#I’m about to risk it all for live action Alvida

[dinersaturn]

I notice they didn’t change how Alvida looked at the end? I really hope this means Netflix is going the route of not suddenly changing the actress once she’s eaten her devil fruit. I hope people just suddenly think she’s beautiful. Although, they didn’t have Luffy call her ugly or have her crew be in fear of accidentally saying so. Maybe they’ll just avoid it altogether which might be for the best.

[sir-sunawani]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

20 Chapters - 46,838 words

Read it on Ao3 or Wattpad

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 20: Quicksand

When you wake up, you’re no longer in Buggy’s office. As far as you can tell you’re in the basement of the office building. There’re no windows, but the room is fairly well lit. Your immediate area is darker, shaded by a couple coat racks and what is unmistakably one of Crocodile’s coats draped between them. It not only keeps the area darker, but serves to shield the bed from the rest of the room.

The sweet scent of citrus and cigar smoke filled your senses, but along with that was the scent of fresh coffee and warm bread. You had no idea how long you had been asleep, only that you had been so completely exhausted that once you closed your eyes you lost all sense of the world around you.

Most certainly though, you were hungry.

Getting up quietly, you peek around the coat rack and look into the room properly. There are several tables set up in the middle of the room, with shelves lining the walls. Boxes are scattered about, some on the tables, some on the floor, a few mixed in with books and loose sheafs of paper on the shelves.

At one of the tables Crocodile was leaning back against a chair, staring up at the ceiling and blowing long steady lines of cigar smoke into the air. He seemed to be frustrated, but also trying to calm himself down.

“Suwani?” You ask quietly.

He flinches so hard at the sound you’re impressed the chair doesn’t wobble under him. Taking the cigar out of his mouth and setting it on an ashtray he moves to get up as you take a few steps toward him. He looks a little haggard.

“How long was I asleep?”

He glances at his pocket watch before lifting you up into a hug. “Twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes. Much longer and I was going to risk taking you to a hospital.”

“I have perhaps been overworking myself this last year or so.” You admit meekly as you realize how worried he’s been. “I don’t feel very sore, did you do something?”

“My secretary is friends with someone who possesses a healing devil fruit. The power can be preserved within glass jar, so it’s quite useful to have some available for emergencies.” He explains, his hug tightening for a moment before he sets you back down.

“I’m sorry I’ve worried you.” You say kindly, reaching out and caressing his cheek.

“Hmph, considering what I put you through, I’d prefer you never apologize to me again.” He says evenly despite the furrowing of his brows. “Are you hungry?”

“Incredibly.” You answer with a smile. You didn’t agree with the guilt he was feeling, but you could at least understand why he was feeling it. His plans had failed, and it wasn’t just himself or his organization that faced that failure, but also you.

Judging by his actions since your reunion, his feelings for you hadn’t diminished at all in the time you were separated. You feel the familiar pang of guilt, but you had thought him to be gone into the depths for the rest of your lives. There was no shame in having tried to move on when you had believed that to be an absolute truth.

“You mentioned your secretary earlier,” you began, following after him as he pulled the lid off a basket of food. “Miss All Sunday, right? Is she okay?”

“To my knowledge she is alive.” He answers, pulling out a chair for you and inclining his head. You sit with a smile as he pushes you comfortably up to the table. “According to Alvida after she ran into Donquixote, she fell in with the Kings of East Blue.”

“I’m glad she’s alive.” You say as he begins laying out food for you. “She did her best to keep me safe for as long as she could, and I appreciate it.”

“… Then I will wish her well in her new endeavors and leave it at that.” He says, sitting across from you.

“Normally you wouldn’t?”

“Normally, I would not.” He answers candidly.

“Have you slept?” You ask before taking a bite of food.

“Enough.”

“Suwani.” You don’t mean to pout, but you don’t manage to stop yourself.

“I spent the last 24 hours concerned,” he replies sternly. “I wouldn’t have slept well.”

“Humph. Have you eaten?” You question, narrowing your eyes a little.

“I have.” He answers a small smile playing at his lips. “If you’re attempting to look intimidating you are a far cry from such an expression.”

You smirk before you take another bite. “I wasn’t I… I was just…” Your face twists and despite your earlier brevity, emotion twists in your heart. “I just really missed this.”

Crocodile was knelt by the side of your chair with no more than the shifting of sand. “(Y/N), I-.”

You shake your head and cut him off. “No, it’s… you did the best you could. So did I. It’s… no one needs to feel guilty, okay?” You wipe your eyes and turn toward him. Even with him kneeling and you in the chair you were nearly at eye level. “Don’t treat me like glass, and don’t neglect yourself.” You cup his face in your hands, shifting errant strands back before leaning forward and putting your forehead against his.

“Tell me about this glorious plan.” You prompt, kissing him on the forehead before he stands up.

Crocodile leans against the table – practically sitting on it – while you pick at the food provided, and begins to explain the plan.

“The wheels are in motion for Buggy to fill the Warlord vacancy. Once him, and by association his affiliates, are essentially protected, then the alliance between him and Mihawk will be completed.”

“Mihawk? I thought he only cared about his sword skills?”

“Mm, he does, but apparently he has set himself a protégé of sorts, and that relationship has spurred him into more action than he would otherwise take.” Crocodile explains. “Whatever the reasoning within him, I’m only concerned about the alliance.”

“And the point of it? I can’t imagine you’re creating this entire alliance simply to get back at Dingo.” You say nonchalantly.

Crocodile coughs. “Dingo?”

You freeze for a moment, not having realized that you had called him that. “… Yes. It was the most derogatory thing I could risk calling him in my phone.” You’re quiet for a moment before you look up at Crocodile. “Nothing happened.”

“Hm?” He looks down at you with confusion.

“Between he and I, nothing happened. He, I mean, aside from Friday it was almost cordial.” You explain, looking back down at the table. “I just… I don’t know why it felt important to clarify that, but it did.”

Crocodile puts a hand on your shoulder. “Regardless of that he still laid his hands on you without your consent. That is, in itself, enough. That he pulled you into a contractual relationship against your will was, honestly, enough.”

“You make it sound like you would’ve forgiven him if all he had done was send you to prison.” You say with a grunt.

“I would’ve perhaps had a different plan.” Crocodile admits, and something in his voice almost makes you feel bad for Doflamingo, but not quite. “As it is there aren’t too many moving parts. We’ll be leaving the Emperors alone for this, but the fallout may lead to the complete disbandment of the Warlord system.

“Which, as luck would have it, is why we may find support from an unlikely source.”

Your brow knits as you think about it for a moment. “Marines?”

There’s an amused hum from Crocodile. “Indeed.”

“Don’t give me too mu-mu-.” Your sentence is cut short as you yawn. “Much credit. The Marine disdain for the Warlord System is fairly well-known. Though they’re not usually open to direct hostility.” You yawn again and lean back in the chair.

“The hostility has risen since my incarceration. Ironically, his own diversions are going to play a part in his downfall.” Crocodile says, with a grin that suits his namesake.

“I like that,” you admit with another yawn. “I don’t know what it says about me, but I’m looking forward to seeing that smug look cleared off his face.” You yawn again. “Heck, and, uh, I mean, I don’t care what it says about me.” You clarify before Crocodile can say anything.

“Still tired?”

“Mm, my mind is awake, but I think my body needs a nap.” You stretch. “I slept too much and now I need a post-sleep nap to reset.” You look up at him with a smile. “I would love for you to nap with me, if there’s time enough.”

“My love, there will be time for you no matter what.” He says confidently. Your chair is pulled away from the table as the ex-Warlord lifts you into his arms easily.

“You’re sleepy too.” You tease, nuzzling into his chest and nearly dozing off right then and there.

“Perhaps.”

“Will that bed hold both of us?”

“One way or another.”

“What time is it?”

“Late enough for a nap.”

“It can’t be past 4pm.”

“That doesn’t change my original answer, resting through the hottest part of the day is wise.”

“We’re in a basement.” You say, laughing.

“Indeed, which means it’s cool enough for this.”

Crocodile sets you on the bed and begins to unbutton his shirt. You can’t help the heat that rushes into your face, even though you are quite certain you’re going to nap with him. He grins down at you as he pulls the shirt off entirely.

“Lay down and face the wall.” He says, the grin turning devious.

You turn away from him and lay down, as close to the wall as you can comfortably manage. “You’re teasing me,” you say as you feel him lay down behind you.

“Perhaps.”

You can feel the warmth of him enveloping you as his shirt is draped over the two of you. There’s a surreal shifting feeling and his arms are wrapped around you without hardly having moved the shirt. His leg is over both of yours, and you are as warm and cuddled as you could hope to be.

“I feel like… like, pfft-haha!” You start laughing and can feel him hum questioningly. “Like I fell into quicksand or something.” You can feel him twitch against you and chuckle again. “Sorry, it’s a terrible pun all things considered, but-.”

“I was expecting you to call me a sand trap,” he admits, the velvet smooth voice so close to your ear soothes your laughter and puts heat back into your face. “Between the two of us, only one of us suggested going to a hotel after meeting once.”

You grunt. “You didn’t argue.”

“Letting you drive yourself there was one of many displays of restraint.” He admits, the glass fingers of his left hand moving slowly down your side, toward your hip. “You wanted to run, and while part of me wanted to chase you,” fingers slip along your hip, following a line toward your core. “More than anything I wanted to engulf you entirely. To bury you in sand and have you bloom only for me.”

Your leg moves over his, your foot hooking behind his knee and causing your skirt to hike up. You feel over-dressed. You’re warm from head to toe, head clear and needy, body tired and just as needy. You don’t even stifle the soft moan as you shift back against him.

His right hand reaches up from under you, holding your head against his chest, warm fingers cupping your face. Leaving you enough freedom to moan, but not leaving you much room to move. The cool glass finger of his left hand slips under the hem of your skirt and begins to slide along it, pulling it up so slowly you whimper.

“Don’t make me beg,” you whine.

“You wanted to nap.”

“Bury me, Suwani.” You demand, your body tensing in its need.

He pulls your skirt up the rest of the way, cool glass fingers slipping past your panties and finding your clit easily. You gasp in surprise at the rush of movements, and cry out in pleasure as the touch that’s haunted your dreams for over a year sinks into your body.

You can feel the pleasure building inside of you as fingers that long ago committed all your weaknesses to memory dance effortlessly against you. You don’t want him to stop, but you don’t want to be the only one to get any pleasure out of this, and as your hands fumble to reach him you feel the surreal shift again.

You’re under him as he looms over you, and with a few easy movements you’re on your back and he’s between your legs.

“There are quite a few ways I could bury you, my sweet desert flower, but I think I’d like to be direct right now.” He says, bringing your legs together and into one hand as he pulls your panties off and sets them aside before parting your legs on either side of his again. “I’m sure we’ll still have time to rest after this.”

The only delay is the moment it takes for him to put on a condom before he’s pulling your hips toward his. He leans over you, stiff cock slipping against your wet slit as those sharp eyes watch the needy expressions on your face. Leaning closer he kisses you deeply, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he pushes into your pussy.

Moans and all, you are devoured entirely by Suwani.

[quinloki]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 20: Quicksand

When you wake up, you’re no longer in Buggy’s office. As far as you can tell you’re in the basement of the office building. There’re no windows, but the room is fairly well lit. Your immediate area is darker, shaded by a couple coat racks and what is unmistakably one of Crocodile’s coats draped between them. It not only keeps the area darker, but serves to shield the bed from the rest of the room.

The sweet scent of citrus and cigar smoke filled your senses, but along with that was the scent of fresh coffee and warm bread. You had no idea how long you had been asleep, only that you had been so completely exhausted that once you closed your eyes you lost all sense of the world around you.

Most certainly though, you were hungry.

Getting up quietly, you peek around the coat rack and look into the room properly. There are several tables set up in the middle of the room, with shelves lining the walls. Boxes are scattered about, some on the tables, some on the floor, a few mixed in with books and loose sheafs of paper on the shelves.

At one of the tables Crocodile was leaning back against a chair, staring up at the ceiling and blowing long steady lines of cigar smoke into the air. He seemed to be frustrated, but also trying to calm himself down.

“Suwani?” You ask quietly.

He flinches so hard at the sound you’re impressed the chair doesn’t wobble under him. Taking the cigar out of his mouth and setting it on an ashtray he moves to get up as you take a few steps toward him. He looks a little haggard.

“How long was I asleep?”

He glances at his pocket watch before lifting you up into a hug. “Twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes. Much longer and I was going to risk taking you to a hospital.”

“I have perhaps been overworking myself this last year or so.” You admit meekly as you realize how worried he’s been. “I don’t feel very sore, did you do something?”

“My secretary is friends with someone who possesses a healing devil fruit. The power can be preserved within glass jar, so it’s quite useful to have some available for emergencies.” He explains, his hug tightening for a moment before he sets you back down.

“I’m sorry I’ve worried you.” You say kindly, reaching out and caressing his cheek.

“Hmph, considering what I put you through, I’d prefer you never apologize to me again.” He says evenly despite the furrowing of his brows. “Are you hungry?”

“Incredibly.” You answer with a smile. You didn’t agree with the guilt he was feeling, but you could at least understand why he was feeling it. His plans had failed, and it wasn’t just himself or his organization that faced that failure, but also you.

Judging by his actions since your reunion, his feelings for you hadn’t diminished at all in the time you were separated. You feel the familiar pang of guilt, but you had thought him to be gone into the depths for the rest of your lives. There was no shame in having tried to move on when you had believed that to be an absolute truth.

“You mentioned your secretary earlier,” you began, following after him as he pulled the lid off a basket of food. “Miss All Sunday, right? Is she okay?”

“To my knowledge she is alive.” He answers, pulling out a chair for you and inclining his head. You sit with a smile as he pushes you comfortably up to the table. “According to Alvida after she ran into Donquixote, she fell in with the Kings of East Blue.”

“I’m glad she’s alive.” You say as he begins laying out food for you. “She did her best to keep me safe for as long as she could, and I appreciate it.”

“… Then I will wish her well in her new endeavors and leave it at that.” He says, sitting across from you.

“Normally you wouldn’t?”

“Normally, I would not.” He answers candidly.

“Have you slept?” You ask before taking a bite of food.

“Enough.”

“Suwani.” You don’t mean to pout, but you don’t manage to stop yourself.

“I spent the last 24 hours concerned,” he replies sternly. “I wouldn’t have slept well.”

“Humph. Have you eaten?” You question, narrowing your eyes a little.

“I have.” He answers a small smile playing at his lips. “If you’re attempting to look intimidating you are a far cry from such an expression.”

You smirk before you take another bite. “I wasn’t I… I was just…” Your face twists and despite your earlier brevity, emotion twists in your heart. “I just really missed this.”

Crocodile was knelt by the side of your chair with no more than the shifting of sand. “(Y/N), I-.”

You shake your head and cut him off. “No, it’s… you did the best you could. So did I. It’s… no one needs to feel guilty, okay?” You wipe your eyes and turn toward him. Even with him kneeling and you in the chair you were nearly at eye level. “Don’t treat me like glass, and don’t neglect yourself.” You cup his face in your hands, shifting errant strands back before leaning forward and putting your forehead against his.

“Tell me about this glorious plan.” You prompt, kissing him on the forehead before he stands up.

Crocodile leans against the table – practically sitting on it – while you pick at the food provided, and begins to explain the plan.

“The wheels are in motion for Buggy to fill the Warlord vacancy. Once him, and by association his affiliates, are essentially protected, then the alliance between him and Mihawk will be completed.”

“Mihawk? I thought he only cared about his sword skills?”

“Mm, he does, but apparently he has set himself a protégé of sorts, and that relationship has spurred him into more action than he would otherwise take.” Crocodile explains. “Whatever the reasoning within him, I’m only concerned about the alliance.”

“And the point of it? I can’t imagine you’re creating this entire alliance simply to get back at Dingo.” You say nonchalantly.

Crocodile coughs. “Dingo?”

You freeze for a moment, not having realized that you had called him that. “… Yes. It was the most derogatory thing I could risk calling him in my phone.” You’re quiet for a moment before you look up at Crocodile. “Nothing happened.”

“Hm?” He looks down at you with confusion.

“Between he and I, nothing happened. He, I mean, aside from Friday it was almost cordial.” You explain, looking back down at the table. “I just… I don’t know why it felt important to clarify that, but it did.”

Crocodile puts a hand on your shoulder. “Regardless of that he still laid his hands on you without your consent. That is, in itself, enough. That he pulled you into a contractual relationship against your will was, honestly, enough.”

“You make it sound like you would’ve forgiven him if all he had done was send you to prison.” You say with a grunt.

“I would’ve perhaps had a different plan.” Crocodile admits, and something in his voice almost makes you feel bad for Doflamingo, but not quite. “As it is there aren’t too many moving parts. We’ll be leaving the Emperors alone for this, but the fallout may lead to the complete disbandment of the Warlord system.

“Which, as luck would have it, is why we may find support from an unlikely source.”

Your brow knits as you think about it for a moment. “Marines?”

There’s an amused hum from Crocodile. “Indeed.”

“Don’t give me too mu-mu-.” Your sentence is cut short as you yawn. “Much credit. The Marine disdain for the Warlord System is fairly well-known. Though they’re not usually open to direct hostility.” You yawn again and lean back in the chair.

“The hostility has risen since my incarceration. Ironically, his own diversions are going to play a part in his downfall.” Crocodile says, with a grin that suits his namesake.

“I like that,” you admit with another yawn. “I don’t know what it says about me, but I’m looking forward to seeing that smug look cleared off his face.” You yawn again. “Heck, and, uh, I mean, I don’t care what it says about me.” You clarify before Crocodile can say anything.

“Still tired?”

“Mm, my mind is awake, but I think my body needs a nap.” You stretch. “I slept too much and now I need a post-sleep nap to reset.” You look up at him with a smile. “I would love for you to nap with me, if there’s time enough.”

“My love, there will be time for you no matter what.” He says confidently. Your chair is pulled away from the table as the ex-Warlord lifts you into his arms easily.

“You’re sleepy too.” You tease, nuzzling into his chest and nearly dozing off right then and there.

“Perhaps.”

“Will that bed hold both of us?”

“One way or another.”

“What time is it?”

“Late enough for a nap.”

“It can’t be past 4pm.”

“That doesn’t change my original answer, resting through the hottest part of the day is wise.”

“We’re in a basement.” You say, laughing.

“Indeed, which means it’s cool enough for this.”

Crocodile sets you on the bed and begins to unbutton his shirt. You can’t help the heat that rushes into your face, even though you are quite certain you’re going to nap with him. He grins down at you as he pulls the shirt off entirely.

“Lay down and face the wall.” He says, the grin turning devious.

You turn away from him and lay down, as close to the wall as you can comfortably manage. “You’re teasing me,” you say as you feel him lay down behind you.

“Perhaps.”

You can feel the warmth of him enveloping you as his shirt is draped over the two of you. There’s a surreal shifting feeling and his arms are wrapped around you without hardly having moved the shirt. His leg is over both of yours, and you are as warm and cuddled as you could hope to be.

“I feel like… like, pfft-haha!” You start laughing and can feel him hum questioningly. “Like I fell into quicksand or something.” You can feel him twitch against you and chuckle again. “Sorry, it’s a terrible pun all things considered, but-.”

“I was expecting you to call me a sand trap,” he admits, the velvet smooth voice so close to your ear soothes your laughter and puts heat back into your face. “Between the two of us, only one of us suggested going to a hotel after meeting once.”

You grunt. “You didn’t argue.”

“Letting you drive yourself there was one of many displays of restraint.” He admits, the glass fingers of his left hand moving slowly down your side, toward your hip. “You wanted to run, and while part of me wanted to chase you,” fingers slip along your hip, following a line toward your core. “More than anything I wanted to engulf you entirely. To bury you in sand and have you bloom only for me.”

Your leg moves over his, your foot hooking behind his knee and causing your skirt to hike up. You feel over-dressed. You’re warm from head to toe, head clear and needy, body tired and just as needy. You don’t even stifle the soft moan as you shift back against him.

His right hand reaches up from under you, holding your head against his chest, warm fingers cupping your face. Leaving you enough freedom to moan, but not leaving you much room to move. The cool glass finger of his left hand slips under the hem of your skirt and begins to slide along it, pulling it up so slowly you whimper.

“Don’t make me beg,” you whine.

“You wanted to nap.”

“Bury me, Suwani.” You demand, your body tensing in its need.

He pulls your skirt up the rest of the way, cool glass fingers slipping past your panties and finding your clit easily. You gasp in surprise at the rush of movements, and cry out in pleasure as the touch that’s haunted your dreams for over a year sinks into your body.

You can feel the pleasure building inside of you as fingers that long ago committed all your weaknesses to memory dance effortlessly against you. You don’t want him to stop, but you don’t want to be the only one to get any pleasure out of this, and as your hands fumble to reach him you feel the surreal shift again.

You’re under him as he looms over you, and with a few easy movements you’re on your back and he’s between your legs.

“There are quite a few ways I could bury you, my sweet desert flower, but I think I’d like to be direct right now.” He says, bringing your legs together and into one hand as he pulls your panties off and sets them aside before parting your legs on either side of his again. “I’m sure we’ll still have time to rest after this.”

The only delay is the moment it takes for him to put on a condom before he’s pulling your hips toward his. He leans over you, stiff cock slipping against your wet slit as those sharp eyes watch the needy expressions on your face. Leaning closer he kisses you deeply, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he pushes into your pussy.

Moans and all, you are devoured entirely by Suwani.

~Fin

A/N – That’s the end of Book 1 \o/ (Don’t get mad at me, they were supposed to nap.) Quicksand: Warlords is coming soon! I was going to do this all in one book, but I want to, uh, make sure Doffy’s fall is appropriately large and epic – plus there’s a few other things I intend to do in book 2 as well. I considered doing a possibly 50-part long Epic Singular Book, but my brain didn’t like that.

And the happier I keep the brain, the easier the words come out. xD Plus, I think what all I hope to do will be well worth it -^_^-