#vampire mihawk

[sunandflame]

Ma’am would you please write a hopelessly in love vampire Mihawk x fem reader?

Drink water and sleep plenty🩷

The Taste of Dawn

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 870

Pairing: Vampire!Mihawk x Reader

crossposted on AO3

The sun had not yet risen. The world was hushed and silver-blue with moonlight, the hour so quiet it barely felt real — the kind of hour only creatures of the night and their most beloved ever truly knew. And Mihawk… Mihawk was in the kitchen.

A ridiculous thought, really. But there he was — half-draped in his black robe, shirt undone at the chest, hair mussed from where your fingers had wandered last night. He moved with his usual unnerving grace, slicing fruit with a paring knife like it was a blade meant for battle. He was humming something. You couldn't place it.

You leaned against the doorframe in his oversized shirt, watching him in sleepy silence. He didn’t glance up, but you knew he had sensed you the moment you entered the room — probably even before that.

“You’re awake early,” he murmured, voice smooth and low as ever. The faintest flicker of amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Couldn’t stay away from me even for a moment, hm?”

You scoffed, but your smile betrayed you. “Says the vampire who doesn’t sleep,” you muttered, padding closer until you could wrap your arms around him from behind. His bare skin was cool beneath your cheek, but it never once felt unwelcoming.

Mihawk tilted his head slightly to allow your embrace, one of his hands resting easily over yours. “I rest. I simply don’t dream.”

You hummed. “Then I’ll just dream for both of us.”

His chest vibrated with a low sound — not quite a laugh, but something close. That rare sound he gave only to you. “You already do.”

The plate of neatly arranged fruit was set aside — you saw he’d taken care to choose only the ripest pieces you liked — and he turned in your arms, looking down at you with those eyes that always felt centuries deep. Golden. Quiet. Unreadable. But when they were on you, they softened. Just barely — but enough. Enough that you knew.

You reached up and brushed a thumb just under his eye, where faint purple shadows clung to skin that never aged. “When’s the last time you ate?” you asked, voice featherlight.

Mihawk’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not since before you insisted I try your attempt at coffee two days ago.”

You gasped in mock offense. “It wasn’t that bad!”

“It tasted like punishment.”

You swatted at him, laughing, and he caught your wrist easily, bringing your hand up to his lips. He kissed your palm, the gesture slow and careful, as if he were tasting sunlight for the first time.

“I’ll make you something,” you offered.

“You are something.” There was no smirk. No teasing lilt. He said it plainly. As a fact. You are something I could live off of forever. It never stopped making your heart stutter.

You pulled away to start at the counter, reaching for bread and cheese, pretending not to notice the way Mihawk watched you — the way he always did. With reverence he would never admit aloud.

“…You’re doing it again,” you murmured, glancing at him.

“Doing what?”

You met his gaze. “Looking at me like I’ll disappear.”

His expression didn’t change. But after a pause, he said softly, “In my lifetime, many things have.”

You swallowed. There was no tragedy in his voice — only truth. But it still ached to hear. “…I won’t,” you whispered, walking back toward him. “Not unless you send me away.”

Mihawk reached for you again, cupping your face this time, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye. His touch was cool, but familiar. Trusted. “I would rather face the sun itself.”

You smiled, blinking back the sting behind your lashes. You tilted up and kissed him — not urgent or deep, just true. And when you pulled away, he chased your lips just a second longer before letting you go. You poured two cups of tea, placing one beside him — even though he wouldn’t drink it. Still, you made it every morning. Mihawk never complained. The two of you stood there in the soft light of early morning, quiet settling around you like a second skin.

Eventually, you broke the silence. “…Can I ask something weird?”

Mihawk raised a brow. “You usually do.”

You smiled and glanced toward the balcony. “What does the sunrise look like… to someone like you? Someone who’s lived so long?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he picked up a slice of pear from the plate, pressed it to your lips, and watched you take a bite. Then, softly: “It looks like you.”

Your breath hitched.

He leaned in, voice low and unwavering: “Warm. Distant. Terrifying in what it could take from me. And yet I crave it—every single day.”

Your lips parted, and Mihawk’s hand slipped behind your head, holding you still as he kissed you with something deeper than desire — something heavy and silent and eternal. When he finally pulled back, his gaze lingered on your mouth. “The taste of dawn… is much sweeter now.”

And you knew — For all the centuries he’d lived, and all the blood he’d spilled, and all the night he’d wandered… He had never been more hopelessly in love than he was right here, right now.

With you.

[littlewanibites]

They're very vampire and were wolf coded to me...

[rea-grimm]

Vampire Mihawk x Reader x Werewolf Shanks

Relationship: Mihawk x Reader x Shanks

Vibe: dark fantasy, protective, poly, tension, emotional, hurt/comfort

Summary: In a dying city filled with shadows, you push yourself to the brink to save it alone, only to be reminded by a vampire and a werewolf that no matter how much you resist, you don’t have to fight on your own anymore.

— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — 

The city sprawled out like a rotten apple, soaked to the core with decay. And you knew it. You felt it in your bones long before anyone else had a clue. By day, it looked like any other city, just a little rundown, with facades greyed by smog and people shuffling through the streets with empty eyes. 

A city where time had stopped, a city that had forgotten the sun existed. But you saw more. You saw the shadows that crept through the streets at night. You heard the whispers carried on the wind, and you smelled the scent of old, spilt blood.

You stood in a circle you had drawn with blood from your hand. Your left arm was dislocated at the shoulder from a previous fight with a demon. Magic buzzed all around you, as if trying to tear through the silence that filled the universe. 

Your body felt heavy, your left shoulder hung limp, and your fingers trembled as you tried to wring the necessary energy out of yourself to complete the ritual that was meant to save this city.

The city was dying. You knew it was happening, but you didn't have time to stop. You didn't have time to call for help, and it wasn't your habit anyway. You worked alone.

The city was crumbling, the streets twisting, and so you began to draw the seal. A blood seal so ancient that only those born with magic knew of it. And that seal was so powerful that few could handle it. It was so strong it could wipe an entire city off the map, but in the right hands, your hands, it could save it.

"Are you serious?" You heard a familiar voice. Shanks. He appeared next to you in an instant. His silhouette was like a shadow that had suddenly materialised. You were surprised. How did he find you? By the smell, most likely. You didn't answer, and instead, you continued with the spell. You were putting everything into it. You just had to hold on for a little longer.

"You should have called or waited for us," a second voice said. Mihawk looked at you sternly. "You knew something bad was going to happen. Why didn't you let us know?"

"I didn't have time to call," you snapped, your breath ragged, your voice hoarse from the spell. "Everything started to fall apart. I needed to seal it. And you were nowhere near." You had the impression that you had to justify yourself to them.

"And so you sliced your hand open and activated an ancient blood seal?" Mihawk scowled. "That ritual could have killed you. You know that, don't you?" The spell finally reached its maximum, and you could barely stand.

Shanks didn't wait for anything and scooped you up into his arms. You felt the last bit of magic drain from your fingers, the pain fading, and with it, everything else around you.

"Let go of me, I don't need..." you wanted to protest, but you didn't have the strength, and a werewolf cut you off.

"Be quiet now," Shanks growled, pulling you closer. "You're exhausted. You overdid it."

You didn't answer. You just leaned against his shoulder and let him carry you away. Within a moment, you fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

The fire crackled in the fireplace, and your cloak was draped over a chair. You lay wrapped in a blanket, and you were still lying on Shanks, who served as an excellent heater.

You were on the couch, since a bed was a luxury you very rarely indulged in. In your hand, you held a mug of a concoction Mihawk had prepared for you to regain your strength. The taste was disgusting, but you didn't vomit from it, which was progress.

"You drink holy water to ward off bloodsuckers, and then you almost tear yourself in half?" Mihawk looked you in the eyes. "What did we tell you about those rituals?"

"There was no other way at that moment. It was either that, or the city would have fallen," you retorted stubbornly.

"And we told you that you're not alone," Shanks added. "We're here for you, even if you don't want us to be. Even if you push us away, we're here."

"I'd do it again anyway. The city would have fallen otherwise." You sighed.

"Sure," Mihawk chuckled. "And then we would bury you all. You, your heroism, and your stubborn ego. And I would have had to bite you to bring you back to life, which you probably wouldn't have wanted."

You were silent. The fire crackled, and their shared silence was becoming more and more warm. Like a presence that didn't need to say anything. You were safe, and that was the most important thing. You could rest and regain your strength.

"Okay. Fine. Maybe I'm glad you saved me. But don't make a habit of it," you finally mumbled, wanting to have the last word. Both of them laughed at that.

"We already have," Shanks laughed with his warm chuckle.

"And habits are hard to break," Mihawk added with a slight smile on his lips, his fangs peeking out.

You smiled. Just a little. But for them, it was enough. And under that blanket, you finally felt something you hadn't known for years. Safety and maybe something else, too. Your monsters loved you. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to no longer see it as a weakness.

— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — 

Mihawk Masterlist

Shanks Masterlist

Bot version

[humans-are-tasty]

[moldychefboyardeecan]

The Tail

a/n: i got bored and wrote this lil silly baby! 

vampire!mihawk x werewolf!shanks

summary: canines have always had a reaction to sound, especially music. when his husband plays the piano, a certain trait of his comes along to play along to the beat. well… as musically inclined to the beat as shanks can be.

The living room of Kuraigana manor was one of the places Mihawk liked keeping meticulously warm. The grand piano—a gift from several centuries ago, carved from beautiful rosewood, designs of inlaid fruitwood surrounding a parquetry checkerboard pattern—sat in the corner of the room, near the moonlit window, bathed in the soft glow of the wall-mounted candelabras.

Mihawk’s slender, pale fingers move gracefully over the keys, Beethoven’s Pathetique filling the air. His eyes were closed, his posture perfect, completely lost in the music, a piece he played as a kid. 

Behind him, draped over the silk brocade & damask couch like a discarded rug, was his husband.

The werewolf was in his human form, though, ‘human’ was a stretch when he was this deeply relaxed. Shanks was wearing his usual torn trousers and an unbuttoned flannel shirt, littered with soft, silvery scars that gleamed in the moonlight. He had his one arm slung over his eyes, entirely at peace. 

But it was the phantom traits—the ones he had always suppressed out of habit—that truly gave away his blissful state.

Two large, triangular red wolf ears poked through his messy crimson hair, twitching instinctively to the rise and fall of the sonata, catching the delicate nuances of the music. Trailing off the edge of the silk brocade and damask couch was a massive, incredibly fluffy red tail.

When they had first met—back when Shanks was a snarling beast caught in a silver trap—he had hidden these phantom traits. It wasn't until months later, when they finally began sleeping in the same bed, that Mihawk first noticed them. In the deepest, safest hours of the night, the fluffy ears and heavy tail would slip out, only to swiftly vanish the second Shanks woke up in the morning.

When Mihawk had finally pressed him about it, Shanks had sheepishly admitted that suppressing them was exhausting. Because his sharp fangs and slightly pointed claws were permanent and impossible to hide, keeping the ears and tail tucked away was his clumsy attempt at holding onto his humanity.

But fighting it was a losing battle. Wolf instincts naturally demanded that those traits be set free in the presence of a mate—a physical manifestation of absolute comfort and trust.

Mihawk, of course, had immediately made it clear that his husband never needed to hide any part of himself in their home.

Mihawk’s fingers transitioned to the Adagio cantabile—the second movement. The notes were softer now, sweeter, and infinitely more tender.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The heavy red tail began to beat against the expensive damask upholstery. It wasn’t entirely in rhythm with Beethoven’s masterpiece—Nika, knowing Shanks, it would never be—but it was incredibly enthusiastic, vibrating with a deep, instinctual joy. 

Mihawk paused his playing, his pale hands hovering above the ivory Keyes, listening to his biggest fan applaud with his tail against the sofa. He didn’t turn around, but a faint, small smile touched his lips, softening the usually severe lines of his face.

The thumping stopped almost instantly.

Shanks shifted on the couch, lowering his arm from his eyes to look at the vampire’s broad, velvet-clad back. One of his wolf ears flicked forward inquisitively.

“Why’dya stop?” Shanks asked, a small animalistic whine escaping his lips, his voice still a thick, gravelly rumble, heavy from sleep. “I liked that part.”

“It is difficult to properly execute the emotional gravity of the Pathétique,” Mihawk replied evenly, finally turning on the piano bench to face his husband, “when a certain beast is beating a hole into my antique silk.”

Shanks grinned, a lazy, unapologetic expression that exposed the sharp glint of his elongated canines. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch. The massive red tail curled around his waist instinctively, resting comfortably on his lap like a fluffy blanket.

”Can’t help it,” Shanks grinned. “You play beautiful music, Hawky. Makes the wolf happy. Makes me happy.”

You have no appreciation for the technical skill required for this piece," Mihawk pointed out, crossing one long leg over the other. "You are simply reacting to the vibrations."

"I'm reacting to you," Shanks corrected smoothly. He leaned forward, his silver-gold eyes entirely focused, catching the soft light of the candelabras. "You look beautiful when you play. All serious and lost in your own head. It's a good look."

Thump-thump-thump.

The tail started up again, beating happily against his own thigh, completely betraying how pleased Shanks was with his own compliment.

Mihawk stared at the wagging appendage, and then up at Shanks' entirely earnest, lovesick face. A terrible, brilliant idea formed in the ancient vampire's mind.

"Is that so?" Mihawk asked softly. His voice dropped an octave, slipping effortlessly into that smooth, hypnotic cadence that vampires usually reserved for luring prey into the dark.

Shanks’ ears perked up straight, the red fur bristling slightly at the sudden, magnetic shift in his mate's tone. "Yeah."

"You are very easily pleased, Red," Mihawk murmured. He stood up from the rosewood bench, his dark clothes absorbing the moonlight as he began a slow, deliberate glide across the room. He didn't break eye contact. "But I suppose that is one of your more charming qualities. Your absolute, unwavering devotion."

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

The tail’s rhythm frantically increased.

Shanks swallowed hard, his posture stiffening slightly as Mihawk glided closer, stopping right between Shanks' spread knees. "Hawk..."

Mihawk reached out, his cold, elegant fingers gently tracing the line of Shanks’ jaw. The werewolf immediately leaned into the icy touch, a soft, involuntary rumble starting deep in his chest.

"You are a remarkably handsome creature, you know," Mihawk whispered, his thumb brushing over the silvery scars on Shanks’ face. "Even when you are shedding on my upholstery."

The tail was now a blur of red fur, beating furiously against the side of the couch. Whap-whap-whap-whap.

“Yeah?” Shanks breathed, his voice rougher now, entirely captivated.

Mihawk's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile—something far more dangerous. "Hmm. Though I wonder..." He leaned down, his breath ghosting over Shanks' ear, cool against the warm fur. "...just how much control you truly have when you're like this."

The tail went absolutely wild, thumping so hard against the couch that the frame creaked in protest.

"Hawk—" Shanks tried to sound indignant, but it came out as more of a whimper. His free hand came up to grip Mihawk's velvet sleeve. "You're—you're doing this on purpose."

"Doing what?" Mihawk asked, all false innocence. He traced one elegant finger along the edge of Shanks' fluffy red ear, watching it twitch violently under his touch. "I am simply appreciating my husband."

The rumble in Shanks' chest grew louder, somewhere between a purr and a growl. His pupils were dilated, and the tail had now progressed to full-body wagging, Shanks' entire torso swaying with the force of it.

"Bastard," Shanks accused, but there was no heat in it—only breathless affection. "Beautiful, cruel bastard."

Mihawk hummed, satisfied. He straightened up, withdrawing his touch entirely. "Well. If I am such a bastard, perhaps I should return to my piano—"

"No."

Shanks' hand shot out, catching Mihawk's wrist with his one arm. The werewolf looked up at him with those wide, golden-silver eyes, ears flat against his head in the most pitiful expression of betrayal.

The tail had stopped completely, drooping sadly over the edge of the couch.

Mihawk raised one perfect eyebrow. "No?"

"You can't just—" Shanks gestured helplessly with his occupied hand, still gripping Mihawk's wrist. "You can't get me all worked up and then just leave, you heartless vampire."

"Heartless?" Mihawk repeated, his voice soft with amusement. "My heart beats perfectly well when I feed, thank you."

"Mihawk—"

The vampire relented, a genuine smile finally breaking through his carefully maintained composure. He settled himself onto the couch beside Shanks, allowing himself to be immediately pulled into his husband's warmth. The werewolf wrapped his arm around Mihawk's waist, burying his face against the vampire's neck.

Almost instantly, the tail resumed its happy thumping.

"You," Shanks mumbled against cool skin, "are the worst."

"And yet," Mihawk murmured, running his fingers through crimson hair, carefully scratching behind one soft wolf ear, "your tail suggests otherwise."

The thumping intensified.

Shanks groaned. "Traitor."

Mihawk's quiet laughter was a rare, precious sound in the moonlit room—softer than any sonata, sweeter than any symphony. Outside, the wind howled through the ruins of Kuraigana, but inside their manor, a vampire and his wolf were entirely content.

The tail kept wagging.

It always did.

[medusauniforme]

Love them 💜

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[purplelilies]

Com'on Hawky

[blackholesun321]

Some more of my sketches. Mostly one piece and look @the-lizard-lord one piece si’s ZOMBIE. Probably one of my favorite si’s at the moment go check them out. And a few pieces for my friend @mega-ringsandthings-world logue-town au the dog muzzle was inspiring, Moria really goes through it tbh and your Benn as always is just mmmmm I want to climb that man. Also I needddddddd a IWAV mishanks crossover!

References below-