#crocodile/reader

[loganwritesprobably]

First Dates With.. (One Piece)

First dates with Crocodile, Mihawk and Robin, characters decided by the recent poll I did to see what characters people liked. I'll do a second round of those polls in the future, with a slightly bigger audience for this sort of thing and set to seven days each

Reader is gender neutral for all three shorts

Crocodile had a sense of all things expensive, and it was hardly a stretch to believe that the same thing would apply to the way he treated you. He'd courted you not so gently, with daring touches and flirtatious words, and now you were finally doing something together officially. You'd figured you knew him well enough to know what to expect by now, and it turned out that you were right. He'd taken you out to a richer area of Alabasta, far from the capital and closer to the west coast, where affluent people lived away from the general riff raff. You supposed if Crocodile wasn't so busy attempting to take over the country, he'd probably want to live here too.

The restaurant was gorgeous, and you'd expected that you'd be taken somewhere exactly like this. Grand chandeliers, golden decorations, waiters dressed in the finest fabrics even for their working uniform. It was gorgeous, there was no doubt, though perhaps a little high brow for you. After all, you were what these people considered riff raff.

He'd made a reservation, and followed the waiter without concern for fitting in or price. This was what it was to date a man like him, and it was a nice change of pace compared to men who never showed up or expected you to all the work to keep the relationship going, but doubts crept in too. You sat without a word to the waiter, and took the menu in hand - it didn't even have prices on. "If you were worried about ordering the cheapest thing available, stop. Money is no issue, you know that." Crocodile said with a smile, the soft kind that you knew he didn't show to anyone else. It made you feel special. You didn't reply, just laughed and shook your head, and read over the menu for what you wanted.

He ordered for the two of you when the waiter came back around, sensing your discomfort, and once the waiter was gone, he struck up a conversation. He started with familiar topics, like the casino, and his warlord meetings, and your tension began to ease. It didn't take long for it to feel like you and Crocodile were the only ones in the room. "He's obsessed." You remarked with a laugh, quickly moving some hair from your face. "It's disgusting." Crocodile replied with a grimace, glancing up as the waiter returned with your food. You each took your plate, and you looked down at it with a smile. It looked damn good. "Well, nothing more about him then, because this food certainly isn't."

You ate mostly in silence for the first few minutes, enjoying the flavours, and the quiet company that Crocodile was so good at proving. He didn't need to say anything, just his presence was enough. "Did you see the newspaper yesterday?" You asked after a minute, pausing between bites so you could speak without being rude. "I'm not sure I did." He remarked, head slightly tilted with curiosity. "New rookie bounty released, pretty high for someone so new, and coming from the East Blue." You said, setting your fork back down on your plate so that you could use your hands to speak without making any mess. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about." "Not for you, of course, but it doesn't hurt to keep an eye on rising stars." "You seem interested in him, or optimistic at least." "Well, he's a D. They're all interesting."

Everything with Crocodile seemed to come easy. He was so unapproachable, so frightening often, a harsh and dangerous man. Not to you. He'd decided that he liked you, and so he treated you like royalty because he'd decided that you deserved that. He tried not to lose his temper when you were involved, and never as a direct result of you - he never apologised if he did lose his temper, but he made sure to check in on you, and make sure you were okay afterward.

The rest of the meal went off without a hitch, and the meal was perfect. You couldn't complain about anything that Crocodile did for you, even his displays of wealth were done with careful consideration for your interests and tastes. You opted not to get a dessert, the main course was perfectly filling, and instead decided to take your leave. Crocodile paid out of earshot, so you couldn't concern yourself with what he'd spent.

The best part of the night, however, was when Crocodile effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, holding you close and tightly. "What are you-" "Just trust me." Crocodile said softly, a smirk on his face that promised mischief, and then he turned to sand. He travelled swiftly across the Alabastan desert, with you kept safe and sound in the centre of the storm, far better transport than any camel or crab you could've commandeered. You screamed and howled with laughter, after you recovered from your initial shock. It was almost magical.

He deposited you directly outside your door, gracefully setting you down and returning to his solid shape. "Are you alright?" "It was worth trusting you." That sentiment seemed to shock, or maybe even scare, Crocodile. He took your hand in his and gently kissed your knuckles. "I'll see you again soon." He practically promised, then once again he turned to sand, carried away on the soft evening breeze, toward the casino once again.

Being invited back to Mihawk's island was an honour, really. He had been so polite, and openly given you the chance to refuse his invitation, but of course you hadn't. He'd offered you his hand to help you into his little coffin shaped boat, then climbed in after you, untying it from the dock and setting sail. Despite the small size of his boat, you had no fear of danger, because he was there to look after you and make sure that you were just fine. There was no risk when Mihawk was there to protect you. The sail was nice, with the sea breeze blowing gently over your skin, the salt in the air, and the warm beams of the sun gently beating down on you.

Kuraigana was not as nice as the open ocean, but it was exactly what you'd been expecting it to be. It was dark, gloomy and overcast - at least there was less risk of skin cancer from the sun. Probably. But, it was quaint in a way. You knew he was the only person living there, and that he had taken to cultivating the land in order to grow his own produce for times that he couldn't sail for fresh produce from other islands. He also lived in a castle which was a huge bonus in your books, even if it was dusty (you hadn't asked about the dust, because you didn't dare, but there was no way he was keeping an entire castle free of dust that would be a full time job for one guy).

When you arrived, he docked with ease, and helped you back up and out of the boat. A date, in his own home, rather than some fancy restaurant or in a park on some nice summery island. Instead, you'd be dining at the table he used every night, eating a meal that he'd prepared himself - because not only is he the world's greatest swordsman but he also cooks - and then you'd spend the rest of the evening in front of a warm fire before heading to sleep in a spare bedroom because he refused to ferry you back to your island in the dark, that was a risk he didn't want to take.

Like a true gentleman, Mihawk offered you his arm to take, and you dutifully hooked hand around the crook of his elbow to be guided up to the castle. It wasn't so bad, you'd expected the island to be colder, and yet it was a perfectly comfortable temperature. You could hear the hooting of the humandrills amongst the trees that Mihawk had already warned you about, and so the sound didn't worry you. Apparently they'd come to some sort of civil agreement to leave each other alone, which suited you just fine. The castle was cleaner than you'd expected, though sparsely decorated which you had expected, only the necessities like a rack for Yoru and candles to keep the place lit in the entryway.

You headed right to the dining room after you'd both taken off your shoes and Mihawk had taken your coat to be hung on a stand near the door, and it was a large room. A dining table sat in the middle of the room, far larger than you thought he'd need considering he lived here alone - when it struck you that it was likely none of this was Mihawk's, rather having been left behind by whoever had lived here before. You took a seat at the table, though pulled it out to be more comfortable, while Mihawk set a record to play on the other side of the room. The music was less classical than it looked like he'd enjoy, more so rock in style, and you found yourself interested in all you were learning.

Mihawk disappeared to cook, and it didn't take long, maybe a half hour for him to prepare the meal. He brought out spaghetti in a delicious red, wine-based sauce (very Mihawk) served with what you were fairly sure was sea beast meat. He also presented a side dish filled with garlic bread (not a vampire then, good to know), as well as the rest of the bottle of wine that he'd used to cook for the two of you to drink. You took your first bite and almost moaned - he wasn't just a cook, he was a brilliant cook. Better than most you'd encountered. You ate with enthusiasm and vigour, happy to sit together in silence aside from the music playing in the background - you'd replaced the record with another one at some point while he was cooking.

"So, you made that pretty fast, all things considered." You remarked when all your pasta was gone, and a slice of garlic bread was in your hand. "Most things I have pre-prepared and frozen, so that my day can end with ease whenever I return from where I've been, especially since I frequently take long trips away from home." He replied, sipping at his wine, casually reclined in his chair. "Smart. You're an amazing cook by the way." "Thank you, dear." He'd never called you that before, and it made a little buzz shoot up your spine, and your face turn warm. Dear. You liked it.

He took away the dishes once you were both done, and you followed after him, intent on helping him clean up. You refused to let him turn you away. While he washed, you dried, and in no time everything was done and returned to where it belonged. He then led you out to the living room where you curled up in matching arm chairs in front of the grand fireplace he'd mentioned, once again listening to music, and now enjoying books. A perfect night, if you said so yourself. And you did.

You'd offered to organise the date, since you were the one to suggest going on a date to begin with, but Robin had insisted that she wanted to plan it, and you couldn't find the strength to deny her. You had no idea what to expect, but you found that you didn't mind too much. She surprised you a day after the ship had docked at another island, and told you to meet her in the town centre at midday on the dot. You could do that. You spent the morning with Sanji, while he took stock of what the ship had and needed, you cleaned the surfaces and sharpened the knives, just to offer a helping hand where you were needed. Just before midday, you left the ship to locate the town centre.

There, already waiting, was Robin. "You're early." She said, standing from the bench she'd been sitting on to reach out for you. "Well I wasn't going to be late." You replied with a smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. It may be your first date, but you and Robin had known each other for some time now, affection came easily between you two. With your hand in hers, she gently began to guide you away from the square and the fountain at its centre, into the town.. and then back out of it on the other side. You had no idea where you were headed, but you had nothing less than the utmost trust in the girl you'd chosen to call your own.

She guided you away from the town, into the trees at the edge, and through them. She did it easily, as if she'd done it a hundred times before even though you knew it was the first time that either of you had been to the island. Just one of her many talents, you supposed, and that was why you cared for her as much as you did. She was incredible. You bobbed and weaved between the trees, over rotting stumps and roots grown out of control, all while hand in hand. When you passed through the trees, finally, the light shining down on you again, you were in a large open field. You weren't sure you'd ever seen grass so green, and the flowers growing amongst the blades were beautiful, creating the perfect spot for a date. You scanned over the area, and finally your eyes fell on a blanket, and a basket.

With a warm smile, Robin gently tugged your hand to keep you moving, and you followed once again as she led you to the blanket she'd set up, where there was a basket of food and drinks provided by Sanji, and some of the local market stalls. You sat down first, still amazed by the scenery, unable to take your eyes away from the natural beauty. And then Robin stepped into your sightline and you had to wonder how anything could've distracted you from her beauty. She sat beside you, and you reached out to squeeze her thigh. "You like it then?" She asked, reaching for the basket to pull a flask full of cola kept cool inside for the two of you to drink. "It's beautiful, just like you." You replied, and she laughed airily. You weren't sure either of you had stopped smiling since you'd met up in the town centre. You took a cup from her, filled with cola, and the cold of the drink cut up the heat of the day. It wasn't an unbearable heat, but still the cool drink was welcomed.

The two of you ate, drank, and shared idle chatter, talking about the crew and the town, and what islands may be in your future. Things always came so easily with Robin, you never had to worry about what she was thinking or whether you were doing the right thing. There was no wrong thing to do. She'd been intimidating when you'd first met, but now you struggled to remember why aside from in battle, she was so gentle, and gorgeous like the perfect flower. You wanted to kiss her - so you did. You leaned in closer, waiting for her to finish her sentence before you sealed your lips together, a smile on your face all the while. She rested a hand on your upper thigh, happy to kiss lazily under the sun - you were in no hurry after all.

[lehguru]

THINK YOU NEED SOMEONE YOUNGER + ONE PIECE MEN

they start to realize they might be a little too old for you ft. crocodile, mihawk, smoker, shanks, doflamingo, corazon

info: will do this for other fandoms too i think, angsty on some; not proofread

crocodile never felt insecure, at least when it came to your relationship. after he left impel down and came to look for you, things got a little... weird. he was avoiding you. you knew it wasn't because he didn't want to bring you into his business (he did it more than once), it was something you didn't really understand. before you could even confront him about it, he said out of nowhere one day: "did you... get with anyone while i was away?" he looked at you with a hard stare. "someone... younger?" you almost laughed at his question, but you held yourself back. your arms circled his waist and you rested your chin on his chest. 'i don't know anyone younger that is as attractive as you, sir.' he grinned, holding the back of your head with his hand. "good."

mihawk noticed how you and zoro interacted during his time at the island. he wasn't suspicious that something was happening, he knew you would never cheat on him or break his trust; but... a thought started to spread in his mind like poison. once zoro and perona left, and you two finally managed to carry on with your married life alone, he asked you one day while you drank tea together. "how do you feel about me being... older?" you looked at him with raised eyebrows and 'the only thing that matters to me is you. i fell in love with your personality and the way you treat me, not your age.' he hummed, a deep sound that you know reverberated on his chest. even if it was faint, you could see a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

smoker didn't think about your age gap until he overheard some of the new recruits talking about you two. captain smoker having a younger partner is a little weird isn't it, was what they said. when he was back home and you were resting against his chest, softly playing with the hair on the area, he told you about it. you looked up, your eyes shining, 'old pan makes good food'. the laughter that left his lips was one that he always reserved for you, his most sincere and genuine laugh; he pressed his lips on the top of your head, murmuring praises and love confessions against your hair.

shanks really didn't care about it, not as much as other members of his crew did – with how well they knew their captain, the man would be destroyed if you decided to leave him. 'she might go for a younger guy, when your thing doesn't get up anymore.' they usually voiced their concerns in the form of jokes, so they wouldn't be too harsh on their captain, but it was effective. those comments made him start to realize what you two were – lovers. one day, without telling you, he and the crew left. simply left the island, leaving you behind with only an note written "don't look for me." in a messy manner.

one thing about doflamingo is that he gets whatever he wants whenever he wants. and since the moment he laid eyes on you, you were his. the people that tried to comment on your age gap always "mysteriously" disappeared, even if they were from inside his organization. no one could talk about him and his partner like that. if he ever brought up the topic, it was only to test if you were seeing anyone or wanted someone younger (he knows you don't. he knows everything); your praises towards him and your love always left him pleased – he would give you the same in return.

corazon is frequently insecure about your relationship. he wonders if you really love him, if he's good enough for you, if he's being a good boyfriend, if he missed any important date that he should've remembered – your age gap (made worse by your height gap too) is only another one of those concerns. no matter what you say, he often asks you if you wouldn't want to be with someone younger and with a better family than him. one day, after he asked that for the millionth time, you answered: "we can have a family of our own, rosi. you deserve happiness. you said once i made you happy, so i will stay. the only way you're going to get rid of me is if one of us is gone." he chuckled and smiled widely, as he often did around you and law, hugging you tightly against his body. 'i adore you. with all my heart and soul, i love you.'

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[deathc-re]

when he's as asshole during sex

he knows he's a lot to take, especially with the minimal prep he gave you, but he's also going so fast and so hard, how can he blame you? your whining and gasping and begging him to slow down but who do you think he is? he can't-- won't slow down when your pussy feels this good. spasming around him like this, practically wringing out his dick for everything it has. he can't slow down now!

he'd lean down by your ear, "aw poor baby! is it a lot?"

you could just hear the smirk in his tone. the bruising grip he had on you, the sloppy kisses, the deep strokes, he was too lost in himself to really focus on you.

he's selfish and that's nothing new

SUKUNA, gojo, suna, toji, dr stein, dabi, eustass kidd, zoro, crocodile, + whoever else

[sleep-0-deprived]

Hands on my knees ~

Men who love it when you give messy blow jobs, just holding your head up by your scalp or pulling on your hair as you drool rolling your eyes forward making eye contact as their cock keeps your mouth too full to talk leaving you just gurgling mindlessly.

Men who hold one leg up fucking you in your bed putting their fingers in your mouth making you choke and suck on them as they snap their hips forward making your body jerk with each thrusts as you lay all fucked out and lewd.

Men who bend you over their knee fingering you harshly over and over rubbing up agaisnt your prostate milking it as they keep holding you bent by the arch of your back until you cum all over yourself.

Men who hold their face in your neck grunting in your ear whispering lewd words about how good you feel around them and how they wanna stay inside you forever, holding your body close skin to skin with you under them as they fuck you senseless.

Men who are silently great with after care despite them being so rough with you in the bed, clawing all the cum off you washing up the bed sheets bringing you pain killers if you need them, outside of sex they are total sweethearts and no one would ever think them to do such dirty things to you.

—Nanami, Kunikida, Toji, Sukuna, Jotaro, Zoro, crocodile, Uzui, Gojo, Geto, Bram, Choso

[fanaticsnail]

You're Angry at the Tall Men

Masterlist Here

I have two very dear mutual creators on here that are struggling with the flu. Hopefully yelling at the tall men of one-piece will help you both out: @feral-artistry & @sordidmusings

Word Count: 200-400 per gentleman: Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo

Warnings: anger, violence, suggestive spice for a few, angst, afab!implied but not overly mentioned, height difference.

First time writing for Cora, Croc and Doffy - mainly going off small clips and overall vibes. Apologies if I didn't do your blorbo justice.

(Apprehensive tag list: @gingernut1314, @writingmysanity)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him.

Buggy: 6’3

“Sit your tall ass down!” you roared at him. The clown shrieked back, immediately reaching his stuttering hands towards the back of a chair to unceremoniously fall back onto the wooden base. Unfortunately, as his ass barely grazes the base; his weight proceeds to fall from its intended target, plopping down onto the cement ground instead of finding comfort on the chair.

“Ah, fuck!” he cried out alongside his wince, his red nose creased as he felt the pain shoot up his coxic bone and tingle up his spine. This moment of failure breaking a small crack in your iron fury, a giggle attempting to break through your anger. He winces his beautiful teal eyes up at you, cringing through the pain and gritting his teeth in an attempt of a smile.

“You are so pathetic,” you growled at him, extending your hand out and collecting his chin within your thumb and index finger. You were held captive by his sparkling eyes beneath his lengthy blue eyelashes as he looked up at you in awe.

“It’s why you love me, right?” he whimpered at you, his crooked smile drawing you in closer to him. You stooped, pressing a small kiss against his rotund, red nose.

“Yes,” you again growled at him, pouting with your brow falling low in the center of your forehead, “but I’m still angry at you.”

“I know,” he grumbled in response, his eyes upturning and almost pleading, “but I can fix that, right?”

Shanks: 6’6

“Woah, woah, love!” he cried out, backing away from your approach with his wide smile plastered to his cheeks. He was still smiling, even when you backed him against the wall with your forearm horizontally pressing him back into the wooden banister behind him.

“You absolute stupid, ridiculous, drunken-,” one look into his loving eyes rendered you immediately defenseless to his aura. He looked at you with such love, his brown eyes holding only softness and adoration within them. He brings up his arm, choosing to caress your cheek and lace a loose strand of your hair to hook over your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into you, leaning his head down and moving his lips against your forehead to murmur into your skin, “forgive me, I didn’t mean it.” Inhaling a deep breath, you feel the rage falling away from you as he continued murmuring sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry,” he breathed his raspy voice into your ear.

“And you’re so handsome when you’re not the one making me angry,” you growled back at him.

Mihawk 6’6

“Mihawk!” your rumbled growl echoed in the high ceilings lifting the light in the large dining room. He was stooping, fingertips halting their descent to grasp the back of his dining chair. He huffed out a sigh, rotating his neck and removing his hat from his head. He placed the hat on his dining setting, and prepared himself to receive your wrath.

As soon as you saw him preparing himself to receive the scorn you were about to bear down on him, you decided to switch it up. Something about how smug he was did not satiate your fire from erupting further. You had every intention of taking him by his wrist and leading him to the impressive steps of the foyer and taking a few steps up to bring you to the appropriate height to maintain eye contact as you reprimanded him.

But his ear was right there, no longer shielded by his broad hat to halt your action. Immediately, you pressed your index and middle finger against the overly sensitive shell of his ear and began dragging him towards the archway leading to the foyer.

“Not quite so hard, dear,” he winced as his steps stuttered behind you. You allowed a sinister smirk to rise on your lips, gaining a sickening amount of joy from knowing you were paining him a little to satisfy your wrath. As your feet found the steps, you relinquished your hold on his ear and turned to face him, your eyes first glancing at the raven curls atop his head that you rarely are accustomed to seeing these days. His head was bowed, his hand drawn up to cradle his ear and sooth over the throbbing shell. At this, your anger ceased and you immediately sought out his eyes by cupping his cheeks and elevating his face.

“I’m sorry, my love. Did I hurt you, are you okay?” you hastily spoke, eyes checking over his face for any semblance of hurt or pain.

“Only my pride, dear,” he replied in a soft grumble, continuing to keep his eyes from joining with your own. You sighed in relief before shaking your head to remind yourself why you brought him here in the first place. You furrowed your brow and slunk your hands from his cheeks to fall them against his chest.

“I’m-,” you began, your angry words halted by Mihawk taking a step forward and pressing his forehead against your own.

“-I’m sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered into your face, his eyes half lidded and sorrow falling over his face, “I never meant to hurt you, and I’m willing to spend all the time it takes to make it up to you.”

Sir Crocodile 8’3

Clutching his cigar in his index and middle fingers, he flicked the ash into the glass and gold tray on his desk. He could hear the fall of your feet outside the door, his jaw falling slack in bored frustration. 

“You devious bastard,” you growled as the door to his office flung open. He inhaled deeply, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out another cigar to clench his teeth onto. As your eyes met, his brow arched while his eyelids hung half-lidded. He sat back against his armchair and uncrossed his legs from their join of the knees. Remaining wordless, he fished around in his pants for his lighter, to find nothing but his golden pocket watch and a few rolls of berry within his leatherbound wallet.

“Be a dear and find me a light,” he dismissed your anger with the wave of his hand as his eyes searched his desk for his capped lighter. This seemed to engage your fury further, making you immediately lunge at him and crawl onto his lap. You drew your claw-shaped grip up to his jaw, snarling into his face as you did so.

“You think I care about your lighter right now, you arrogant lizard,” you spat at him. His eyes widened in surprise, initially being taken off guard by your presence atop his thigh. Immediately after processing the shock, his eyes darkened as he used his large, golden hook to circle around your thigh; trapping it within the metal and drawing it closer into him. Your kneeling position atop his lap was now made ever more dangerous than it had been, not knowing how he would truly respond to your anger. Both of your tempers began to flare as he snarled at you.

“Lighter first,” he growled at you, looking up into your enraged eyes as your hair cascaded down over his face, draped almost intimately over his forehead. You scoffed, flicking the hair over your shoulder and grimaced at him in response. 

“And why should I do that after what you did?” you gnashed your teeth, baring your rage in your now untested situation. The tense air now growing thick and dense as your bodies pressed closer together. He gripped your hips with his hand, his golden hook scraping over your thigh and placing your knee over his waist as he drew you closer. 

“Lighter first,” he began to snarl at you, “or I will channel your rage in another way.”

“Try me, Reptile,” you snarled at him, clenching your teeth as you stooped lower into his face. He immediately stood, his tall body hoisting you up against his hips and slamming your back atop his desk. He hovered over your body, leaning his face down and snarling into you,

“You should’ve just done what you were told,” He growled into your neck.

“You shouldn't have pissed me off,” you gnashed your teeth once more, your eyes widening as you felt his teeth bite down hard on your clavicle, soothing over the new injury with his tongue. 

Corazon 9’7

“Donquixote Rosinante!” you shouted, walking around the halls and tracking the stupor of his step. You immediately heard a thud, followed by several crashing booms reverberating within the hallway. None of these sounds halted your descent, your rage and fury propelling your steps further towards him.

When your eyes fell over his body, he was hoisting himself up from his entanglement with several cleaning products; a mop over his head and a bucket circling over his left foot. He looked ridiculous, his coat hanging limply from his shoulders over his open heart-stitched shirt.

As he rose to his feet, you were taken aback at how truly tall he was; his body towering over your own. You lost your nerve slightly at his stature, but still the edges of your body remained singed with the fires of rage within your soul.

“Cora-!” your words were halted by the man drawing such anger from you wordlessly holding up his palm to silence you. Your brows fell further down your face, your frown deepening as you watched him silently search his surroundings. His eyes widened first, before softening as he stooped down to collect the bucket that was once wrapped around his foot. He blew over the base of the bucket with a small puff of breath, placing the brim on the ground and dusting the base with the back of his hand.

He turned his painted face up to you, a tight smile pulling at his mouth as he extended his hand to you. You sucked in a breath through your nostrils, pouting as you took his hand. Stepping up onto the bucket, you still remained short to his great height. Still holding onto your hand, his smile softened as he bent at the knees to crouch in front of you, looking up into your face with eyes baring great sorrow at how angry you were with him.

Relinquishing the hold against your hand, he gestured for you to bare your soul out to him with a simple swipe of his hands. He was so willing to have you share your emotions with him, it almost made you want to cry with frustration at how truly loving he was to you. 

“You’re just going to sit back and take it? Say something, Cora. Anything!” You screamed, the sting of tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. He continued to watch on, never once rising from his crouch, nor bringing his eyes away from searching your face. It was only when a hot, frustrated tear fell from your eye down your cheek that he rose up to his full size once more. 

He wordlessly drew his palm up to claim your cheek, his thumb brushing the tear away from its descent down towards your mouth. 

“Please,” you whimpered while searching his eyes, “please say something.”

He leant forward, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, circling the other arm around your shoulders and holding your chest flush with his own. His lips found the crown of your head, pressing a soft and careful kiss against the top of your hair.

“Calm,” he uttered, the room circled around him by the spark of his devil-fruit power. You looked at him confused, your nostrils flaring at him while still expressing your anger. 

“Why use the devil-fruit powers now?” you asked him, shaking your head at him as all else in the hallway was silenced. No taps of feet, no drips of taps, nor the sounds of breeze through the trees outside the room could be heard within the silent barrier. 

“Because I want everyone to know how angry you are with me,” he uttered, his nose lovingly brushing against your own, “And I want to be able to scream how much I love you with no consequence.” He pressed his lips against your forehead, smearing his red face paint against your skin as he trailed a flurry of gentle kisses against your nose, cheek bones and the corner of your lips in an attempt to smother the flames of your anger. 

“This doesn’t make up for what you did,” you spat at him, your narrowed eyes looking at him through your eyelashes remaining dark with fury.

“I know,” he admitted, unwrapping his arm from circling your shoulders. He grazed his arm down and collected your hand once more within his, lacing your fingers together as he uttered, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I’ll never do it again.”

Doflamingo 10’

He was immediately expressing joy at how riled up he had managed to make you, his lips curling back into a sinister smile. He darted his tongue out over his mouth to dampen his chapped lip before he allowed a rumbly chuckle to exit from his chest.

“Doflamingo!” You screamed, rage and fury overcasting your usual stoic state with their venom. He rose to his feet and was almost bursting at the seams with how happy getting a rise from you was making him.

“How dare you?! How dare you do that to me?!” You roared, not halting your approach in any way. He towered over you, his lanky build condescendingly casting his feathered silhouette over your body.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he shrugged, speaking quickly with a broad grin continuing to polish his cheeks. His eyes remained hidden by his glasses, your own eyes beginning to prick at the corners with a frustrated rage.

“Wipe that horrible grin off your face before I rip it off,” you spat, your hands demonstrating how truly violent your thoughts were.

“Only if you do it with your teeth, Princess,” he bore his teeth down at you. His smile widened further up his cheeks, your urge to claw out his eyes not satisfied in the slightest. You impulsively swung your hand at his face, your wrist caught within his circled grip. His laughter erupted over his chest at this small demonstration of violence, so easily stifled by his hands.

“Ohh, you’ve got some fire in you today,” he chucked his taunt at you, leaning down further into you; his nose almost brushing against your own with how close he drew himself down to you, “What I’d give to see that demonstrated with your body wrapped around my- AHH.” You halted his words within his mouth by clamping your teeth down against his nose hard enough to draw blood. After tasting the metallic flavor roll over your tongue, you withdrew your teeth from his flesh and bore your red-tinted lips at him.

He reached up to clutch the scruff of your neck, pulling you closer into him and purring a roar of his own into you:

“Mmm, Harder.”

[moonbaby26]

Their Favorite Parts

*crossposted to AO3 here*

Prompt: One Piece men and the parts of your body that they fixate on most. 

Reader Type: GN!Reader

Characters: Doflamingo, Kuzan/Aokiji, Crocodile, Smoker, Buggy, Mihawk, Shanks, Law

Warnings: language, references to sex, penetration, oral, and foreplay

———————————

Doflamingo/Holes

He actually can be gentle with you. But you’ve found that level of care is always only a precursor to something else that he wants. And in the end, he can’t ever let you back to sleep until he’s been inside at least one of your holes and fully spent himself within it. 

Whether this wretched man is pounding between your thighs, or probing you with those long fingers, or dampening you with that equally obscene tongue…he wants to be as deep inside of you as he can possibly be. 

He loves you most when you’re trembling, thighs spread beneath him. Or on your knees looking up as your eyes water with your mouth full of his length. He’ll tell you what a good pet you are even as you plead or choke. 

But it’s as if you were made perfectly for him. He’ll never feel this with another lover. You’re his favorite until he destroys it all. And even then, he may just pull you from the ash to start with you again. Because he would sincerely miss you in his next empire.

Kuzan/Aokiji/Chest

He loves to sleep with his head on your chest. He can hear your heartbeat then and know that you’re still really there. That this isn’t all some terrible illusion, as much as he still feels he doesn’t deserve you and can’t keep you. 

His life has been too complicated. All the way from a respected, yet conflicted marine to whatever the hell people are calling him these days. But you never seem to judge him. You still believe in him, even now. He doesn’t understand your loyalty, but he loves you for it. 

And when the two of you are awake and intimate, he’ll be behind you, hands holding your warm chest as his fingers massage it. The way you lean back into him as your chill bumps form is so trusting. You know that he could freeze your heart in an instant if he chose to. But of course he never would. He wants this to last forever. He needs you at his side.

Sir Crocodile/Hips

He is certain you do it on purpose by now. The way your ever tight clothing forms around your body. It feels like a specific challenge you’ve made against him. As if you are daring his eyes not to follow you across the room as your hips sway while you walk. 

You’re his favorite assassin already. Though perhaps he can take some blame for letting this favoritism start to go to your head. And yet, even when he plans to punish you, he finds himself enjoying it too much. It’s hard to keep you humble when he’s still moaning your name as he fucks you over the top of his desk. 

With his one hand he grabs into that fleshy hip, riding you to his release as his hook stays warningly against the side of your face. But while you smirk against that curved metal as he finally cums, he knows you haven’t learned your lesson at all. Yet he also realizes that there are still years of this game to come. You’re too efficient to get rid of you anytime soon.

Smoker/Lips

It was the first thing he ever noticed about you. Just how pouty your lips could look, even as you argued and bitched at him on the battlefield. You cursed him through those lips, always lamenting that he made your shared marine ship smell like an ashtray. 

And by the time he’d found his way into your bunk one night, those same lips were about the only thing he would put his cigars down for. He’d wanted to kiss you for so long. By the time you finally let him, he never wanted to lose that high again. 

It could be soft, it could be rough. Just like you and your ever changing moods. You acted like you hated him until your mouth was over his. Then you were thrusting against him soon enough and whimpering even as you both knew you couldn’t wake the rest of the ship. 

He always started and ended sex with you with those damned lips. And every time he knew curses would be flying from them again tomorrow, even if his name would also be moaning out through them just as passionately each night.

Buggy/Butt

His life was a circus. And not just in the literal way he would have preferred. Somehow every move he made garnered new success, but equal terror. He never knew what tomorrow would bring. As Cross Guild’s infamy grew, so did his reputation along with it. 

But his nerves were shot, and you could tell. When the others bullied him, you never added to it. He hadn’t a clue why you’d chosen him. But he wouldn’t take it for granted either as you’d come to sit in his lap, late at night in his room. You’d call him your captain, your emperor even, grinding that perfect ass into him as you tried to cheer him up. 

And it always worked. As he’d a bit too desperately slide your pants from you, you always humored him. Letting his hands massage and hold that enticing rear. If he wanted to spank you, you let him do that too. It was just so soft and…comforting? He might not admit it, but you were his only remaining stability in this place. If he lost you, that would have been his breaking point. But he trusted you too when you promised that you were in it for the long haul. He was already your pirate king.

Mihawk/Eyes

It was the way you’d looked at him that first time the two of you had ever crossed paths. You weren’t afraid of his history, even as you’d seen him kill a lesser swordsman right in front of you. 

By the time he got to know you better, he’d realized just how much he liked to gaze into those eyes. It was as if he could feel what you were thinking. And as your confidence grew, that ‘come hither’ look of yours became far more prominent as well. 

Just with a glance, he knew exactly when you were craving to have those physical needs sated. And he certainly respected that need, finding it rather quickly a mutual one as he’d often carry you to his bed. 

And even then as his hips would be pumping skillfully against your own, you’d be looking up at him in a haze of pleasure with those same beautiful eyes. A view for him alone, one he would cherish and protect forever more.

Shanks/Legs

It might have been a bit too crass on his part, that afternoon in the bar when he’d first noticed you from across the room. But his ship wouldn’t be in port for long. There wasn’t time to play this subtle. No, not at all as he’d whistled loudly, catcalling you while his crew had laughed. 

He’d gotten the full view as well when those same lovely legs had carried you right back up to the bar to tell him to go fuck himself. And the way he’d smiled at you just pissed you off even further of course. 

Your anger made you stay. And it was definitely a talent of his to inspire that, but he was persistent too. Soon enough you’d let him buy you a drink, and then a few more. By the time the two of you had been stumbling out of the bar, you were letting him know your room number at the nearby inn. You wanted to know if he was just all talk. He assured you that he was not.

And that night as he did get the privilege of those legs being wrapped around him as your bed creaked and shook in a marathon of lovemaking, he realized his crew probably could find more room on the ship. You had no ties to this town either. 

By morning he was more than pleased when you agreed to board. Beck had protested a little, just at the sudden impracticality of yet another mouth to feed. But Shanks knew you would fit in fine, all of you and those legs laying in his bunk warm beside him for years to come on your way through the New World.

Law/Hands

With an epithet like the Surgeon of Death, he of course knew better than most on the importance of dexterity and skill with the hands. Without his own, he felt that he would have been useless. 

But this appreciation for such talent had quickly extended to you once he’d finally given in. He’d ignored you for as long as he could, too logical in his understanding of how reckless it’d be to pursue a member of his own crew. But so many days and nights alone under the ocean’s surface had finally worn him down. 

The night on the Polar Tang when those skillful fingers of yours had finally been in his hair, and finally unbuttoning his pants soon after was one that had been so long coming. You’d gotten to see that other side of him then as he unraveled almost shamefully beneath your stroking and assurances. 

He’d taken care of everyone else for so long you told him, playing the part of their stoic leader. But you knew he was far from only that as your hands drew out all his pent up need. 

You promised him that he was safe with you. That you were with him until the end. And it was all true. The captain of the Heart Pirates would remain within your capable hands for as long as he desired to. And that desire would prove to be unbreakable.

[cookiepie111]

Men who slip a wedding ring on your finger while they're fucking you dumb. You're as married in his mind now

Tag your favourite fictional man

[thus-spoke-lo]

"What's Got You All Worked Up?": Little things that turn One Piece men on feat. Zoro - Sanji - Law - Usopp - Franky - Crocodile - Doflamingo

NSFW/18+ [minors DNI]

CW: gn!reader [Zoro, Sanji, Usopp]; afab!reader [Law, Franky, Crocodile, Doflamingo] - no gendered pronouns used; vaginal fingering [Law]; vaginal intercourse [Law]; somnophilia [Doflamingo]

Zoro: the way you look after a workout

Zoro never cares if you keep up with him when he works out—he loves that you want to spend time with him, adores how serious you take your bicep curls or how you look in the afternoon light when you lay down on a mat for a while to slowly stretch your limbs. But it’s when you’re all done for the day, when the heat of the midday sun has the room like a sauna and your muscles are sore and shaking, that he starts to lose all semblance of control. Your temples are dappled with perspiration, your chest heaving as you finish your last rep, sweat is trickling down your neck; he swallows hard and lets out a low groan at the sight of you. It reminds him of the way you look right after he fucks you, all heated and glistening with sweat and limbs weak and trembling. And since you’re already all warmed up, this seems like the perfect time to bend you over and take you right there on the weight bench.

Sanji: the way you smell

He doesn’t mean to be such a pest (well, actually he does) when he comes up behind you in the mornings, when you’ve just woken and you’re still sleep-drunk and groaning that the sun is out again already, but he needs to bury his face in the crook of your neck as soon as you wake and inhale your scent. Sanji thinks you smell sweet in the mornings, like pancakes and pastries, and pulls you back into bed so he can devour you like the delicious treat that you are. In the afternoons, he catches a whiff of you on the breeze, your skin covered in the salty spray of the sea, hands scented with tangerines after helping Nami in the garden, and he’s all over you, plying you with kisses and lust-tinged whimpers, begging you to come to his bunk, just for a little while, just so he can taste the way the citrus settled into your skin. And at night, he’s insatiable, burying his nose in your hair unabashedly when you stay to help him clean after dinner, taking in the way the faint traces of aromatic ingredients have settled on you and mixed with your own scent that he adores. It’s not long before he’s shutting off the sink and taking you by the hand, leading you over to the table and making a meal of you right then and there.

Law: the way you look in comfy clothes

Sure, he thinks you look lovely on the rare occasion you get to leave the submarine together and you doll yourself up for him, wearing that new shirt he likes, the one that flows over your body like water, and take the effort to line your eyes and swipe a little lipstick on. But when he feels the most hungry for you is when you get back and head straight to your quarters, stripping off your shoes and your pretty shirt and those tight jeans that make your ass look perfect but that you joke threaten to cut off your breathing one of these days. He sits in his desk chair and watches as everything comes off, and you crawl into his bed, face freshly-scrubbed, tucking your hands into the sleeves of an oversized sweatshirt. It’s then, when you’re finally comfortable and warm, when you look at ease and relaxed, and you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, that he’s all over you, fingers dipping below the waistband of your soft cotton shorts, teasing your pussy until you whimper and beg for more. He doesn’t even bother to strip the rest of your clothes off before he pulls his cock out of his jeans and buries himself inside you to the hilt, pulling your shorts to the side instead so you can stay nice and cozy, just how he likes you.

Usopp: when you help in his workshop

Sharing his workspace with you is already intimate enough for Usopp – it’s like he’s sharing a piece of himself the way he invites you in. But once you’re in there, it’s hard for him not to be heated at how serious you take it. You look so sweet the way your tongue pokes out of your mouth when you’re focused on something, and he feels a tingle at the base of his spine whenever you pout and ask him for help—you’re so close to getting it right, you just need him to guide you, to stand behind you and place his hands on yours and make sure the welding equipment stays steady. Watching the way you grip that piece of metal piping your working with in a way that makes him wish your hands were wrapped around his length instead…it takes everything he has not to grab you and sit you on top his worktable, to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him, let you feel just how much you drive him crazy. But he resists, at least for the moment, anyway--hearing you describe just how hard that steel is and how hot and sweaty you've become doing all this work pushes him to the brink soon enough, and he has no qualms in showing you exactly how skilled his hands are.

Franky: when you show just a little bit of skin

Coming from a man who walks around in an open shirt and swim briefs, this sounds pretty rich. But there’s just something so tantalizing about seeing a hint of skin and having to imagine what’s underneath, like that time your leggings were more sheer than you thought, and you bent over to grab the laundry basket and he got a quick glimpse of your panties (that happened to be the same pattern as one of his shirts). It was enough to drive him to distraction for the rest of the day and make him glad he was alone in the engine room, barely able to contain the way his cock pulsed every time he remembered how you looked. He loves that one sweater you wear, too—the one that just won’t stay on your shoulder and keeps slipping down, exposing just the slightest bit of soft skin in the afternoon sun, and the way it leads his eyes down to the way the fabric settles over your breasts. And don’t even get him started on that hint of your tummy he gets to see when you reach up to grab something off a high shelf, reminding him how easy it would be to wrap his big hand around your waist and just slide it right on up until he can feel the silky material of that nice bra he bought you…have mercy.

Crocodile: the way you look getting ready for dinner

It’s so routine now that you don’t seem to mind—at first it alarmed you, made you feel like prey when Crocodile would sit on the velvet couch in your quarters, his arms draped across the back, a cigar clenched in his teeth, and he’d watch you ready yourself for that evening’s festivities. But now, you almost welcomed the way his predatory gaze would settle on you as you sit at your vanity and paint your lips; you throw a wink and a pout his way now and again in the mirror, almost tempting him to ruin that pretty makeup after you’ve spent so long putting it on. He loves how your body moves, almost sleek and catlike, around the room, slinking into your closet and asking him which dress he likes better. He shifts in his seat as you wriggle into that pretty blue number he adores, and throbs as you glance over your shoulder and bat your eyes, asking him sweetly to come zip you up. And how can he refuse? Of course, by the time he crosses the room and reaches you, you both know that he has no plans to move that zipper an inch, and instead you feel the tip of his hook lifting your hem as he growls in your ear to bend over—he’s going to take care of that needy pussy of yours before you ever step foot out of your room. Guess you’ll be late for dinner, again.

Doflamingo: the way you look when you’re sleeping

He chuckles quietly and wonders if you fell asleep this way on purpose—the silken nightgown he dressed you in before he left for the evening has been discarded on the floor, and you lay atop the sheets, your body completely bare and bathed in moonlight. He slowly circles the bed like a predator, admiring the way your limbs are stretched out, arms flung above your head, your legs spread, one knee bent and lolled to the side, exposing your pretty little cunt. It looks just like the way you fling yourself onto the mattress when you’re feeling needy, how you toss your dress at him and lay back against the plush pillows, biting your lip and beckoning him to you with sweet pleas of I need you. He licks his lips at how your slit glistens, and wonders if you’re dreaming of him, wonders if perhaps you touched yourself thinking of him before you fell asleep. He sits carefully on the edge of the bed and watches you sleep a little longer, your lashes fluttering slightly as you moan and shift, your breasts heaving as you inhale deeply and sigh. You tempt him even in slumber, and he palms the throbbing hardness that pushes against his slacks, groaning softly as he decides if he should wake you with his fingers, his tongue, or his cock.

[shegetsburned]

how they like to kiss you w. one piece men ˚ 𐙚 ⋆.

.sfw.

❥ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄.. a hungry beast. hands caressing your neck or tracing your jaw as they kiss you nuts. he needs to touch you - his hands on your bare skin, lips nibbling, biting, moaning into yours, while heavily breathing after. a fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, portgas d. ace, trafalgar law, eustass kid, killer, paulie, sir crocodile, smoker, akagami no shanks, buggy the clown, donquixote doflamingo, king, kaku, lucci, silvers rayleigh

❥ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄.. a sloppy first-timer. weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot. it’s a greedy and messy kiss. it’s mostly tongue when he tries to push his way between your lips, firmly gripping the back of your head. a string of saliva connects your lips when you finally part.

monkey d. luffy, usopp, portgas d. ace, eustass kid, akagami no shanks, buggy the clown, donquixote doflamingo, paulie

❥ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄.. you’re a delicate flower that needs meticulous care. it’s slow. tracing your lips with a fingertip until he can’t resist any longer, tilting your chin towards him for a kiss. his thumb trailing down to your jawbone. you feel his soft touch against your skin, ever so slightly grazing it with tenderness and affection.

sanji, sabo, killer, sir crocodile, benn beckman, dracule mihawk, koza, marco, corazon

❥ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄.. a secret that’s making its way to your ears. a curious and uncertain soft kiss that turns into a fever. a gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion. a kiss so ardent, so perfect - that after you part, neither one of you can open your eyes for a few moments afterwards.

roronoa zoro, sanji, usopp, sabo, iceburg, akagami no shanks, benn beckman, koza, king, kaku, marco, corazon

❥ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄.. you’ll forget how he tastes. quick pecks here and there, finishing on the mouth. every time he leaves or comes back you’re greeted with one warm kiss. you can’t possibly escape it. he’ll tilt your head up towards him to steal one or distract you from whatever you’re doing so he can get one.

sanji, usopp, franky, trafalgar law, portgas d. ace, killer, smoker, akagami no shanks, yasopp, koza, lucci, silvers rayleigh

© shegetsburned 2024 Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own

[loganwritesprobably]

First Meeting With.. P3 (One Piece Edition)

Part one with Ace, Law and Sanji Part two with Zoro, Robin and Luffy Part four with Benn, Shanks and Smoker

Requests are open for x reader things! I will write basically ANY kind of reader - male, female, non-binary, gender neutral, trans, disabled, black, white, latino, asian, neurodivergent, etc

Here is another three lovely characters for you to meet: Crocodile, Mihawk and Buggy! All readers are gender neutral, so everyone is welcome to enjoy. No Y/N is used!

Buggy's section is a little short, but honestly I think it's just fine as it is, it made me laugh at least

CW: In Mihawk's section, the reader experiences a massive loss, and expresses some passive desire for death, take care with that

The casino was a little overwhelming when you first walked in, between the bright and sometimes flashing lights, and the various noises coming from patrons and machines alike, but you seemed to thrive here. You'd always liked card games, so that was what you gravitated toward when you'd first arrived. This, however, was far from your first time here, and you'd found a way to play the system. You'd play a few games, and lose intentionally with small bets, then you'd slip away to play another game and lose just once with another small bet, before retreating to the bar for something to drink and maybe something to eat depending on the time of day. You'd chat with other frequent patrons, and some of the staff. Finally, to end your night, you'd pick out whichever game you were most inclined to that night and place a large bet, and win. Your secret? You could count cards.

You didn't come too often, it was a delicate balance that you were striking to not be caught in your actions, but when you did come you always won big. The house couldn't always win, after all. Your wins were spread far enough apart, with enough losses in between, that you hadn't been flagged yet. It was a win, for you at least.

Tonight, you'd already done all your losses, and you were sitting at the bar. The woman behind the bar, Alisa, was lovely and you had gotten to know her in a fairly casual way, at the sort of level that you usually knew a co-worker. You knew very little about her, but you got along enough to happily chat whenever you were both at the bar. As you were happily chatting, you watched Alisa's face change, eyes widening and smile falling. That couldn't be anything good, but you didn't look up, you didn't want them to realise you knew someone was approaching.

A very large man sat on the stool beside you, dressed in fine fabrics and more fur than anyone had any right to be wearing in the desert. He was handsome. "Sir Crocodile, what can I get for you?" Alisa asked, and that told you just who you were dealing with - the damn owner, and one of the seven warlords of the sea. You took a deep, steadying breath, and sipped your drink casually. Crocodile ordered himself a drink, and you didn't look at him. There was a long, silent minute, where even the sound of the slot machines faded into the background and there was only you and Crocodile. Alisa returned with his drink, and he took a first sip, before he turned to you. "You're good, I'll give you that." He said, and you glanced at him as if seeing him for the first time. "What can I say? I make sure I dress nice for the casino." You replied, hoping to ease some of the tension. "You know what I'm talking about, though I'll admit, you do clean up well." You'd take a compliment where you could get it. "So I'm busted?" "You had a good run, but you can either leave and never come back.. or I'm willing to offer you a deal."

You were a powerhouse pirate in your own right. Your crew wasn't quite at your level, but every day they worked harder to match you in strength and ability - and they were getting there. Hell, you were sure they'd start to surpass you soon, and then maybe you'd have to start trying. You didn't mind. It felt good to see a group of people you'd been nurturing grow into something more. Your bounty was no Straw Hat level, but it was nothing to sneeze at in your humble opinion. A couple million berri - what you wouldn't give to have that much berri at your disposal.

You'd crossed paths with Mihawk only once, very early in your career, and you'd had the sense to stay out of his damn way. It was a good thing you did, he killed a man not ten minutes later, not that you stuck around long enough to find out why. You chased your crew from bars and away from market stalls, back onto your boat, and took off sailing again. He hadn't seen you, you were sure, and that was a good thing, but you'd seen him.

Never had you anticipated getting into a situation where you were crossing paths with him again - certainly not voluntarily.

Karai Bari was a damn hot island, not quite something you were used to, and well swimming several miles didn't help with how hot and out of breath you were. A dozen men approached you with swords and guns, and you could only hold up your arms in surrender. "I'm not.. here to fight!" You panted out, desperately searching the crowd for a sympathetic face. You found the least sympathetic amongst them in Dracule Mihawk. "My ship was shot down by marines sailing away from here, my crew.. I don't know where they are or if they survived. Please, I just want to live." You asked, hands beginning to tremble as reality set in. They were good people, and now you had no idea what had become of them. You'd demanded some of the younger members take to paddle boats to get to safety, but you didn't know if they'd made it. There'd been devil fruit users amongst them, and they were certainly dead by now. The knowledge of it weighed heavy on your shoulders - you were meant to protect them. You collapsed down to your knees in tears, sobs wracking your chest. You were meant to keep them safe. "I take it back," you whispered, voice thick with tears, "I can't do it without them. Do what you want to me."

It was the last hand you'd expected that came to rest on your shoulder and gently squeeze. "Get up." Came the voice of the world's greatest swordsman. "A Captain's grief should not be witnessed here. I'll take you somewhere private, where you can grieve properly, and I'll organise a rescue mission for any survivors."

He was a little odd looking, and that was putting it nicely. He was some sort of clown, judging from his large red nose, and he was.. well, all head. He was a head, directly attached to feet, and you couldn't quite understand how his hands were also attached to him. It was unnatural, and more than a little unsettling. He was yelling at you, bouncing up and down, and all you could do is stare. "It's flashily rude to stare ya know!" The guy yelled, which finally forced you to blink yourself back into full awareness. "What the fuck?" You managed, finally crouching down to look at him properly. "I'm Buggy! Genius Jester! Star Clown!" He yelled, and you shoved a finger in your ear to rub it. "You're also fucking loud." You muttered, running a hand over your face. "Hey! I'm looking for.. well.. the rest of me." You told you, realising that maybe yelling at you wasn't the best way to get your help. "For what?" You asked dumbly, blinking at him owlishly. The rest of himself? Was he some sort of hippie, what did that even mean? "I'm a chop chop man! My body comes apart." He explained, splitting his hand from the rest of his body as your face contorted in disgust. "I'm going to be sick." "You get used to it. Now stop being useless, and help me out! My leg is around here somewhere, I can feel it."

[cloudzoro]

Getting Caught | One Piece ♡

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Getting caught having sex with your man by one of his friends.

reaction/headcanon requests for jjk, one piece, haikyuu, fmab & death note (male & female characters) are OPEN!

masterlist | request rules

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters included: ace, crocodile, zoro

cw: dirty talk, pet names, threesome, size kink, public sex, voyeurism, big dick!zoro, possessive behaviour, Zoros one kinda made me 💦🤭🥵💫 while I was writing it

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Ace

Ace has been visiting your home a lot recently. Since the two of you started dating, he promised not to be gone too long. When you do finally get him back, you're all over him.

He's sitting on your couch while you're on his lap. You grind down against his cock, which he had pulled out of his shorts. The brim of his hat presses against the back of the sofa and prevents him from getting comfortable, so he takes it off of himself and places it on your head. The sight of you stripped naked in just his hat has him bucking his hips up into you.

“sit on my cock, pretty girl,” he says. “Let me fuck you, baby.”

You reach down and guide his cock into your hole. He helps you sink all the way down onto him, and when he finally bottoms out, you moan in his ear. He holds you still as you clench around him. He knows if you start moving now, he'll cum almost immediately.

“Please fuck me, Ace”, you whine before kissing him. He hums into your mouth and slowly ruts upwards. As soon as he moves, the door swings open. Ace is quick enough to grab a nearby blanket and wrap it around you while pulling you to his chest, blocking any possibility of whoever just walked in seeing you naked.

You look to the doorway to see Marco standing there. He seems embarrassed and as if he's trying not to laugh.

“I was just coming by to see how your reunion is going”, he says, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“It's doing fine; now beat it!” yells Ace, throwing a pillow in his direction. Marco runs, but not before yelling through the now-closed door.

“Nice hat, y/n!”

Crocodile

He has you on your back, legs pushed up to your chest as he fucks you. He's so deep inside you and so big that he attacks all your senses. You couldn't focus on anything else if you tried. You can feel his palm pressing against the tiny bulge in your stomach.

“Can you feel that baby? Feel me deep in your pussy?” his voice has you clenching around him. The room smells of smoke and sex, and it makes you so dizzy that you can barely respond to him. You let out a long whine and nod. Crocodile laughs from above you. “Can I flip you over?” he asks. You whine a yes, and he flips you onto your hands and knees.

A large, heavy hand pushes you down against the sheets. He pushes back into you and the new angle makes you scream into the fabric beneath you. Every thrust sends you forward into the mattress, and Crocodile does absolutely nothing to hide your moaning.

A few minutes later, you hear a loud banging at the door, and before either of you can move, Mihawk swings the door open as if he's completely unaware of what you are doing.

Your husband pulls you upwards so your back is against his chest and wraps his big arms around you, covering your most intimate parts. There's a beat of silence before Mihawk launches into a flustered tirade.

“You two are completely inconsiderate. Do you ever fucking shut up?” While he continues ranting, Crocodile leans down to speak in your ear.

“Look at him; he wants us so bad,” he whispers. He's not wrong if the flushed skin and raging boner are anything to go by. “Do you wanna invite him in?” he asks, paying no mind to Mihawk's scolding. When you nod, your husband drops his hands away from your chest and between your legs. Mihawk goes silent now that your body is exposed to him. “She has another hole for you,” says Crocodile, pressing his fingers against your lips. You obey his silent command and open your mouth to suck on his fingers. “y'know if you want help with that,” smirks your husband, gesturing to the tent pitched in Mihawk's trousers.

Mihawk considers the offer for a minute before approaching the bed. Crocodile lets go of your body and pushes you back down as Mihawk pulls his cock free from his trousers. You lick up the underside of his cock and then take him into your mouth, relaxing into taking as much of him as you can. You can hear verbal encouragement from both men, but you're not focusing on the words at all; you're too busy being stuffed with cock.

Zoro

Zoro can't keep his hands off of you, you've been at a bar for all of ten minutes and he's itching to pull into the nearest bathroom and fuck you stupid.

“Baby, come on,” Zoro says, pulling your back against his chest as you stand at the bar. “No one will even notice we're gone.”

Your boyfriend is impossible to resist and you let him drag you to the bathroom. He pins you against the wall, kissing you as he pulls his cock free. He holds his hand in front of your face, instructing you to spit in his palm. He uses your saliva to lube up his cock before lining himself up with your cunt and pushing in. You pull Zoro into another kiss, much nastier and messier than the last. His hips rock into you, cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

“Hold on to me, pretty girl”, he groans as you cling to his shoulders. He fuckss you harder, intending to make you cum as quickly as possible so he can get you home and really take his time with you. Neither of you realise that you didn't lock the door until you notice a blonde man with a familiar pair of eyebrows staring at you in shock.

“Zoro, Sanji's here,” You whine, slightly embarrassed. He knows; he heard Sanji coming in. He just doesn't care. At this point, almost nothing could stop him from making you cum.

“Let him watch. Let that shitty cook see what he'll never have” The cocky smile on his face makes your pussy drool. Zoro isn't jealous; he has no reason to be, but he has one of the nastiest possessive streaks you've ever seen in your life. “This pretty pussy is all mine, right baby?”

“uh-huh” is the only pair of syllables you can form as he fucks you so hard you fear you might crack the wall. You're not lying, though. Every part of your mind, body, and soul belongs to Zoro and vice versa. Sanji tries to focus on glaring at the swordsman, but he keeps getting distracted by your exposed skin and pretty noises.

“Cum for me” He emphasises the word ‘me’ reminding both you and Sanji that every drop of cum that leaks from your sweet pussy is his. Your body follows through on the command, shaking in his grasp as you cum. Both men stare at you in awe. Zoro cums soon after, unable to stand the way your cunt pulses around his sensitive cock any longer. “Get out of here,” Zoro growls, voice startling Sanji back to reality and he hurries off so you and Zoro can clean up in privacy.

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thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)

comments and reblogs are massively appreciated ♡

[lehguru]

CALLING THEM MY LOVE + ONE PIECE MEN

characters: rosinante, doflamingo, shanks, marco, crocodile

warnings: heavily self indulgent in like... 90% of those, not proofread

donquixote rosinante always uses soft nicknames for you, so you thought you could use them with him too. "my love, is law okay?" you expected his back to turn to you, but the man simply stayed like that. "rosi?", you approached him and he let you wrap your arms around his waist. he turned around and you felt something wet fall on your face. 'you never called me your love before.' his voice sounded so soft, he wrapped his arms around you too and placed a kiss on the top of your head. 'i love you.'

donquixote doflamingo is unpredictable; you always wanted to use pet names with him, but you don't know how he would react to it. one day, he walked in your shared bedroom looking absolutely tired and mad. "doffy? are you okay, my love?" his shoulders visibly relaxed and his usual wide grin creeped up on his face. 'oh?' he cooed and motioned with his hand for you to come closer. 'your love? baby, you flatter me.' his hand came up to hold your chin and he chuckled.

shanks and you aren't exactly official. everyone in the crew knows that you "belong" to their captain, but neither shanks nor you made things official. that's why you completely caught him off guard when you murmured: "shanks, my love, where did you put your dirty clothes?". he looked at you shocked, but he soon smiled widely at you. 'darling, ya know you don' have to wash my stuff. c'mere.' with his only arm, he pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. 'love ya'. the crew around both of you started cheering and cooing. shanks started laughing loudly and tried to dismiss them, but you felt him give your hand a tight squeeze.

you had injuried yourself a little during a battle, but marco immediately pulled you to the ship's infirmary when you two got back. you knew it was useless to say you didn't need it, so you just let him tend to your wounds. when he was over, he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and you murmured, "thanks, love". he chuckled loudly and messed up your hair. 'no problem, sweetheart.'

crocodile was feared by so many people, even among his "friends"; but you, you know you are on his soft and sweet side. "my love!" you exclaimed, entering his office with a dish you just prepared, "can you taste this for me?". his eyes went from rough and cold to slightly softer when you stopped right by his side, holding out a piece of the meat you made for him to bite. he bit it and groaned softly. 'it's delicious, angel.' you smiled at him and kissed his cheek, making him smile for a second, before turning back to his papers.

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[deathc-re]

your older!bf who has really opened your eyes to the world of mature men. who truly listens when have a complaint and works to fix it. who shows you that he adores you, even in his own strange way. who goes out of his way to spoil you and pamper you; who always makes sure you have the best of the best.

older!bf who literally is the best sexual experience you've had in your whole life. who does things you didn't even think were possible. who makes you feel levels of pleasure you'd only read about until this point. who pays such close attention to ever twitch and flinch and gasp and abuses ever spot that brings you pleasure. who reaches places so deep inside that you're surprised feels good instead of painful. who goes above and beyond with aftercare, making you feel so safe and secure. who makes sure you're well feed and clean, your favorite show or song playing as he cuddles you close.

older!bf who wastes no time to show you off and shower you in praise. who compliments every aspect of you, some you didn't even notice about yourself. who respects and knows you as a person. who is secure enough in himself and the relationship to know that even tho you're together, you're your own separate people and is fine with it.

older!bf who is protective of you and takes the extra measures to make sure you're safe in every situation he can, no matter what.

older!bf who loves you :(

LAW, corazon, sir crocodile, bakugo, aizawa, FAT GUM, sung-jin woo, andy, GETO, and my man <3

[tinfairies]

You Tell Them "It's too deep."

One Piece x Reader

Pulls their cock/strap out a bit. "I'm sorry baby, I just got too eager." tries to keep a shallow rhythm, not wanting to hurt you. Might get a bit too eager and go too deep again though.

Sanji, Luffy, Usopp, Koby, Ace

Scoffs and rolls their eyes, "This isn't too deep." then they push their cock/strap further in, making you whine. "This. Is too deep." they pull back out a little and fuck you the way they were originally.

Robin, Nami, Law, Zoro, Helmeppo, Garp, Mihawk, Zeff, Boa Hancock, Shanks, Smoker

Smirks and thrusts in further, loving the way you writhe in pain. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't think we were doing this for your pleasure." then makes you take every inch of them.

Crocodile, Doflamingo, Buggy, Kuro, Arlong, Alvida

[sleep-0-deprived]

I shouldn’t cry, but I love it

Men that are protective over you and are very touchy when you cling to them. Men that comfort and hold you when your sad and put their arms around your waist from behind

Men that treat you to dates and let you rest your head on their chest. Men that like it when you are clingy and give you everything you’ve never had.

Men that will handcuff you to the bed and dress you up in the finest lace. Men that are very carful when prepping you and treat you like a precious doll.

Men that call you “sweetheart, baby boy, doll” in your ear while they fuck you roughly. Men that love the smell and taste of your body and drives them crazy.

Men that spoil you and will fuck you anywhere. Men that will worship and praise your body like you are a god but will fuck you until you can’t walk.

— Toji, Geto, choso, Nanami, Fyodor, Crocodile, Mihawk, Daisuke, Gyomei, Kakashi, Gojo, Jean, Sebastian, Itachi

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,100+, 1,700+, 1,700+, 1,400+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, swearing, masturbation, dub con (Using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, feelings, all individual 'x reader' drabbles, same reader!insert different outcome, chop-chop fruit shenanigans, angst, romance, smut, kissing, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Dreaming of You Masterlist Here, Please read the warnings. I am having a lot of fun with this series, but this one got away with me. They're only meant to be silly little drabbles between larger fics. Sorry for the lengthy read! Enjoy playing the part of a marine spy for Cross-Guild!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @lostfirefly

Hips pressed against one another, huffing pants and gasps were collected in one another's lips and skin as he pinned your back against the wooden wall behind the burgundy curtains of the tent door. Legs collected over his hips, he held your left thigh in his right hand, his forearm caging you by slotting up between your right shoulder and the cool surface. 

Lusting and passionate, he drew intentional thrusts that were slow and deliberate enough to brush at your g-spot and mold your pussy to the contours of his thick cock. He slacked his jaw, his eyes swimming with emotion as he ground his pelvis against your clit with every heavy thrust. 

Your voice whimpered for him, stifling your mewls of pleasure by biting down into his shoulder and crying as he bullied his cock into your needy pussy. He groaned with you, rocking his cock in slow, languid thrusts up into your body. 

“Please,” you begged him, desperately clawing at his back and peppering his shoulders, neck and jaw with enthusiastic kisses, “We don't have long until the others come back.” He growled at your words, offering you a particularly mean thrust forward and a cruel bite against your neck. 

“A-Aah!” you gasped in shock, biting your lip and digging your nails into his shoulders harder. He sheathed his entire length greedily into you, his shaft twitching in bliss the moment he felt his blunt tip brush your cervix. His hips stapled yours against the wall he was bullying you against. 

“I don't care if they hear,” he barked against your neck, tracing his tongue over the bruise forming from his bite, “I don't care if they see.” He pulled back his hips only slightly before immediately propelling himself forward and forging his body against yours like soldering iron to a hot blade. 

“Let them hear,” he admitted, huffing against your neck as he rocked his hips into yours, removing his hand from hooking around your thigh to grip your neck and bring your gaze to meet his. “Let them see.” He plastered your parted lips with his own, desperate with tongue and teeth as he released your neck to hold your thigh once more. 

“I want them to hear,” he groaned into your mouth, rolling your cheek with his chin and kissing down your jaw, “I want them to see.” He trailed his needy kisses down your neck as he doubled his effort and sped up his rhythmic thrusting. 

As your core sucked him in each time he retracted, his mind was lost to him and was filled with primal desire. He needed them to hear your sweet moans and whimpers. He needed them to see who was making you feel this good. He needed you to know who you belonged to. 

“Say you're mine,” he growled, his lips mouthing up your neck, over your jaw and to your cheeks, “Say it.” He sped up faster, his cock hammering into you with every cruel, frenzied thrust. His hair was sticking to the dewy sheen of sweat against his forehead and neck, his brows furrowed as he glared into your eyes with an intensity he had never felt in life prior. 

“Say you're mine,” he barked at you, commanding you to fulfill his desires as his cock twitched within you. Your walls beckoned him closer, the thump of your ecstasy wringing his cock as he pistoned it within you had him desperately whimper and whine your name. 

“P-Please say you're mine,” he implored you in desperation, his fingers clutching your thigh in a heaping fistful as he continued to chase your mutual highs, “Tell me. Tell me your mine, and I'll be your slave.” He begged, kissing your lips and panting through his thrusts, “I'll be yours. Is that what you want?”

He chased your mutual high faster, rocking and pummeling into you with his heels digging into the floor. His belt buckle jingled atop his pants pooling at his ankles, your own pants discarded beneath you long ago. Leaning down, he took your peaked nipple into his mouth and rolled it over with his tongue.

A string of saliva attached from his lips to the puckered bud when he pulled away, huffing and panting at the lustful display of your breathing hitching. Body bouncing in sultry ripples with each thrust, he groaned as he felt his abdomen tighten with a familiar call of his imminent release. 

“Yes,” you whispered his name suddenly, clutching his neck and carding your hands through his hair, “Yes, I want that. I want you-...” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” 

He growled his pleasure at hearing your words into your lips, tongue lapping with yours and his hair brushing against your forehead. You hastily tugged him away from your lips by gripping the scruff of his neck and pulling hard. 

“W-What? Why are you-?” He began, his words halted by the intensity of your gaze. Your lips were parted, face flushed from a higher rise of hazy temperature, and skin forming lustful bruises and mapping his treasure with his marking kisses. 

“Make me yours,” you gasped at him, panting as your lust eclipsed your eyes, “Cum in me. I want it. Need it.” His eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack as his hips staggered their vicious thrusting deep inside you. 

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna-...” His abdomen tightened further, his eyes glowing black with luminescent lust as his seed spilled inside you with hot spurts, “I'm cumming-... hhah-... I-I’m cumming…f-f-fuck-...” Rope after rope of translucent cum released within your walls, the rhythm of your own ecstasy milking him with squeezing grasps on his throbbing cock. 

You called his name, throwing your head back as he trailed his eyes over your skin with adoration within his bliss. He couldn't get enough, reaching forward to collect your lips beneath his in a scorching mess of lips, tongue and teeth. With a desperate kiss to mold him against you completely, he forged an unspoken covenant to ensure you knew you were his and he was yours. 

Opening his eyes, the image of your blissed out afterglow faded from his vision. All that he was met with was the ornate ceiling in his bedroom, his cock twitching through the final waves of untouched pleasure. 

“No,” he growled, removing his duvet with his right hand and glancing at the lustful dance his swollen cock twitched with. A last spurt of cum spilled from the glossy slit and he immediately thrust the ruined blanket on top of his stomach to shield it from his sight. 

“Fuck.”

Sir Crocodile 

He balled his right fist, slamming it into the mattress beside his hip with a rumbling growl in his chest. Inhaling deeply, holding it for a few seconds, and exhaling slowly had him assess all that occurred to him with his night vision moments ago.

“Please say you’re mine. Say you’re mine and I’ll be your slave,” his own voice echoed in his mind, “I’ll fall to my knees and worship you in all ways. I’ll treat you like the deity I know you to be, showering you in praise and praying at your altar. Please.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered with half-hooded lessons, “I’ll only ever be yours, Sir Crocodile. Only yours.” He snapped his eyes awake, clenching his jaw impossibly tight and drawing his brows down in fury.

“I begged?” he snarled, reaching for a cigar and his flint-lock lighter, “I begged to claim you as mine?” He clicked his tongue before biting down on his cigar, lighting the end with a small flame and sucking in a sour lungful of smoke, “Utterly ridiculous.” 

Pulling the duvet away from his lap, he growled at the sticky ooze pooling at his abdomen before squaring his shoulders and walking to the adjoining ensuite in his master bedroom. The Cross-Guild tent did not have many luxuries, but he refused to go without simple pleasures while working with the disgusting clown. 

A bath was one such pleasure Sir Crocodile would not live without.

Running the water, he dropped each foot into the tub and sighed out at the contact of the freshwater rising to his thighs. The heat and steam eradicated his shame from his abdomen without much effort, melting it down and washing it away beneath the water. Groaning, he looked to his absent left hand and gazed down at the scarred stump. 

“We don’t have long until the others come back,” he heard your voice echo within his mind, drawing himself back to the dream and causing him to grimace in annoyance. He circled his palm and fingertips over his left forearm and molded the flesh within a firm grip. 

The pains on his phantom limb had returned, his mind racing and attempting to draw up distractions by any means necessary. Your midnight illusion was simply the latest commodity to preoccupy his attention with lustful desires, is how he rationalized such a shameful intrusion. 

He was a fourty-six year old man, not some prepubescent teenager so consumed with the need to fuck that their minds dreamed it into an untouched and sticky reality. The pain intensified, his teeth clamping in a rough hiss as the illusionary throb of his hand caused him to shake his arm from his grip. 

This was going to be a long and tiring day.

At the meeting, he was being short and harsh with anyone and everyone to cause him displeasure. His teeth snapped barks, his chest rumbling his fury and his hair was beginning to become disheveled. The clown was aggravating, and the swordsman’s silence was not as refreshing as it was under usual circumstances.  

His right hand only ever left his left forearm for the chance to draw up a cigar, yet the sour smoke did very little to soothe his pain, and his hand only seemed to make the intensity of the throbbing worse. As Mihawk and Buggy stood to leave the room, he remained behind and he finally hissed out a lengthy growl behind his clenched teeth at the pain. 

There was not a sound in the room, a slight ringing in his ears as the pain reached his head and dizzied his mind. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, he had no context for a gentle touch on his hand over his forearm until he snapped his purple eyes up to meet with yours. 

“Allow me, Sir Crocodile,” your smile illuminated your face, gently suggesting with your touch to remove his right hand from his left forearm. He attempted to fight the urge to bark at you, snap at you and give in to his desire to have you touch him. 

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Marine?” he growled, eyes narrowing and lips curling up into a deep snarl, “Who gave you the right to touch me-?”

“Oh, shut up. You've been horrendous today and I refuse to have this continue to be cause for your disgusting attitude,” you bit back, your own lips pulling back to reveal your snarl, “Let go of your arm and let me help you, damn it.” He immediately dropped his arm in favor of gripping your neck in a tight choke, bringing your face closer to his. 

“You dare to give me orders, Marine?” he roared at you, your teeth gritting back the pain and glaring into his eyes. “I was a former warlord, little spy. Now I hunt and kill your kind for a living.” As Sir Crocodile monologued, he remained ignorant of your hands working to find the clamps of his prosthetic hook and releasing the golden cover from his arm. 

“And now you touch me, spy? Offering me what, exactly?” he continued monologuing as you removed his hook and rolled up his embroidered sleeve. The pain in his forearm was so intense he could barely feel any relief of tension come from releasing his limb from the confines of his hook. “How are you going to help-... A-ah!” He gasped, his brows tugging up in the center of his forehead as he glared at you. 

Immediately releasing your neck, he looked down at his bare forearm within both of your hands and bit back a whimper. In his own grip, his scarred forearm felt hot and throbbing beneath his cooler temperature. In your warmer hands, his arm felt encased in an encumbering embrace like hot stones sizzling on a damp surface. 

Your thumbs traced the contours of his muscles, dipping between his bones and rolling his muscle between your fingers. The heel of your palm added a tight pressure to his ache, his breath coming out in rough pants the longer you held him in a tight grip. His eyes softened, his scowl loosening from anger to pain. 

Hissing and panting, an uncharacteristic whimper fell from his lips as you silently focussed on working the flesh within your skilled grip. Circling your thumbs and contracting your hands, you instructed him with calming and soothing words. 

“Deep breaths now,” you whispered in a slow and intentional hum, “In when I squeeze, and out when I release.” He nodded his head, feeling the soft roll of your hands over his skin. As you tightened his grip, his chest expanded with a lengthy inhale and exhaled as you withdrew. 

Repeating that motion, he felt the tension in his mind begin to release him from his illusions. Focussing on your movements as your voice soothed him with each direction, he didn’t expect his emotions to overcome him at such kindness. Your hard contractions over his arm eased up, your fingertips tracing the scars on the vacant nub and causing his flesh to tingle beneath it. 

“Better, sir?” halting your soft motions, you gently placed your hand on his forearm and held faint pressure over his skin. Reopening his eyes, he felt tangible relief wash its way over his face. Gazing into your eyes, you held nothing but empathy and gentleness in your twin orbs. He leaned down over your face, bringing contact between your two foreheads and offering you the slightest of smiles. 

“Why would you do that?” he whispered in an uncharacteristic soft voice, “Touch me like that? Offer me such kindness after all that’s occurred between us?” He raised his right hand and cupped the back of your head in a firm grip to hold you against him. 

“You didn’t kill me the moment I stepped into the red tent,” you smiled warmly at him, “Nor did you kill me any day thereafter.” Giving his arm another gentle squeeze, you glanced down at his missing limb and offered him a melancholy smile. He growled at your confession, searching your eyes for a further explanation. You huffed out a sigh, smiling further with a soft twitch up your cheeks. 

“I used to do this for my friend back at the marine base,” you offered him a glimpse at your history with your explanation, “Did it all the way up until the day she died. Said something about my hands feeling warm against her skin, different to her own temperature. Soothing.”

He chuckled at that, nodding against your head and closing his eyes shut in momentary bliss. That was why you felt so good on his skin, your skilled motions causing him aid and relief. You have done this before, and were offering it freely to him. 

“Oh?” he asked, his smile tugging at his cheeks and elevating the scar over his face, “And did she manage to say what she did without you by her side to aid her?” You laughed at him, breaking away your contact from his forehead and scrunching up your nose playfully. 

“I was always by her side, sir,” you confessed to him, nodding as you spoke, “She and I were inseparable, even in cabin quarters.” He nodded in understanding, looking down to his limb and back up to your eyes. 

“Well, if that’s the only solution for the pain I’m encountering,” he uttered, his lips curling into a wide smirk, “I would see you gather your personal effects and move into my cabin beside the tent, immediately.” You laughed at him, rising from his side and beginning to leave the meeting room. 

“I hardly think that would be appropriate. Don’t you agree, sir?” you question him, collecting your bag from the circular table in the center of the room. As you moved to leave the tent, a strong forearm snaked around your chest and grasped your shoulder, tugging you firmly into a broad chest. 

“Wasn’t a suggestion, Marine,” he whispered into your ear, the smooth rumble of his voice shooting tingles up your spine and causing you to gasp. “You’re mine now. Hear me?” He grazed his lips over your cheek and down your jaw in a slow motion. 

“Mine.”

Buggy

“Oh, what the fuck?” his nasally voice huffed, his makeup free face flushing with a hefty sprinkle of dark blush, “You’re fucking kidding me.” He reached down to his cock and fisted it in a pistoning motion. 

“Had to be you, didn't it?” he cursed your name in a pouty snarl, “The fucking spy.” He swirled his cock in his palm, growling at it before he simply detached it with his balls and brought it up to his face. He frowned in a deep scowl, drawing up his heckles as he began chastising his cock. 

“C’mon, man! How could you do this to me?” He growled at his cherry-red knob, choking it in his fist, “You think this is fucking funny? You think I want to see ‘em like this?” He drew up his other hand and slapped his knob, his pelvis wincing in response. 

“Out of bounds,” he berated his cock, “The spy is out of bounds. You know the spy is out of bounds.” He pinched his knob, choking it and only making his pleasure heighten. “N-Nnngh-... Not for thinking about, not for trying to fuck.” 

He whimpered, his priorly ruined orgasm still gluing his duvet to his stomach. He growled, hocking a wad of spit behind his lips. He spat on his cock in an attempt to degrade himself further, only leading to lubricating his ministrations and causing him to throw his cerulean colored hair back into his plush pillows in bliss. 

“Hhah-... The spy is not for you, you fucking idiot,” he gulped his confirmation, his cock thrusting itself in his fist beside his head as he frowned at it, “Think about something else,” he closed his eyes, meeting the thrusts of his cock with his hand as he tried to think about anyone else he could sheathe himself in. 

“Buggy, I-I’m gonna c-cum-,” he heard your voice whimper at him, his cock twitching in his hand beside his face, “Buggy, please can I cum?” He shook his head, attempting to picture anything else. Faceless breasts bouncing, ripples of an ass jiggling, parted lips panting and huffing with eyes scrunched shut-... Your voice calling his name with adoration pouring from your lips like honey. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, shaking his head and attempting to go back to the earlier images. He only pictured your hair, your skin, your perfume, and your lips behind his eyes. Those lips used to spell secrets, split in a perfect ‘O’ as he pictured you slicking his cock up in your needy cunt with your erupting ecstacy milking him of his heaping load. 

“Fuck! No, no, no, no, n-oooh!” He threw his cock away from his face to not shoot himself in the eye with his release. It spattered the wall in a secondary wave of sticky cum like a grenade exploding on impact. “Nnnngh-... F-Fuck. Fu-uck-... C-cumming-.” His abdomen contracted as he rode the remaining waves of his orgasm untouched and unstimulated. 

Ropes of guilt shot out of his small slit and coated the wall and floor in a sticky pile of pearlescent cum. He groaned your name, huffing and panting as his hips bucked up in an attempt to stimulate his detached cock. 

“N-... No…” he whimpered, bringing his palm up to his face and clapping it over his lips. “Not the spy. I can't-... I can't have the damn spy. They're a bloody marine, you fucking idiot,” he degraded himself further, rising from his bed and wiping his abdomen of the solidifying globs of sticky cum with his duvet. 

He reached his cock, staring at it as it looked like a pathetic, slobbering drunk as it lay in a pool of its own drool. He clicked his tongue at it, picking it up and dusting it off before reattaching it to his pelvis. Readjusting his balls, he found his red jumpsuit and messily thrust it over his body in one swell motion. Instead of throwing his arms through the sleeves, he tied the material around his waist and offered to remain shirtless. 

“Not the spy,” he whispered to himself as he exited his ornate living quarters at the Cross-Guild base. Making his way to the kitchen, he was halted by a soft hum reverberating around the room. 

A familiar somber tune painted the air with its melody, his eyes shutting and the corner of his mouth ticking up as he listened to the lyrics. Stepping into the room, he attempted to mask his nerves with his signature mischief written on his face. 

As he drew his eyes over your features, your back facing away and staring out the window by the sink, he couldn't help but have the mask of protection slip away. Your lips whispered the lyrics, your heart carried the tune. You were not in your marine uniform, nor were you adorning the attire Sir Crocodile purchased for your protection. 

You were dressed in simple, gray-coloured slacks that hung loosely around your hips. The top you were wearing was a cropped t-shirt with his Jolly Roger printed on the back. His lips parted in shock as he drank you in, listening to your soft singing and closing his eyes to experience it fully. 

Before he could manage to say a word to reveal his presence, your hums ceased and your voice lowly uttered your apologies. 

“Sorry, Captain Buggy,” you bow your head to him in greeting, “I was not assuming the three of you to be awake so early. If I bothered you with my noise, I apologize.”

“N-No bother,” he huffed your name and hastily gave his reply to you with a soft blush, “I-... I haven't heard that song since the old days. Way back when-... When Roger…” He trailed off, looking at a point just beyond your hips and against the sink beside you. 

“I love the old shanties,” you chased his gaze with your own, angling your chin down and attempting to pry his eyes up to meet yours, “They're either about drinking, fucking, or grieving.” Buggy met your gaze, grinning up at you with his teal eyes beaming. 

“Ah, two of my favorite pastimes,” he added his commentary, leaning in closer and a cheeky smile pulling at his cheeks, “I’m not one for fucking.” He shot you a wink, prompting you to laugh at his joke. Your laugh was music, each soft teeter was as radiant as a lilt from heavenly minstrels. After teetering off your laugh, he offered you a soft smile with his eyes wide and curious. 

“Would you mind…?” Buggy trailed off again, nervously clutching the back of his neck and cringing through his smile, “...Could you perhaps tell me why you decided to join us, again?” He released his hand from his neck and darted his eyes between yours. 

After taking a moment to collect your breath and mull over what it was he asked of you, shrugged and offered him a simple answer. 

“The Berry is good, and it’s mutually beneficial,” you nod at him, smiling with your answer, “You were the one who offered me a choice, remember?” Crossing your arms, you leaned your hips back on the sink and glared at him, “It was either: spy for the marines as a triple agent for your Cross-Guild with a livable wage, or have Crocodile or Mihawk take my head. I chose you, Captain.” 

As Buggy was reminded of his prior actions and offered you a sheepish smile in response. Stepping forward, he reached for your forearms and waited for you to flinch away or chastise him for such a soft gesture. In the wake of such a softness, he was pleasantly surprised when he felt your fingers interlace with his own and hold them beside him.

“You know, ‘m sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, looking to his toes and pouting his unpainted lips, “Didn’t mean t’ have it sound so bad.” You smiled in response, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze and angling your chin down to look at his uncovered fingers. 

“You know, you’re actually quite handsome,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, “The infamous Captain Buggy D Clown, genius jester, king of fools, and calamity of chaos.” You named his titles with a soft smile, looking up into his rainforest-colored eyes with such gentleness. 

“You-... You think I’m handsome?” He asked you, your soft laughter prompted his own to slip freely into the air. You unplaced your right hand from his left and cupped his cheek within your palm, running your fingers through his hair. 

“You’re usually dressed in makeup, with your long hair tucked under your hat,” you collected a strand between your fingers and rolled your thumb over the lengthy blue locks, “And, you usually don’t have this much skin revealed.” Looking down at his chest: his messy blue hair trailed down his chest, tapered off at his stomach, and picked up again like a cerulean trail leading to the assumed treasure beneath his red jumpsuit. 

“I’m not used to seeing this much of you, Captain,” you muffled, drawing your gaze back up to his with a rapidly broadening smile, “And I’m not mad about it.” Your eyes creased at the corners as you offered him a toothy grin in response to his vibrant blush.

The hue of his cheeks rivaled that of his nose and jumpsuit, his eyes almost weeping from the rapidly rising blood pooling in his face. His Adams apple bobbed at the compliment, gulping back a dry pit in his throat and swallowing it. 

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, chuckling to cover his nerves and squeezing your remaining hand in his in two short motions, “I… I take back my earlier sentiment, uh-... If you’re interested?” He continued stuttering and choking on his words as he clumsily cartwheeled around his intentions.

“Oh?” you smirked at him, raking your fingers through his hair and darting your eyes between his, “And what was your earlier sentiment again, Captain?” You trailed your fingers down to the end of his lengthy locks. 

He gulped his terror and humbled himself by offering you a short, huffed laugh. After taking a moment, his eyes twinkled in mischievous hope as he rejoined your eyes in a smiling gaze. 

“I am one for fucking…”

Mihawk

Amber eyes stared in horror at the ceiling, wide and unblinking as he replayed the final moments over and over again in his mind. He drew his right hand down to grasp around the steel girth of his deflating cock and wield it in his firm grip. 

“I want that. I want you, lord Mihawk,” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you in his mind's eye, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes twitching but remaining staring vacantly at the ceiling. Thumbing over the prior release, he hissed in agitation the moment his fingers collected his viscous eruption. 

“How fatuous,” he snarled, raising his duvet once more from his waist, “So puerile.” His face remained vacant, his eyes holding only a touch more agitation than his usual persona as he walked to his ensuite shower. Turning the taps, he didn’t wait to feel the rise in water temperature. 

Stepping into the freezing water, he made no reaction as the icy liquid pelted at his skin; not even blinking to dampen his rapidly drying eyes. The water began to elevate in temperature as he released his cock from the grip. Gathering his sandalwood soap bar in his hands, he began lathering himself in foamy suds and washing over his body with his shock and shame still evident on his features.

The only time he closed his amber eyes was when he washed over his face, scrubbing at his whiskered chin and massaging his cheekbones. As soon as his eyes closed, he only saw your face contorted in pleasure, your ethereal moans freely haunting him in his ears. Shaking his head beneath the water, he only saw your face and imagined your hands clawing at his back beneath the water. 

Horror and shock eclipsed his eyes upon reopening, his eyes remaining that way as he concluded his shower, dried himself off, applied his cologne and skin care products, and dressed himself in his pants and greatcoat. His fingers stuttered over the lacing on his outer greatcoat, his lengthy necklace almost choking him as he placed it over his neck.

Almost stumbling into the dining space, he searched in his mind for a reason something so juvenile could occur for someone of his age, standing, and stature. He had gone for so long without taking a lover, he barely felt any lusting urges overcome him anymore. It didn’t suit his routine, his monotony, or his lifestyle as a former warlord. 

His apathetic and bored stature coming from a place of loneliness in his sovereignty as World's Greatest Swordsman. His achievements were already so vast, and he had nobody to share them with - nor a desire to begin a courtship with someone akin to his title. He had no time to take a lover, no time to indulge in whoring as it took away from his duties tending his garden in Kuraigana, and his bounty collecting as Marine-Hunter for Cross-Guild. 

So, why did his mind replay your pleasure over and over again in a loop of falsified memory? The marine spy, the confidant to cross-guild, the whispering oathbreaker; all the titles he sought to bestow you with. His hands reached for the bottle in front of him, clasping the green glass in his hands and uncorking the waxy tip. Pouring the rouge liquid into a crystalline glass, he felt a presence to the side of him.

“Could you spare a glass for me, my lord?” your soft susurration drew his attention back to the present, prompting his eyes to flicker to you. He witnessed your soft smile, your gaze assessing his face and shoulders.

Wordlessly, he reached for another glass and began readying it for you. The dry liquid coated the glass, a soft drop spilling from the rim and down the stem which caused you to knit your brows in concern. 

“Everything okay, my lord?” you asked, reaching for a napkin and beginning to clean up the mess, “You seem out of sorts this morning. Berry for your thoughts?” You dabbed at the table with the wafer-thin paper and tidied up his spill without a second thought. His eyes followed your motions, almost viewing the dabs in slow motion the longer your hands lingered near him. 

His silence seemed to perplex you further, turning your shoulders and leaning your hips back against the marble counter and staring up into his unblinking eyes in response. His shaking hands reached for his wineglass and drew it up to his lips. His mustache dipped into the liquid, messily staining his upper lip with the tart tannins. 

Gazing at his shoulders, you noticed a loop of his shoulder straps seeming to bubble within the corseted lacings, your hands absentmindedly straightening the bonds without much thought. Mihawk choked on his liquid the moment your hands brushed against his shoulders. 

Feeling the warmth float from your fingertips to the exposed skin beneath the weighty jacket, his eyes widened briefly and his pupils narrowed in an accusatory glare. Huffing a nervous laugh as his soft choke and shaking your head, you reached behind you to the pile of napkins and began to raise it to his face and lightly pat at his stained skin. 

Reactionary, he immediately placed his glass down behind you with his right hand, his left clapped around your invasive wrist in a circled vice-grip. Your breath caught in your throat, darting your eyes around his face with your eyes wide and panicked. He immediately drew his face forward and captured your lips beneath his without restraint. He hummed into your lips, raising his right hand and carding his fingers through your hair to deepen the passion.

Lips, tongue, and teeth pulled and tugged at your mouth from the swordsman, his gentle moans and sharp breaths depicting his wanton need to join himself with you immediately. He was pent up for so long, restrained for so long, and his body betrayed him in a shameful display in his dreams as proxy to such desire. If his overnight visit from you as his midnight muse spoke for anything, it was that his needs were now becoming more insistent, prominent, and desperate to be satiated. 

And you were who he wanted to aid him in such a task. 

Your hands raised defensively beside you, your eyes were wide and staring at his furrowed brow and tightly clamped eyes. He continued pressing heated and passionate kisses against your lips with gusto. Not giving you time to adjust or react, he anchored himself between your legs and pinned you against the marble dining station. Lips trailing to your cheek and down your neck, he bit, nipped and sucked at your revealed skin. 

His hands looped around your neck and shoulders, drawing you against him with an incessant need to depict to you his desires with his unyielding grip. You gasped as his lips traced up your skin and returned to your lips, your hands dropping to brace yourself beside you on the marble surface. 

Pulling his lips away, he held your face stationary by palming at the scruff of your neck and holding your attention with his honey-colored eyes. His predatory gaze narrowed in on you as his bruise-kissed lips ticked up in his signature smirk. 

“There,” he snarled at you in soft agitation, before releasing your neck. He collected his wineglass and green bottle from behind you, keeping his face in close proximity. His smirk drew up further as he turned to walk away from you. 

Calling over his shoulder, he snickered his taunting remark at you before leaving through the door, “Now I can occupy your thoughts the same way you've been tormenting me in mine.” 

You stood there stunned, frozen in place as your lips still tingled with the feeling of his against yours. The silky scrape of his neatly cropped beard tickling your cheeks, the way his tongue brushed with yours, and the animalistic desire to consume you with his lust had your soul ignited. 

Turning to the marble bench, you claimed your wineglass and raised it to your lips, immediately gulping back the tart liquid in a heaping swig. Placing the glass in the sink, you stared at the door Mihawk just left through, your thoughts spiraling and sifting through all the possible scenarios of what his words meant, and what the kiss means for you now. 

Only Mihawk knew what he intended with the kiss, and after the morning meeting, he was going to give into his desires further and offer you a place in his bed to have his dreams become reality.