Chapters: #1, #2, #3Â #4 #5
Tag list: @lostfirefly @deathbyclown
(Feel free to request to be on the tag list if yall wanna join it)
FicSummary: Crocodile and Mihawk make a bet to see if they can seduce Buggyâs girlfriend for their own personal gain and to ruin Buggyâs life. Things, however, donât happen as planned.
Will include HanBug (Buggy x my OC Hana)
Chapter Summary: Buggy and Hana have a discussion about what has been going on. Things get emotional, needy, sexyâŠand somehow funny too.
This chapter will include NSFW stuff so MDNI
divider can be found here
They didnât make it five steps into their quarters before Buggy exploded.
The door slammed with a force that set every loose object trembling: the jumble of shoes by the threshold, the chipped glasses from last nightâs binge, the heap of laundry Hana kept promising to wash. He stalked the room with frantic energy. Their bed, a monstrous thing, groaned as he threw himself down, then instantly up again, unable to settle.Â
Hana took a deep, steadying breath.
âBuggyâŠâ she began, as calmly as possible.
âAre you fucking kidding me with this?â he howled, not even looking at her.Â
He yanked off his captain hat and hurled it against the dresser, where it landed on its side, absurd and deflated.Â
âI meanâŠwhat the hell is going on with you three?!âÂ
His hands flew wide, encompassing the worldâs most infuriating men. âFucking Crocodile, and Birdman?!, and theyâre bothâGod!âtheyâre both justââ
He broke off, words failing.
Hana, for her part, stood against the wall and watched the outburst as if he were a particularly loud storm seen from a safe distance. Her arms were folded, jaw set, but she had a sympathetic look in her eyes as she anxiously waited for him to calm down.
Buggy spun, hair snapping like a banner, and jabbed a finger in her direction. âYou think I didnât notice? How they look at you and talk to you?!âÂ
The volume was absurd. He was always performing, even when unraveling.Â
âTheyâre not subtle! âYou deserve better than a sideshow attraction. Someone who can offer you the world, not carnival tricks.â he mocked, sliding instantly into a passable Crocodile impression. ââJoin me, Hana, we could rule the fucking desert together!ââ
He snatched up a pillow and lobbed it at the wall, where it struck, left a cloud of dust, and flopped to the floor.Â
âOrâwait, wait, my favoriteââYou may think chaos suits you, but too much of it, and even the sharpest blade will dull.â â
He mimed Mihawk with wide eyes and a frowning face.
Hana couldnât help it. She snorted, seeing the way Buggy imitated the former warlords.Â
âYeah,â he muttered, the edge in his voice turning brittle. âLaugh it up. Guess Iâm really entertaining tonight.â
Her expression shifted immediately, but he barreled on before she could speak.
âYou think Iâm being irrational? Theyâre trying to make you swoon like a fangirl! Just pluck you right out from under me like Iâm nothing! Like Iâm just aââÂ
His throat closed. He clenched his fists, trembling.
For a split second, he was all hollow sockets and smeared paint, every inch of him the punchline to a joke he didnât write.
The silence stretched, heavy and mean.
Hana pushed off from the wall and approached, her heels padding a slow, deliberate beat against the floor. She stopped just out of reach, regarding him with a steady, searching look.Â
âBuggy,â she said, âyou know Iâd neverââ
âOh, spare me!â he burst, hands flapping up to ward her off. âYou canât honestly tell me you didnât enjoy it! The attention, the offers, the fucking diamonds!âÂ
He gestured wildly at the far wall, where her knife collection glittered. âTheyâre offering you kingdoms and blades and shit! What can I offer you, Hana?! A shitty circus run by idiot freaks?â
She pressed her lips together, drew a steadying breath. âYou give me you,â said Hana, âItâs more than enough.âÂ
She let the words hang, open and vulnerable, a flag of truce in a room too small for either of them to retreat.
Buggy shook his head, the rejection automatic, a tic he wore like his painted-on sneer.Â
His voice came out ragged, splintering along familiar wounds. âDonât. Just donât feed me that shit.â He wiped a trembling hand across his jaw, smudging the blue triangles, and even that seemed to enrage him.Â
He grabbed a rag off the bedside table, scrubbed furiously, as if clawing his own skin would leave him clean. âYou havenât watched them circling you like vultures over meatââ
âAs a matter of fact, I have,â Hana snapped, heat rising. She hadnât meant to snap, but the words were out before she could leash them. She huffed, tried to steady her tone. âYou think Iâm oblivious? I have eyes, Buggy.â She gestured at the chaos of their shared lifeâa cracked mirror, two chipped mugs, the ashtray overflowing with his cigarette butts next to her paintbrushes. âI see whatâs going on, but I see you.â
But he wasnât listening. Or maybe he couldnât. He turned from her, shoulders hunched, arms crossed so tight it looked like he was trying to hold himself together by sheer force.Â
âEveryone Iâve ever cared about has walked away eventually,â he muttered, voice nearly lost. âI guess it was just a matter of time.â
There it was: the wound, raw and ugly. It wasnât just about Crocodile and Mihawk.Â
The wound, jagged and unhealed, all the uglier for having been hidden so long. Hana felt it like a hand around her own heart.
âIâm not going anywhere,â she said, quietly but with the steel he knew she had.Â
She waited for him to look at her, but he wouldnât. She stepped closer, a slow, cautious circle, as if approaching a wild animal caught in a trap.
He stiffened at her nearness, but didnât move away.
âLook,â she said, her voice cutting through the BS, âif you want to have this out, have it out. Scream, throw shit, whatever. Iâm upset too, but donât stand there and act like Iâm some helpless thing being dragged around by whoever has the sharpest blade or the fanciest hook. âI donât need rescuing.â
He twisted, her words jabbing as cleanly as any blade. âAnd you choose me?â His voice was disbelieving, wounded animal. âYou reallyâafter all of thisâyou reallyââ It was less a question than a confession, desperation leaking through every syllable.
She came closer, close enough that he could smell her skin, the remnants of sweat, and something sweet heâd never been able to identify. She put a hand on his chest, felt the frantic drumbeat of his heart.
âI choose you,â she said, slow and absolute. âEven when youâre an asshole.â
His posture collapsed; all the heat went out of him at once. He sagged onto the bed, arms limp at his sides, face buried in his palms.Â
âYou donât get it,â he said, words muffled. âYou donât get how fucking terrified I am.â
Hana sat beside him, careful not to crowd. âThen tell me.â
He let his hands drop. The makeup was streaked from where heâd wiped at his eyes. When he looked at her, he looked like he was going to dissolve.
âI hate the idea of losing you to them,â he croaked. âNot because of them. Because of me. Because Iâm not good enough.â
The words echoed. For once, he was deadly earnest. Hana studied him, something tender and complicated flickering behind her eyes as she began to feel them water. She leaned in, her forehead resting against his, her hand curling into the fabric of his sleeve.
âI donât want diamonds. Or kingdoms. I want you. They can offer me the world,â she said, âbut youâre the only one who ever made me want it.â
The words landed between them like a dropped knife. Buggyâs entire frame went rigid, as if the confession carried its own brand of danger. His breath caught, not just in his throat, but everywhere; all of him wound tight and vibrating with the urge to believe her.
She pressed even closer, the tip of her nose bumping his, lips grazing his mouth in a gesture so gentle it was almost an apology.Â
âIf you donât believe that,â she whispered, âIâll just have to keep proving it until you do.â
Buggy shivered. There were a thousand retorts he could have made, but for once he found himself empty of all of them. She hollowed him out with a look, a touch, a simple promise, and left him with only the part of himself that was afraid of being loved.
âYouâre gonna be a stubborn pain in the ass, arenât you?â he said, but there was awe in it, and gratitude, and something that might even have been hope.
Hanaâs mouth twitched up at one side, âThatâs the line youâre going with?â she murmured.Â
He tried to muster a glare, but it collapsed under the weight of her gaze. He squeezed his eyes shut, a full-body shudder running through him.Â
When he opened them again, she was still there; still choosing him.Â
He wrapped his arms around her, knuckles white with desperation, and pulled her so close that he could feel the hammer of her heart. He squeezed his eyes shut again, clinging to her like a man trying to keep from falling.Â
âI love you,â he whispered. The words landed heavy and true.
She held him as he shivered, her own hands shaking a little as she stroked the back of his neck, thumb tracing the sensitive spot just below the hairline.Â
âI love you too, Honey Bugs,â she said, the nickname rippling with new gravity.
For a while, neither of them moved. The only sound was the distant thump of activity two floors down, filtered up through thin walls: the clang of bottles, the everyday violence of a pirate crime syndicate. In their room, the silence was a blanket, heavy with everything unsaid.
He pressed his face into her shoulder, letting the silence spool out until every molecule of anger had bled away.
Hana was first to break. The pressure of the moment made her chest feel too small for her lungs, and when she inhaled, it rattled in her ribcage. Her fingers hovered above Buggyâs wrist, then landed, tentative but determined.
He startled at the touch. She felt the quiver through him, a tremor that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with uncertainty.
Eventually Hana leaned back, just enough to study his face. His makeup was smeared under his eyes, his hair stuck out in odd angles, and there was a residue of misery that made him look even more himself than usual. She ran her thumb along his jaw.
âListen to me,â she said, the edge gone from her voice, replaced by something closer to plea. âI know youâre scared. But you have to trust me.â
She swallowed hard, trying to keep her own composure. She caught his hand in both of hers, folding his fingers between her own.
âThis is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I think thereâs something off about all of this,â she said. âWith Mihawk and Crocodile, I mean.â She watched his face carefully, the color, the twitch of muscles, the flicker of panic in his eyes. âI mean, really? You think either of those guys actually gives a shit about me as a person?â
Buggy hesitated. The question hung in the air with the same gravity as a guillotine blade.Â
âThey seem pretty into it,â he said, but the words came out brittle.
Hana gave a small, tired laugh. âOh, theyâre into something. But itâs notââ She trailed off, the next part catching in her throat. âLook at them. Crocodile, suddenly interested in someone who can further his political agenda, and not just as a pawn? Heâs too proud to truly share real power with anyone! Least of all me.âÂ
She shook her head, dislodging the memory of Crocodileâs slow, reptilian smile.Â
âAnd Mihawk? The man barely speaks to me, and now heâs waxing poetic about the âallure of chaosâ? Theyâre playing a game. I just know it. I donât know what itâs about, but I know somethingâs up.â
He shook his head, the movement helpless. âWhat if youâre wrong? What if they actually want you for you, and Iâm just⊠in the way?â
She re-captured his hand, refusing to let him back away into old habits.Â
âBuggy. No one has ever wanted me like you do. Not even close.â The words came out sharp, like she didnât trust them to hang in the air for long.Â
âYou might not be a warlordâŠanymore, or a king, or whatever. They can offer the world, but they donât care if I stay or go. Youâre the only one who canât stand to lose me.â
He tried to muster a joke. âYeah, well, guess Iâm just a sucker for punishment.â
She gave him a look, all exasperation and love. âMaybe you are. But youâre my sucker.â
He smiled, a real one this time. For a moment, the roomâs sharp edges seemed to fall away, replaced by the trembling vulnerability in his eyes. It broke something in her.
Hana felt it in her chest, the way his need for her was nothing like the hungry, predatory games of the other men in the Guild. He wanted to be chosen. He wanted to look in her eyes and know, beyond any scheming or rivalry, that she was his and his alone.
She leaned in, forehead to forehead, their breaths mingling. âLet them play their games,â she said, voice low and fierce. âLet them strut and posture like peacocks. Iâm not interested, and Iâm not for sale. I only want you.â
She punctuated it with a nudge of her nose, a gesture so intimate it eclipsed any attempt at bravado.
Something in Buggyâs chest buckled. His fingers dug into her skin, not in passion or anger, but as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment.
He swallowed hard, Adamâs apple bobbing.Â
âYou mean that?â His voice was a rasp, stripped of all the showmanâs bravado. There was a tremor behind the words, a quivering need that bordered on desperation.
She grinned, âYou could have the whole world chasing me, and Iâd still pick you. Iâd pick you a thousand times. I mean it.â
He stared at her, unblinking, as if waiting for the punchline. But there was none. Only Hana, her scent and sweat and the salt of her words, close and real. For a long beat, neither spoke; she simply held him, letting her pulse hammer out the truth.
Buggyâs composure fractured. He buried his face in her neck, arms locked around her waist, clutching her with the ferocity of a drowning man.Â
âSay it again,â he whispered, muffled against her skin.
She gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet her eyes. âYouâre the only one I want.â
He shuddered, every muscle taut with the effort of holding himself together. âYou promise?â
The words were boyish, barely a whisper. He blinked hard and his eyes were wide.
Hana softened. She closed the distance, their foreheads touching, the air between them exchanged, a single breath.Â
She kissed the tip of his nose. âI promise.â
He closed his eyes, exhaling. The tension in his shoulders eased, and for the first time in hours, he seemed to actually inhabit his body again, not just orbit it.
She tilted his chin up again.
âBesides,â she said, smiling now âI kind of want to see how far theyâll go. Might be fun to watch them embarrass themselves.â
A genuine laugh escaped him. âThatâs⊠thatâs fucking devious.â
She grinned. âYou bring that out in me.â
They hovered in that space, inches apart, neither quite ready to break the spell. His thumb traced slow, absent circles on the back of her hand. She cupped his face, hands gentle now, and kissed him. The kiss was soft, at first. It was meant to comfort and reassure, but it didnât stay soft. It deepened, sharpened, and became something hungry and affirming.Â
When they broke for air, he looked up at her with something like pure love. âWhat did I ever do to deserve you?â
Hana peppered kisses across his jaw and throat, her hands tracing the edges of his collarbones, delighting in the shiver she could draw from him with a single well-placed touch. He made a strangled sound, half-protest and half-invitation, and writhed beneath her in a way that would have mortified him if heâd been with anyone else.
She smirked, licking her lips. âYou made me genuinely happy.â
Her mouth then crashed into his with renewed hunger, washing away his doubts like a tide as if to remind him of all the ways heâd ever made her feel wanted and safe and alive. This time, she pressed him back into the mattress with the full force of her body, pinning his arms above his head in a way that was equal parts threat and promise. He let her, of course. He always did, when it was her.
When she nipped at his bottom lip, he felt the electric current of her pulse against his and sensed the dangerous edge beneath her tenderness that always left him dizzy.
He grinned around the pressure, the red paint on his mouth smudging across her cheek, leaving a slash of color. He wanted to say something witty, but she swallowed every word he tried to form, her mouth everywhere, her hands everywhere else.
She suddenly then drew back, fixing him with a glare that was ninety percent affection and ten percent threat.Â
âBy the way, if you ever doubt me again, Iâll stick you to the mattress with your own knives.â
He grinned, his face transforming like a storm breaking into sunshine. âSounds sexy. Promise?â
His lips then found the hollow beneath her ear, trailing fire down the column of her throat. His fingers tangled in her hair, then skimmed down her sides, gathering her against him with a desperation that made her gasp. The heat between them built, turning the air thick with salt and sweetness.
Hana let herself melt into the moment, her hands tracing the ridges of his shoulders, the damp paint on his jawline, the wiry tension in his arms. She felt him hard against her thigh, and the urgent roll of his hips made her laugh, low and wicked, into his ear.
She raked her nails down his chest, making him groan.
She grinned. âYou like that?â
He slid one hand up her back, the other snaking between their bodies, tracing the zipper on her diamond dress, but the way it clung to her made his head swim. He fumbled with the fastener, hands shaking with anticipation and impatience.
His words came in gasps between her kisses. âOkayâŠokay, babe. This dressâI mean, youâre stunning. So beautiful in itâbutââ He tugged at the zipper with fumbling fingers. âI need it gone. Now.â
He managed to get the zipper down two inches before she stopped him with a palm to his chest.
She fixed him with a look, all mischief and intent. âYou know Croc gave me this dress, right?â
He blinked, thrown for a second. âWhat?â
She arched a brow, lips brushing his ear. âSaid it would âhelp lure in more potential clients.ââÂ
She dropped her voice to a mockery of Crocodileâs, all gravitas and gravel. ââYou wear it well, Hana. A weapon and a lure.ââ The last word hissed with mockery.
Buggyâs face contorted, jealousy and lust battling for supremacy. âHe did not.â
She laughed, low and wicked. âOh, he did.â
âUgh.â He grimaced. âSuddenly Iâm less turned on.â
She nipped at his jaw, her tongue flicking at the painted line of his cheek. âI know. But I think I can use this dress differently.â
The bedframe caught Buggy as they tumbled backward together. He landed with a soft thud against the headboard, and before he could catch his breath, Hana was already climbing over him. Her diamond dress hiked up around her thighs as she settled her weight against him, rocking her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm that drew a strangled gasp from his throat.
He gripped her ass, fingers digging into the tight fabric. âFuck, HanaâŠâ
He whined and she relished the sound.
They tumbled together, half wrestling, half kissing, hands grabbing at whatever they could reach as laughter tangled between them. Buggy suddenly pulled back just enough to flash her a cocky grin.
âOh, you think you can handle this, huh?â he said, voice dropping like he was about to deliver the most devastatingly seductive move of his life.
Before she could answer, he grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked.
He yanked harder. The fabric stretched. The seams strained. One sleeve popped loose with a dramatic rrripâbut the rest of the shirt stubbornly clung to him like it had a personal vendetta.
Buggy froze halfway through, one arm free, the other completely trapped, shirt bunched up over his head.
âShitâŠwaitâŠOkay no, this isâthis is part of it,â he insisted, voice muffled as the fabric slid over his face. âVery intentional and seductiveââ
He twisted, but it got stuck worse. Now the shirt was halfway off, tangled around his shoulders, his hair sticking out in every direction, one eye barely visible through the collar.
ââŠI am going to win this fight,â he muttered.
Hana just stared at him, lips pressed together, clearly losing the battle not to laugh.
âDonât you dare laugh,â he warned, pointing blindly in her general direction while still trapped.
She snorted âYou dork!â
âTraitor. Absolute traitor. I was having a moment!â
He gave one final, aggressive yank and nearly toppled backward off the bed as the shirt finally gave up and came free in a dramatic, undignified mess.
He landed flat, hair wild, bare chest heaving, shirt dangling from one hand like a defeated enemy.
There was a beat of silence.
Then he looked up at her, trying so hard to recover his dignity.
Hanaâs laughter erupted in that distinctive snort-giggle that should have been ridiculous but somehow made Buggyâs chest tighten with affection. His wounded pride dissolved as she collapsed against him, her breath warm against his ear, loose strands of her hair trailing across his newly exposed skin.
âWatch and learn, clown.â
Hana didnât bother with ceremony; she reached for the hem of her diamond dress, gathered it just enough to let her hand disappear up the inside of her thigh. Buggyâs breath hitched. He watched, entirely transfixed, as her fingers worked deftly beneath the fabric. He could see, in the way her hips shifted and her teeth pressed into her lower lip, that she wasnât just putting on a show. She was savoring it.Â
She peeled her underwear off inch by inch, then flicked them carelessly at his face.
He caught them, because of course he did, and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply as his eyes darkened.Â
âYouâre a fucking menace,â he said, voice low and worshipful.
She bared her teeth in a predatory smile. âYouâre not wrong.â
He was already impossibly hard, the front of his pants tented to the point of being ridiculous. She eyed the bulge and licked her lips.
âNeed a hand with that?â she teased.
He pawed at the fly, struggling with the snap. âDo your worst.â
She did. She unzipped him with a practiced flick, freeing his cock and giving it a single, appreciative stroke that made him hiss. For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the rhythm of her hands stroking him slow and deliberate. For a moment, she just watched his face: eyes gone glassy, mouth slack, chest heaving.
âMmm, youâre so pretty like this,â she murmured, running her thumb over the head, smearing a bead of precome.
She wanted to memorize this every twitch, every arch, every helpless groan. He writhed under her, greedy for touch, needy in a way that would have mortified him anywhere else.
The dress bunched around Hanaâs hips as she positioned herself above him. With one fluid motion, she took him inside her completely.Â
Buggyâs choked moan echoed through the room, his fingers digging into her thighs as he threw his head back. She drew a sharp breath at the fullness, adjusting to the sensation with her hands pressed against his chest for balance.Â
For a moment, they remained perfectly still. They were connected and complete as they each savored the exquisite pressure where their bodies joined.
His hands roamed up and down her body, from her thighs to the small of her back, memorizing every muscle, every quiver.
âYou⊠youâre not just using me, right?â Buggy managed, his voice breaking on the edge of a laugh, sharp and desperate. âNot using your⊠sex powers to brainwash me into forgetting all this?â
Hanaâs answering snort was half-mirth, half affection. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, lips skating his pulse, her words hot with mirth and certainty. âI swear, Bug. If I had sex powers, youâd be the first and only person to know.â
Buggy grinned despite himself, his doubts dissolving in the heat. She pressed her hips down, rolling them in tight circles, and he felt the boundaries of his body blur, lost in the sensation. He dug his heels into the mattress, thrusting up just enough to meet her rhythm, lose himself in the dizzying push and pull of their bodies. His vision shimmered at the edges; he was close to the precipice, but not ready to fall just yet.
âBesides, I just want you,â Hana whispered, and it was not a line, not a seduction. It was just truth, raw and soft in its honesty.
He wanted to say something cool, something devastatingly clever, but the words stuck as the pleasure was too good. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. Instead, he let his hands say what he couldnât. He ran them up her sides, over her shoulders, down her arms.Â
Then, with a mischief that was all clown, he detached them at the wrists and sent them up her bodyâone to tangle in her hair, the other to explore the curve of her waist, the dip of her navel and the rise of her breasts.
Hanaâs eyes widened, laughter cracking through her haze of lust.Â
âShow-off,â she muttered, but her breath hitched as one of his hands, no longer attached to anything but willpower, danced beneath the neckline of her dress, cupping her breast with an almost reverent tenderness.
The other hand let go of her hair and joined the first, pulling at the fabric, thumbs circling until the diamond-studded material yielded to the pressure and a breast spilled free, pearled nipple beading instantly in the cool air.
âJust trying to get the full experience,â Buggy joked, but there was nothing casual about the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing holding him to the earth.
She rode him harder, matching his rhythm, the bed squeaking in protest with every thrust and gasp. Her hair clung to her face, sweat rolling down her neck, but she didnât care.
His mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. She gasped, clenching around him. He let go with a pop of his mouth and smirked at his smeared makeup on her nipple.
âLike that?â he asked, grinning up at her, teeth flashing.
She nodded, biting her own lip.
With a twist of his wrists, he freed her other breast and massaged them both, feeling their heaviness and fullness. Buggy then gave her nipples a playful squeeze.
It was so stupid that it made Hana burst out laughing, nearly falling off of him.
âDonât you dare get off of meâ Buggy hissed, grabbing her hips and steadying her.
She calmed down on her laughing and braced her hands on his chest and rode him harder, the bed lurching under the effort. The room filled with the sounds of sex: wet, rhythmic slaps; the squeak of the headboard; Buggyâs broken gasps, alternating with her own, rising in pitch and urgency.
âYou like this?â she taunted, leaning in so her hair fell over his face. âYou like me wearing Crocâs little gift while we fuck in it?â
He went cross-eyed for a second, then snapped back, grinning even as he arched up into her.Â
âDamn fucking right I doâ
He thrust up harder, meeting her rhythm for rhythm. The bedsprings shrieked in protest, but neither of them cared.
Buggyâs head snapped back against the pillow, his features contorted in that perfect agony where pleasure becomes almost too much to bear.
âGod, Hanaâfuckâdonât stopââ
âNoâŠnot..s-stoppingâŠâ she said, voice jagged, and slammed down on him again and again.
They moved together, a blur of heat and sound and need. It was equal parts competition and collaboration, both of them desperate to wring the most pleasure out of every moment.
The black dress gathered in waves around her thighs, forgotten in their frenzy. His fingers pressed crescents into her skin as he held her hips, steadying her, treasuring her. She kept her gaze locked on his face, watching every flicker of pleasure.
Buggyâs lips formed silent words before finding only her name, a chant, a prayer.
âFuuuckâBabe, Iâm gonnaâshitâIâm gonnaâŠâ
She dug her nails into his chest, leaving red lines.Â
âDo it. Cum for me. Iâm closeâŠâ she commanded.Â
His body seized beneath her, back bowing off the mattress as pleasure crashed through him. His face contorted, mouth falling open in a silent cry as he came inside her.
She didnât slow, riding through his release with determined focus, her own breath coming in sharp gasps as she chased the edge of her pleasure while he twitched helplessly beneath her.
âBuggyâŠBuggyyyyyâŠâ
When she finally came, it was with a shudder that rocked them both, her fingers like vines entwined in his hair, pulling and tugging with a deliciously painful force. They collapsed together, a heap of tangled limbs and ruined clothing, both gasping for air.
The thing about sex with a clown was this: it was never, ever dull.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.Â
Finally, Buggy, voice barely a whisper, said, âIf Crocodile and Mihawk could see us nowâŠâ
She laughed, soft and wild, and rolled off him, curling up at his side.
âFuck them,â she said.
Buggy, still catching his breath, grinned up at the ceiling.
âYeah,â he said, âfuck them.â
The world outside their room rattled on, but for now, nothing could touch them. For a long time, they lay tangled on the bed, Hanaâs leg thrown over Buggyâs hip, his fingers tracing lazy spirals on her thigh. The room had the smell of sweat, sharp with the aftershock of sex, and neither seemed in any hurry to get up.
She rolled to face him, dark hair a halo on the pillow. Her eyes, still half-wild, flicked to the dress bunched around her midsection, the bodice stretched and askew.
âYou know,â she said, âI thought about setting this on fire just to piss Croc off.â
Buggyâs eyes went wide. âDonât you dare. That thing cost more than my entire wardrobe.â
âFine fineâŠwhat if I wore this the next time we all had dinner, knowing we had sex in it?â
He cackled, the sound rumbling through her bones. âThat or if I jacked off with it and ruined it.â
She rolled her eyes and swatted his belly. âYouâre disgusting, you know that?â
He shrugged, unrepentant. âItâs my brand.â
She picked at the shredded bodice, pulling the fabric up over her chest. âStill, I kinda like it. Even if itâs tainted by Crocodile.â
Buggy ran a finger along the neckline, his touch gentler now. âIâll never be able to see you in it and not get hard,â he confessed.
He laced their fingers together, voice softer. âI still donât get why you picked me. Out of everyone.â
She shifted, pillowing her head on his shoulder, staring at the water-stained ceiling. âBecause youâre the only one who never tried to make me smaller.â She paused, considering. âYou let me be a mess. You made space for it.â
He went quiet, soaking it in.
She kissed his jaw, then whispered, âSo youâre stuck with me, clown. Like gum on the sidewalk.â
He squeezed her hand, hard. âIf you ever leave, Iâm coming after you. With, like, a thousand cannons.â
They laid together, drifting off to sleep in a tangle of limbs and shared breath, and for now, that was enough.
Buggy, ever the fatalist, still expected disaster at every turn. But as he glanced at the woman at his side: her eyes closing, the shadow of a smile curving her lips, he wondered, just for a second, if maybe he could actually win, after all.
âI love you, Honey Bugs.â
He let himself believe it.
âI love you too, Baby CakesâŠâ