Imagine being one of the most powerful and feared pirates in the entire damn world so much so that even the top brass of the World Government respect you and being able to take down dozens of people just with your presence, and stop a whole war just by casually showing up but then you’ve spent twenty years in a situationship with your teenage crush, the one you broke up with because of lack of communication, and you’re still constantly mourning the life you could’ve had if you didn’t have this “greater good” responsibility and it turns out the guy you’re clearly still hooked on is literally this person:
Warnings: nsfw, afab reader, buggy x reader. crocodile x reader, mihawk x reader, no pronouns used for reader, reader's genitals referred to as "she," vaginal sex, panties in the mouth (mostly)
WCs: 🎪~ 370, 🐊~ 480, 🦅~ 400, ~1.2k total
Tag: @rorywritesjunk
🎪Buggy the Clown
As much as you enjoy hearing how good Buggy feels, sometimes he is too damn loud.
He huffs, puffs, and bellows like a steam train. Dirty talk turns into whining and begging that increase in volume faster than the intensity of his own neediness. Groans claw themselves from his gut, leaving his throat scratched up the next day.
“Please, please don’t stop. Fuck, baby, you feel - fuck! - feelssogood.” The words slur together with how quickly Buggy rushes to speak.
Fingers dig into the meat of your thighs while he thrusts up into you, grunting loudly to emphasize his point.
You can hardly hear the slap of skin against skin over the din he creates. Any attempt you make to maintain some sense of auditory privacy fails. Buggy talks around the fingers you shove in his mouth, crying about how delicious they are. His lips move against yours. He drags his kisses across your face, closer to your ear so you can continue to have the pleasure of hearing him.
While you’re the only one he wants to sing his arousal aria to, threats and reminders of reality aren’t enough to shush him long enough. Even knocks on the door urgently demanding that Buggy shut the fuck up, holy shit do you know it’s past midnight?! only work for as long as it takes him to suck in another breath.
“Yeaaah, just like thaaaat,” Buggy moans, his voice droning longer than a foghorn. “S-so tight, babe, nngh~!”
Enough is enough. Leaning forwards, you reach for something, anything that could dampen this one-man cacophony. His discarded bandana should be nearby and when your fingers wrap around a wad of fabric, you shove it into Buggy’s gaping maw. His latest bemoaning is brought to a reasonable level. And with your palm covering his mouth, it’s muffled even more.
His jaw moves behind your hold, working around the object - gnawing on it and tonguing the bundle. Realization and silence fall over him at the same time. He looks up at you with wide-eyes and a mouth full of your panties.
“Just shut up and cum.”
Buggy nods and mumbles some sort of confirmation into your undies.
Whatever. At least he’s quieter now.
🐊 Sir Crocodile
“I can see how needy your body is,” Crocodile drawls as he teases you with the tip of his cock, his movements as slow as his words.
With your ass on the edge of his desk and legs spread wide, you don’t have a strong argument. And when Crocodile clicks his tongue, you lean back and expose yourself more. Maybe if you looked even more pathetic, he’d give you what you want.
He stops to slap his blunt head against your body, frustratingly too close and too far from where you really want him to be. Sticky from arousal, each hit makes a plap! noise - a sound he seems to find satisfying. A chuckle slips through his smirk.
“You really want it, hm? You want me that badly?”
“Yes, please! Croccy, stop teasing, I can’t take it,” you say in a voice that wavers between begging and demanding.
Another laugh - one that’s thick, rich, and heavy with condescension. “I almost expected that hungry little hole to answer me.” His equally thick cock prods at you, the tip threatening to wiggle in.
And that’s all you get. Despite how your body flutters, it fails to grasp at more of his slick head. It fails to entice him deeper.
“C’mon,” you pant, trying to push forward enough for him to breech the entryway, but not so much that you’d slip off his desk and scrape your back on the hard edge. Something you learned from previous experiences.
“Calm down, I’m working on it.” Crocodile’s voice is warm and relaxing, just like the feel of his large hand on your thigh. Soothing you with a lie.
He thrusts softly and slowly. And with each pump of his hips, he goes nowhere. The minuscule movements only press him against you harder. Just as he’s about to break through, the pressure lessens.
You whine and beg and flatter, to no avail. You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling. You look Crocodile in the face. His smug, handsome face. You knock over a trinket on his desk. Accidentally at first, then intentionally. Hopefully one was Crocodile’s ashtray, because fuck him.
Your legs start to shake.
Tears build in your eyes.
Your core aches. Not from the orgasm that you so desperately want, but from waiting and suffering too long through this delicious torture.
You’re not sure who’s more problematic in this moment - Crocodile for being a stubborn shit, or you for trying to will yourself to cum from not being penetrated.
Unable to hold the vast amounts of horniness and frustration swelling inside, you lash out. You kick and flail and throw something at him. Something soft and flimsy hits Crocodile right in the face. And it has the exact effect you want.
Crocodile brings his hand up to the panty projectile and allows himself a brief sniff before tossing the lace item aside. He grins and leans in, finally bringing himself close enough to slide into your aching cunt.
“You little-”
🦅 Mihawk
You’re exactly where you want to be - back against the wall and Dracule Mihawk purring against your lips. His thrusts are slow and languid, ensuring you feel every bit of him sliding in and out. He pulls back until his erection is just barely kissing your drooling cunt, and his reentry is so soft and gradual that your body is lost somewhere between mourning his absence and relishing his presence.
The trembling in your legs is immediately tended to. Mihawk shifts his hold, sliding the bend of your knees further up his forearms and leaving his hands free to grab and paw at your ass. His fingers dig into the fat as he spreads your cheeks, exposing you further to the chill of the air and the heat of his desire. And his own perversions.
He continues to devour you with lips, tongue, and teeth. But over the sound of his hunger grow filthy, wet noises. The squelching coming from your pussy is embarrassing and has you whining into Mihawk’s mouth. Begging him to make it stop. Rewarding him for making you feel this good.
“You want me so badly, my dear,” he murmurs. “I hear her crying for me.”
Fuck, you hold his head tightly in your hands and press your lips back to his, kissing him until your chest is burning and slick is dripping to the floor.
When you finally break the kiss, Mihawk presses his forehead against yours. “Mmmh, you t- fuck - you taste delicious.”
His words are warm, but still cooler than the flush on your face.
“Would you like more?” Looking into the haze of his golden eyes, you know the answer.
“Indulge me,” he says with a grin. He’s been waiting for this offer.
Thankfully, in this position, you’re easily able to reach your ankle and the panties dangling there. The thin satin fabric is still damp from holding on to your earlier arousal.
You place them into Mihawk’s mouth, setting the wet fabric against his waiting tongue. His eyes flutter as he sucks on the moisture and breathes deeply. He savors this treat like the finest wine - letting the flavor soak into his spit and the scent fill his head.
With a pleasured groan, he rests his head against yours and continues to suckle your panties. He’ll stay just like that, fucking you at this delicious and frustrating pace until your wonderful taste is all gone.
A/N: I had to restrain myself from making Reader spit into their panties before putting them in Mihawk's mouth (but it's happening in my head). So...yeah. There you go!
(A/N: Requested by an anon named Captain Bonk! Oh, how I want this deranged man. And who wouldn't, he has a law degree! Just some random spat out thoughts and drabbles, had some free time on my hands.)
18+ minors dni
Warnings: Typical yandere behavior, Buggy being buggy, dub-con, groping, body horror (Buggy's detachable limbs), kidnapping, general piracy, threats of violence, exhibitionism.
"Honey, I'm home!" The grating, loud voice rings out through the side room (tent?) where you sat, wrists bound to a some sort of makeshift throne. You just huff, not casting a glance in his direction. He frowns, dropping his jyous act almost immediately as he stomps over. "Ignoring me? Mature. Once a shit-hat, always a shit-hat, huh?" He flops into the throne, his legs over the side and his head propped up on his hand. He pops one of his hands off, and it flies to your chin, squishing your cheeks together and making your face into a comical 'kissy' look. "Look, honey-bunny-" he grits out. "I've had a real bad day, I've got marines up my ass and on my tail, and those shit-hats of Luffy's are probably still trying to come and get you back. So I'd like a little sympathy? Okay?" He drops your face, letting his hand return.
"I'm hungry." You mumble, not giving him much.
"Yeah, food doesn't sound half bad." He sits up popping his back as he stretches. "Hands out, unless you wanna keep the cuffs on. Not that I mind," he winks, nudging your arm comically. Your lack of response makes him grunt, as he takes the shackle from the chair and puts it back over your free wrist. "You're a tough audience, anyone ever told you that?"
- Buggy hates to admit when he's been beat, but he's gotten whipped by Luffy and his crew quite a few times. He's not afraid to admit when he bags you from them, however underhanded the kidnapping was, that he's pretty proud. He threw a big old celebration among his crew, with you as the guest of honor. He wants to show you off, his newest treasure. It just so happens the best way for him to ensure everyone gets the optimal view is to have you at the head of the table, with him... on his lap. Your back against his chest, him trying to force you to drink some sweet purplish liquid from his goblet. "Come on, don't poop this party!" He would cackle, exasperated. "It's good shit- if that's what your worried about, I don't get cheap with the liquor."
- He's always around, you get used to that pretty quick. His circus is a vast maze of tents, but he really only ever keeps you in one of three places. Shackled up to his throne in the big top, on his lap at dinner, or sitting pretty in his dressing room. He likes having you there, with all his favorite stuff. Makes him feel oddly domestic, coming home to someone at the end of a day of completely self inflicted torment and tiredness.
- He's touchy, even when he's not around. You never get a moments rest, between his detachable limbs ans Cabaji, you're never truly alone. Expect to be resting or killing time, finally enjoying some piece and quiet, only to hear a shrill 'honk-honk' sound, as a floating hand plays a little hand horn, only to drop it and make the same squeezing motion to one of your tits. You can hear a satisfied cackle from a few tents down.
- He enjoys having you around when he does his makeup for the stage. Despite the fact that his makeup is typically smeared to all hell by the end of a 'show' (brutal assault on a small town), he puts a lot of care into his look. Given the problems he has with his nose, he's pretty picky about what he can control when it comes to his looks.
"Cmon, don't be so grouchy. Just a few more minutes, then you can enjoy the big show! You wanna be ringmasters star, huh?" He offers. "I'd let you sit at my feet during the opener, big ol' spotlight on ya." You glare, making him groan and walk over, squatting before you. "You know, if you're gonna be such a grumpy gus, you should find another way to frown. You'll get lines, hot stuff." He pops a hand off, and it skids across his dresser for a moment, before settling over a tin of red grease paint. He summons it back, locking onto his wrist with a comedic 'pop' . He quickly dips an ungloved thumb into the pot, and smears a faux-frown onto your face. He starts cackling, clearly amused at his own antics. You do not.
- He'd keep you on the sidelines for the majority of the show, typically showing you off to the crowd at the beginning. Despite his love for you, he's dedicated to his show. He wants you to see how wonderful his cavalcade of freaks can be. Perhaps a small part of him feels if he puts on a good enough show, that you'll want to stay.
"And a special shout out to my favorite attendee, I love ya babe!" He points a flaming bowling pin in your direction, something he had some poor sap trying to juggle earlier. When you don't respond, he shrugs. "Can't live with em', can't live without em', am I right?" He looks around, at the shivering villagers. A sneer stretches across his face. "I SAID-" He points to the 'Laugh' sign held up by one of his goons. "Am. I. Right?" The raucous applause do little to satisfy him, since you still seem to not care.
- He is a bit of a pervert. He's possessive, so anyway to stake a claim on you gets him going. He marks you up frequently, leaving purple and red bruises all across your neck and chest. Not to mention everyone can tell when he's being loving on you, he never tells you when his makeup is smeared on you.
- On the topic of others noticing what he's doing with you, he is a showman at heart, and with that comes a bit of exhibitionism. Nothing too crazy, it's a fine line with him being turned on and getting jealous enough to yell, throw his detached foot at his nearest goon, and drag you back to his room. Typically it's you on his lap, while he gives some order or grand speech to his men. He'll grope at your chest, or fidget with that pretty face of yours.
- He also gets off on the fact that you're so embarrassed when someone does see the pair of you. Buggy has no shame when it comes to his men, so if they walk in on something, he'll address them, but never cease in what he's doing. Unfortunately, few people have access to his private quarters, so Cabaji is typically the one who walks in.
"Sweet little ass, stop squirming. We're both clothed, s' practically romance for a pirate." He makes a dramatic 'smooch' sound against your neck. "Geez, I give you an inch you want a mile-" He grinds his hips against your ass, he's got you tangled up on some bean bag like surface, your stomach to the fabric and him half-spooning you.
"It's asking for a mile to tell you to stop dry-humping me, you creep?" You whine, squirming again. He's got both your wrists chained, so there's little you can do without just grinding back against him unintentionally.
"I mean- I could be giving you a whole other set of inches, so yeah-" He teases, before an awkward cough cuts through the air. "Captain?"
You both turn, and at seeing the lanky first mate, you bury your face into the bean bag in shame. Buggy just detaches a hand, leaving it clamped on your ass, as he sits up. "Baji, my man. What is it, I'm having some private time with our guest?"
"Marines, spotted- spotted north-" Cabajis eyes keep drifting to the uncomfortable sight before him, his brows burrowing.
"Like what you see?" Buggy cackles, making the goon let out an annoyed huff.
"No, captain."
"Eh- everyone's a critic." He waves a hand dismissively in Cabaji's direction. "Keep an eye on it, if they get too close, you know what to do." Cabaji cannot scramble away quick enough.
- He's a big fan of dressing you up. You got taken with only the clothes on your back, and he's got plenty of costumes laying about. He has you wear loose vests without tops, some sort of striped circus tent pair of booty shorts. He prefers nothing at all- but he does appreciate a fine costume.
- He's insecure at his core. His constant losses with Luffy, problems with his nose, and his past with Shanks. There's nights when he's pissed off, maybe he lost a fight or there's been word that the strawhats are hot on his trail to get you back. Either way, he's throwing a fit.
"What's so wrong with me, huh?" He shouts, throwing his comically large hat down, kicking it away. "I feed you, I clothe, you- it's a new show! Every. Fucking. Night!" He starts cackling, caught between rage and a sick need to shake off the vulnerability. "I could've just killed you, ya know? If you'd been that shitty bounty hunter or the ginger chick- I would have! Strung you up on the wheel and threw some knives! Wouldn't that be a show!" He bolts towards you for a second, hands flared out and approaching your face as if he plans to tear flesh from muscle like paper from a gift. You flinch, and at the last moment, he balls his hands into fists, cheeks puffing up as he holds in a yell, grimacing. "But- agh! Something about that pretty face- you're so- so so so lucky you have that pretty face! Why can't I just bash it in?" He whines now, looking genuinely a bit distraught. "I should want to, I think I want to- but I just can't!"
He goes limp, eyes hollow. He looks at the ground, swallowing. "Heh- hahaha-" he breaks out into a low; weak laugh. "God, some pirate, huh?" He rises back up from his knees, releasing his fists as he swallows again, straightening himself up. "Welp..." he sucks his teeth as he dusts his coat off. "That was rough. *Ahem*, Talk about drama. Maybe I should've gone into theater, I'd have made a killing." It's a less genuine attempt to brush off his episode with humor, you get the sense something has... shifted. "Yeah." He says lowly. Even he doesn't seem convinced by his acting. "Well, show must go on. I've got an audience waiting. Baji will move you to my room. Give you dinner." He slinks away quickly, uncharacteristic for the clingy clown captain.
- As an odd aside, he enjoys a typical romantic date night. Let him play the lover in an opera, the Romeo to your Juliet. Let him hold a rose between his teeth as he drags you around a dusty ring, pretending to waltz to some warped record, both too slow and too fast.
- Let him feed you, he has a horrible habit of playing with his food. Expect him to make train noises as he tries to get you to open up. Stolen from the mayors private stock of whatever town he ransacked. You're soaked by the end of dinner, he hates drinking alone. Wines dribbled down the front of both your clothes, and he's knocked out, snoring away on your lap. At least now you can enjoy your meal in peace.
- He likes sharing the bed with you, but he's a tosser and a turner. Expect to have him laying ontop of you come morning. He'd never admit it (as it feels like an admission of a flaw), but when he slumbers, occasionally he gets so relaxed a part of him pops off, be it a hand or his whole arm. Still, he seeks that closeness to you. It takes several mornings for you to stop screaming when awakening to a detached arm around your waist.
- All in all, Buggy isn't the worst captor you could have. He's not sadistic with you, just extremely needy. He doesn't get off on the idea of hurting you, and flattery will get you everywhere. Play to his ego, be his 'honey bunny', and you might have an easier time escaping. Make it count though, fool him once, shame one you. But he'll never let you get the chance to fool him twice.
"You just had to push it, huh?" The ropes are scratchy against your skin, only growing tighter with each movement of your wrist. "Stop squirming, shit-hat!" That's how you know he's angry- he only acknowledges your allegiance to Luffy when he gets truly furious.
