#buggy requests

[hey-august]

NSFW Alphabet - Buggy

I've always wanted to do one for Buggy, but haven't. Soooo let's use it for requests!

📬 Send in a letter (or a few) me to do. Repeats are fine, as long I don't I run out of ideas. I'll also add everything to this post.

Aug 22 Update: The entire alphabet is complete! If there are any letters that you want to read more about, feel free to send them in a request!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Buggy's aftercare language is food. He'll stumble away, bowlegged and sticky, to get snacks if there aren't any around. And he'll come back arms full of anything and everything, plus a packet of crisps clenched between his teeth.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For Buggy himself, he’s most apt to admit that he likes his hands. They’re the hands of a pirate and a performer. Calloused and agile. Plus he has a thing for nail care and finds it soothing to apply a layer of lacquer in whatever color he’s feeling at the moment. The pop of color really stands out when his hand is wrapped around a thick cock. Or digging into a dripping hole. Fuck, and seeing how many fingers he can fit? Yup, definitely a favorite of his. For his partner, it’s their smile. Aw, sweet. Of course he loves to make them laugh. To see their joy radiate up to their eyes. Even the sad, somber smile they offer the clown in his moments of vulnerability brings him a bit of peace. But there are two specific smiles that knock Buggy head over hills. That pump blood to his cock and leave him feral. First, is the soft breathy smile that slips out when his partner is on top. When his partner pauses to let Buggy’s dick nestle into place, they let out the most dreamy sigh and smile. And Buggy is in heaven. The second smile is when their face is coated in cum. Pearls clinging to their eyelashes, dripping down their cheeks, mixing with the spit on their outstretched tongue. The moment they risk getting jizz in their eyes, just to look up at Buggy and smile gratefully, all he wants to do is paint them again.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

(1) Thick and creamy. A good amount, just right when spread across someone’s chest or face. Buggy’s cum gets a fair amount of distance at first, before it dribbles out the slit for the remainder of his orgasm. It’s a bit bitter and salty, since Buggy does not have the best diet.

(2) Doesn’t mind tasting or eating his own cum. Has done it before because he didn’t want to get up and find something to clean his mess with.

(3) Buggy loves to leave his mark by coming on his partner. Seeing their sweat mix with his cum is a wonderful sight. And if they scoop up some on a finger to taste? Fuck, he’s about to burst all over again. If they’re on their knees, mouth open and waiting, Buggy will “miss” more often than not. They just look so good with his cum dripping down their face.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

(1) Buggy has masturbated in every room in the Big Top.

(2) Lets his disconnected wiener float around the bath like a toy boat.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

(1) (I think I could talk about this for days.) It’s mixed. Sex? Intimate relationships? Buggy is not the most experienced there. He’s dabbled. Had a few auditions. A couple of callbacks, but none ever made it to curtain call. But Buggy is surprisingly experienced in regards to what he gets up to in his personal time. iykwim

(2) Not very, but his enthusiasm and willingness to learn make up for it. Shanks got his first kiss before Buggy, and Buggy asked him so many questions that the “process” was cemented in his mind by the time it happened. He wanted to be ready. He practiced leaning in, tilting his head, pursing his lips juuuuust right, and when to pull away. And he managed to succeed for his first kiss! Sure, he bit their lip too hard and drooled when pulling back, but he earned himself a second kiss. Plus a trip to second base. Okay, so that’s kissing and not sex. But Buggy kept it up. Learning what he can, paying attention to his partner, and doing whatever possible to earn those sweet rewards he deserves.

(3) Buggy knows the basics - where to touch, what feels good, where the little buttons should be. He gets the job done and it’s good. It’s fine. Like pizza - even bad pizza is still good. For the longest time, he did treat it like a job. Sex was a thing to be done to deal with those feelings. To tamp down those urges. To be part of a relationship. It was expected and, as a bonus, his balls were empty. It wasn’t until a certain relationship that Buggy started thinking about sex differently. Less selfishly. He started picking up on the smallest cues his partner gave - moments that made their breath hitched, when they leaned into his touch, how hot their skin was, how flushed,. That’s when Buggy started chasing their high, intent on giving them a trip that left their core aching, legs trembling, and body dripping.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

(1) Doggie for giving and receiving. Deep and it hits all the right spots. Maybe part of it is because of how often he's fucked in this position. Buggy doesn't always like the pressure that comes with eye contact. But when he's okay with being seen or he's craving to see what kind of lewd faces his partner is making, Buggy doesn't have to change positions. A simple rearrangement and his top half is right where it needs to be to see face to face, while his lower half stays and keeps the connection.

(2) Buggy likes to be on bottom. Ride him, pound him, just take care of him. Let him take a break from the spotlight for a moment (even if the show couldn’t go on with out him anyway). Even better when he’s seated. There’s something about the confines of a chair, luxury of a couch, or the power of a throne that gets his dick hard as a diamond.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Buggy the Clown is a goofy fucker. He never stops talking. He always has shit to say. At first, it was a defense mechanism. All the humor and shenanigans kept the real feelings away. How could things get serious if he treated everything like a joke? If people saw a clown, then he’d give them a clown. “Lick it like a candy apple.” “Fuck, you could swallow swords in my show with a throat like that.” “C’mon, I wanna see you juggle these balls in your mouth.” (“I may not be a lion tamer, but I am pussy tamer.”) It dies down over time, but never goes away entirely. Buggy will never pass up an opportunity to invite his partner to the circus tent in his pants.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

For a dirty pirate, Buggy cleans up pretty well. A dusting of chest hair in a lovely shade of blue. A taunting happy trail under his belly button that looks damn near artistic when saturated and smeared with precum and sex. And below the belt, it’s usually trimmed, but always a nice field of fluffy blue. Sometimes he forgets or just doesn’t want to cut it shorter. Secretly, he likes watching his partner’s nose burrow into the curls when he’s balls deep in their throat.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buggy. Is. Smitten. He is head over heels, butterflies in his stomach, feeling a little nauseous during the deed. In the beginning of a relationship, he might be more hesitant to show that side of himself. There would be little signs, though. A clean towel, scented candles, nervous fingers that push strands of hair from his partner’s face, tender kisses that linger and melt. As Buggy gets comfortable, those gestures will grow. His adoration and devotion will come through in how he looks up at his partner through fluttering eyelashes, how he asks if it feels good, do they like it, how he says he wants to make them feel good. How hard Buggy works to hear his name on their tongue, sweet as a honey drop. Buggy’s endless dirty talk will grow softer, losing the rough edges and grit, until it tumbles out in a three word confession. It’s the first time he says it, but it won’t be the last.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Buggy is all for rubbing one out. It’s his stress relief. It’s also his self care, along with high shelf alcohol (stolen, of course) and some smokes, if he’s in the mood. He’ll even lay out a towel on the bed and take his fucking tiiiiiime. And because he has chop-chop powers, there’s a lot of things Buggy can fill this time with - not just wanking the wiener. When Buggy really wants to treat himself, that dick is going anywhere and everywhere.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

(1) …pegging. And double anal penetration. Buggy has fucked his own ass, no doubt about that. But to be stuffed with his own cock and by his partner? This clown is about to be out of commission for a few days. Only a few before he’s asking for it again.

(2) Mirror sex results in the best performances. Buggy rarely feels more like a star than when he’s watching his own lewd faces in the mirror while getting fucked. And Buggy is more than happy to take a backstage position when his partner is in the spotlight. Watching himself disappear into his partner, telling them to keep their eyes open, to move so he has a better view of the show - it strokes his ego hard and fast. But back to Buggy bent over in front of the mirror and drooling. There was one time his partner pushed the clown’s face against the cold silver and said to give himself a little kiss. What. The. Fuck. Licking and kissing the mirror and getting it dirty with spit and tears gave Buggy the most mind-blanking orgasm he’s ever had. In that moment, which stretched into eternity, he was a filthy fuck doll and more than okay with it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Semi-public places! Bar bathrooms, quiet hallways or alleys, empty community rooms. Being able to hear noise from nearby people gets Buggy all riled up. Or knowing that someone could show up at any point and see him and his partner doing the deed… Deep deep down, it’s a weird form of acceptance to Buggy - his partner is willing to risk getting caught fucking the clown.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Physical touch and compliments. Hoo boy, those get his blood flowing. A hand on his shoulder or bicep with a little squeeze - wow, you're really strong, huh? A thumb neatening the lines of his facepaint - which looks so flashy on him. His favorite? The one that makes him feral? Tugging his belt to pull him closer while making out will turn Buggy into a horny mess.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

(1) Earlier in a relationship - anything involving his nose is an absolute turn off. Buggy gets in his head, convinced that it's a turn off for his partner. Deep kisses, swapping spit and moans? His face between their legs? Buggy is trying his damndest to keep his nose from making any contact. The slightest brush and he freezes, ready to bolt. And heaven forbid his nose is bumped during sex and honks. Buggy is fucking out of there when that happens, disappearing in a flurry of limbs.

(2) CBT. It doesn’t quite do it for him and since Buggy can remove his own junk, it adds an extra layer of vulnerability that he’s not ready to deal with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Buggy loves a sloppy blowjob. Loooooves giving and receiving those. Balls that are dripping wet with spit, lips and chin coated in drool, glazed glassy eyes. Hell yes. Eating pussy is one that Buggy needed some time to get into. He couldn’t really practice it on his own and his fucking nose seemed to get in the way more often. Eventually, it clicked. Seeing his facepaint smeared inside his lovers thighs makes him want to keep making a mess. Face deep in those wet folds, licking and eating like a ravenous dog. He’ll stay down there like it’s his fucking job.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough. Buggy wants what he wants. When all the blood is in his dick, all thoughts are out of his head. He wants to fuck and to get fucked. Make it sloppy. Be messy.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hell yes. Buggy is almost always down for something quick and dirty. It doesn’t satiate the hunger, it doesn’t push back the curtain call, but it takes away the edge. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter if there isn’t enough time for a proper quickie. Fooling around is in Buggy’s name, after all.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, but hear me out. Buggy’s interest in experimenting is driven by his image. Pirates swap stories and Buggy has all the best stories. Of course he does, he’s the greatest. And he’s done soooo many things. Really! Getting his dick sucked in a crowded restaurant - check. Stealing a chick from her boyfriend and fucking her in the bar bathroom - check. Then getting a blowjob from the boyfriend - check. Believe it or not, they all had a threesome afterwards and it lasted for days. Look, he still has the rope marks to prove it. Did that all happen? Abso-fucking-lutely. Really? Well…yeah. Sorta. Maybe some of it happened after the told the story. Buggy is a big believer in turning lies into truth. So yeah, Buggy will take risks to live in the reality he creates over stale beer. But he’s also down to experiment so he has more shit to talk about and prove he’s the best.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

(1) One decently long round and a short one later on. Buggy can commit to contributing to those. After that, he’s more prone to just laying there and taking it. Or letting his partner use his body to get them both off. Buggy’s dick is more than willing to go multiple rounds, it’s the rest of him that needs to rest.

(2) If he could, Buggy would go until he passes out. How long that takes depends on how stressed he is, if he actually did any work during the day, how much he’s had to drink, and how good of a dicking it is. But this guy will hump and grind until he’s teary and whining. Until his balls are so empty that there’s almost nothing left to release except a few pathetic drops of mostly-clear liquid. Hands grabbing at the sheets and his partner, practically begging for more while his pretty eyes can’t stay open for more than a second. No, no, no, no, no, he swears he can keep going. Please, please don’t stop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

At first Buggy wasn’t sure how he felt about toys, but he caved eventually. A dildo that he can use in place of his own dick so he can suck and gag on something while jacking off. Buggy also knows how to improvise. Need a gag? Or something to bind wrists? He has a bandana. Ropes and aerial silks are also available at the snap of a finger.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It’s accidental at first. Really. All those little touches, feather light and fleeting, it’s because Buggy is nervous. N-not because he’s unsure about what to do! Definitely not! He just wants to make sure his partner likes what he does. Yeah, that’s it. But all that hesitation, all those moments that don’t last anywhere near long enough, it all builds up. And his partner is only moments away from grabbing the captain’s wrist and keeping him where he needs to be

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This guy is loud. Just look at him! And he is always talking. Buggy cannot keep his mouth shut or the volume down. It’s just not in his nature. Taking care of himself? He’s panting and grunting, muttering to himself about how good it feels. Buggy is immersing himself in the fantasy and will play the role. In bed with his partner? Half the crew got alcohol poisoning from taking a shot every time Buggy shouted his partner’s name. Well, there is one time when Buggy is quieter. Still loud, but just loud enough. Early in the morning, when the sun wishes it could sleep in. When Buggy and his partner are wrapped around each other, entwined as one in a moment that only belongs to them. Any sounds, whispers, promises - it’s just for them and no one else.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

(1) Buggy has cockwarmed himself more than once. No, he’s not squirming because he’s nervous about the meeting.

(2) Sits like he does because his balls stick to his leg. Hehe.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

(1) It’s cute. A little more on the growing side, but there’s always enough showing to know that his partner will have a good time. When erect, it’s truly average length. But c’mon, Buggy can easily get his disconnected dick deep enough to roll eyes and curl toes. It’s thicker than average. Not impossibly so, but there’s a slight worry of lockjaw when blowing him for too long. And it’s wonderfully hefty. Buggy’s cock bounces so beautifully when it’s hard and twitching.

(2) Pierced nipples. Please. Simple barbells usually, with different ends - the usual balls, stars, and sparkley gems. He also has a set that looks like stars encircling his nips, and some with dangling chains for when he’s topless. Buggy has freckles on the tops of his shoulders from a lifetime of sun exposure. He also has spots of hyperpigmentation on his legs, arms, and back from deep bruises that healed but left their marks.

(3) Let’s talk about tattoos. Buggy has a few on his right upper arm and shoulder - mostly nautical themed and his jolly roger of course. There’s a rope knotted around his left wrist, as well. Back to his right side, the ink adorns the side of his chest and creeps down his ribs. Some (most) are shitty stick and poke tattoos. A few he gave himself, benefits of chop chop, and others came from crew members or vagrant pirates met along the seas. Whenever someone asks Buggy what his tattoos mean, he tells some elaborate story and they’re left wondering how much is bullshit and how much is truth. If any. Also. Sometimes Buggy “tests” his facepaint on his dick. A cannon and real Buggy balls. An elephant for the circus, with it’s own circus peanut. The he’s really pleased about is when he paints his penis to look like a clown. Of course. With a saggy bowtie. Buggy even grow out his pubes so the ween-clown had lush hair as well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

(1) Buggy is a horny dude, but not always for sex. Sometimes he likes the intimacy of it all. Naughty touches, steamy make-out sessions, a little grind here and there - they don’t have to end with sex, as long as he and his partner spend plenty of quality physical time together. But he does love having sex. At least once a day, although it might drop if he’s feeling too stressed (or he parties way too hard). And there are some days where he’ll spend the day in bed and raise the average.

(2) There are ups and downs, but let’s talk about the ups. There are times when Buggy is revved and ready to go at a moment’s notice. His pupils dilate and his pants get tight when his partner is near. Any chance he gets, Buggy is whispering (loudly) in their ear about finding somewhere more secluded. If they do slink away, it’s a quickie that’s composed of a handful of sloppy thrusts and the pirate is satiated for all of a few minutes before he’s groping their ass again. It’s a problem, really. For everyone with eyes and ears.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

(1) Too fast. Too fast. Buggy tries to fight it, really. But those eyelids are drooping as fast as his deflating dick after cumming. But back to the aftercare - the poor guy's growling stomach is guaranteed to wake him up juuust long enough to refuel.

(2) Soooo sleeeeeepy. He can’t help it, everything goes fuzzy after sex. Buggy wants to cuddle and drift off to sleep, but he also wants to stay awake. This results in sentences driving off into snores. Hands and legs twitching and jolting himself awake. Offended disagreements - he was not asleep! He was just resting his eyes. He's just resting his head on his partners shoulder for a moment.... *snore*

[nnobodoodles]

Oh wow, I'm absolutely FLOORED by the response on my Strawhat Screenshot Redraws! Thank you so much, been reading all your lovely tags and smiling SO much!! 💖

Here's Part 2 with requests from Insta plus some. Let me know if there's someone else you'd like to see!

[miyuskye]

Oda: draws a funny roger pic

one of his assistants probably: ok i'm gonna make this about shanks and buggy instead

[moonydustx]

Thought for the day - I believe there are two types of boys in One Piece in their relationships with girls, let me explain.

There are those where, outsiders, would never say that the two of you are in a relationship. You walk steps apart, exchanging only the essentials of words between you. However, anyone who looked closely could see that many times, some favors were done just for you, that his eyes always seemed to follow you at every step, protecting you even from afar. It was the type of situation in which the person who dared to mess with you would barely know where the blow would come from. However, when the two of you are alone, prepare for a clingy pair. He loves to make up for all the moments away when it's just the two of you - he holds you in bed for a few more minutes, stealing several kisses before facing the reality of the day, he always offers to accompany you on your explorations, just so he can drag you to hidden places in the city and enjoy the time alone, he will love you (aka fuck) as if that were the last night he would have you in their bed, after all, the next day, you both would just be crewmates again.

Law, Zoro, Marco, Killer, Katakuri, Mihawk, Smoker, Rob Lucci, Sabo (u can't tell me this loverboy wouldn't be the clingest guy in the alone time)

These people practically have your name tied to their existence. He don't exist without remembering your name immediately, accompanied by a smile, after all, anyone who saw - even if they didn't know you two - would know that you were made for each other - even if you are copies of each other's personality or are completely the opposite - you spark something in him that is sharp. They are super protective, yes, but they don't need to worry about following you far away, they know that no one would have enough balls to mess with his girl. Whenever they got into trouble, they immediately asked you for help after all you were one of the people he trusted most. With everyone already knowing about the two of you, he didn't need to make an effort to hide something, whether when he walked hand in hand with you, when he took the lead and asked who dared to interfere with their partner, or when they took advantage of any time free to love you (again, aka fuck) in a messy way, leaving marks and not sparing the noise. After all, everyone already knew that you belonged together.

Luffy, Crocodile, Ace, Kid, Sanji, Katakuri (he can be both versions, I'm sorry whoever disagrees), Franky, Shanks, Rayleigh, Buggy, Sabo (again, this sweetie fits for any side here)

-

a/n: I don't think anyone was missing, but if you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them here

[alfheimr]

OP collection

[bukobean]

[plutoswritingplanet]

could you do a request of Buggy (opla) falling for Luffy’s older sister? (Adopted or blood relation, doesn’t matter) like he takes her hostage but she doesn’t seem to mind. She know she can escape at any time, but keep annoying buggy to a point where… he doesn’t see her as a hostage anymore, more like treasure? And she starts to maybe feel something for the clown?

You Started It (Buggy The Clown x Reader)

a/n: how did i know the first request will be about the clown lmao. i took some liberties when writing this but i hope you still like it <3

Warnings: Buggy Being Kind Of An Asshole, Captivity, Some Suggestive Themes

Summary: Poking the bear isn't the wisest things you could be doing in your particular situation.

Part 2.

You've memorized every nook and cranny of your shoes. The time you've spent in containment has really opened your eyes, when it comes to how little you actually knew about the clothes you were wearing. For example, your right shoe was slightly bigger, molded by your foot. You must be putting more weight onto your right leg, when standing. The hem of your shorts is made with a very close cross stitch, making them slightly sturdier and thicker. Right where the material folds, just above your knee, you've managed to pick out a small hole, the strings of abused material hung sadly and tickled your skin.

There wasn't really much to do, while being kept in a cage, in the backstage of a circus which belonged to the infamous Buggy the Clown. Well, except studying the stains on your shoes and waiting for the Captain to visit you, which he did quite frequently.

"Entertainment purposes" is the reason he declared, when you've asked him why on earth is he keeping you locked up in a hanging cage. But you weren't so easily fooled. You knew from the start, that the role he has envisioned for you to play, was that of a Hostage and Bait. So, inevitably, when your younger brother and his merry band of misfits come to save you, he'd be able to even out the score. Which was a shitty plan, in your opinion.

They've kicked his ass before, they can do it once again.

So, that's why you're here, feet dangling above the floor, as you hum to yourself. Anything to pass the time. That is, until you hear the door to the backstage open, and a familiar tone of voice calls out.

"Hostage!"

Really, how did he even expect you to stay in the dark about his plan, while calling you like this? The man was clearly insane.

Buggy the Clown stands before you, makeup disheveled as always, with his Captain's hat abandoned in favor of a striped bandana. He's excited, which is evident, by the way he can't seem to stop moving, jumping from one leg to the other, hands fidgeting at his sides.

"How are you feeling, my dear Hostage?" he asks with fake concern, and just as your mouth opens to answer, he interrupts "Ah, never mind that, I don't care."

You don't even try to hide the annoyed expression on your face.

"You can sing" he states matter-of-factly, pointing a finger right at you.

"Barely."

"Can you dance though?"

"Barely as well."

He hums in thought, pacing the floor in front of your cage. Finally, he stops, looking at you with his head tilted to the side. His eyes rake over your body, and it brings a sudden wave of discomfort to your bones.

"You'll be performing in our next act."

Again, his tone leaves no space for an argument. Still, you were never an agreeable person, smiles were more of your brother's thing. So, you straighten out as much as the cage allows you and cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Do whatever you like, my brother will get me out of here before you can say Welcome to my big show".

"Welcome to my big show" he says immediately, then, raises his finger, as if he's waiting for the entire crew of Strawhats to fall from the sky.

They don't, obviously, and he gives you a pointed look, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

"Besides" he turns around and opens one of the chests laid out on the table "Aren't you a bit old to dote on your younger brother so much?"

The question genuinely offends you, and as he pulls out another bandana, this one red, covered entirely with big white polka dots, your eyes glimmer with venom.

"Aren't you a bit old to play dress up?"

He turns in a blink of an eye, and with terror mixed with disgust you watch his hands detach from his body, slamming into the cage. The force of impact sends it flying right into the nearby wall, the back of your head smacks against the metal bars. The swinging of the cage coupled with the stars erupting before your eyelids from the impact make you feel dizzy.

Then, Buggy takes a step towards the cage, connecting his hands with the rest of his body, and your prison stops swinging in an instant.

"I should kill you for that" he says lowly, his blue eyes bearing into your face.

"You started it" you choke out an accusation, trying very hard not to vomit.

He stays completely quiet, just watching you for a long while, his hands slowly loose tension. Then, as if his rage has entirely dissolved, he smiles, teeth completely exposed, as his cheeks crease. God, you'd do such a better job at his make-up, given the chance.

"You're funny, Hostage" he shakes his head, and suddenly, for some unknown reason, it downs upon you, just how close to you, he's standing.

"Sing for me some more" he says.

And then, his hands push back with sufficient force to send your cage flying again. You groan at the movement, another wave of nausea almost making you loose your breakfast. When you finally have the perfect, biting comeback, he's already gone, the door slamming after him. You're alone again.

A sigh escapes your lips, as you press your forehead to the cold metal of the cage. You've already memorized all the details of your own clothes, and the room was too dark to see anything more. So, you start observing the cage. The way the light shifts up and down on the bars, the way the brown paint seems to peel away under your thighs. Then, you look up, towards the place where all the bars have been stuck together.

And then your eyebrows furrow. Because just above the ceiling of the cage, you can see something poking out. Something roughly the size of a fist and colored a pale, fleshy color. You raise yourself slightly in your seat, to get a better look, and immediately regret doing so.

It's an ear. His ear. Detached and placed right on top of the cage. That's how he knows about your singing, the bastard.

An idea brews in your brain, mischief spilling out of your growing smirk. You pull yourself up, until you can reach the top of the cage. Your arm is just slender enough to slip past the bars, and your fingers brush against the cold flesh of the ear. Before Buggy, wherever he is, can react, you snatch the ear from the top of the cage, keeping a tight grip, as it starts to jump in your hand.

Then, you take a deep breath, place the ear close to your lips… And give the most blood-curling, shrill scream you could muster.

Immediately, you hear a string of curses coming your way, and a second later Buggy bursts into the room, a murderous expression on his face. You open your hand, and the ear nearly bursts out of your fingers, flying back to it's owner like some sort of deformed beetle. The sight, for some reason, is so incredibly funny, you can't help but choke out a little giggle. Which soon becomes a quite big giggle, which in turn morphs into a full blown laughter.

You can't see the Captain through the tears of laughter forming in your eyes, so when he knocks on the metal bars of your cage, you nearly choke from surprise. He's looking at you strangely. Not quite as angry as before, but there is something else lurking behind his eyes. As if he's enveloped deeply in his thoughts, but at the same time completely present and focused on you. Your laughter dies down in an instantly, and you reach up to wipe your tears, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"I've captured myself a comedian, huh?" the man leans closer to the bars of the cage, placing his forehead against them and looking at you from below "You trying to take my place as the funniest person in the circus? Hm, Hostage?"

You risk a smirk, leaning down towards him. He watches your movements with a curious expression, eyes darting all over your face.

"Yeah" you whisper "So, you better watch your back."

At that, he smiles one of his brilliantly wide smiles. This one however, seems the most honest out of every one you've seen up to this point. You try not to linger too much at the way his eyes seem to shine in the dimly lit room. Or how the stubble on his face makes his features sharper. Or even on the way his arms flex as he leans against the cage. And definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, you're not focusing on the fact, that he's standing nestled right between your dangling legs.

So, before your brain conjures up any unwanted ideas, you clear your throat again and straighten up. Buggy notices the shift in your posture, but doesn't move, instead it seems as if a lightbulb has literally appeared beside his head. Desperate to change the subject, which hasn't been even brought up yet, you wave your hand in the general direction of his ear.

"Your ability is pretty useful" you try to sound as neutral, as humanly possible.

"Oh?" he tilts his head back and gives you a suspicious look.

"Yeah, that eavesdropping thing was really cool… And slightly disgusting" your nose scrunches "But mostly cool."

He hums low in his throat, his hands slowly letting go of your cage. Still, he remains standing between your legs, your knee brushing against his prominent hip bones.

"Are there" you swallow "Any limits to this ability?"

Now, his eyebrows jump straight under his bandana, and you definitely do not like the slow smirk filling his features.

"I mean, like, can you detach your nose? Or um… I don't know, your fingernails?"

Finally he steps back, stretching his arms to the side, as if he's giving you a show, and in a way, he does. There are muscles, hidden under those circus clothes. His exposed forearms are nicely shaped, with thick veins running the length of them. You really don't mean to ogle the man, but fuck, he is handsome. In an "insane-sadistic-clown-who-is-also-a-pirate-for-some-reason" way.

"I can detach every single part of my body with no effort" he says, his smile growing.

Before you could really think about your actions, your gaze falls downward, right to his belt keeping his trousers up. Mortified, that your brain would even go there, you tear your eyes up, and with a horrified expression, look upon a face full of excitement.

Then, Buggy raises his hands to his heart, feigning a scandalized expression, which would've been funny, if you weren't currently blushing in the lovely shade of a ripe beetroot.

"I'm sorry… that's not… I didn't" your words come out a jumbled mess, and Buggy wheezes out a laugh.

"Oh would you look at that" he puts his hands behind his back, as he slowly starts to stalk towards your confinement "You know, with how sheltered your little brother is, I didn't expect you to be such a dirty pervert."

You choke on air, arms flailing inside the cage, as you genuinely are at a loss for words, You can feel your face grow impossibly hot, the heat spreading all the way to the tops of your ears. The Clown still advances, until his face is pushed right between the bars of the cage, a smile on his lips and a glint in his eye. You don't know what to do with yourself, as the man continues to laugh at your outrage.

Finally, his right hand flies from behind his back and stops right above his head. Then, as if making a show specially for you out of his unusual abilities, he lets his pointer finger remove itself from the hand. Involuntarily, you make a face, and try to push yourself as far into the cage, as humanly possible. Which, given the size of your prison, does practically nothing. The finger aims straight at your nose and presses it with slightly more force, than a friendly "boop" would.

"You started it" he throws your own words back at you, and watches your dumbfounded expression with a smile and a giggle.

Finally, he steps back, all his body parts in place, and you can breathe again at last. Then, with a flourish, he bows down before the cage, before giving you a slightly unbalanced twirl. At that, you can't help but smile, almost fondly. He's not so bad, when he isn't actively trying to murder you and your friends.

"Anyways, get ready, your grand performance is in a week" he concludes, and you sigh deeply.

So he hasn't let this one go.

No matter. A week from now, you'll be out of this place. The thought fills you with joy, and strangely, with some sort of melancholy, which you have to jot down as nausea, just to protect your own mental health.

"Hostage" the man says, as a goodbye, bowing once again, this time with fewer theatrics, and begins to walk back towards the door. "Captain" you respond in kind, inclining your head slightly.

He stops in his tracks, back turned to you, before slowly, twisting his body, to look you in the face. He wants to say something, his mouth opens and closes, and anticipation floods your stomach. But then, his lips pull back into one more smile, more reserved, more private. Now, in this rare moment of tranquility, he looks truly handsome, and your heart jumps to your throat at the realization. He gives you one last look, shakes his head at the floor, and exits with a soft click of the door.

You're, once again, left alone with your mismatched shoes and the hole in your shorts. This time, however, your head is filled with tender thoughts, one that could keep you company, until another visit befalls you.

[kabutoden]

mind controls you to make bugstuck cronus

MANIPUL8ED.... yah heres ya guy!! the purple. the greasy

[sordidmusings]

Loose Lips (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: Fulfillment of this request! Thank you for making a request dear anon 💕 I really hope that it's what you wanted because it kind of grew into a whole thing 😬 also this is going to be this week's Thirsty Thursday!

@fanaticsnail brilliantly suggested this song for the fic!

Word Count: ~5.7k (~3.1k of smut 💀)

Warnings: Fem!afab!reader, NSWF very naughty indeed, praise, degredation, p in v, chop chop tomfoolery, overstimulation, creampie, dirty talk, dom!Buggy, jealous and heavily possessive Buggy, manhandling/forceful treatment, Gossip time with The Girls (probably ooc but let me have this), trashing your partner (he deserves it), allusions to gaslighting and emotional abuse, starts with humor then just needy but then devolves into lots of smut I promise 💀, some fluff at the end cuz I had to

~Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of endless perversion~

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy had the most shit-eating grin, and it only grew wider with each word you said. He was sunk deep into his chair, feet thrown on the table in front of him, nursing his fifth beer. Taking another gulp, he eyed you over the rim of his tankard. You were only starting your third drink, but to his delight that was enough of a buzz for you to loosen up. Normally, you were quite the skittish little thing around him, and while it was cute he wanted to see and know more of you. He’s always been quite infatuated with you and wished that he had more time with you to sate his want for your presence (and to fuel his fantasies). Tonight, that wish was granted when you had seated yourself next to him instead of your normal drinking buddies on the crew. It may have been Mohji’s usual seat, but whatever you claimed in his presence was immediately yours to him. Mohji was also easy to convince with a warning glare and sharp nod to the chair beside Cabaji.

Speaking of your usual drinking buddies, one in particular had taken to giving Buggy quite the sour look. It only fed Buggy’s smugness more. He wasn’t exactly a fan of your boyfriend in the first place. His dislike was quickly turning into disdain as well with the picture you had been painting for him. It was filled with unappreciated gestures, expected caretaking with no reciprocation, and an absolute bulldozing of your emotions. Clearly, this man boy didn’t deserve you. Possibly not even a spot on the ship with how poorly he’d been treating Buggy’s favorite. That’s probably why said boy was looking so pissy and threatened over there in his corner with your friends. Buggy raised his drink in a sarcastic cheers to him while you were distracted with a joke Cabaji had made at your partner’s expense. When your chuckles tapered off, your face started to pinch with apprehension.

“I feel kind of bad. I mean, you’re his crew and captain and I’m just here bitching to you,” you lamented. Your eyes widened with a sudden thought and you groaned. “Oh no, I must sound like a bratty teen gossiping about their partner.”

“Sounds like you’ve already tried talking it out with him,” Cabaji said. At your shy nod, he continues, “Then fuck it - you gotta get it out.”

“I know, but it’s all so stupid and trivial.” You were hunching back into yourself, staring down at your fingers while they played with your glass in your lap. There’s a flick on your forehead, and your head darts up to see Buggy’s hand floating back to him.

“S’not stupid if you’re upset,” he asserts, much to your astonishment. Buggy always struck you as more of the “suck it up buttercup” type. Wait, he was; you’d seen him bark or laugh at pouting crew members more often than not. You had seen him give some comfort, too, but it was always for something inarguably large in scale. Unexpected sympathy from the torch you’ve held longest should have been enough for you to cheer back up, but the vicious fight you’d had with your partner this afternoon still had all your thoughts trending negative. The confrontation had been brewing for a long while, but knowing it was coming didn’t shield you from the hurt.

“Then it’s pathetic,” you argued. “I mean, only sad lovers in sappy plays cry themselves to sleep right?” You tried to play it off as a joke, but the laugh you used to chase it was hollow.

“You’ve been crying?” Mohji asked, worry showing in his face and voice. Next to him, Cabaji scowled and Buggy sat up straight, even placing his feet on the floor.

“Yeah but I’m just being dramatic; I’m a bit oversensitive,” you said, echoing the words your boyfriend had long worked into you.

“No,” Buggy bit out. “I’ve seen you stare down pirates twice your size, coming at you cussing and swinging. You passed the berating month when you got here, and that has had lesser pirates sob their way back off the ship. Hell, you’ve been stabbed and you were more concerned with your friends crying about it.” Buggy snorted and shook his head, distracting you with the way the blue hair swayed from his hat. His heavy leather boots plonked back on the table, rattling the cups and plates, and he shuffled back down into his seat. The look he gave you was bordering on offended. “You’re not dramatic or too sensitive.”

You think your heart may burst - did he really have such a strong opinion of your character? You may have sought Buggy’s presence out because you were upset and you feel protected around him, but you never would’ve dreamed that the outcome would feed your infatuation such a hefty meal.

“He’s been feeding you bullshit hasn’t he?” Cabaji butted in, tone full of contempt.

“He might have… been the one to tell me that first,” you answered hesitantly. Your brows furrowed. Did you really think that of yourself or had he thought it loud enough for the both of you? Was he the only one who thought it? You became stuck looking for answers in the dark liquid in your cup. Meanwhile, the looks Buggy gave your boyfriend had taken on a lot more accusation and threat than teasing.

“See now that’s pathetic,” Cabaji scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “A man who has to belittle his partner is no man at all.”

“Yeah, he’s probably scared ‘cause he knows half the crew would gun for you if you left him,” Mohji laughed. It got you to perk up a touch and giggle with him. Buggy’s hard expression eased at the sound and the sight of a genuine smile pressing at your cheeks.

“Ah, some actual attention would be nice,” you sighed wistfully. Your voice became bitter when you muttered, “Besides digs and requests for sex of course.” Buggy choked on his drink, causing him to pound on his chest in an attempt to recover quickly. The other two were hooting at both your partner’s and Buggy’s expense.

“He’s that bad that he has to beg for it?” Cabaji snarked gleefully.

“Unfortunately,” you grumbled, pouting into your drink. “I don’t really find him attractive anymore either.”

“Oh no, sweetcheeks,” Buggy admonished, “You should not put up with some manipulative brat who can’t even please you.” Beyond his distaste for seeing you upset and mistreated, his glee at the wedge between you and your partner left him feeling fluttery. He did have a small pit twisting in his gut though; why would you even go to him if you were barely attracted to one of his most handsome men?

“See, this is why you’re my favorite,” you sighed dreamily, smitten from hearing him send a pet name your way and from his persistent defense of you. Your words and the lovesick look you gave Buggy had him short circuit. He needed to grab at this train of thought and pull the whole thing from you.

“I’m your favorite?” Buggy rushed out. Cabaji and Mohji smirked at each other before looking back to see how this played out.

“Well, um, yeah it’s always been you,” you mumbled. Before you could stop it, your mouth kept moving. “I’ve always wanted you but felt stupid doing anything about it. You’re just really impressive with how well you run the ship and with your chop chop thing and how you don’t turn people away because they’re different and you’re always there for us when we really need you and also your hair is really pretty and you’ve taken really good care of me - um - all of us and you’re so strong and really hot doing like anything and I should-” you finally took a breath “-I should shut up.”

Buggy stared at you wide eyed, mouth agape. The duo next to him was trying to keep in their snickers and doing just an awful job of it. You took another gulp of your drink for something to do. Gods, you don’t think your face has ever felt so hot. You cleared your throat and said, “I think I should-”

“You’re breaking up with him,” Buggy told you. You blinked.

“I am?” you asked, not upset with the idea but confused at the sudden order.

“You are,” Buggy confirmed. His drink was placed on the table with a firm clunk, which his feet echoed on the floor. When he stood before you, you had to crane your neck up to see him with how he loomed into your space. His expression was one you’d never seen on him before; he looked ready to snatch you up and bite down. His sea-green eyes glimmered through the shadows cast across his face. He jerks his chin at the drink in your hand. “That’s your third right?”

“Yes, Captain, my um-” you gave an embarrassed smile “-my mouth gets affected far before everything else.”

“So you feel okay?” he checked one more time, eyes boring into your own and making you feel naked. 

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good,” he started, leaning even more over you and placing his gloved hands on your cheeks. The fabric felt soft and warm and you found yourself leaning into it. “Then you are coming with me.”

Buggy stepped back, leaving his arms with you. One moved around your back and the other behind your knees. They lifted you up and brought you to him in one smooth motion. You still yelped without any jerking, bringing attention to yourself from many of the drinking pirates crammed below deck with you. Flustered, you hid your face in the soft fur lining his coat. Buggy turned to his two highest ranked men. He took in their shit-eating grins and sneered back, mostly in jest.

Buggy moved his look over at your group of friends and most importantly your (ex-)boyfriend. While your friends mostly looked confused (and one giving a thumbs up), the idiot of the hour was livid. Buggy smiled slow and wide, making his canines shine threateningly in the flickering lamplights, and he detached a hand just to flick his fingers in a cheeky wave.

“Cabaji. Mohji.” They straightened at his tone. “Let that one know he’s no longer on my crew and he figures out a way off the ship by tomorrow night or I’m throwing him overboard.”

“Aye, Captain!” They both cheered, tipping their drinks his way.

“Now,” Buggy said softly. He turned and began walking in long strides, expertly weaving through the passing plates, flailing arms, and spinning bodies of his merry band of misfits. The gentle bob and sway of being in his arms managed to settle your scrambling heart and mind, if only a bit. He paused when he reached the stairs to the upper deck. The cheek he leaned down onto the top of your head calmed you even further. “You’re coming with me to my cabin to make up for lost time. Okay?”

Your heart thudded strongly and pressed up at your throat. Your eyes burned. He was still checking in? To give yourself a moment to get rid of the lump in your throat, you turned your head and gave a few soft kisses to the base of his neck. Even through his cravat, the action made him shiver. Finally, you answered, “Yes, Captain Buggy.”

The flight up the stairs and to Buggy’s cabin was much swifter and more impatient. Both of you found yourselves thanking the Gods for his devil fruit abilities when they let him open the way without sacrificing his hold on you. He refused to release you until he was kicking his door shut behind him and tearing off his jacket. You took the time to admire the way the muscles in his arms moved as he threw off his hat. His upper body popped up and flew to you so his legs could work at toeing off his boots. You welcomed him to you with open arms and grasping fingers.

Buggy’s grip around you was demanding, one hand fisted in your hair and the other fisted in your shirt. You happily listened to their directions, pushing further into him and offering him your lips. His decorated eyes closed and his painted lips dove to feel yours, only to stop just a hair short. 

“After this you’re mine.” His voice rumbled against your chest and his lips tickled against yours with each syllable. There was a jolt as his legs got back to his body, causing your lips to brush in the closest mimic of a kiss yet. You whined right against the brush of his red lips and pawed at the front of his shirt to ask for more. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Captain.” The words were barely out of your mouth before he was stealing the breath from your lungs. The kiss immediately became open mouthed; he had needed to taste you since he set eyes on you and he had deprived himself of the chance long enough. It was full of dancing tongues, eager lips, and bumping noses and it was better than you had let yourself hope for. 

“You have any idea how long that fucker kept you from me,” he growled. His arms kept you to him in the fervent kiss but his hands flew off to start undoing your pants. Their movements were jerky and rushed and the tugging at your pants made the garment rub pleasantly across your skin. Your body felt alive with the taste of his lips, the pressure of his arms and the pulling of his hands.

“You’ll never think of him again,” Buggy promised darkly between kisses, while his hands began harsh tugs to get your pants and underwear down. When you were stepping out of them, he finally moved back far enough from you to let his hands work on ripping your shirt over your head. Buggy’s lips were back on you before your hair even had time to settle back into place. He nipped your bottom lip and kissed his way to your ear. His hands were making quick work of your bra. “I’m going to replace every bit of his touch on your body with my own.”

Shivers trembled through your body at the feeling of his words being breathed into your ear. The tingling sensation bouncing under your skin only intensified when his hands wedged between your chests and began thumbing at your hardened nipples. While he started walking backwards to the bed, you set on undoing his too numerous belt buckles. You needed to feel his skin on you now. At your unhappy moan, Buggy had his hands help you.

“Impatient?” he teased. He got another whine for his answer. At last, all his belts were undone. The thick one from his waist thunked onto the floor and his shirt followed soon after, pushed off by hurried hands sweeping from pec over shoulder. You hummed at the feeling of his chest hair against your palm and his muscles flexing and moving in your grip. Your arms then wrapped behind his neck, pulling him in to feel his chest press to yours. You jumped at the unexpected feeling of his chest hair teasing at your nipples, making them send pleasant tingles across your skin. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you in just as tightly, making you feel caged and at his mercy. Groping hands separated from his arms to work at the flesh of your hips and ass, the fabric of his gloves causing extra friction.

Buggy’s lips had made their way back to yours, trailing burning kisses and red paint, and his prodding tongue slid back through your parted lips. Your hurried fingers pulled the bandana from his head and scratched across his scalp, setting his hair free. Blue waves cascaded down to tickle your arms and sweep at your cheeks. Your hands broke through the curtain of his soft hair to rid him of his cravat. While your hands continue seeking ways to touch him, his hands left you to swiftly yank each glove off. When his touch came back to you, Buggy moaned loudly at the feeling of your bare, flushed skin under his fingers and palms.

His hands massaged their way down to the backs of your thighs. While he sat himself down on the bed, he used this grip to pull you into his lap. You shivered and moaned as your bare pussy finally got some friction against the leather of his pants. Even through the thick material, you could feel his length twitch against you. An iron grip clamped onto your hips and set the pace of your needy grinding. “Fuck, sweets, you’re gonna ruin my pants. That wet already?”

“Can’t help it,” you whined. “I’ve wanted you so long.” You emphasized your words by grinding down more firmly against him, sliding easily through your slick on the supple leather.

“Fuuuuck,” Buggy groaned low, throwing his head back at the sensations sparking through him with each push of your hips. He pressed back into you with more insistence. “Wanted to take more time with you, treasure, but you’re making it fucking hard.”

He used his chop chop powers to stay attached to you again, separating from his feet so he could float you two to the center of the bed. The weightlessness and tipping of your balance shot adrenaline through you and had your weight increasing the pressure of his hard on against your clit. You dragged nails down Buggy’s chest in your bid for stability, earning a grumbling moan from him.

You may have been the one on top of him, but it was clear from his controlling hands and commanding lips that he was the one in charge. You’d let him keep that power forever if it meant you kept getting to feel his touch tearing into you and taste his skin and tongue and teeth. The smell of your own arousal mixing with the hazy scent of him emanating from his body and sheets had your muscles turning liquid, save the ones helping your hips lure pleasure from his. 

At the next drag of his hips across your cunt, you felt the pressure slide downward and leave you. Your thighs still felt his torso squeezed between them but the lack of support under your pelvis startled you and you began to pull back.

“No, no, sweet thing,” Buggy soothed, “Stay right here.” He trapped you to him with a hand to the back of your head and the other gripping the back of your shoulder. Your sense came back to you a little bit, reminding you of the chop chop fruit, and you relaxed slightly. Foggy eyes watched you as your muscles loosened and you eased back down for your mouths to meet again. The hand in your hair became a fist, urging you even closer, while the other disappeared. The feel of smearing makeup added to the delicious mess of the kiss, all wet lips and sliding tongues.

You slowly raised your hips up in the air, pressing your chest more firmly into his and relieving your thighs of the burn from keeping yourself hovered. Your elbows took the rest of your weight and your hands clung to Buggy’s shoulder and bicep. The air of the room sent a chill through you with how it contrasted to the wet heat you had presented. You weren’t chilled for long though; the draft of the room suddenly stopped reaching you and the bed dipped between your knees as a weight settled there. You felt knees nudging the inside of your own further apart and you happily let them, eagerly arching your cunt even higher.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Buggy growled against your lips. Warm skin met the back of your thighs then the plush of your ass. You let out chirping moans, muffled against his mouth, in burning joy when you felt the slide of his bare cock drag through your lips. “Such an eager little bitch for me; you ever go ass up for him?”

“No,” you panted. “N-no -hah- never, Captain.” Buggy nipped at your lips before he started his way down to your neck. You eagerly arched your chin up and out of the way, getting rewarded with a boiling hot lick across your pulse. Between his ravenous mouth and grinding hips, you were losing track of anything but the impulse to chase what feels good. And all of his touch ravaging over you felt so fucking good. 

The way your hips circled back into his had Buggy losing his mind - he needed to grab at every piece of you, feel you under lips and tongue and teeth and nails, and he needed to feel your warm swollen walls wrapped around him. A thought occurred to him and his mouth flung to your ear.

“Has he ever fucked you raw?” It came out as more of an angry snarl than real words. “Did you let yourself be his little slut?” Hips pressed forward meanly, nearly lifting your knees off of the bed with how he was forcing you to arch. “Answer me.” A hand clamped onto your jaw. Fingers released your hair to dig into the sides of your neck.

“No, sir!” you gasped, delicious pain bringing you back some clarity.

“My perfect girl.” You felt the grumble of his voice vibrate from his chest to yours. Your jaw was released. The punishing pressure on your spine eased as Buggy backed off, only to use his free hand to guide your hips back into greedy grinds. You wanted his handprint marked there forever, and Buggy wouldn’t disappoint. The grip controlling your neck jerked you to look him in the eyes. They were blurry and black with lust, looking like they would be quenched by nothing less than swallowing you whole. “Waiting for your Captain to be the one in your cunt? Already knew that you’re my whore?” The clumsy huffs and moans of “yes” that spilled from your mouth went straight to Buggy’s cock, each one making it throb against you.

“Let me.” His knees pressed at yours and you spread even wider, opening up enough for your clit to constantly rub between the base of his cock and his heavy balls. “Gotta be inside you - own every part of you.” His dominating grip on your hip forced the long grinds into tight circles weighted on your clit. Buggy tugged you down in a quick, needy kiss, tasting the whines on your tongue. “Fuck, give it to me; be mine and I’ll fuck you like this every day, buy you anything you want, do anything you want.”

You were so close already, head buzzing from his rabid pleas and the restricting grip into the sides of your neck. Your heartbeat had moved to pound between your hips, matching the rhythm of his hips grinding into you. If it weren’t for his hand at your neck, your head would’ve lolled forward to leave you drooling against his chest.

Buggy’s detached hand slid over your ass to guide the head of his cock to press at your twitching entrance. The moment he was lined up, his hand flipped down to cup your mound and grind the heel of his palm over your swollen bud. His head stretched you wider than you’re used to and you were already tripping over the edge when you felt yourself pop over the rim of his tip. “Gods, fuck, sweets, you feel like heaven.” He kept sliding in, the stretch not easing as he worked you open. “Never -nnngh- leaving this cunt.” The forearm around your back forced you into his chest even harder. “Gonna tie you up and fuck you all day, shit!” His hips finally met yours, rooted right above the palm still massaging at you.

The first drag back, full of his mushroomed tip pulling at your clenching walls, was your favorite thing you’d ever felt. You could only manage its deliberate push and pull, ending with a shove you felt pressing through your stomach, three more times. “Yes -hahh- yes, y-yes -nnnnghaahh- yes, yes, yes yesyesyes”

Bright pleasure tore up your spine to explode in your head and fizzle out through your every muscle. Your eyes screwed shut, your feet kicked up to clench by your jolting hips, and your fingers dug and trembled into Buggy’s skin. You shoved your head down, forehead pressing into the sweaty side of Buggy’s neck, open mouth gasping out hot air and high pitched moans. Distantly, you heard him darkly muttering, “Fucking hell, good slut, goddamn you’re perfect -mmmmnnhh- my perfect girl.”

Buggy’s grip on you became bruising as he held off on cumming with you. He’d just barely got a taste of the squeeze of your cunt and he needed more. He’d grit his teeth in desperation when he felt you milking him so soon after he had adjusted to the blissful feeling of sinking into you. Now he was absolutely sure he was going to steal you away and keep you forever. He needed to feel your pleasure and desperation at his touch every second of every day for the rest of his life.

“Such a whore, so eager to cum for me,” Buggy praised. He was brushing your hair from your face with shaky fingers, guiding you back from your orgasm. He continued his steady thrusts into you but eased up on his palm when your body went limp. You looked absolutely pathetic slumped against him, ass held in the air still being used for his pleasure.

“That stupid boy ever get you to sound like that?” he goaded. The closest you got to giving a response was a breathy “nuh”. Buggy kissed at your hairline and began picking up the speed of his hips. “That’s what I thought. Now be a good pussy and milk me dry.”

Buggy’s thrusts became punishing and insistent, chasing the blissful pulsing clench of your cunt that he felt at the end of every full stroke. The heel of his palm jostled your clit with each slap of his hips against you, slipping easily against you from how much he had you dripping. Even so, your nerves burned in a way that was just slightly too much. You arched harder to try and lighten the sensation but that only angled your hips so that he hit his hand harder on each thrust. Every impact felt like an electric shock, knocking a high and breathy moan from you each time.

“Sounds so good, treasure, keep singing for me,” Buggy moaned, breath tickling the top of your ear. He wanted to slow himself down to hear you longer, taste you longer, feel the hot wet plush of your pussy forever, but he couldn’t control himself no matter how hard he tried. His body clung to and plunged into you, driven by uncontrolled instinct. He needed to grab and consume you until he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. He’d finally admitted to himself how much he was dying to see and own all of you. Now he had you blissed out and pliant against him and he could no longer stand living without knowing the feeling of emptying his cock into you.

“Captain,” you hiccuped, “C-Captain Buggyyyyy, ‘s too much.” You tilted your head up to moan and bite at his neck, needing something to ground you. The salt and heat on your tongue cut through some of the blinding haze. Your fingers kept digging at him to find  some kind of anchor in those slick, tensing muscles.

“You can do it, sweets,” he encouraged breathlessly. “Just -fuck- just be my good whore, just let me hahhhave my fill and I’ll -nnngah- help you rest.” You managed a weak “yes sir” between your moans and whines and Buggy’s hips managed to give you even more. Every nerve he touched inside you was scorching and screaming with the delicious friction and stretch of him pounding into you. Buggy felt the same searing bliss ripping through him, emptying his mind of everything but desire and possession.

Buggy groans, “So close! You’ve been soooooo fucking good for me, my perfect slut.” The hand at your neck had switched back into fisting your hair, so he could drag you up and moan right in your ear. The palm at your clit became a tightly circling thumb and your limp body jolted back to life, clawing, grinding, shaking, and gasping. “That’s fucking it, treasure, need you to cum again and -ahh- I’ll fill you up.”

You used whatever strength you had left to bounce back on his hips. Your used muscles were pounding and swollen, but the praising sounds and extra friction you got with each move had you never wanting to stop. You never knew how good it felt to be fucked hard enough for the force to ripple through the flesh of your ass and thighs and stomach and breasts and you’d do anything to keep feeling it. The crushing grip on your hip kept you steady any time you faltered from your trembling muscles and blanking mind. You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this, so completely insatiable, so deliciously overwhelmed, so voraciously claimed. The blazing signals shooting to your head from between your legs started to burn so bright that they were losing detail. That was until all four of Buggy’s fingers touched the very base of your stomach and pushed down hard. 

“Buggy! Buggy! Buggy!” You kept yelping, and his eyes rolled back from the sheer ecstasy of hearing you like this. You were already tight, muscles clamping down hard and winding up for your orgasm but this… There was a firmer pressure with each stroke, especially when he knocked as deep into you as you could stretch, and he was drooling at the fact that his fingertips could feel him fuck himself into you.

“So good, holy shit -hahnngh- you feel so fucking good, treasure, gonna cum,” Buggy was beside himself panting and groaning out for you. His fraying voice became biting and fierce, rabid with need and absolute command. “Need you to cum - cum for your Captain.”

“Yes, sir, yessir please please,” you sobbed into his chest feeling so close but also already over the precipice and feeling everything and numbing out. Your body was going haywire with how good and how much everything felt and you needed something to hold onto. 

“Good fucking girl, good -nnnngh- you’re mine, mine, mine-” Buggy’s voice was all gravel and possession and he chanted the only word he could manage when his balls pulled tight and his dick began to twitch. The clapping of his hips stopped, replaced with deep long grinds that had the weight of his jumping dick play with every inch of your walls and you were gone. You keened and sobbed out at the force of the feelings bursting through you and you could do nothing but quake in his grasp. The hot feeling of his cum pumping into you, cockhead tapping down at the push of his fingers on your stomach, had your eyes rolling back and your legs going limp.

Buggy was pretty sure he lost a minute or two there while he wasn’t able to think past hot, wet, and good. All he knew was that he finally got you and it was better than he ever imagined. His heart stuttered at the feeling of your panting breath cooling his chest and your sweet fingers clumsily trying to draw shapes on his skin. They kept falling limp between attempts due to the strength of your exhaustion, but you were adamant in your need to show him affection. His face split in a dopey grin. Buggy just knew you’d be the perfect little love and now you were his perfect little love. A smug snicker interrupted his heavy breaths from knowing he stole you away from that shithead, and he was going to make sure to pamper you so you’d stay and never have to cry to yourself again. 

Buggy nudged you to the side so that your spine would get some relief from arching. He couldn’t have just let you straight down without your hips being forced down under the weight of his past the edge of his torso. You weren’t allowed to go far though; he felt as if he’d tear apart anything that interrupted all your skin to skin contact. You hummed deep in relief at the change in position and nuzzled your face into Buggy as thanks. He kissed his bright smile onto the top of your head and began massaging a hand into your lower back. This time you moaned at the relieving feeling, earning a chuckle from him.

“Better?” Buggy asked. 

“So much,” you answered. Your eyes and muscles felt heavy and your bones were made of lead. Your breathing had become soft and slow and steady in tandem with his, beginning to draw you under with the promise of a fulfilling slumber. You managed to mumble, “Thank you, Captain,” before you were gone. A more lingering kiss was placed on your head this time. While your mind wasn’t there to receive it, your body felt it and shifted just that much closer into Buggy’s warmth.

Buggy sighed, thinking of the mess that the two of you and the bed were and how much work it’ll be to do the necessary cleaning up. A large problem was detaching you from himself and an even larger and more difficult one was mustering the will to remove himself from you. He gave in to the comfort of holding you, pulling a spare blanket from a basket across the room to lay over you both. Still in deep sleep, you hummed contentedly at the new comfort and warmth, melting Buggy’s heart further. He peppered a few more indulgent kisses onto your temple and hair before snuggling his cheek down into you. He’d decided a little nap wouldn’t hurt.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 3

Think of Nothing Else

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 3065

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: Today is your first day of work for your new bosses, and they make sure you know how valued you are. The Cross Guild is officially announced, and you enjoy a glass of wine after work.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Alcohol, Swearing, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Guilt, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Dom/sub Undertones, No Smut, just intense teasing and Mihawk bossing reader around, she likes it too much, Dom Dracule Mihawk, Is it a foot thing if he touches your foot with his hook and calls it pretty? 🤷🏼‍♀️, Reader wears a skirt and heels

A/N: It's a very stressful work day, y'all. Reader needs to relax 🤭🍷

“Don’t tell me you’re slacking on your first day.”

“No, sir,” you stuttered, stumbling out of bed at the threat of Crocodile’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Don’t keep us waiting,” Mihawk’s voice drawled as you stripped, emptying your bag onto the bed to search for something to wear. 

“We’ll leave a guard waiting for you. You’d better not look like a circus freak when you're done.”

Crocodile huffed, heavy steps moving away. 

You fell back against the bed, naked and clutching at your chest as your heart tried to leave your body.

“Fuck…”

You didn’t have many professional clothes left after all these months with Buggy. There were probably some hidden in his quarters still, but you doubted they’d let you go back there again. 

Miraculously, you found a black pencil skirt. The slit along your thigh was far higher than you’d have gotten away with while working at the bank, but it was the closest you could find to normal clothes. 

Everything else was neon, or had ruffles, or glitter. 

‘Look at my flashy girl.’

Buggy’s pleased voice floated through your mind, the memory making your body crave a version of him you couldn’t imagine anymore. Where was that wild pirate that had whisked you away from your boring life? Where was the man who could please you with his body in ways you’d never thought possible before?

He was probably still bleeding on the floor.

While you dealt with the consequences of his actions. 

You found a top that was a solid color, hoping that they’d ignore the fact that it was ‘Buggy Blue.’

The only shoes you had were luckily black, but they were meant to be flashy, not practical. 

We didn’t wear shoes most of the time.

Months and months in bed, excuses and laughter filling the air. Lounging, and drinking, and fucking everyday.

Was it worth it?

Stepping into the hallway with your too tall heels, you let the guard guide you back to that open room. 

With that velvet, green couch. 

“There she is,” Crocodile looked up as you entered, eyes narrowing as he scanned you. 

Mihawk was perched close by, a small, steaming mug in his hand. 

You stepped further in, and the guard closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with them.

“You’re okay?”

That small voice held so much relief, and your breath hitched as you looked for its source. 

Buggy. 

Buggy sat on the ground as he leaned against the wall, dried blood caked on his face, his makeup like a faded stain.

You cried out his name, moving toward him before you could think. 

Sand surrounded you, and you lost your footing as you stepped into a wave of it. 

“Come now, none of that.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes pierced yours as the sand fell away, your ill fitting shoes falling to the ground as the swordsman lifted you in his arms. 

He didn’t set you back down. You tried not to cling to his bare chest as he carried you toward Crocodile, and that stupid, green couch. 

You held your breath as his thumbs traced lightly over your ribs and thigh where he held you.

“Look at that,” Crocodile growled, reaching out to trace his cold hook along your calf and foot.

“The clown couldn’t even give his lady decent shoes. No wonder he couldn’t protect you, if he couldn’t even protect these pretty feet." 

You twitched in Mihawk’s warm arms, trying not to react to the tickle of that dangerous hook.

“I think our little rabbit is feeling skittish today,” Mihawk judged, setting you in the middle of the couch. He sat beside you, trapping you between them again.

“You’d better get over that quick, sweetheart. I’m not known for my patience.”

Crocodile puffed his cigar as you tried to swallow your fear, nodding at his threat. 

Your hands were clammy as you smoothed down your skirt, fighting and failing to keep the fabric from slipping down, revealing much of your thigh on Crocodile’s side. 

You settled for folding your hands together in your lap, waiting for them to strike.

“What is it you need to complete your responsibilities?”

You drew your eyes to Mihawk at his question, feeling the sticky pressure of Crocodile's gaze on your thighs.

“I, um…”

Your mouth gaped open, still feeling trapped in a dream as his eyes raked over you.

You managed to hold in a whimper as Mihawk brought his long fingers up, taking your chin by the thumb, and lifting your face to his. 

“Don’t be boring, darling. I know you want to be a good girl for us, don’t you?”

The tiny sound you made couldn’t have been a moan. I didn't...

But the way Mihawk’s jaw loosened to the side for a moment had your head spinning.

I need to get a hold of myself!

He released your chin, and you started to rattle off all the things you needed in order to do your job, including your own desk, and a transponder snail. 

You felt like an idiot for hoping for your own space when a group of pirates dragged a large desk through the door, setting it up in the center of the massive room. 

The cushions shifted as Crocodile stood, directing the pirates to ensure it was to his liking. To ensure that your desk was in perfect view of that stupid fucking couch.

Breakfast was served, and you had to choke it down, eye’s snagging on Buggy as you wondered when he’d eaten last. 

“Break’s over.”

Gasping, you pressed your skirt down with your palms as your body was lifted off the couch by another wave of sand.

You landed in Crocodile’s arms, feeling so small against his chest. The silk of his vest rubbed along your skin, an abrupt contrast from the sand he’d just touched you with.

“Wha–”

“We need to protect our assets,” he growled, carrying you toward the desk. “Earn money for some decent shoes, otherwise you don’t get to stand on those dainty toes. Got it?”

You caught Mihawk’s eyes burning along your skin as Crocodile sat you down. 

The scarred man leaned over you, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face while you tried to stay perfectly still. 

“We’ve got the big announcement tonight. I wanna see your plans for the first month's finances before the show. Can you manage that, numbers girl?”

“Yes,” you choked out, anything to get him to move away from you. 

He huffed a laugh, patting you on the back before leaving you to your work.

“Atta girl.”

~

How am I supposed to work like this?

Your new bosses talked with each other, gave orders to lackeys, smoked and drank, and watched you. 

Workers were ordered to rearrange the furniture, adding two desks along opposite walls for their own use. A long coffee table was placed before the couch, and you were grateful that there wouldn’t be room for Buggy to be a footrest anymore.

But they wouldn’t let you use the transponder snail.

“Mr. Crocodile, sir, I will need to reach my contacts in order to manage your funds and investments. I can’t do everything from here–”

“Not yet.”

His voice was heavy, and final. 

With a nod, you went back to it. Reviewing the current state of affairs was infuriating. They ordered lackeys around for you to round up missing details on assets, and anything they had brought to the island.

It looked bad.

A tinge of panic filled each breath, making your fingers shake as you shuffled papers around. You could feel a thin sheen of sweat, your flimsy top starting to stick to your skin.

You didn’t think your heart could take beating this fast for this long. 

I’m okay. I’m good at what I do. Just pretend they’re not here. 

They let you work. Fear that this was just another torture designed for your failure and punishment started to fade.

You would need that transponder snail soon to get any real work done, but you had your plans drafted up shortly after lunch.

“I’m finished, sir–”

Crocodile tutted at you as you moved to stand, using sand to push your chair forward until you were seated again. 

Mihawk stalked toward you, fingers grazing yours as he took the documents from your hands. He perched on the corner of your desk, humming now and then as he judged your work. 

“Well,” Crocodile asked from the couch, a large puff of smoke trailing toward the ceiling.

“The current status of finances is quite unfortunate. However the work is well done. It appears she will be needing a transponder snail soon if we’re going to see any improvement.”

Mihawk set the papers down and trapped you, his gaze from so close felt like a golden cage, keeping you in place. 

Crocodile huffed a laugh, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Looks like you’ll be getting a snail before you get shoes then, huh?”

The rest of the afternoon had you sitting as still as you could, as if they wouldn’t notice you if you didn’t move.

You watched Cabaji crouch down, and start smearing greasepaint over Buggy’s bruises, propping his huge hat on his head. He leaned close then, and you wondered if he had anything to whisper to his old captain. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Crocodile sighed, pulling Buggy to his feet, and shoving him toward the door.

“Galdino, I need you to carry miss Y/N during the announcement.”

“Wha-Why,” Galdino choked, looking from you to Crocodile, his face pinched.

“Don’t complain. I don’t trust Buggy’s men with her yet. This is the girl that’ll get us all paid, you got that?”

“Yes, Mr. Crocodile, sir.”

“And watch your hands,” he ordered, patting Mr. 3 on the back so hard that he coughed.

Humiliation flooded through you, your skin hot as you were carried through the hallway.

Mihawk and Crocodile dragged Buggy to the balcony, while you were brought to the front of the crowd to watch.

“I’m sorry,” you almost cried, not looking up at Galdino’s face. 

“It’s fine,” he let out with a heavy sigh. “It's not your fault. Just my lot in life to always answer to people weaker than me, I suppose.”

You cringed, starting to apologize again.

“Come on, we don’t want to miss this farce.”

The shuffling conversations of Buggy’s subordinates quieted down as their captain took to the small stage. The balcony was lit with colorful lights from above and behind, and Buggy stretched out his limbs to look larger than life in that red fabric of his.

He looked like your Buggy now. Buggy in his element, shining bright. There was something about him that made people flock to his charm, that made people believe in him as a leader. 

Until they saw behind the curtains, of course.

Buggy. How did you let yourself end up here? Now we’re both fucked.

You didn’t even hear his speech, your mind so used to ignoring the lies that Buggy would spew from that balcony.

Until he introduced his ‘executives.’

“First… Sir Crocodile!”

Buggy’s arm flourished, ever the showman, as Crocodile stepped into the light. 

He was so incredibly tall. Seeing him towering over you on the balcony, with the light exaggerating his features, made you feel like an insect. Just crawling on the ground, waiting for him to stomp you into the dirt.

“And… Hawkeye Mihawk!”

Mihawk’s glare was like ice, and the stage lights glinting off of his massive sword just added to his cold disdain. You knew he could kill everyone in the room easily, and he looked like it wouldn’t mean a thing to him if he did. 

Your jaw was clenching as you tried not to shiver in Galdino’s arms. 

The cheering and stomping of the crowd was so intense, you reached your hands up to cover your ears. 

But you saw them looking down on you, and you didn’t want to show them any more weakness than you already had. 

Crocodile jerked his head, motioning for you to join them. 

You gulped down some deep breaths as you were led back to your cage.

I won’t show them any more weakness.

~

Your bare feet were propped on the coffee table after dinner as you stared into your glass. The deep burgundy of the wine danced in the light as your hands shook slightly. 

“This wine is different…”

Your eyes went wide at your own words, realizing that you’d just interrupted Mihawk, and you had no idea what they’d been talking about.

“Is that so,” he asked, the weight of his attention shifting to you. “How is it different?”

Crocodile shifted beside you as well, his knee touching yours as he tilted toward you, caging you once more.

“I… It’s not like the wine we’ve had here for a while. It’s almost… heavy?”

Mihawk’s head cocked to the side as he watched you stutter.

“Give me your glass.”

The command in his voice made your breath hitch. He set his own glass down, taking yours by the stem. He held it in front of you, gently swirling it.

“Observe the colors.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes on the wine, feeling almost hypnotized by the movement.

“Now, miss Y/N, you’re going to smell the aroma. I want you to close your eyes, and think of nothing else.”

Your eyes closed, but you gasped, jolting at his touch. 

“Close your eyes. Think of nothing else.”

It was impossible. His fingers had grazed your skin, until they twisted into the hair at the nape of your neck. 

He wasn’t holding tight, but he had you. He had complete control of you. 

It was terrifying.

And yet you fought not to moan at the slightest movement, breath heavy as he tilted your head gently.

“Slow down, little rabbit,” he purred, voice so close. “Now smell the fragrance of the wine, and tell me what you feel.”

The scent felt overpowering, washing over you, sending chills over your skin.

“I think I smell… plums?”

Mihawk’s fingers untangled from your hair, only to rub along your neck and shoulders, gently kneading.

“Good, Y/N. Now keep your eyes closed. You’re going to take a sip, enough to cover that tongue of yours. But don’t swallow until you let the wine fill your mouth, touching every part. Can you do that for me?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, overwhelmed as his fingers stroked your hair, moving strands out of your face.

He brought the glass to your lips, touching your jaw as you tilted back. 

You kept the wine in your mouth, feeling the tannins working around your tongue. 

“Feel it, Y/N. Then tell me what you taste.”

You couldn’t remember feeling this overpowered by food or drink before. The sensations were so intense, the mix of flavors almost arousing as it burned through you. 

Clearing your throat, you tried to express what you were feeling.

“Plums. And it’s thick, it almost feels chewy. It tastes amazing.”

A moment of silence had your heart rate spiking again.

His warm fingers touched your cheek, turning your face toward him.

“Open your eyes.”

Again, the pressure of command in his voice was heavy. You obeyed instantly, meeting his amber gaze as the swordsman inspected you, squeezing your cheeks just a little.

“Looks like there’s hope for you yet. I was afraid that the clown might have spoiled you, robbed you of any sense of refinement.”

Crocodile’s booming laughter shook the couch beside you.

“He does seem to ruin everything he touches. Don’t you, clown?”

Crocodile called toward the corner of the room where Buggy’s form still slumped against the wall. 

He didn’t look as hurt as he had yesterday, but he looked hardly there, as if he was trying not to exist.

Guilt trickled through you again as your body still reeled from Mihawk's attention. Every new sip of wine you took felt like velvet, like his hands roaming your skin.

Fuck.

He kept his hand on your neck now, gently massaging as he and Crocodile resumed their conversation. 

Frustrated tears almost fell, but you managed to blink them back.

“Numbers girl,” Crocodile breathed over you, bringing you back to the moment. 

“Yes?”

“You’ll get your transponder snail tomorrow. You are only to use it with one of us present. And you must give details of who and why you are calling. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. I’d hate to have to show you what happens when people disobey me,” he rasped, setting his huge palm over your thigh. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Mihawk’s arms carried you through the hall. So much of your exposed thigh was touching his bare chest and abs, the feeling of skin on skin making you want to pull your hair out with how much it dominated your senses.

How much he dominated your senses.

You hoped that he hadn’t noticed the stain of need he’d caused, slick coating the inside of your thighs as you pressed them together.

Mihawk set you down on the edge of your bed, leaning over to tease his hot breath against your ear.

“Stay quiet tonight, little rabbit.”

Your eyes were wide as he pulled away, an evil little smirk on those lips that never smile. He touched your chin, before walking away. Closing the door, he trapped you alone with the heat burning in your core, and the shame dripping with sweat down your spine.

You whimpered quietly as you ached, and you wondered how long it would take for you to stop caring about who they are and what they’ve done. 

This is only the second day they've been here, and I already want to beg them to touch me. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Your sister’s voice filled your mind, asking you the same thing when you left with Buggy.

Maybe there is something wrong with me? Maybe I crave dangerous men?

Your fingers trailed under your skirt. They slipped along the mess of your desire that had soaked past your panties. Mihawk had toyed with you, and your body ached for him, dripping with need. You brought your hand up to look at the thick strings of slick as you moved your fingers.

I’m sick. I hope this shit doesn’t get me killed.

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: If there is something wrong with reader, then I may have the same issue 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars |

Part 4

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

May I request some Corazon and Buggy talking? I love these clowns so much and in my head they are besties....

I think they’d get along great

I think their dynamic would be

“The one who rants” and “the one who listens”

Thanks for the suggestion!

[hey-august]

Oooookay, we're wrapping up the NSFW Alphabet for Buggy with I, Q, and V! (See the whole NSFW Alphabet here!)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buggy. Is. Smitten. He is head over heels, butterflies in his stomach, feeling a little nauseous during the deed. In the beginning of a relationship, he might be more hesitant to show that side of himself. There would be little signs, though. A clean towel, scented candles, nervous fingers that push strands of hair from his partner’s face, tender kisses that linger and melt. As Buggy gets comfortable, those gestures will grow. His adoration and devotion will come through in how he looks up at his partner through fluttering eyelashes, how he asks if it feels good, do they like it, how he says he wants to make them feel good. How hard Buggy works to hear his name on their tongue, sweet as a honey drop. Buggy’s endless dirty talk will grow softer, losing the rough edges and grit, until it tumbles out in a three word confession. It’s the first time he says it, but it won’t be the last.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hell yes. Buggy is almost always down for something quick and dirty. It doesn’t satiate the hunger, it doesn’t push back the curtain call, but it takes away the edge. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter if there isn’t enough time for a proper quickie. Fooling around is in Buggy’s name, after all.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This guy is loud. Just look at him! And he is always talking. Buggy cannot keep his mouth shut or the volume down. It’s just not in his nature. Taking care of himself? He’s panting and grunting, muttering to himself about how good it feels. Buggy is immersing himself in the fantasy and will play the role. In bed with his partner? Half the crew got alcohol poisoning from taking a shot every time Buggy shouted his partner’s name. Well, there is one time when Buggy is quieter. Still loud, but just loud enough. Early in the morning, when the sun wishes it could sleep in. When Buggy and his partner are wrapped around each other, entwined as one in a moment that only belongs to them. Any sounds, whispers, promises - it’s just for them and no one else.

[wtfforged]

tossing these separate op doodles from the same drawpile as far as i can . Go fetch

[rrredgi]

hello,,, I would like to please request Buggy please,, my favorite boyflop :,0)🩵

Gotcha, one boyflop coming right up! 💖

[ouchmyheart22]

Hii pretty please something with buggy flirting w reader either with or without a body and at first it's just some off handed comment but reader thinks he's so hot so they get a little 😳👉👈 so he flirts with her more and more and gets increasingly suggestive just to see her squirm<3

Absolutely my love - hope this is what you wanted <3

Request for Buggy x Reader (OPLA Buggy the Clown)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warning: mentions of sex.

He leaned against his chair with such ease and nonchalance, his legs spread wide, one hand on his thigh, the other gripping the whiskey glass. His chin was darkened by stubble, his red lipstick was faded, smudging the crystal glass in his gloved hand.

You tried to focus on pouring the next customers drink but it was no use, your eyes kept trailing towards the corner of the bar, where Buggy and his crew had settled for the night.

Settled, they were anything but settled. Rowdy and increasingly loud, your boss seemed to tolerate the pirates for the business.

You hadn’t even spoke to him. Cabaji had ordered a bottle of whiskey for the captain, while Buggy had made himself comfortable at the head of the table. Perfectly in your eyeline, which you couldn’t tell was a good thing or bad thing.

He shrugged off his coat, revealing his toned arms, veins prominent in his forearms, a hazy blue colour under the fluorescents of the bar.. Definitely a bad thing you decided.

You turned away from the Buggy pirates, in an attempt to distract yourself. You tried to focus on drying the glass in your hands, ignoring the sound of laughter from behind you.

They were all intimidating, sure, they were pirates after all, but there was something about the captain that made your mouth dry, your muscles tense up. His air of confidence and familiarity, as he walked into the bar for the first time, commanding the space. Power.

You wondered what is felt like to have that power.

‘A pint of Red Herring and another bottle of Davy Jones whiskey sweetheart’

You’d been listening to his voice all night. Telling stories to his crew about a straw hat pirates and his friends, how he had successfully infiltrated their crew, and defeated Arlong single handed.

It was a husky tone, mischievous and teasing, he seemed to always be biting back a laugh.

You almost dropped the beer glass in your hands as you turned to him, your eyes wide and innocent.

His palms were flush against the bar, his arms stretched, flexing as he bent them to rest on the counter.

Your mouth opened and closed, suddenly full of sand as your tongue refused to form any words.

He grinned, his red lipstick stretching up his cheeks with amusement.

‘Well hello there Bambi’ the words tumbled from his lips before he even thought.

You blinked, not doing much for the impression.

God Buggy thought, you were a nice change. Young and beautiful, radiating the type of innocence someone at sea had long lost. Your doe eyes were big and expressive, he relished the feeling of your gaze on him. Your lips rested in a little pout, pink and plush as you nodded at him in response.

Buggy started to grind his teeth. Your bottom lip would be better suited between his teeth he thought.

You smiled, polite and shy, clearly too nervous to reply to the captain. For fear your voice would betray you, and come out stuttering and broken.

He leaned further onto the bar as you pulled the tap for the red ale, filling a pint for him.

He watched your small hands, grip the beer tap with ease, your fingers wrapped around the handle. God he wondered what those fingers would feel like wrapped around his-‘

‘I’ll just go take the whiskey from the back’

You finally spoke, your voice sickly sweet to him. It was soft, patient even, though he assumed you must have a lot of patience to be dealing with drunkards all day long.

He nodded, grinning at you, his eyes darkened.

‘I’m sure you love taking things from the back sweets’

Your entire face seemed to fill with colour, your cheeks volcanic hot as you stared at the clown. Had you heard that right? Did he actually just say that ? To you?

He laughed, jutting his chin towards to door wordlessly. As if to say go on, go ahead. You give a small nod, fiddling with your hands as you pushing open the storage room with your shoulder.

A breath escapes you, one you didn't know you had been holding.

God you must have looked so dumb. So naive. What must he be thinking of you? He wasn't thinking of you probably, had probably forgotten what you'd looked like by now.

You cursed yourself as you slid open the glass cabinet that held the top shelf spirits, ironically on the bottom shelf, gripping the Davy Jones bottle carefully.

Turning back towards the door, you allowed yourself a deep breath. Your hands were shaking with anxiety, aching from the adrenaline rush. God you were so reactive, too reactive for your liking. Letting on just how inexperienced you were.

If any other man had spoken to you like that you probably would have rolled your eyes, mentally gagging. But it seemed the attention the clown was giving you was making you squirm.

Gripping the door handle, you held the whiskey close to your chest, easing the blush that had spread down your neck. You allowed another deep breath before you pulled the door open with a small tug.

He had appeared at the door like a shadow, blocking the light from the bar outside the small storage room. His hat allowed a small bit of light to peak over the brim, but his entire form was now darkened, his eyes fell on you expectedly.

You resisted the urge to gulp.

‘Need a hand princess?’

He had popped his right hand off, floating towards you, he wigged his finger in front of your nose.

‘I-I got it’ you answered, weakly holding up the whiskey. You looked at the hand, and then at Buggy, who winked, clicking his tongue for emphasis.

He hummed, taking the bottle from your hand with his detached glove. It attached itself back to his forearm with a satisfying thunk.

Licking his lips, he replied.

‘I just got a craving for something sweet’ he decided

You blinked. Catching yourself with wide eyes again, you forced your eyes shut for a second, playing with your apron you responded.

‘Um.. okay' that was all you could get out at first, before your forced your customer service training to kick in 'What would you like?’

His eyes darkened, his chin dropping to stair at you better. He was an attractive man, even with the makeup, even in the dim lighting, even with the nose.

‘I’d like you. On the rocks. With a lemon slice’ his voice was teasing and rough, an interesting combination that sounded so perfect in your ears.

‘But I’ll settle for a cocktail sweetheart’ he finished, his wolfish grin subdued by a satisfied smirk.

You nodded, weakly, you felt like your body was rusted, in desperate need of oiling.

‘Any preference?’ You didn’t stutter this time but your voice was still smaller than usual. You cringed, you sounded pathetic.

‘I’m sure you’d know what I like sweets’ he shrugged, he cocked his head to the side, looking you up and down ‘You seem very attentive’

You nodded.

That was all you seemed to be able to do around him. He seemed amused, highly satisfied he had mustered such a reaction. Like a cat playing with a mouse he'd caught, dragging you back by your tail each time you slipped away.

He turned to allow you to pass him, though remained in the doorway so you could not avoid his gaze.

As you stepped out of the supply cupboard he bent down, his long blue hair swinging from his hat, a smile plastered on his red lips.

‘Not too sweet though, I don’t want to ruin my appetite’

He chomped down on his teeth, making a satisfying click sound, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure again. His eyes seemed to burn holes into your back as you cross the bar, away from him to start the drink.

By the time he had sauntered back to sit in front of you, your hands had stopped shaking and you were cutting lemon.

He watches you make the cocktail like a lion, watching an injured gazelle stumble, his eyes trained on your every move. You meet his eyes once, they're sea green, bold and piercing. He chuckles as you jerk your head back towards the glass.

‘Pretty’ he comments, his gloved hands are spread out on the counter, so much bigger than your own. You've never liked feeling small, but suddenly you feel just fine about it.

‘Hmm?’ Your head pops up from the cocktail glass, the small shot glass still in your hand. Did he just call you-

His lips turn up again, satisfied with your reaction. He holds your gaze, though you desperately hope the clown breaks the eye contact first. Though that seemed unlikely

‘The cocktail’ he allows his gaze to fall to the pink, frothing liquid below you.

Of course he meant the cocktail.

You place the tall tulip glass in front of him, placing the small red flower as garnish, you finally allow your shoulders to loosen.

He looks to you. Then looks at the cocktail. Then back to you.

This time, you are very aware you are holding your breath. Your hands are clasped behind your back, in an attempt to stretch your shoulders.

He takes a long sip, his eyes never leaving yours.

This feels too intimate for the setting, especially when you see Buggy swallow and his adams apple bobs. You think you might go insane, you want to scream at the clown.

‘Taste okay?’ you manage, forcing a small smile as he rests the glass on the counter.

He shrugs, crossing his arms, leaning closer to your side of the bar.

You look disappointed, like a kicked puppy, but only for a second, as you put on a brave face and open your mouth to offer him an alternative.

Buggy grins, wider than he has the whole night. Watching you squirm has certainly granted him with great entertainment, the best show he's watched in a long time.

He grabs the pint and the whiskey bottle, cackling as he turns away from the bar, leaving you bright red and shifting on your feet.

'You look like you'd taste a lot better sweetheart'

[scarletttries]

What One Piece Characters Are Like In A Relationship...(Part Two)

Request: "Greetings, could I ask for headcanons of what Buggy the Clown and Dracule Mihawk are like in a relationship?"

Pairings: Buggy x Reader, Mihawk x Reader, Shanks x Reader

Part One (The Straw Hats) here / One Piece Masterlist

Buggy the Clown:

- It's impossible to overestimate the sheer vulnerability it took for Captain Buggy to speak genuinely and honestly when he finally confessed his feelings for you. A man who's spent so much of his life hidden behind a painted facade and a wicked smile, he tried to fight his truth for so long, forcing himself to treat you like just another pirate on his ship when there's nothing you could do that wouldn't stand out to him. The sincerity with which you speak to him, the way you don't gawk at his appearance, the fact that you never engage in the mutinous whispers of those around you. It wasn't long until you became his most called upon ally on the ship, through genuine appreciation for your insights but also his intense need to have his eyes on you at all times.

- With his feelings out in the open, Buggy is still conflicted in the way he showers his affections upon you. Behind closed doors the man is your personal jester, cracking jokes and using his gifts to keep you smiling and entertained constantly. Honestly that man would do anything to keep you looking at him, the warmth of your gaze enough to undo decades of cruelty and ridicule.

- Around the crew though, your captain likes to keep his adoration discrete. There are a lot of people out there that would love to have something they could use against him, and he knows deep down he'd surrender everything he's ever worked for if it stopped a single hair on your head being harmed. So despite how Buggy feels like he is bursting at the seams with joy every time he sees you, he insists on keeping things a secret for as long as the two of you can, lasting on longing looks and subtle contact for the price of your safety.

- That does add a certain desperation to the clown's behaviour towards you though, not that you mind. The moment you close a door he'll be on with you in a flash, all hungry lips and pressing his chest flush with yours to bathe in your warmth while he still can. He needs you overwhelming all of his senses, to fill his heart back up before he has to face the day without you again. Sometimes when he knows you'll be apart for a while, he'll tell the crew he's lost a hand somewhere on the ship so he can leave one tucked securely in your pocket, subtly interlacing his fingers with yours whenever the day gets to be too much; the powers he once feared made him a devil, now giving him the chance to stay by an angel's side forevermore.

Dracule Mihawk:

- A life as the world's greatest swordsman can be a lonely one. Going wherever he's paid to go. Never putting down roots. Knowing that one day he might just find someone desperate enough for his title to kill for it. Mihawk had accepted this life with a certain pride, until he found something else he wanted to be the best at.

- Another night in another island bar had his path crossing with yours, the briefest of exchanges leaving an aching hole in his chest like he'd never experienced before. It was like your smile sent a spark his way that had his whole body going up in smoke, a fire lit inside him that he had only felt once before; for his pursuit of swordsmanship. He knew nothing would quell that desire except giving in fully to the devotion.

- Dracule is extremely attentive to your every whim. He's never really been tied down before he enjoys the grounding that comes from having someone else to influence each of his days. Nothing fulfils him like making one of your wishes come true, his dedication to your partnership unwavering no matter what the world throws at you both.

- He would take enormous pride in teaching you a few of his sword-fighting moves, framing the sessions as just a way to share in his two favourite things (swords and you), but in the back of his mind also very conscious that a time may come when you need to defend yourself from his enemies. Naturally he'll find a way throw your practice fights so the two of you end up on the floor together, his sword cast aside as he exclaims that you are the only person in all the seas that has ever disarmed him so. Don't be expecting to leave that floor for a while once he has you in his grips.

Shanks:

- When you work in a popular port town you see a lot of pirates come and go. So it's pretty noticeable when a certain captain seems to do all his supply runs in your specific shop. Shanks is not at all subtle that he's continually coming to town for you, your first conversation enough for him to reveal that you might be the only person he's ever met that could convince him to give up the pirate life and settle down.

- You don't ask him to do that, instead the two of you settle for frequently being apart, but relishing in every second you get to spend together when you can. Every moment that Shanks is in your life is filled with fun, whether he's just dancing with you in your lovely little home, or convincing you to come with him on this next adventure, heading to a beautiful island where for once he's confident there's no risk of danger to you.

- When you have to be apart, Shanks will call you late in the night, narrating the view from his perch on the figurehead of his ship. He'll describe every detail of the stars glistening on the waves until the peachy rays of the sun trickle across the horizon, all while knowing the far superior view is wherever you are. He'll never reveal the true danger of his journeys to you, instead giving you joyful reimaginations of the troubles he's faced that day. You can tell when he's had a hard week from the pain in his voice though, so you take the chance to regale him with the softness of your peaceful day, recounting your every step and listening to his breathing slow as a weight lifts off his chest. He tells you how one day he can't wait to dock his ship one final time and fall in step with the life you've built, never having to hear your voice from so far away again.

- He lets that hope carry him through the most tempestuous nights at sea, through all the near misses at the hands of his enemies, through every day spent hiding from a bounty hunter and aching to hear your voice again. He finds himself picturing the two of you raising a family, a tiny crew of your own that will always unite you, the ultimate adventure Shanks can imagine, and one he never thought he'd long for until he thought about living it hand in hand with you.

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