#mr. 0

[beaulesbian]

even crocodile's transponder snail has the same scar like crocodile has across his face! and also the hook and the cigar!

[chipswizardyarts]

The child cries, forgotten instincts arise.

So… Marineford, Huh? :’) I’m still not over everything that went down!! So here’s a very non-canonical version of events where Croc instinctively moves in to comfort the son he hadn’t even known was still alive, let alone had been the key to his undoing as a Warlord. This theory goes HARD!!

[moonbaby26]

Joe Manganiello has a pet Chihuahua. That is all. ☺️

[haerenven]

If you write for him, could I ask for Sir Crocodile who is absolutely WHIPPED for reader? I loveee when he’s portrayed as a hopeless romantic for his partner and it’s even better when reader is the same way towards him ♡ sort of like Mortica and Gomez ^^ (I’m not normal about him I’m sorry LMAOWJDB)

           苦⠀⠀⠀℘𝗈𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗌⠀𝐞⠀⸺⠀𝒮ilenci̲o̲s⠀⠀٫

Pairings. Sir crocodile x fem!reader

summary. Whipped

— (a/n): i am so so super excited for that request, in fact I was waiting for crocodile for so long but got no idea.

⠀⠀   ⠀             ︵‿⭒                     ⠻ ‎❀ ‎⠟  

— He is devoted, not desperate.

Crocodile does not chase love—he does not stumble over himself to prove his worth, nor does he fall into the reckless behaviors of men who do not understand the meaning of control. He is not a man ruled by whims, yet when it comes to you, something inside him changes. He does not worship as poets or fools do; rather, he loves you as a man who fully understands what he owns. His love is deliberate, a silent force that weaves itself into your life without request, without question. He is not a beggar at the altar of your love—he is the altar itself, the ground upon which your love is built. His devotion is not a weakness; it is a law—unspoken, absolute, and completely unbreakable.

— Actions over words.

Crocodile is not a man who speaks in vain, nor does he waste his time on great declarations. Words are cheap. He has been a man of power for a very long time to believe in beautiful phrases and fleeting emotions. What he truly believes in is consistency. A gloved hand touching yours—not by accident, but because he wants to feel your presence. The way he ensures you walk on the safe side of the street, a silent habit that has become part of his nature. He watches over you not because he doubts your strength, but because the idea of something happening to you is not a possibility he can accept. Loyalty is not something he gives easily. But you? You hold his loyalty in a way no one else does, and even if he never says it out loud, you will know. You will always know.

— He indulges you—but only you.

Crocodile has no patience for fools. His subordinates know well not to waste his time, and he rarely engages in unnecessary conversations. But with you? His attention is yours alone. It does not matter if you are talking about something important or simply enjoying the sound of your own voice—he listens. He listens in a way that seems indifferent, reclining with a cigar in hand, occasionally letting out a hum or a low chuckle, but he does not miss a thing. He notices every change in your tone, every glance, every small smile that tugs at your lips. And when you turn to him expecting a reaction, he meets your gaze with that same knowing look—because of course he was listening. He remembers details no one else notices and indulges your whims in ways that are so subtle yet so profound that you do not realize how much he spoils you until you think about it.

— The little things he does to take care of you.

If you fight, your weapons are always in perfect condition—not because you asked, but because he made sure of it. There is no spectacle in the way he takes care of you, no unnecessary words or dramatic displays. He simply does. If you forget to eat, he will not scold or argue with you—he will place a plate in front of you, and he will not take no for an answer. If you are hurt, the entire world stops until it is taken care of. His hands—so accustomed to violence—become incredibly gentle when they touch you, his gloved fingers lifting your chin to examine even the smallest wounds. He does not make a fuss, does not overreact, but the tight set of his jaw says everything. His concern is silent but suffocating, woven into the very fabric of your life.

And if someone was the cause of your pain? That is an entirely different matter.

— His temper is controlled, but his rage is not.

Crocodile is not a man who acts on reckless emotion. He does not explode, does not waste his energy on unnecessary outbursts. His anger is quiet, cold, and patient. One glance from him can freeze a man where he stands, and a slow drag of his cigar is the only sign that he is deciding how to handle the situation. If someone hurts you—physically or emotionally—they will not know the moment they sealed their fate. There will be no warning. No second chances.

— He does not threaten. He does not need to.

Instead, things simply happen. Business partners disappear. “Accidents” occur. A man who dared to speak ill of you suddenly finds himself without allies, his empire crumbling beneath him. Revenge for him is easy, simple, effortless. He does not just remove problems—he erases them from existence as if they were never worth acknowledging in the first place.

And you? You do not even need to ask. By the time you mention the offense, it has already been dealt with.

— When he expresses his affection, it is with purpose.

Crocodile is not a man who wastes words. He does not say things he does not mean, and he certainly does not indulge in flowery phrases. But when he speaks to you, when his words are slow and measured, laced with something meant only for you—they carry weight.

“You are the only one who matters.”

Said in the dead of night, when the world is silent and his walls are at their lowest. His voice is rough, weary, but certain.

“I do not trust easily. You know that.”

A simple sentence, but the meaning behind it is undeniable.

And when he says “I love you”—on the rare occasions he does—it is never empty. Never casual. It is a statement, a fact, as unshakable as the empire he has built.

— He lets you in—truly in.

No one sees him as you do. No one sees past the Warlord, the businessman, the criminal. No one else knows what his silence truly means, what lingers behind those sharp amber eyes when no one else is looking. He is a man who does not trust, a man who has built his entire life on control, on keeping people at a distance.

— But you? You are different.

You see the rare moments when he is unguarded, when his head tilts back, eyes closed, exhaling a long breath as the tension drains from his body. When his hand—always gloved, always composed—finds its way to your waist, gripping just enough to remind himself that you are real. When he allows himself to sleep beside you, something he never does unless he is completely at ease.

To the world, he is untouchable. But to you? He is simply yours.

[jollydrogue]

Little Garden Arc comparison — part ii

★ ONE PIECE | e70 - e77 ★ OPLA | s2e5 "Wax On, Wax Off"

[k44rds]

—★ Stilettos ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ ◟◟ꜱɪʀ ᴄʀᴏᴄᴏᴅɪʟᴇ × ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ◟◟

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ ᴄʀᴏᴄᴏᴅɪʟᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴀꜱɪʟʏ ᴘʀᴇʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴅɪᴀɴᴛ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴘʀᴇʏ.

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ cw: vaguely implied cunnilingus + I don't beta read so this will likely be edited a bazillion times

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ wc: 905 ᝰ.ᐟ

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ dividers by @enchanthings, images edited by me ᝰ.ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n: I knew I wouldn't be able to let this one go so I did it before the burn out strikes again

sharing will send you to the site.ᐟ please check comments.ᐟ

— Crocodile is a man of ambition and tasteful presentation. That in itself is all the reason why many gaped when they first laid eyes on the golden band wrapped around his finger.

Tasteful presentation is precisely one of the few reasons he is now married to his woman.

However, that very trait is now the reason his body is actively disobeying his will, why his eyes refused to listen to his mind and wandered audaciously and shamelessly.

He and his beloved had attended a clandestine gala—mostly reluctantly on Crocodile's part—for the usual show many brokers, entrepreneurs, pirates, and other high-profile individuals held. It was supposed to be a simple show of influence. Perhaps to catch up on stocks or World Government blunders, not to struggle keeping his eyes off his fashionably late betrothed.

That woman had the nerve to show face in a gown so gorgeous, so enchanting, it made even the strongest men and most vain women turn their heads. Neckline so low, it teased beyond the valley of her breasts, and her fur coat only added more to her seductive appearance. Then came the bold slit audacious enough to climb the path up to her thigh, leaving little to the imagination of the debauched.

But nothing compared to the sight of her legs. At least, not to Crocodile. The merlot-coloured stilettos she donned, coupled with her already bold maroon dress, almost sent the man spiralling. Her legs, calves slightly toned from the heels she often wears, thighs full and teasing him with peeks of the cellulite barely hidden, worsened the near-unravelling.

Her frame, gorgeous as it is, felt almost empty compared to her legs. The legs he has kissed with reverence multiple times. The legs he has held whenever he felt like being her throne. The legs he spread when he indulged either himself or her.

No. Everything else was nothing compared to her legs.

And here they were, deliciously on display and painfully tempting.

And she knew his gaze wandered her frame. She knew that he liked what he saw. And she knew he could not do a damn thing about it.

They are in public, after all, and he has to behave like the distinguished Warlord of the Sea and as Alabasta's revered hero that he is.

From across the room, they locked eyes. Her teasing and knowing eyes with his intense and admiring gaze.

She entered the parlour with grace, occasionally bowing a head and flashing a smile with an individual or two and grabbing a glass of wine before gracefully sauntering towards him.

Crocodile's eyes followed her like a predator stalking its prey with deadly focus, except the prey was his beloved wife tempting him, and no amount of the smoke of his ever-present cigar could make him resist her.

With few, satisfying click click clicks of her stilettos, she found herself next to him, arm hooking around his as her hand swirled her wine with the glass.

“You seem distracted,” that voice, honeyed in all its tempting beauty, purred into his ear innocently. The muscle in his jaw twitched. How dare she. She knew exactly what she was doing, pressing her head to his arm as if he were her only saviour. She knew exactly what she was doing with her leg angled just out of vision, daring him to look lower.

“You're confident. Overconfident,” Crocodile grumbled, exhaling a heavy cloud of his cigar smoke, as if annoyed with her despite the depth in his gaze saying otherwise.

“Confident?”

“You're playing a game you know you can't win,” the warlord grunted. And yet, before he could register it, his eyes trailed down, first briefly settling on the gloss of her lips, then lower to her cleavage, holding it just a wink longer than her lips.

Then, finally, her legs.

For a moment, they ceased their journey, settling a second too long on her thighs before trailing down, down, and down... before those legs suddenly moved. Away from him and his gaze.

He felt her arm unhook from his, and the soft, if seducing weight on his shoulder, lightened. But his eyes finished their stubborn little observation before finally flicking back up at her face.

“But you love it anyway, dear,” the truth in that was a sweet poison to his ears.

He did love how confident she was. How she waltzed away with her wine still in her hand, watching her take swigs of it as her legs carried her away. He loved everything she did, but he knew very well that he had a reputation to uphold.

However, that last look, that playful wink, Come here, it left a small tear in his ice-cold composure. It was an invitation for trouble.

He watched her turn a corner, watched as her coat disappeared last as he was soon left with his thoughts. He was alone in this parlour, playing house like all the others present as if they were friends and not cold enemies. What could he gain from snakes?

So, with a puff of smoke and readjustment of his posture, he pursued her. His towering frame, despite how much it stood out, moved like a quiet shadow. Unnoticeable.

Before long, he had his sights set on his wife once more, and this time, she wasn't just teasing him, “Skip the foreplay, will you?” “I plan on it.”

And for that, he was going to unravel her.

ᡣ𐭩 a/n: Now that's what I call sexy.✨️

[ideas-4-stories]

This is inspired by a post I saw on here about buggy keeping his hair in a chest because he can’t actually cut it.

Cross Guild Prompt: Galdino is called into Buggy’s room for some reason and he hears a sound coming from the corner of the room. He finds a chest that appears to shaking and rumbling, as if there’s something inside. Buggy quickly tells him not to worry about it and sends him on his way. As he is heading back to his room, Galdino runs into Crocodile and Mihawk and says that he thinks buggy is keeping an animal trapped in the chest in his room. Crocodile and Mihawk both like animals, so they’re pissed and head to Buggy’s room to free the abused animal and beat up the clown. By the time they get to the room, Buggy had already left, so they’re head on it and find the chest. When they open the lid, they expect some type of dog or other type of pet to be in there, but instead they get faces full of blue hair. The large mass of hair goes flying out into the hall and towards the main tent. Crocodile and Mihawk chase after it and they hear a loud scream coming from inside. They go in and see Buggy standing in the middle of the circus arena with his hair down, but instead of it going down to his lower back like it normally does, it instead is all over the floor, similar to Rapunzel. Crocodile and Mihawk are surprised but find it really attractive. So they snatch Buggy up to have their wicked way with him and his long hair back in their bedroom.

Dumb Galdino causing trouble again for Buggy. You would think after spending two years with a clown that has the ability to chop his body parts and then put himself back together without any problems… That candlestick of a man would know that Buggy chop chops his hair and slams said blue locks of hair into a treasure chest. Although with how body parts like hair and nail clippings could be used to make Vivre Cards. Can’t be too surprised if Buggy never said anything because walls sometimes has ears and are listening in.

Personally myself, I don’t think Galdino would think there’s a animal in the chest. Rather on the matter is just Galdino being startled by the shaking chest, which he didn't want to open himself because it could be something the clown made. I mean the flashy fool makes really dangerous bombs the size of your fist. Buggy is a chemist and unhinged clown.

I wouldn’t blame Galdino for thinking something is alive in there. Buggy could of made it.

Anyway, I’m rambling too much again. Mr. 3 is either (A.) curious of what’s in the box, (B.) fearful of what could be in the chest or (C.) he is probably tasked by Sir Crocodile to tell him what Buggy is doing when they are away from the clown. Option (D.) is all three options rolled into one, that's the route I like the best because why pick and chose?

Reporting back to Crocodile, Gladino would have to mention said box. Maybe making a snide comment that was more sarcastic than genuine about it seem like there’s an animal that chest. Of course, Crocodile and Mihawk aren’t gonna let that slide. Gladino is now sweating bad, moving out of the way, and mentally screaming for forgiveness from Buggy because there is no way to stop those two’s war path to Buggy’s tent.

When the two former Warlords get there, not finding Buggy resting or doing whatever he usually does in his tent. They beeline towords the chest from the description Galdino shakily told them. Deciding on helping the “animal” before finding thaat sad excuse of a clown to kick his ass. Breaking the lock with Mihawk just crushing the metal and Crocodile quickly opening the chest. Immediately Crocodile and Mihawk’s vision is covered in blue for multiple seconds. Not surprisingly they are not expecting that and are probably stunned for like a minute or two. Then Mihawk definitely would spin around and go after the blue cloud while Crocodile will stay for a bit longer to check if there is actually a animal in the chest.

I'm not good at explaining how I vision the running after Buggy's cut off hair. So I'm just skipping to the part where the former Warlords overhear Buggy shrieking with shock. It’s a good thing the weird furry ball flew towards Buggy because they have so many questions for the dumb clown to answer. Why is there a blue furball locked with multiple pad locks made from sea stone. Why was it rattling in the chest and how is it flying through the air.

Getting to a two-ringed training tent to see Buggy in the middle of the center ring, heaving with pure anger and practicing performers cower in fear, worry, confusion, and uneasiness.

Buggy has thrown temper tantrums before, but Crocodile and Mihawk haven't seen him so ticked off. That intrigues them, just as much as what happened to the clown’s blue hair.

Like you stated in your prompt idea; Buggy's hair spilling down on the ground. Personally I like this headcanon too. Always see Buggy throwing a chest down into the bottom of the sea (minus the sea stone because that shit expensive) once the chest gets too full. I mean I’ve heard that burning hair doesn't smell good. I don't think Buggy would want to fill his kitchen or deck or whatever place he was burning the locks with the smell of burnt hair. So shoving chest after chest into the water, so the locks of hair don’t return is the best choice.

Anyway, enough that rambling and back to the prompt idea!

Just imagining Buggy whipping around to find out who dared to walk into his tent and open his seastone chained chest. Maybe it was Galdino, he’ll question him first. If wasn’t the waxman, then Buggy will search through and hunt the person out. The furious clown starts to get his hair out of his face and off of the dusty ground. Still grumpily complaining.

It takes Buggy a couple minutes to see Mihawk and Crocodile at the entrance of the two-ringed circus tent. Who are staring at him, feeling a variety of emotions. Like to think this takes place after Buggy makes that announcement about going after the One Piece. So they are starting to see the flashy clown in a different lightening. Their relationship is becoming more like actual co-leaders than a fake figure head and the two leaders that it was before.

Buggy stammers as he didn’t really want to seen like this because it leads to questions that he rather not answer. I need high levels of awkwardness and people being flustered.

Crocodile definitely will ask what the hell is going on. Buggy stammering before realizing that there is no way other than explaining his predicament (Gladino gets himself scolded A.K.A hearing Buggy complain for multiple hours for what he did the following day)

Now to ending of your idea. Personally I feel like them rushing to take Buggy with them to the bedroom is a bit too fast. Although that might be my overall preference in romance stories to have time to develop genuine feelings of love and not just lust in play. Although if this was a established relationship and Mihawk and Crocodile opening the chest out of curiosity, then oh totally on them whisking Buggy away for questions and other things.

Totally will make a fic out of this story prompt. No doubt about that. Just don't know when I will do it. Might just rearrange fics that I was planning on doing so I write this one sooner.

[wigglesdtuff]

Let's roll the dice and we'll both make our moves Playing like lovers do