to sate the deep emptiness you felt in your core, even if you felt your orgasm coming along quite quickly because of them. Nothing compared to feeling his thick cock splitting you open, throbbing inside of you as his arms caged you in… Fuck, the thought was enough to send you to the edge as is.
The feeling of Barbossa’s fingers sliding out of you snapped you back to attention, an irritated groan leaving your lips as you shot him a weak glare. Your cunt ached at the emptiness, walls clenching around nothing. “N-no,” you answered finally as he cocked a brow at you.
He hummed in mock thought, using his now free hands to rumple up your shirt, rolling it easily over your head. “An’, remind me, love,” he started, voice in almost a coo as his fingers found your puffy nipples, rolling them over with his thumbs, “Why is it that we left?”
You shuddered at the new stimulation, back arching slightly to encourage the action, “Th-there were men–”
“Cretins,” he corrected swiftly with a pinch to one of your nipples.
“C-cretins,” you repeated, body shuddering as he crowded more into your space, spreading your legs with his knees as he knelt above you, “And you be jealous.”
Despite the technically correct answer, his lips curled back into a scowl with a roll of his eyes, “You might want’a be rephrasin’ that, lass.”
“An’ how would I rephrase it, Cap’n?” you retorted. He scoffed before shifting closer, hooking your knees over his thighs as he leant over you. You felt his hips slot against yours, his already hardened cock rubbing deliciously against your clothed clit.
“That I was almost plundered,” he growled, rutting his hips against yours with a low groan. His hardened cock rubbed against your clit, making you gasp as your hips instinctively moved in tandem to meet his.
“Pl-plundered? What, am I an object?” you bit back, though the breathy tone in your voice left the edge weak.
“What be mine was almost taken from me,” he rumbled, hips rolling perfectly against yours as his hands eagerly groped your breasts. His eyes were locked onto yours, glinting in what you could only describe as a predatory fashion. He continued breathlessly as he leant closer, “Be that not plundering?”
Your hips jerked at the statement, eyes fluttering closed briefly as your poor pussy clenched around nothing.
“Aye, that be what I thought,” he chuckled, interrupting your protests with another hump of his hips.
“H-Hector,” you gasped out, shooting him a weak glare, “Stop teasin’-”
He tsked, halting the movement of his hips to give you a cocky grin, “Nay, I think there be a better way to ask, don’t you?”
You let out an indignant groan, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. The sudden lack of friction was making your head fuzzy; you tried to grind your hips again instinctively. Barbossa’s hands were gripping your hips almost immediately, stilling any movement you hoped to make. He tilted his head, pouting teasingly down at you as if he wasn’t the one contributing to your frustration. You could feel his bulge grazing lightly against your soaked folds, crumbling any resolve you may have had to be defiant for him.
“Yours, I’m yours, now please–”
“Y’can do better than that, lass,” his hand slid over to lightly circle your clit through your bottoms, putting just enough pressure to make you squirm underneath him, seeking more friction than the almost painfully light touches. Heat rushed through your body, throbbing deliciously and making your mind spin.
“Need you to fuck me,” you finally gasped out, clutching onto the ruffles of his shirt as your hips strained against his hold, “I feel so empty, please, need you inside me–”
Barbossa growled at your words, moving to grip your bottoms. He yanked them off in one go, revealing your drippy folds to his eyes. You matched his energy easily, unbuckling his belt and dragging his pants down to reveal his aching cock. You wasted no time taking it into your hand; it was heavy and hot, and as you gave it a shallow pump you swore you already saw a bead of precum dribbling out of his tip.
It seemed Barbossa was just as eager, for within moments his cock was prodding at your pudgy clit, hips jerking to rub against it. You shuddered at the feeling, whining with a kick of your hips and eliciting another chuckle from Barbossa as he finally, finally, edged his tip into your fluttering hole.
Your eyes rolled back as he slowly sank into you, caging you with his arms as his cock bullied its way into you, splitting you deliciously open. “I’d say y’e were thrown overboard with how wet you be,” he mumbled, a low groan underlining his words as he pressed his forehead against yours.
The comment sent a snort of laughter through you; true as it was, here he was, cock stretching you open, and he compared you to a traitor thrown overboard. “Romantic, Cap’n,” you retorted playfully, squeezing your cunt around his cock for emphasis. You caught his familiar eye roll before you squeezed, making him groan and jerk his hips.
The sharp riposte poised on his tongue died as you squeezed around him again, forcing a low moan from his lips as his form shuddered above you. Instead of replying, he set a slow but deep pace, hips slotting against yours.
A choked moan left your lips as you felt his balls slap against the backs of your thighs, his elbows dipped on either side of your head. One of his hands reached down to pinch your clit once more, grinning at the whine you let out. You could feel his cock throbbing and twitching inside of your cunt, eager to feel you contract around him once more.
Truly, nothing compared to how Barbossa would fuck you. His mouth circled your nipple, suckling it as his pace quickened with each clamp of your walls. You could feel your orgasm rapidly building already, mind already too hazy to care about how wanton your cries were coming out.
It was, of course, right when you were about to tip over the edge that he halted. You let out a petulant groan, tossing your head back in frustration of being denied your pleasure again. Barbossa was merciful with your pleasure, usually, but it seemed tonight those vagrants at the bar had gotten to him.
“Who d’you belong to, lass?” he rumbled against your collar, nipping at the heated skin, “And choose your words carefully, lest I find myself less… generous to y’er plight.”
“Y-yours, you know that,” you gasped out, a whine underlining your tone as you felt his cock throb inside of you, “The men in the bar meant nothing, Hector. Nary do they compare to you.”
“Aye,” he growled, resuming his pace with a newfound passion, “That be true. None can make y’e cum as hard as me, isn’t that right?”
You moaned out his name, nodding emphatically as you wrapped your arms around his neck, locking your ankles behind his back and pushing him deeper.
“Aye, only my hands do this to y’e, my words, mine,” he moaned, pressing his forehead against the crook of your neck. You could feel as his hips began to stutter, the gasping breaths that puffed against your neck another telltale sign that he was close.
“Fuck, aye, only you, Hector-!” your head tipped back as his thumb suddenly found your clit again, rubbing in deep circles as you toppled over the edge. You came hard, squeezing your walls around his cock to the point where you could hear an almost pained hiss come from behind his teeth. You didn’t have time to question it before he was trembling, hips stilling with a deep thrust before he finished inside of you.
Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cum spilling deep inside of you, each jerk of his hips making sure that none went to waste. Your ankles tightened around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper as your cunt milked his cock dry. All you heard for now was the heavy breaths of you two, followed by a creaky groan as he slowly sat up, slipping his softening cock out of you.
You shivered at the feeling, squirming a bit underneath him at the sudden emptiness. He chuckled, hands resting on your thighs before one traveled down to slide through your folds. The overstimulation made you whine, though it quickly turned into a gasp as he pushed a finger back inside of your still fluttering hole, grinning down at you.
“Waste not,” he drawled before chuckling, eyeing the way your combined fluids molded around his finger.
“Tryin’ to knock me up, Captain?” you teased breathlessly as he climbed over you to rest beside you.
“And if I am?” he rumbled, tossing an arm over your middle and dragging you against his side, “A swollen belly will keep filthy dogs away from y’e.”
“...You want to raise a babe on the seas?” you retorted with a raise of your brow, grinning. You couldn’t deny the flutter your heart gave at the thought of being, well, domestic with him, though your lives were far too hectic for that.
“...Aye, y’have a point,” he grumbled, pressing his nose into the side of your head, “I’ll just have y’e on my lap at all times, then. No mistakin’ there.”
You huffed out a laugh, already feeling your head drift off into a comfortable sleep, turning over to press your nose against his collar, “...Aye, more than fine by me.”
Would you... *cries of happiness* would you do me the honor of writing a dating Joshamee Gibbs from POTC would include? -💜
Dating Joshamee Gibbs (Mr Gibbs) would Include…
Joshamee Gibbs certainly knows his way around a bottle, something that would most likely have introduced the two of you, his past with the British Royal Navy would have intrigued you and he wouldn’t be adverse to telling tales of his adventures, both as a pirate and in the navy, as long as you brought him a drink or dozen.
Gibbs superstition is amusing on occasions for you, and you tease him about it relentlessly, his reactions to it only fuel your desire to torment him, however, you do try to not go to far and make sure he knows its all in jest, even if he doesn’t believe you.
Gibbs is a very loyal and down-to-earth person and very reliable, even though he would much rather die than give up his rum, but he always pulls through and will remain by your side,
He goes back to his past and memories to figure out how to properly court you and can get a little shy and flustered, despite his efforts not too, he even has a conversation with his captain about what he thinks of you who is mostly clueless and confused, as he has other things to worry about, but secret celebrates that his first mate is finally getting serious about you and trying to figure out how to best express himself to you.
After a while, only to you, he is a gentleman, holding open doors, pulling out chairs, staring very confusedly at a dress he’ s trying to get you for an anniversary present before opting for something more practical. he’s kind, loyal and caring and loves to sea you smile, finding it even more beautiful than a sunrise.
While he initially believed that it was bad luck to have a woman on a ship, he almost forgets it entirely as he wants you close by, sharing his adventures and seeing the world.
Gibbs, loves wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek, often rubbing his beard against your cheek much to your amused annoyance, he doesn’t care about being a better man for you, he simply cares about being THE man for you, the one you want to wake up next to, the one you want to kiss and love, the one you want to spend your days with.
Hey there! First time requesting haha but I LOVE your writings!
Anyway may I request some relationship headcanons with Jack, Barbossa and Davy? Thank you and have a good day <3
Hello dear 💖, thanks for your request.
Being in a relationship with them 🫂
Jack sparrow:
Jack sparrow, Jack sparrow in a committed relationship is a very special thing. Gibbs even said, "Jack stayin' is like treasure, ye can't lose him cause he values ya too much."
Nights out on the pearl with dancing and music.
Learning how to sail and join the piracy life; plundering the other ships and pillaging those that have treasure.
Jack would match you to his freedom, his soul for the pearl.
Jack being more genuine with you then his previous love interests.
He would still flirt with many lasses but wouldn't commit to them.
Smiling every time he saw you sail the pearl.
Passionate snogging, picture the most dramatic scene in the world, and him kissing you on the forecastle of the ship.
Jack "trying" to impress you with something you like, even if it may involve a dangerous chase with Master Gibbs.
Jack learning to be a good person for you. Only you, he ain't gonna give up the pirate life savvy.
Jack may be on edge with having a child.
Drinking rum together.
Master Gibbs asking about you and Jack. He likes that scuttlebutt of your relationship.
Marriage may be something he has thought about. "See, I'm the captain, and I can give my blessings on my ship, whaddya say love hm."
Jack may be choatic, tred lightly.
Jack would flirt a lot. He would treat you like he treats freedom as his first beloved.
Jack would have "things" and values you first before Master Gibbs.
Jack Sparrow is always showing you adventure and loves to lay with you in the sand on a beach.
Alot of snogging on that beach.
Imagine you're in his cabin, talking about sweet nothing's, and finally, you start start to kiss him until an interruption from one of the crew mates happened. You squeal in embrassment as Jack says, "Oi, can't-cha wait a little longer mate".
Seeing the sun fall each night and being in the arms of Jack Sparrow as he tells his adventures featuring 'a dashing captain who saved a fine lass from evil buccaneers'.
Jack would mature and start to become committed. He would risk his life from the depths of jones's locker to save you.
Know once you have Jack, treat him like treasure cause that's rare to come by.
Hector Barbossa:
Hector would have a secret affair. He would visit you on land to spend his days with you.
Having peaceful evenings in his quarters or his dining room with you.
Barbossa is more genuine with you, and no tricks or surprises come with it.
He feels the serenity he once did when he's on the pearl.
Being a passionate man, that would even make Jack Sparrow jealous.
You gave him something to believe in and fight for.
He would be protective of you. Perhaps if you knew how to fight, he would back off a bit but still throw a cutlass at a cur for you.
Touching. lot of touching, he would touch your shoulders, neck, face, cheek and hold your body close to him.
Star gaze with you, he would tease you if you got a star wrong.
Act tough and wants you to see him as tough. Despite him only being human, you know when he has his down moments.
He would act in many ways to impress you, but he'll break down his wall to show you who he is, even if he isn't "the best" in the world.
Having insecurity if you showed interest in having a child.
Marriage would be a possible thought, although it would be done under his blessings and not told amongst any of his men.
Kissing him would be passionate, full of touching of your body.
He would carry a miniature portrait of you when he's sailing.
Sometimes drifting off at the ocean missing your presence.
Sparrow mocking him, oh yes, even Jack's smart enough to figure it out.
"Tell me, who's that woman you've been catching fancy? Could've sworn her name starts with y/n, y/n parsley, no tha's not it, Ah y/n L/N that's it."
"Shut It Sparrah."
Barbossa wouldn't forget you. He would hold you dearly close and value every dabloon worth of you. You're his treasure.
Davy Jones:
Davy would still be in heartbreak over Calypsos betrayal. He wouldn't be able to move from his past until he met you.
You brought him light, life, and hope once again.
He would be softer and kinder to you and mutter small words like "mah heart beats fah you" or "Yah be me savouir."
Having you as his beacon to ease his pain. He would need comforting in your presence.
He would fight for you or anything that comes to destroy you.
Kissing would involve him caressing you with his tentacles and planting his slimy lips on yours.
He could potentially turn human from your kindness. You've given him pieces of humanity.
His past would still remain, it haunts him and nothing can rid of it.
When he's playing the organ, you listen and comfort him.
He would still act cruel, but if you didn't want a person to die, he would let them join the crew in place request for not killing them.
A new pain occurred within him of letting you re join land. However, he can't let you go because he would miss you dearly.
Settling a deal to Calypso to let you live and for once has a redemption arch.
Playing a new song that's a thought of you.
Tossing the locket around his neck into the sea and feeling more at peace.
Warnings: phonetic spelling of accents, p in v s/x, possessive behavior / language, hints of soft Barbossa, men hit on reader in a pub but not for long
Summary: When you and the rest of the Black Pearl’s crew finally docked in Tortuga, you hoped for a night of celebration in the pubs— of course, things never quite go to plan, do they?
Or;
Drunken men hit on you in a pub and Barbossa gets jealous.
Pairings: Hector Barbossa/fem!Reader
A/N: gods this dialect was hard to pin down, so so fun to work on tho omg
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Word count: ~5.3k
~
As much as you loved the sea, and you did love it, you were excited to stand on solid ground that didn’t shift and shudder beneath your feet with every wave. As sturdy as the Black Pearl was, you couldn’t help how the creaks and groans of the wood at night reminded you that you really were at the sea’s will.
This fact popped into your head once more as you hopped easily off the boarding plank and onto the pier below. Despite the disorienting feeling of walking on steady ground again instead of the familiar pull and weave of the ship, the earthy (and alcoholic) scent steadied you. You stretched your arms over your head, cracking your back with a grunt as you felt your muscles stretch.
Before you could take a step forward there was a familiar warmth pressed against your lower back. You let out a curious hum, tilting your head back to meet your partner’s gaze. Barbossa’s cool blue eyes met yours with a smug cock of his eyebrow. His fingers tapped a rhythm on your lower back before settling on your hip, tugging you into his side.
“Attached already?” you teased quietly, nudging his side with your hip, “We’ve barely docked, Cap’n.”
He scoffed beside your ear, rolling his eyes with a scowl you knew was just for show by the way his hand squeezed your hip with faux warning. “Be it a crime now to lay claim in what’s mine?” he asked. His voice dropped an octave as he leaned a bit closer to rumble sarcastically, “Forgive me if I’ve… concerns about the ingrates that swarm the bars of Tortuga.”
You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out, cheeks warming at the reminder. “...Maybe,” you retorted lamely after a moment, clearing your throat.
He hummed, tapping his fingers on your hip once more before drawling, “Well, what’s another crime added to our list, hm?”
You groaned playfully, turning away from his faux curious gaze. His breath puffed against your neck as he laughed at your demeanor, pulling away only to lead you alongside him as the rest of the crew crowded past you, scattering through the streets of Tortuga.
You let yourself be dragged towards your usual pub, slipping inside the rowdy bar with ease. The familiar warmth of Barbossa’s hand on your hip faded as you both weaved through the crowd, ducking beneath potted plants being thrown and beer spillage. It was easy for you after all of these years, the pub becoming like a second home (ship?) away from home with how often you all stopped there. The musicians played a hearty tune as you spun through the sea of people, eyes scanning any available seats.
As you slipped into an unoccupied bar seat you felt a familiar presence looming over your shoulder. You glanced to the side to find Barbossa leant comfortably on the stool beside you, scanning over the crowd with an elbow twisted to rest on the bartop behind him. He briefly met your gaze, raising his brows in acknowledgement before turning back to the crowd. You watched as Jack, the little monkey that had grown quite fond of you, scittered down his arm to the counter before grappling onto your shoulder.
“Hi, Jack,” you cooed, reaching a finger up to scratch behind his fuzzy ear. He let out a trill of contentment, butting into your finger encouragingly as you relayed your order to the bartender. The presence was one you were all too familiar with by now; Barbossa often had Jack “watch over” you when he couldn’t be around to do it himself.
It was sweet really, how protective Barbossa was over you when he claimed to be otherwise. It was also, admittedly, a bit annoying how often he seemed to swoop in whenever you were faced with the tiniest bit of danger. Even now you remembered how, when you two had first started seeing each other, he would shove you out of the skirmishes on deck in favor of banishing you to his cabin. Despite how furious you always were at the end, he ended up brushing off your complaints with a sneering reminder of who was Captain.
It had taken you a long while to see through his cold demeanor and realize it wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself, rather that he hadn’t wanted to risk anything happening to you. It was a startling yet sweet realization, one festered with his taunts of how “there be a reason naught but few ladies on these seas”. It was bullshit, of course, an insult to keep you at arms length from his feelings.
Still, the concern from him was… touching. You rarely saw the softer side of Barbossa, even when concealed with his snark, and any reminder of it left your heart clenching in affection for the man. You supposed Jack was proof of that, regardless, though– your furry friend only ever left your shoulder to perch on Barbossa’s.
You were snapped out of your thoughts as a mug was placed in front of you, the bartender already whirling around to serve another patron. You took a big gulp of the drink, nose scrunching up at the burn that followed. You suppressed a cough, favoring swirling in your barstool to survey the bar once again. Your gaze flitted through the crowd, searching for any familiar figure.
You barely made out one of your crew, Ragetti, trying in vain to grasp his wooden eye that you assumed was rolling on the floor. You snickered into your mug, taking another gulp as you appreciated the view of Ragetti’s frantic crawling and weaving through the crowd’s legs. The blasting bar music muted whatever he was trying to yell, and you huffed out a laugh when someone ended up tripping on the eye, setting their angry sights on Ragetti as the culprit.
Before you could witness what was certainly most entertaining fight of the night, you felt Jack’s tiny claws sink into the cloth of your shirt with a quiet chirp. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to see whatever had caught his attention. Before you could turn fully, you felt a weight snake around your waist from your side. Assuming it to be Barbossa, you swiveled in your seat with a growing smile.
It immediately faded into a scowl when you didn’t recognize the patron. His eyes were hazy, already way too drunk to be in the bar, a sleazy grin on his face that you were sure he thought was sexy. You cringed, leaning away from him with a roll of your eyes, “Not interested.”
“H-hey gor-rgeous,” he slurred out, batting his eyes. He either hadn’t heard you, or… didn’t care. Either way, it made your frustration spike.
“Take y’er hand from my hip or you’ll be losin’ it,” you growled, shoving his chest. Jack screeched in what you assumed was agreement, quickly clawing at the man’s face for emphasis. Too drunk, Jack’s claws easily met with the man’s cheek, blood already clotting from the scratch.
“Y-ye fuckin’ rat!” the man shouted in surprise, stumbling backwards. In the time you’d taken to reject this man, another had saddled up on the other side of you, his smooth voice booming in your ear uncomfortably.
“The lady said nay,” the new man scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist. You cocked an eyebrow in disbelief at the bold move, turning to see the, slightly less, drunk man who took it upon himself to “save” you. “Ye okay, lass?” he asked with a crooked grin, sending a wink towards you before continuing, “I can keep y’a company, lass. Keep these scoundrels away.”
“Nay, she won’t be needin’ the likes of you to assist her,” another voice growled, one that sent a flutter through your chest. Jack screeched in greeting, scampering off of your shoulder to race up the inky black sleeve of your beloved.
“An’ who are you to speak for th’ lady?” the man scoffed, tightening his grip around your waist. You’d forgotten his arm was still around you, scrunching your nose in disgust as you made eye contact with Barbossa. The corner of his lip curled up into a scowl you’d seen far too often, his hand instinctively snaking down to his holster.
“Her lover,” he ground out with a snarl of his lips, eyes narrowing dangerously. In a flash, Barbossa’s gun was pressed to the man’s jaw, prodding uncomfortably as he toyed with the trigger. “Whaddya think, Jack?” he taunted, tilting his head to the monkey, who chittered in response. A sick grin grew on his face at the supposed response, cocking the barrel with a practiced thumb, “Aye, you be right, Jack. He be worthless.”
Within seconds the man’s arm was jerking away from your waist, palms raising up in surrender. You watched the man gulp, trembling as Barbossa leant in closer to him. Your chest squeezed once again at the display. Another reminder of his care for you. …Even if he was about to shoot someone in a bar.
“Cap’n,” you tried, raising a hand to rest it on his forearm. His eyes flit to yours briefly, raking down your form to check for anything that might’ve happened. His thumb didn’t relax until you stepped closer, squeezing his arm with a silent reassurance. You were fine.
His scowl deepened momentarily, and with a flourished spin his gun was back in his holster. Jack let out a whine that you swore sounded disappointed as the man stumbled back. “I’d advise y’e keep y’er hands to yourself, boy,” Barbossa hissed, watching intently as the man scrambled away, “Lest ye lose ‘em to a man far crueler than I.”
Before you could process what had happened, Barbossa’s arm was curled tight around your waist, fingers digging into your hip almost painfully. Within moments you were dragged out of your own seat, hands scrambling for purchase on his sleeve. Your feet bent awkwardly as he pulled you onto his lap, his arm steady around you.
Your back hit the solid warmth of his chest, thighs slotting between his as you shifted to get more comfortable. His chin settled on your shoulder, and when you felt his warm breath puff against your cheek, you instinctively leaned your head against his. You huffed softly, leaning back into his embrace as your brows furrowed in annoyance.
“Thank y’e,” you mumbled, reaching out to grab your mug of rum for a sip, “Gods forbid I spend more than a few minutes alone lest the dogs swarm.”
He hummed in your ear, his arm shifting around you more securely, “Dogs be a lackluster term for the vermin here.”
“An’ what would you choose?”
“Feckless ingrates, horned mutts, cockroaches–”
“Aye, aye,” you laughed, leaning back into his chest and earning a huff of laughter against your cheek, “Well, it be not our problem now–” you were cut off by him suddenly shifting beneath you, raising you both up from the seat.
You felt yourself being tugged away from the bar, eliciting a surprised exclamation and a final gulp from your mug. “Hector,” you whined in his ear, squirming in his hold, “I didn’t even get to get tipsy–”
“I’ve rum in my cabin,” he muttered, not relieving his grip on your hip.
“The crew–?”
“Will find their way back,” he shot you a sharp glance, squeezing your hip lightly as he dragged you out of the bar.
You groaned in frustration, struggling to hold back the amused grin trying to worm onto your face. “Is that how ye thank y’er savior?” he mocked, rolling his eyes as he shoves open the pub’s doors.
“Thank you,” you retorted sarcastically. Despite your tone, you readily leaned into his side as he weaved through the alleyways of Tortuga. He huffed in response, and you’re sure that if you’d seen his face he would be rolling his eyes once again. He was silent the rest of the short trip. Silence wasn’t unusual for you two; many nights you two spent in his cabin silent, him charting his maps and you milling around with his trinkets or reading.
You admired the stars above as he led you back to the boarding plank, wood creaking beneath your boots. You hopped onto the ship easily, noting the way Barbossa’s hand slid from his ironclad grip on your hip to resting firmly on your lower back. You resisted a shiver at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip as he guided you to his cabin.
“Were I a dumber man,” he started finally, kicking his door behind him shut, “I’d say y’e enjoyed that little show.”
“Enjoyed?” you scoffed, sending a grin over your shoulder, “Sure, if you call me getting two sips of my rum enjoyable–”
You were cut off by his hand snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing one cheek between his nimble fingers. A startled noise was ripped from your mouth, back arching instinctively to flinch away from his hand. “What was it you were sayin’?” he taunted, his other hand raising to trace his nail along your jawline.
You scowled at the action, twisting your head to angle a half-hearted glare at him, “I said,” you repeated, a pout gracing your lips as his hands left your form, reaching for his own stash of alcohol, “I only got two sips of my rum before you interrupted me.”
“I interrupted you?” he guffawed with an obvious roll of his eyes as he poured you a replacement mug of rum, “An’ I suppose we’ll just be ignorin’ the attention you got, then?”
“Aye,” you tutted, crossing your arms defiantly, “We will be.”
“Ah,” he gave you a thin smile as he placed the rum in front of you, “So, am I right t’be assumin’ you liked the attention y’got?”
“You know I didn’t,” you shot back, snatching the cup from in front of you to bring to your lips, “I just want one night where I’m not dragged out by the end of the first hour.”
“Be it my fault those ingrates–?”
“No,” you groan frustratedly, “But do we have to leave the second it happens?”
“Well, apologies for not enjoyin’ the way those boys were tryin’ to take what’s mine.”
“Why d’you care, Hector? You know I be yours,” you sighed again, rapping your foot on the wooden floor quietly.
“Aye, you are, and it seems y’e need a reminder of it,” he rumbled, taking your chin between his fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his. You met his icy gaze, resisting a shudder at how intensely he inspected your features, as if trying to commit them to memory. He thumbed gently at your bottom lip, almost tender in the way it traced over every curve and dip. His gaze trailed over your features, his own softening slightly, only enough for you to notice how his brows unfurrowed the tiniest bit, how his nigh permanent scowl seemed to quirk up into something almost affectionate.
You swallowed hard, heat blooming in your cheeks at how vulnerable you felt under his eyes. When you tried to glance away, feeling embarrassed at the attention, you only heard him tut quietly, similar to a sound he makes when scolding Jack.
“Shy?” he asked, the corner of his lip raising to reveal a crooked smirk.
“...Nay. Hard to concentrate when y’er looking at me like that,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose in defiance at his taunt.
He hummed in response, using his grip on your chin to turn your eyes back to him, “An’ how else should I be lookin’ at y’e?”
The question made you falter, combing through your mind for any sort of smart retort. It seemed you took a moment too long, for you heard Barbossa’s chuckle as his thumb climbed up your lip and prodded at the seam. Obediently, you allowed his thumb into your mouth, dropping your jaw agape.
“Cat got y’er tongue, lass?” he continued, emphasizing his words by pressing the pad of his thumb down on your tongue with an amused chuckle. You closed your lips around his thumb, nipping the flesh playfully.
Barbossa’s eyebrow cocked, slipping his thumb out of your mouth with a scowl (one that you knew was teasing from the softened curves of his expression) before rolling his eyes, “Charmin’. No wonder I’ve competition for y’er affections.”
“Aye, I’m a catch,” you grinned up at him, placing your rum aside as he drew closer.
“Aye, and y’er mine,” he growled out, eyes crinkling as he grinned crookedly down at you.
You couldn’t stop the shudder that ripped through you even if you’d tried, swallowing hard at the sudden warmth pooling in your abdomen. Fuck, sure he’d said similar before, but never this direct. He seemed to notice your sudden flustering, for he chuckled before tugging you up out of the chair.
“Ah, hit a nerve, love?” he nearly purred, his free arm snaking around your waist.
“...Nay,” you lied, feigning nonchalance. You could practically feel your clit swelling, each throb making your mind fuzzier. His hand squeezed your hip before tugging you closer, pressing your hips flush to his. You were just barely able to suppress the gasp that threatened to slip from your lips.
“Ah, so if I were to…” he released your chin, instead sliding his hand down the side of your torso, tracing each curve before halting just above the waistband of your pants.
“Go ahead,” you breathed out, swallowing hard. You could feel the lips of your cunt already sticking to your underwear, clinging to the fabric as his hand dipped beneath your bottoms.
You shivered as the pads of his fingers traced over your folds over the underwear, tutting teasingly, “Y’wouldn’t happen to be lying, would y’e?” he murmured, pressing a finger down on your clit, just weighted enough to make you gasp.
Encouraged by your response, he let his finger circle your clit through your underwear, applying the slightest bit more pressure. Your knees weakened at the sudden pleasure, clasping onto his sleeve to keep steady. “U-unfair, Hector–”
He cut your complaint off with a laugh, crowding closer to you to guide you back to the bed, “Unfair that I know y’er body better than those slobberin’ mutts?”
“Aye,” you pouted, allowing him to back you up onto the bed.
“Best hope I be feelin’ merciful today, then,” he retorted, eyes glinting in the dim lighting as he climbed on top of you, “Though, somehow, I think that be not the case…”
A snarky reply made home on the tip of your tongue, furrowed brows accompanying the playful scowl that curled your lips. Before you could bite back at him his hand was finally slipping underneath your underwear, calloused fingers dipping through your folds. You shuddered at the feeling, hips bucking up when his thumb joined in by pressing down on your clit.
You gasped out a moan, leaving your cheeks feeling warmer at the sudden noise. Barbossa’s chuckling was not helping your flustered state, and neither was the way his middle finger circled your hole teasingly. You swallowed down another soft moan as the tip of his finger just barely dipped into you, swirling around as if collecting your slick.
“What was it y’e were sayin’, lass?” he laughed breathily, sliding his finger up to swirl your wetness against your clit before pinching it lightly. He grinned as your hips twitched, a noise mixed with pain and pleasure jetting from your lips. You bit your lower lip instead of responding, knowing him well enough by now to know he would just do it again if you tried.
You felt his hand slip out of your underwear, leaving a trail of wet as he glided up your abdomen. You watched with interest as he raised his hand to his mouth, only to gawk when he popped his middle finger into his mouth. “Y-you…” you sputtered, still reeling from the sudden rush of arousal that shot through you at the sight. Your body burned, a deep throb reminding you of how empty you felt without him in you. Gods, was it really this easy to rile you up? You would be embarrassed if he didn’t look so fucking hot doing it.
“Better than apples,” he teased after a moment, licking his lips as if to collect any leftover fluid. He looked over your expression with obvious amusement, eyes crinkling in a silent laugh as he leaned closer to you, “Want a taste, love?”
You found yourself nodding before you even processed his offer, body buzzing in need of any sort of relief, any sort of touch from him. Your hand found the nape of his neck, dragging him down to meet you.
His lips met yours in a passion, his tongue immediately licking the seam of your lips. You bit his lower lip teasingly, refusing his tongue entry into your mouth. You vaguely felt his hand reach up to cup your chin, keeping you in place as his other hand dipped beneath your underwear once again. This time, his finger had no problem slipping into your dripping entrance, eliciting a gasp from you.
Barbossa used the startling to lick into your mouth, slipping his tongue against yours and exploring the familiar grooves of you. You moaned softly as he slowly added another finger, sinking them deeper at a painfully gradual pace as you squirmed beneath him.
Your tongue tangled with his eagerly, pressing closer to him as you faintly tasted your juices on his tongue still. He seemed pleased by the reaction, for he let out a low groan and quickly sped up his fingers, curling up into that perfect spot that made your hips jerk. His mouth quickly moved from your mouth to trail down to the column of your throat, nipping at the skin before suckling harshly on the sensitive area. You tipped your head to the side, encouraging the marking as you grinded down onto his fingers.
“Needy,” he growled against your neck before letting his thumb join below and rub circles on your sticky clit. “Still pissy we left early?” he continued, pairing it with a third finger sliding into you, spreading out to stretch your hole.
Even his fingers inside of your aching hole weren’t enough to sate the deep emptiness you felt in your core, even if you felt your orgasm coming along quite quickly because of them. Nothing compared to feeling his thick cock splitting you open, throbbing inside of you as his arms caged you in… Fuck, the thought was enough to send you to the edge as is.
The feeling of Barbossa’s fingers sliding out of you snapped you back to attention, an irritated groan leaving your lips as you shot him a weak glare. Your cunt ached at the emptiness, walls clenching around nothing. “N-no,” you answered finally as he cocked a brow at you.
He hummed in mock thought, using his now free hands to rumple up your shirt, rolling it easily over your head. “An’, remind me, love,” he started, voice in almost a coo as his fingers found your puffy nipples, rolling them over with his thumbs, “Why is it that we left?”
You shuddered at the new stimulation, back arching slightly to encourage the action, “Th-there were men–”
“Cretins,” he corrected swiftly with a pinch to one of your nipples.
“C-cretins,” you repeated, body shuddering as he crowded more into your space, spreading your legs with his knees as he knelt above you, “And you be jealous.”
Despite the technically correct answer, his lips curled back into a scowl with a roll of his eyes, “You might want’a be rephrasin’ that, lass.”
“An’ how would I rephrase it, Cap’n?” you retorted. He scoffed before shifting closer, hooking your knees over his thighs as he leant over you. You felt his hips slot against yours, his already hardened cock rubbing deliciously against your clothed clit.
“That I was almost plundered,” he growled, rutting his hips against yours with a low groan. His hardened cock rubbed against your clit, making you gasp as your hips instinctively moved in tandem to meet his.
“Pl-plundered? What, am I an object?” you bit back, though the breathy tone in your voice left the edge weak.
“What be mine was almost taken from me,” he rumbled, hips rolling perfectly against yours as his hands eagerly groped your breasts. His eyes were locked onto yours, glinting in what you could only describe as a predatory fashion. He continued breathlessly as he leant closer, “Be that not plundering?”
Your hips jerked at the statement, eyes fluttering closed briefly as your poor pussy clenched around nothing.
“Aye, that be what I thought,” he chuckled, interrupting your protests with another hump of his hips.
“H-Hector,” you gasped out, shooting him a weak glare, “Stop teasin’-”
He tsked, halting the movement of his hips to give you a cocky grin, “Nay, I think there be a better way to ask, don’t you?”
You let out an indignant groan, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. The sudden lack of friction was making your head fuzzy; you tried to grind your hips again instinctively. Barbossa’s hands were gripping your hips almost immediately, stilling any movement you hoped to make. He tilted his head, pouting teasingly down at you as if he wasn’t the one contributing to your frustration. You could feel his bulge grazing lightly against your soaked folds, crumbling any resolve you may have had to be defiant for him.
“Yours, I’m yours, now please–”
“Y’can do better than that, lass,” his hand slid over to lightly circle your clit through your bottoms, putting just enough pressure to make you squirm underneath him, seeking more friction than the almost painfully light touches. Heat rushed through your body, throbbing deliciously and making your mind spin.
“Need you to fuck me,” you finally gasped out, clutching onto the ruffles of his shirt as your hips strained against his hold, “I feel so empty, please, need you inside me–”
Barbossa growled at your words, moving to grip your bottoms. He yanked them off in one go, revealing your drippy folds to his eyes. You matched his energy easily, unbuckling his belt and dragging his pants down to reveal his aching cock. You wasted no time taking it into your hand; it was heavy and hot, and as you gave it a shallow pump you swore you already saw a bead of precum dribbling out of his tip.
It seemed Barbossa was just as eager, for within moments his cock was prodding at your pudgy clit, hips jerking to rub against it. You shuddered at the feeling, whining with a kick of your hips and eliciting another chuckle from Barbossa as he finally, finally, edged his tip into your fluttering hole.
Your eyes rolled back as he slowly sank into you, caging you with his arms as his cock bullied its way into you, splitting you deliciously open. “I’d say y’e were thrown overboard with how wet you be,” he mumbled, a low groan underlining his words as he pressed his forehead against yours.
The comment sent a snort of laughter through you; true as it was, here he was, cock stretching you open, and he compared you to a traitor thrown overboard. “Romantic, Cap’n,” you retorted playfully, squeezing your cunt around his cock for emphasis. You caught his familiar eye roll before you squeezed, making him groan and jerk his hips.
The sharp riposte poised on his tongue died as you squeezed around him again, forcing a low moan from his lips as his form shuddered above you. Instead of replying, he set a slow but deep pace, hips slotting against yours.
A choked moan left your lips as you felt his balls slap against the backs of your thighs, his elbows dipped on either side of your head. One of his hands reached down to pinch your clit once more, grinning at the whine you let out. You could feel his cock throbbing and twitching inside of your cunt, eager to feel you contract around him once more.
Truly, nothing compared to how Barbossa would fuck you. His mouth circled your nipple, suckling it as his pace quickened with each clamp of your walls. You could feel your orgasm rapidly building already, mind already too hazy to care about how wanton your cries were coming out.
It was, of course, right when you were about to tip over the edge that he halted. You let out a petulant groan, tossing your head back in frustration of being denied your pleasure again. Barbossa was merciful with your pleasure, usually, but it seemed tonight those vagrants at the bar had gotten to him.
“Who d’you belong to, lass?” he rumbled against your collar, nipping at the heated skin, “And choose your words carefully, lest I find myself less… generous to y’er plight.”
“Y-yours, you know that,” you gasped out, a whine underlining your tone as you felt his cock throb inside of you, “The men in the bar meant nothing, Hector. Nary do they compare to you.”
“Aye,” he growled, resuming his pace with a newfound passion, “That be true. None can make y’e cum as hard as me, isn’t that right?”
You moaned out his name, nodding emphatically as you wrapped your arms around his neck, locking your ankles behind his back and pushing him deeper.
“Aye, only my hands do this to y’e, my words, mine,” he moaned, pressing his forehead against the crook of your neck. You could feel as his hips began to stutter, the gasping breaths that puffed against your neck another telltale sign that he was close.
“Fuck, aye, only you, Hector-!” your head tipped back as his thumb suddenly found your clit again, rubbing in deep circles as you toppled over the edge. You came hard, squeezing your walls around his cock to the point where you could hear an almost pained hiss come from behind his teeth. You didn’t have time to question it before he was trembling, hips stilling with a deep thrust before he finished inside of you.
Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cum spilling deep inside of you, each jerk of his hips making sure that none went to waste. Your ankles tightened around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper as your cunt milked his cock dry. All you heard for now was the heavy breaths of you two, followed by a creaky groan as he slowly sat up, slipping his softening cock out of you.
You shivered at the feeling, squirming a bit underneath him at the sudden emptiness. He chuckled, hands resting on your thighs before one traveled down to slide through your folds. The overstimulation made you whine, though it quickly turned into a gasp as he pushed a finger back inside of your still fluttering hole, grinning down at you.
“Waste not,” he drawled before chuckling, eyeing the way your combined fluids molded around his finger.
“Tryin’ to knock me up, Captain?” you teased breathlessly as he climbed over you to rest beside you.
“And if I am?” he rumbled, tossing an arm over your middle and dragging you against his side, “A swollen belly will keep filthy dogs away from y’e.”
“...You want to raise a babe on the seas?” you retorted with a raise of your brow, grinning. You couldn’t deny the flutter your heart gave at the thought of being, well, domestic with him, though your lives were far too hectic for that.
“...Aye, y’have a point,” he grumbled, pressing his nose into the side of your head, “I’ll just have y’e on my lap at all times, then. No mistakin’ there.”
You huffed out a laugh, already feeling your head drift off into a comfortable sleep, turning over to press your nose against his collar, “...Aye, more than fine by me.”
currently thinking abt how Geoffrey Rush said that he interpreted Barbossa as seeing himself as the hero of his own story and how he ultimately thought that he’d prevail and break the curse and get his happy ending. he’s such an interesting and tragic character, my god
