MY LOVEEEEE
I HAVE A REQUEST- one piece, buggy x fem reader, i want some smut that includes him using his devil fruit power during it, you choose what happens hehe
𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑶𝑴 𝑻𝑶𝑼𝑪𝑯
A/N: here you go wifey!! Enjoy!!
Contains: Explicit sexual content (smut), use of devil fruit powers during sexual activity, detached body parts, fingering, orgasm. Does mention Cross Guild briefly so can be seen as a spoiler?
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The salty air of the Grand Line clung to her skin, a familiar scent that now mingled with the musky, ozone-like aroma that was uniquely Buggy. They were in the captain's quarters of the Cross Guild's flagship, a room draped in crimson and gold, a chaotic mess of maps, treasure, and ego. But tonight, the ego was temporarily set aside.
Buggy stood before her, his trademark blue hair slightly disheveled, a smirk playing on his lips that was equal parts cocky and genuinely excited. His gloved hands, usually gesturing wildly or clutching at his daggers, were now tracing the curve of her hips. "You're sure about this, dollface?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Can't say I've ever tried this particular trick before."
She met his gaze, her own eyes dark with anticipation. "I'm sure, Captain. Show me what you can do."
That was all the encouragement he needed. With a theatrical flourish that was pure Buggy, he detached his hands. The sensation was bizarre and thrilling. His gloves hands remained on her body, one still gripping her hip, the other sliding up to cup her breast, while his main body stood a few feet away, watching with an intense, focused expression. It was like being touched by a ghost, a phantom that possessed all the skill and desire of the man himself.
His thumbs began to circle her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt, the friction sending a jolt straight to her core. She let out a soft gasp, her head falling back. From across the room, Buggy chuckled, a low, predatory sound. "Like that, do ya?"
His hands moved with a mind of their own—or rather, with his mind, just disconnected from his physical form. They deftly unbuttoned her shirt, parting the fabric to expose her chest to the cool air. The cool leather of his gloves was a stark contrast against her heated skin as his palms fully covered her breasts, squeezing and kneading. She could feel his eyes on her, burning with a possessive fire that was far more intense than if he were touching her with his own two hands.
Then, one of his hands began its journey south. It slid down her stomach, tracing the waistband of her shorts before dipping lower. She held her breath, her body trembling. The fingers, still clad in their leather, were expert as they teased her through the fabric, stroking and pressing until she was writhing, desperate for more.
"Please, Buggy," she breathed out.
"Patience," he commanded, though his voice was strained with his own arousal. His other hand continued its work on her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, a symphony of sensation conducted by a man who wasn't even touching her.
Finally, with a smirk she could see from across the room, his hand slipped beneath her panties. The leather was slick against her wetness as his fingers found her clit. He circled it slowly, deliberately, drawing out the anticipation until she was panting his name. He watched her every reaction, his detached fingers moving in perfect sync with his desires, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan.
He slid one finger inside her, then another, the leather stretching her, filling her in a way that was both strange and intensely erotic. He began to pump them in and out, his thumb still working her clit. The pressure built, an unstoppable tide. She was completely at his mercy, held captive by disembodied hands while their master watched, his own body now showing clear signs of his arousal.
As she teetered on the edge, he decided to up the ante. "Hold on tight," he grunted.
She felt a strange tingling sensation, a sudden chill. She looked down and saw that his fingers inside her had detached. She gasped as she felt them separate inside her, moving independently, stroking her inner walls from different angles at once. It was an impossible, mind-bending feeling. His thumb remained on her clit, while his other hand continued to torment her breast. She was being stimulated by four separate pieces of him, all while his smug, beautiful face watched her fall apart.
That was it. The sheer, decadent weirdness of it, the skillful touch, the visual of him standing there fully clothed, orchestrating her pleasure with detached body parts—it sent her over the edge. She cried out, her body arching as her orgasm crashed over her, powerful and all-consuming.
As the waves of pleasure subsided, the detached pieces of him slowly reformed, his fingers pulling out of her and reattaching to the hand on her breast, which then flew back to his wrist. He was on her in an instant, his real body pressing against hers, his mouth claiming hers in a hungry, demanding kiss.
"Told you it'd be good," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with satisfaction. "And we're just getting started."
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