I ask for one Crocodile X Reader please! Maybe something REALLLY cute? Bonus points if ya make it funny!
You're 'Inconvinient', Darling.
sick!wife!reader x husband!crocodile
a/n: inspo from @mewnewew's ‘how to fall in love with sir crocodile’, hope you enjoy anon :3 i tried making it funny, but alas, as we learned from my previous ask, i am not fucking funny lmao
(though i knew who actually sent this one -*kaugh*)
wc: 1.9k
summary: You wake up sick, and your husband Sir Crocodile immediately tries to escape to work like the emotionally constipated man he is. But between your pathetic coughing and shameless manipulation tactics, he finds himself postponing his entire morning schedule to play reluctant caretaker.
Sir Crocodile doesn’t do sick days. He never has.
So when you woke up, your voice as raspy and rumbled as a Sea King, he acted accordingly…with the grace of a cactus.
“..morning..*kaghk*..wani”
His eyebrow raised, still shirtless in the shared bed between you two, and softly nudged your face away immediately with his hook. “..Mmm, absolutely not, babydoll.”
You give a small grumble and whine, turning to face your husband, pawing at his chest. “..waniii.” you croaked out.
“Amore, you’re staying in bed. No exceptions.” He side eyed, lifting the blanket just enough to keep you covered, while he gets up, his cigar and whiskey scent lingering in the mattress sheets. He turned his back away from you, opening the closet to get ready for his day out of bed.
“but-hakk—hackkkt—hhchkk-” It sounded so painful, just by hearing it–your chest buckling and convulsing. “-it's just the common cold, dear.”
Crocodile had just started buttoning up his white undershirt—two buttons done, the third half-looped—when he heard your lungs fighting with themselves. He took a deep exhale and slowly, turned his head toward you, and crossed back to the bed, with all the sentiment of a man who would rather get cold seawater dumped on him than to admit his love to his wife aloud to anyone else.
“Exactly why,” He muttered, brushing hair away from your face, before leaving a soft kiss on your scalp without hesitation–“you’re staying in bed.”
You attempted what might've been a pout, but with your face half-buried in the pillow and your nose completely blocked, it came out more like a congested scowl. "You can't just—snrf—imprison me in my own bed—"
"Watch me." He straightened up, resuming his button routine with renewed focus. "I'll have someone bring up food. Medicine. Whatever." Each button clicked into place with finality.
"Waniiii—" You reached out dramatically, like some tragic heroine in a stage play.
He didn't even look back. "That won't work."
"But I love youuu—"
"Still won't work."
"I'm dying—"
"You have a cold." He shrugged on his coat, then his fur one, the massive thing settling on his shoulders like a warlord's mantle. "You'll survive."
You watched him check his rings, his hook, the small adjustments he made every single morning. The morning light caught on the gold, on the polished surface of his hook, and you felt a surge of stubborn affection mixed with congested misery. Then, just as he reached the door, you played your final card: a pathetic, rattling cough that sounded like your lungs were filing for divorce.
His hand froze on the doorknob.
You coughed again for good measure. Really sold it this time. Added a little wheeze at the end.
"...Unbelievable." He turned around, and the look on his face was somewhere between annoyed and resigned. "You're weaponizing your illness."
"Is it working?" you rasped, batting your eyelashes. Or trying to. They were kind of sticky.
He stared at you for a long, long moment. Then he yanked his fur coat back off with one aggressive motion and tossed it onto the chair. "You're more trouble sick than you are healthy, and that's saying something."
"So you're staying?" Your voice pitched up with delight—then immediately cracked into another coughing fit.
"I'm making a call." He pulled out his Den Den Mushi, and the snail's eyes immediately shifted—becoming sharper, more severe, the entire expression hardening into something unmistakably Daz Bones. "Daz. Clear my morning schedule."
"Sir?" The snail's mouth moved with Daz's distinctive monotone. "Is there an emergency?"
"Because I said so." His eye twitched. "No, there's no emergency. No, we're not under attack." His gaze slid over to you, and you gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile. "My wife is...indisposed."
"...Indisposed," Daz repeated, and even through a snail you could hear the careful neutrality. "Should I send a doctor?"
"She's sick, Daz, not—no, I don't need you to send a medic. Just—" He set the Den Den Mushi down on the dresser for a moment, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation before picking it back up. "Soup. Send someone with soup. The good kind. Not whatever slop the kitchen usually makes. And tea. That herbal nonsense she likes."
"...Understood, sir. Anything else?"
"No. And Daz?" His voice dropped dangerously. "Not a word to anyone."
"Of course not, sir."
He hung up, and you couldn't help but notice the snail looked almost relieved as its features returned to normal.
You stared at him, stunned. "You just…canceled your morning for me?"
"Don't get used to it." He settled into the chair beside the bed, pulling out a stack of paperwork from seemingly nowhere. "I'll work from here. You stay in that bed, or so help me—"
"You do love me." You grinned, all dopey and congested.
He didn't look up from his documents. "Debatable at the moment."
"You're sitting with me."
"I'm supervising. There's a difference."
"You canceled meetings."
"I postponed them." He scribbled something with sharp, irritated strokes. "Temporarily."
You snuggled deeper into the blankets, watching him work. His brow furrowed in concentration, cigar smoke curling lazily upward, the scratch of pen on paper filling the comfortable silence. It was…nice. Domestic, even, in a way that seemed absolutely contradictory to everything Sir Crocodile represented to the outside world. Here he was, one of the most feared men in the criminal underworld, doing paperwork in a bedroom chair because his wife had a cold.
After a few minutes, you reached out and tugged gently on his coat sleeve.
He glanced over, eyebrow raised.
"Can you read to me?"
"...Excuse me?"
"Your documents. They're boring enough to put me to sleep." You gave him your most pitiful look. "Please?"
He stared at you like you'd just asked him to dance a jig. "You want me to read you…financial reports?"
"Mmhm. Your voice is nice."
"My voice is—" He stopped himself, looking physically pained. "You're delirious. That's what this is. Fever delirium."
"No fever," you countered smugly. "Just a cold, remember? You said so yourself."
He looked like he was reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this exact moment. Then, with the long-suffering sigh of a man who knows he's already lost, he cleared his throat. "Fine. But don't blame me when you're bored to tears." He lifted the first document. "Quarterly earnings report for the western trade routes. Revenue increased by fifteen percent compared to last quarter, primarily due to—"
You were smiling. He could see it even though you'd turned your face into the pillow.
"—reduced naval interference and optimized shipping schedules. However, operational costs have also risen by eight percent due to—are you even listening?"
"Mmhm. Keep going. S'nice."
He huffed but continued, his deep voice rumbling through facts and figures, and you felt yourself starting to drift. Somewhere around the part about "projected growth in the eastern sectors," your breathing evened out.
Crocodile noticed immediately. He stopped mid-sentence, watching your face go slack with sleep, and felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest. Sentiment. Disgusting.
He set the papers down quietly and stood, moving to your side of the bed. You'd kicked half the blankets off already—typical—so he pulled them back up, tucking them around you with more care than he'd ever admit to using. His hook brushed against your cheek, cool metal against warm skin, and you made a small noise in your sleep.
"Inconvenient," he muttered, but there was no heat in it.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He crossed the room in three strides, opening it just enough to see one of the newer subordinates holding a tray. The man looked absolutely terrified.
"S-Sir, the soup and tea you requested—"
Crocodile took the tray without a word. The subordinate seemed frozen, staring past him toward where you were sleeping.
"Is the lady alright? We heard she was—"
"Fine. She's fine." Crocodile's voice dropped to something dangerous. "And if I hear that anyone has been gossiping about my wife's condition, I'll personally ensure they regret having a tongue to wag. Understood?"
"Y-Yes sir! Understood, sir!"
"Good. Now get out."
The door closed with a quiet click. Crocodile set the tray on the bedside table, looking at the spread. They'd actually listened—the good soup, the herbal tea you liked, even some honey on the side. He'd have to remember whoever prepared this. Maybe not kill them during the next budget cut.
He settled back into his chair, paperwork forgotten. Instead, he just…watched. Your chest rising and falling, the occasional congested snore, the way your hand curled under your chin.
Pathetic, really.
That he'd been reduced to this. Canceling meetings. Reading financial reports like bedtime stories. Threatening subordinates over soup preparation.
His wife. His beautiful, stubborn, currently-ill wife.
About an hour later, you stirred. Your eyes cracked open, immediately finding him still sitting there, and you smiled—small and tired but genuine.
"You stayed."
"I said I would."
"Thought you might've been lying. To make me sleep."
"I don't lie to you, babydoll." He leaned forward, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a Sea Train," you admitted. "But better. Because you're here."
"Sentiment will get you nowhere."
"Got you to stay home, didn't it?"
He couldn't argue with that. Instead, he reached for the tea. "Drink. It's probably lukewarm by now, but it'll help."
You struggled to sit up, and he was there immediately, propping pillows behind you with an efficiency that would've been impressive if it wasn't so obviously practiced. You took the cup, wrapping both hands around it.
"You're good at this," you observed.
"At what?"
"Taking care of people."
"I'm not—" He stopped himself, looking uncomfortable. "I'm ensuring you recover quickly so you stop being a nuisance."
"Right. That's definitely it." You took a sip, and the warmth felt like heaven on your throat. "Thank you, Wani."
He grunted in response, but you caught the way his expression softened. Just a fraction. Just enough.
"If you tell anyone about this," he warned, "I'll deny everything."
"Your reputation is safe with me, dear." You coughed, then added, "Though I think Daz already knows you're soft for me."
"Daz knows to keep his mouth shut."
"Does he know you read me financial reports to help me sleep?"
"That was a one-time thing."
"Was it?" You gave him a knowing look over the rim of your cup. "Because I'll probably need help falling asleep again later. I'm very sick, you know. Might need several more readings."
He stared at you. You stared back, picture of innocence except for the mischievous glint in your fevered eyes.
"You," he said slowly, "are the most manipulative woman I've ever met."
"You married me."
"Clearly a lapse in judgment."
"Take it back."
"No."
You coughed pointedly.
He rolled his eyes. "You're also the most important person in my life and I'd burn the world down before I let anything happen to you. Happy?"
"Extremely." You beamed at him, then immediately ruined the moment by sneezing directly into your teacup.
Crocodile looked like he was contemplating murder.
"...I'll get you a new cup."
"My hero," you said, congested and completely sincere.
And despite everything—the ruined morning, the ridiculous situation, the fact that he was currently playing nurse to a woman who was absolutely milking this for all it was worth—Crocodile found himself almost smiling as he went to get fresh tea.
Almost.
Because Sir Crocodile definitely didn't do sick days.
Sir Crocodile and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
18+ MDNI
As picked by readers! Ace nonnies, I see you. I'll write the childhood friend reader x Ace story too.
On Ao3 in French
One shot, Reader x Sir Crocodile, fluffy
Word count: ~6k
Synopsis: Crocodile dreads the one day a year you take off of work, your birthday. As his incredible personal assistant, he depends on you for almost everything. Like every year, a day without you is a complete disaster. But maybe there is something he can salvage from the wreckage. Something - or someone - he's wanted for a very long time.
Sir Crocodile tapped the flat of his hook against the date circled on his desk calendar. Tomorrow was his absolute least favorite day of the entire year. You took off only one day annually, your birthday. Sure, you nominally had weekends off as well. But something always came up and you spent at least half a day dealing with his business or personal matters every weekend.
He didn’t begrudge you having your birthday to yourself - you were incredibly diligent and deserved it. But without you around, everything seemed to fall to shambles within minutes. You were by far the best personal assistant he’d ever had. Maybe even the best employee he’d ever had, even among his cohort of Devil Fruit powered henchmen who killed for him indiscriminately. Of course, he knew that if he called you on your baby den den mushi, you’d answer and do whatever he needed. But he would feel guilty for disturbing you . And guilt was an emotion Crocodile had only felt once and never wanted to again. No, he’d make due without you tomorrow and let you enjoy your day off.
Though he was not kind to - or even close to - his Baroque Works crew, Crocodile was considered a top tier employer in Rainbase Lake. Once he found someone who was good at their profession, he tried his best to keep them in his employ. He treated his personal staff with respect, paid very well, and had set guidelines for employees to follow. Henchmen could be replaced, bloodthirsty pirates were a dime a dozen. Reliable and high quality housekeepers, chefs, and assistants? Priceless.
And you were the most reliable, most organized, most level headed, most meticulous, and most industrious employee he’d ever had. At first, he suspected you of being a devil fruit user. That would explain how you managed to get everything done correctly, on time, and make it seem easy. However, he quickly realized that you were just that good . But you weren’t single mindedly following his orders all the time, like some of his stooges. You didn’t wait for him to tell you things he needed or tasks he wanted done, you thought for yourself and anticipated his needs. You weren’t a yes man, you would voice your opinion if he asked for it. He valued your insight and operations driven mind. In fact, during the years you’d been working for Crocodile, you’d only ever argued once. And it wasn’t even an argument, really. Crocodile had started growing a mustache, he thought it added some regality to his face. You hated it and told him that it didn’t suit his features. You were right, of course. He’d allowed you to shave it off yourself, much to your delight.
Even without it being your day off, Crocodile always remembered your birthday. Yours was the only one, besides his own, that he had ever bothered to recall. He had many lovers who assumed the thoughtful and romantic gifts they received on their birthdays, anniversaries, and “just because” came from him. But the truth was that all his lovers were in a relationship with you. You remembered all the small details and arranged everything to his lover’s tastes. Crocodile didn’t even try to remember their names, calling them all “Doll” to save himself the hassle. He even thought of them that way - interchangeable, easily replaced, silly but ultimately worthless playthings. But you could tell him their favorite flowers, preferred gemstones, clothing style, shoe size, and any other tidbit of information he’d ever want. You had sent hundreds of gifts on his behalf and had never gotten anything wrong. As a result, Crocodile had a reputation for being a true romantic, someone who listened when his paramours told him personal details. He couldn’t care less.
He stopped over at your desk as you finished out your day, bringing a small gift bag with him hanging off his hook.
“Happy birthday,” he said in his low tone, handing you the present.
“What a pleasant surprise, Sir,” you said, removing it and opening it immediately. It was a potted white rhino agave succulent that he had bought without your assistance. It was expensive and rare, but you were worth every penny he ever spent on you.
“Oh, how thoughtful! Thank you so much, Sir!” You beamed at him. To some, it would have looked like a poor gift, but Crocodile knew you well. You didn’t care for cut flowers or most trinkets. You were passionate about cacti and succulents, spending some of your time away from him caring for the plants. You had an impressive collection, one that Crocodile added to as the occasion arose. You got up from behind your desk, walked around to him, and stood on your tiptoes. Crocodile brought himself down to your height and you kissed his cheek in gratitude.
“What a wonderful send off, Sir. I will see you the day after tomorrow. Please, if there is an emergency, do not hesitate to call.” Crocodile smiled at you and leaned against your desk. Crocodile knew you meant nothing untoward by the kiss, it was platonic affection. But he enjoyed the feeling nonetheless. He looked forward to it annually.
“Enjoy your day off.” He wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.
“Thank you, Sir.” With that, you carefully carried your plant and left the office. Crocodile watched you leave then scowled once you’d left. It would be a long 24 hours without you.
~~~
The next morning began poorly right from the start. Crocodile awoke late, his alarm clock hadn’t gone off. He blasted it with sand, destroying it completely. He was annoyed already. Normally you woke him gently before his alarm clock did, but you weren’t here today. He found waking to your soft voice and calm face a soothing way to start his day. Crocodile rose from his bed and went to his clothes valet, only to find it empty. He wanted to destroy that as well, but he decided he shouldn’t demolish everything that irritated him today. He’d have nothing left and besides, it would be more work for you to replace everything. You usually hung his clothes for him after pressing them yourself, and he rarely saw the need to adjust your choices. You knew what he liked and how he liked to present himself down to the cufflinks on his shirt sleeves. Crocodile stalked to his large walk in closet and looked through the well organized racks of clothing. It had been one year since he’d had to do this himself and he hadn’t missed the chore.
He selected an outfit and looked at himself in the mirror. The outfit lacked a certain elegance that you were able to assemble effortlessly. He adjusted his hook - it looked dull. You always polished it for him until it gleamed. It would have to do, he was already late for a meeting he had called. He left his bedroom for the dining room, looking for his cafe corto. There was a carafe of drip coffee waiting on the table, but no espresso. There was also an impressive tray of sweet pastries. You knew Crocodile wanted a cafe corto first, then drip coffee, cigar, no food. Was it so hard to replicate everything you did for just one day? Could no amount of staff compete with one small woman? Crocodile rang for a servant and asked for the espresso. He was brought an Americano. He sighed and rubbed his temples with his hand.
The day went downhill from there. You had prepared for your absence during the day, leaving notes and organizing what you could anticipate. Crocodile had another staff member on the den den, fielding calls you’d normally take. But even with your absent help, it was a complete disaster. Crocodile was used to you taking notes for him during meetings, he had forgotten to bring a pen and paper to the board room. By the end of the meeting, he’d forgotten half of the numbers from the quarterly presentation. Everything seemed to need your touch, your help, your forethought to run smoothly.
Things went from bad to worse. Meetings went off topic, reports had incorrect data, enemies were left untortured, and he’d forgotten to feed the bananawanis on time. Word spread quickly that Crocodile was in a bad mood. Everyone knew the reason why, but no one dared to breathe a word about it. Despite his earlier wishful thinking, the boardroom table now had several hook sized holes in it and his office was covered in sand. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep pull on his cigar. You would have already had everything arranged to soothe his anger.
It wasn’t even all the small matters during the business day that you arranged. You were adept at anticipating his needs before he even realized he wanted something, and arranging his life to one befitting someone of his station. You understood him better than perhaps anyone else. Yes, Miss All Sunday managed Rain Dinners, but you managed Crocodile.
He sat and recalled one of the times when he’d called you in the middle of the night. He did try not to disturb your rest, but sometimes it needed to be done. One such occasion was when he’d invited Dracule Mihawk to his residence. They had been talking - and drinking - late into the night. In the early hours of the morning he rang you to ask for some food to accompany their wine.
“Hello Sir, how may I assist you?” your voice had been sleepy, he saw his snail answering bleary eyed but still with a smile.
“I apologize for the late night call. I’d like some refreshments.”
“Of course sir,” the snail looked over at something. “It is now 2:50 AM. I had your favored refreshments scheduled to be delivered at 3:00 AM. Would you prefer to wait ten minutes or would you rather I bring you something immediately?” You weren’t being facetious, Crocodile knew if he asked, you’d have food for him by 2:59 come hell or highwater.
“3:00 is fine, thank you.”
“I hope you can forgive my impertinence, Sir - I also included some refreshments that may be more to your guest’s liking.” Mihawk raised a single eyebrow.
“Very thoughtful. Good night.”
“Good night, Sir.”
And sure enough, at 3:00 AM on the dot, a tray of Crocodile’s favorite foods to pair with heavy drinking were delivered by a tired looking waiter. Crocodile served himself some fresh dumplings and offered the tray to Mihawk. Mihawk declined, as he was sampling the gambas al ajillo and jamon.
“Quite the assistant you have,” Mihawk said, a glimmer of intrigue ghosting over his face. “The dishes are excellent, send her my thanks.” Mihawk inclined his head to Crocodile. Crocodile smirked, you had made him proud.
Breaking his walk down memory lane, he heard the den den mushi ring for what felt like the millionth time that day. Miss Merry Christmas picked up the receiver. He could hear half of the conversation.
“Hello? No, she’s not in today, it’s her birthday. I don’t think you’ll want to - are you sure - let me see,” Miss Merry Christmas looked at Crocodile in his office and yelled through the open door “it’s Doflamingo, do you want to take it?”
Crocodile wanted to kill her on the spot. His sand was already swirling behind him. She had told Doflamingo of all people that it was your birthday. After Crocodile had started taking you to Warlord meetings, the flashy fool had been trying to get you to move to Dressrosa and work for him. Crocodile wasn’t worried about you leaving him for another employer. The thought just sat heavily in his mind and caused him immense anger when he imagined you spending time with Doflamingo. But that wasn’t the same as jealousy. Crocodile would never be jealous over an employee. Even one as smart and lucious as yourself.
Furthermore, Miss About To Be Impaled had asked if he wanted to take the call. Now Doffy knew he was there and had to take the call or else risk a tantrum from the spoiled King. He stalked over to the snail, who was looking quite smug.
“What.”
“So it’s her birthday today, mmh? I’ll have to send something nice, maybe some lingerie…would you like some as well? Fufufufufufufu.” Crocodile hoped Vegapunk would soon invent a way to kill someone through a den den mushi. He’d deal with Doflamingo later, he was in no mood for the Dressrosa King’s idiotic love quests. He hung up softly, gently patting the snail on the back with his flesh hand. The snail survived because he’d killed one once in anger after such a call and it had upset you. Crocodile didn’t like when you were upset. You’d even cried over the snail and Crocodile had felt guilty. He had liked that even less.
He needed a drink.
~~~
Crocodile left his office for the restaurant portion of Rain Dinners. He had a splitting headache and nearly called out your name to ask for your assistance. Every year your birthday made him realize how heavily he depended on you, so every year he increased your salary the following day. He made a mental note to do the same again tomorrow.
Crocodile sat in his favorite booth, smoked his cigar, and drank his whiskey neat. The bartenders here were competent and didn’t need to be told what he wanted to drink. He was thinking over some of the reports brought to him by his minions when he spotted you, alone, drinking a glass of wine at the bar. Crocodile was surprised - drinking alone, on your big day? Crocodile knew you had a romantic relationship that predated your employment to him. Crocodile had never liked your partner, but you seemed happy enough. He didn’t understand why someone of your caliber, of your intelligence and beauty was with such a loser, but for your sake he hadn’t killed him.
Crocodile gathered himself and headed straight to you at the bar. The crowd parted for him easily, with many trying to capture his attention. Some of his Dolls tried to touch his arm or talk to him but he didn’t even spare them a glance. Coming up to your side, you looked up at him and smiled weakly.
“Good evening, Sir.” You looked absolutely ravishing, just as gorgeous as the day he met you. Normally you wore simple but well tailored clothing to work. It hadn’t stopped his imagination from running wild when you wore your pencil skirts or your slightly lower cut tops. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d wanted to free your hair from its style and run his fingers through it. Or the times he’d wanted to rip through your skirt and pound into you when you leaned over his desk. He’d entertained the thought of seducing you many times, but ultimately he respected you too much to do so. He didn’t want to interfere if you were already in a relationship, as pathetic as your choice was. Besides, he didn’t know what he would do without you if his interest was unreciprocated and you left. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility.
Today you were more dressed up fancier than usual, your striking figure in an elegant black dress that bared your back provocatively. He stifled his impulse to run his hook down your spine to see if it made you shiver. Pulling his thoughts back to you, he noticed your eyes were slightly red and puffy. He put his large hand on your shoulder.
“What happened to that… person …you usually spend time with?” He couldn’t call that boy a man, let alone a boyfriend. He was lucky Crocodile remembered his existence. And continued to allow it.
“We aren’t together anymore, Sir.” Your eyes watered. Crocodile sat in the seat next to yours.
“Did you break up tonight?” Crocodile spoke softly, not wanting to embarrass you or upset you further.
“Yes, Sir.” You looked down at your glass of wine, swirling the drink gently.
“Would you like him killed?” Crocodile could have sworn his hook was twitching. He could think of no better ending to the evening. Maybe that would save this terrible day.
“No thank you, Sir.” You didn’t have the same penchant for violence and bloodlust that he did. Crocodile didn’t mind. He didn’t care for succulents all that much. You could have different hobbies and still work well with one another. “You don’t have to waste your time consoling me, Sir. I would like you to enjoy your evening. A few of your lovers are here, if you’d like me to remind you of their names.”
Crocodile scoffed. “As you know, I am always doing what I want to be doing.” You nodded. As if he would forgo time with you for some nameless woman.
“Where did he work again?” Crocodile was going to have him tracked down, just for….fun.
“He’s the general manager of ‘Fantasia,” you replied, your mouth dipping into a frown. It was a rival casino, though not even in the top three in Rainbase Lake. “He said I am too involved with my career, that I didn’t spend enough time away from work. That my life revolves around yours.” You looked up, repentant already. “I apologize, Sir. You didn’t ask for details.” Crocodile waved your concerns away. He enjoyed it when you shared your feelings and opinions. Crocodile took the flat of his hook and put it under your chin, raising your face to look at his own. A tear tracked down your face.
“Some people do not understand dedication. Loyalty. Duty. Passion.”
“Passion, Sir?” Your face slightly flushed from the wine - or perhaps the intimate contact. Crocodile belatedly realized his misstep. He hadn’t meant to reveal his desire, especially when you were already upset. He reluctantly removed his hook from beneath your pretty face.
“Would you like me to escort you home?” Crocodile changed the conversation in case you’d been uncomfortable.
“Yes, thank you Sir” you looked surprised at his offer and that you yourself had taken him up on it. Naturally he wanted to ensure his favorite employee was home safely. He had never done this for anyone else but that didn’t mean anything. It certainly had nothing to do with your sadness and vulnerability. He offered you his hand and you gingerly stepped down from your bar stool. Crocodile guided you to the door with his hook on your bare back. He looked closely and found himself right, you had gotten goosebumps.
The two of you walked through the darkened town in silence, enjoying the pleasant weather. That was something else Crocodile appreciated about you - you didn’t feel the need to fill a stillness with meaningless chatter. The longer the walk took, the less pleased Crocodile became. He paid you very well, why weren’t you living in the luxurious part of the town? You turned street corners until you ended at a shabby looking apartment building and stood in the doorway. Crocodile would rather have burned it to the ground before he set foot in it.
“This is where I live Sir, thank you for accompanying me.” Crocodile looked at the crumbling brick building once again.
“Why?” Crocodile bit out. He had nearly chomped his cigar in half.
“I beg your pardon, Sir?” you looked confused at his question.
“Why do you live here? I pay you well, I know you can afford better living conditions.” Your face flushed.
“You need not concern yourself, Sir. The situation has resolved itself.” Crocodile narrowed his eyes. So it was related to the boy. Had you been paying off some of his gambling debt? He had that look about him. Crocodile knew it well, he owned a casino and had seen that type of fool thousands of times. That wouldn’t do and neither would your current living situation.
“Indeed. You’ll be moving into my mansion.” Crocodile was pleased with this outcome. He hadn’t liked you living so far from him. He always had a security detail following you when you weren’t with him, but it never felt like enough. With the level of intimate knowledge you had about Crocodile and his businesses, he was always concerned that you’d be kidnapped or tortured. Truthfully, if he admitted it to himself, he worried. Another feeling he didn’t like. No, this would work out perfectly. He wouldn’t have to be distracted by thoughts of your well being and you’d be closer to him at all times.
“Sir, that is…not appropriate,” you demurred. He hadn’t thought of the implication of moving you in, but in this case he wasn’t thinking with his lower head.
“Nonsense. You’ll have the entire East Wing to yourself. Decorate it as you see fit, I’ll provide you a housing stipend. I will wait here for five minutes. Gather what you will need for the night. Daz will collect the rest of your belongings tomorrow.”
“Sir, is this really -” you had crossed your arms across your lovely chest.
“The countdown has begun.” His will was set in stone, not even your annoyance could sway him. You sighed, rolled your eyes, and walked into the building briskly. Perhaps one good thing had come from this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
~~~
Crocodile was immensely happy with the outcome of his decision. He felt at rest knowing he could protect you and keep you safe from those who would seek to gain power over him. Or worse yet, other magnates trying to scout your services for their own. He’d caught Mihawk speaking to you quietly after the last Warlord meeting, and you laughed at something he’d said. He wouldn’t stop you from having conversation with the Swordsman, but he didn’t like it. He knew even Sengoku had tried his hand at recruiting you for the Marines. You turned down every offer and stayed with Crocodile. He wasn’t worried about your loyalty, but Crocodile didn’t like the attention you received from others. You were his personal assistant and Crocodile had never shared well.
He did try to give you your space and allow you your own personal life within the mansion. He didn’t want to control you, he knew you were your own woman. But since you now shared the same (gigantic) mansion, he did occasionally see you outside of your working hours. He saw you strolling in the gardens, tending to your plants, watching the stars from the balcony. When you weren’t working, you dressed more casually, allowing Crocodile to see more of your body. It did not help that you only referred to him as “Sir,” even outside of work. He had long fantasized about your sultry voice saying “yes, sir” and “no, sir,” in a more intimate setting. He’d tried it with many of his Dolls, but none of them could get it right. Only your “yes, sir,” got his blood pumping.
~~~
The longer you lived in his mansion, the more suspicious Crocodile became of the nature of your feelings towards him. Crocodile wasn’t one to directly ask, but you seemed to have some feelings that crept out every now and again. Once, he’d asked you to help a Doll leave the morning after a stay in his bedroom and you outright refused. It was the first time that you’d ever refused a task he’d asked of you. And you hadn’t backed down. You said it was outside the scope of your duties, but that you’d send a housekeeper. If Crocodile had to put an emotion to your tone, it would have been jealousy. Other times, he had caught you staring at him, and blushing and averting your gaze when caught. You’d worked together for years, but with the closer proximity and your newly single status, perhaps your feelings were changing. Crocodile wanted to test his theory. One day, when your pencil skirt was particularly tight, he called you into his home office. He was leaning back in his chair, smoking a cigar as usual, papers on his desk.
“Yes, sir?” you stood at the entrance to the office.
“Come in, I don’t bite.” You immediately moved closer to his desk, slight confusion on your face. Normally he tried to speak to you as professionally as possible, and you immediately noted the change in his language. “Take a look at the latest figures from Rain Dinners. I know the calculations are correct, but something is missing.” You came over to his side of the desk and bent over to read, like you’d done so many times before. But this time, he rested his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t say anything, but he heard you suck in a breath. Interesting. You spent a moment flipping back and forth between the pages.
“I see the issue, Sir,” you said, still bent over. Crocodile stood up and bent over next to you, caging you in with one arm. “I apologize. You are missing a page of the report,” you were blushing furiously but continued “I will g-get you a better copy.” You were flustered.
“Thank you, that’s all,” Crocodile breathed into the shell of your ear. You shuddered from the close contact. Crocodile sat back in his chair, releasing you. You practically ran from the room, face as red as if you’d spent it in the Alabastan desert. Very interesting.
~~~
Crocodile wanted to set clear boundaries and to have affirmative consent from you before he did anything. He respected you as a person and if you were to turn him down, he would still want to keep you as an employee. He called for you one late evening. You arrived promptly, though in more casual clothing since it was outside of your business hours. You were wearing a mid length sundress with a blue flower pattern. It accentuated everything Crocodile liked about your figure. Perfection.
“How may I help you, Sir?” Polite as always.
“Come here,” Crocodile beckoned you with one extended finger. You stood in front of him expectantly. He carefully wound his hook around your waist and pulled you closer, directly in front of his seated form. “Better.” He removed his hook.
“Do you enjoy working for me?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Of course, Sir. This is the best job I’ve ever had.”
“Do you remember the day that I hired you?” Crocodile was dragging on his cigar, allowing the smoke to billow out of his mouth. Simultaneously, he was polishing his hook with a cloth. He knew he struck an imposing figure.
“Yes, Sir.” You were transfixed by the sight of the golden hook, gleaming in the dimming light.
“Do you remember our conversation about the bananawanis?” You tore your eyes away from his hook.
“Yes, Sir. One of the conditions of employment was being comfortable with bananawanis. You asked if I had any concerns in caring for them.” You were getting nervous, unsure of what the purpose of the conversation was.
“Do you remember what you told me?” Crocodile grinned his unnerving smile.
“Yes, Sir. That they are apex predators, they need to be treated with care and respect. If you accept your place beneath them, they can be affectionate and sweet. And that,” you looked him in the eyes, “I doubted they were the most dangerous creatures on the premises.”
“Do you still believe that to be true?” Crocodile rose to his full height, towering over you. You looked up at him. You looked on edge but not scared.
“Yes, Sir.”
“And what might you say about a more dangerous creature?” He spoke low, looking down at your reddening face. He wound his hook slowly around the back of your neck, giving you time to move away. You didn’t move except to shiver.
“Ah, likely the same Sir. That if I were to accept my position as subservient, I think most strong, ahm, creatures would be receptive.” Crocodile pulled on his hook gently, baring your neck to him. He bent down to your height, ghosting his lips on the exposed column of your neck.
“Speak now with your objections.” He was being truthful, any hesitation on your part and he would stop immediately. He was interested in willing submission, nothing else.
“Sir, I…admit I am so inclined but I worry about mixing business and passion .” Crocodile grinned at your statement, echoing his words from your birthday. So you’d been affected as well.
“If anything unpleasant happens between us, now or after, I assure you we will go back to our previous arrangement. You will not be fired nor face retribution. Do you find that acceptable?” He would rather lose his other hand than you. You nodded.
“Yes, Sir.” You were looking at him with stars in your eyes.
“If I do something and you wish to end the experience, say ‘no.’ If you say ‘stop,’ I won’t. If you say ‘please,’ it will not move me, nor will any tears. If you say ‘no,’ I will immediately cease my actions. Do you understand?” You gulped.
“Yes, Sir.”
“What word will end anything that you do not wish to happen?”
“If I say ‘no’ to you, Sir.”
“Very good. Take off your dress.” You looked nervous but your lips quirked up at the corners with his slight praise. He knew that you did your best when given approval. He sat back down in his chair and admired your elegance. You slowly brought down the straps to your dress, then removed your arms from within them. You weren’t wearing a bra, you’d deemed the dress sufficient. He had seen many strip teases from his Dolls, all perfectly crafted and practiced to make a man inflamed with want. Yours had no artifice, no guile, nothing calculated. And yet he found your performance much more sensual and alluring. He felt his cock stiffening more with each passing second. When your arms were free, you let your dress pool at your feet and stepped out of it. You stood still, awaiting his judgment.
“Absolutely stunning.” He stood up again, circling you slowly, letting the metal of his hook glide across your bared skin. He trailed it over your back, across the backs of your arms, across your collar bones as he went around you. Anywhere he dragged it raised goosebumps on your flesh. “You look even better than I have ever imagined.” You preened at his words. He continued to tease you with his hook. “Does it make you nervous when I stare at your beauty?”
“No, Sir.”
He finished drinking you in and sat down once again, only to spread his legs. “Come sit,” he said, voice smooth as silk. You unhesitatingly went over to him, breasts bouncing gently as you walked. You perched yourself sideways gracefully on his powerful thigh, waiting for his next command. You always did so well following his orders, after all. He put down his cigar and put it on your side, bringing you closer to him.
“Exquisite beyond compare.” Bringing his face down to yours, he twined his hand into the hair at the back of your head. He pulled, slanting your face upwards. You were panting softly. He searched your face for any hint of lingering doubt, but he only saw raw desire. He brought his lips to yours ever so slowly, creeping inch by inch, not yet kissing but oh so close. You tried to reach up for him with your mouth but his hand kept you from doing so. “No need to rush, I’m not going anywhere,” he said and bit the lobe of your ear gently. Crocodile didn’t have it in him to wait any longer to kiss you. He brought his lips to yours, opening his mouth. You gave him entry as his tongue explored your own. He kissed you at his leisurely pace, showing you who was in control. He was demanding and dominating and you were loving every moment.
“Tell me, if I felt between your legs right now, would you be wet for me?” he asked as he kissed down your jaw. You flushed crimson but his hand in your hair prevented you from avoiding his gaze.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Show me.”
“Yes, Sir.” You spread your shaking thighs for him, revealing your soaked panties. He untangled his hand from your hair and walked a finger down your arm, down your stomach, down to your thighs. He reached around you and shredded the sides, destroying them and revealing your gleaming pussy. You gasped but didn’t move. He trailed a finger down your slit, not parting your lower lips but fingers still coming back glistening.
“Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”
“Y-yes, Sir,” you said, biting back a moan.
“Would you like more?”
“Yes, Sir. Please.” Oh, you’d never added that little plea before. Crocodile felt himself getting even harder than he was before. Maybe one day he’d make you beg. But not today.
“Ride my thigh, that’s how you’re getting off tonight.” He wanted to watch your face and enjoy the mess you made on his slacks. There’d be plenty of time for other fun. He shifted you so you were straddling his thigh.
“Yes, Sir,” he was pleased that you didn’t hesitate, that you were as interested in following as he was in ordering. You started gyrating on his huge thigh, making small whimpers, your hands on his shoulder for stability. He took the opportunity to cup your breast, kneading the mound between his fingers. Occasionally, he missed having two hands. This was one of those times, he wished he could feel both of your breasts at the same time. Instead, he raised his thigh so you were closer to him and dipped his head to lick and tease at your nipples. Your whimpers only increased. He kissed you all over your chest and neck, making sure to leave a few marks. Your head was thrown back, your eyes glazed as you sought your pleasure. Your whines were increasing in tempo and pitch, you were close.
“Ask me for permission to come,” Crocodile drawled.
“Please, Sir, may I come?” you answered quickly, not stopping your movements. He wanted to reward you tonight.
“Yes, you may.” You keened and bucked faster against his thigh, rocking your hips in small circles. He could tell the moment you came undone, he could feel your pussy spasm through his pants. He watched you ride out the high, face contorted in pleasure. He was close himself, but tonight was not for him. After finishing you needed a moment’s rest. You leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing heavily. A moment later, he picked you up and situated you on his other thigh.
“Good girl, how well you’ve done. Look at the mess you’ve made on me,” he said, motioning to the wet spot on his slacks. You reddened but still smiled at him as he enveloped you in his arms. He wrapped you in a nearby blanket off his couch, allowing you to collapse against his broad chest. He relit his cigar and sat peacefully smoking. His rock hard cock would wait for later.
“Thank you, Sir. May I ask you one question?”
“Of course.”
“Can we…do this again sometime?” You seemed unsure of yourself, but Crocodile smiled kindly at you.
“My dear, clear your schedule for the night. And the next. And for the foreseeable future. After all, I am nothing if not an affectionate and sweet creature.”
I have a lot of Thoughts about what Crocodile would be like as a husband (as opposed to sleeping with him). If you're just sleeping together, he'll fuck you over the table at his casino while continuing to play Craps. If you're married, he'll kill anyone who breathes in your direction.
I *do* think he would be kind and soft to someone he's in a serious relationship with. Just my 0.02.
No smut, just fluffy. ~450 words
Croc x GN!Reader
“What’s wrong?”
You swiveled your head as soon as you heard Crocodile speaking to you. You were in the library, curled up under a blanket on a cushy chaise lounge, pretending to read. Crocodile lounged against the doorway, watching you while his cigar trailed smoke to the ceiling. You forgot how perceptive he was, how easily he was able to read you after spending so much time together. You plastered a watery smile on your face, you didn’t want to bother him with your petty problems. He was so busy with his work that when he had a moment of reprieve, you loathed wasting the precious time you got to spend together.
“Nothing, I promise I’m alright. Just small things,” you said with a shrug. Crocodile hummed and walked over to the lounge, his dress shoes clacking against the tile floor. You scooched forward, giving him enough space to sit with his arm lying on the back of the chair. Pulling you onto his lap, Crocodile tipped your head back to kiss you softly.
“Do you want me to listen or problem solve?” he asked, kissing your forehead as you leaned back against his warm chest. Communication had been a challenge in your early relationship - you had wanted a shoulder to cry on and Crocodile was a pragmatic problem solver, eager to fix any hardship that befell you. He’d solved the problem by clarifying before beginning a discussion about what you were seeking from him. You also learned early on not to mention names or things got…messy.
“Neither, it’s nothing, really -” You gasped as Crocodile unerringly pinched your nipple through your shirt.
“Don’t lie,” he drawled, taking another drag of his cigar. You shifted slightly, your ass feeling the phantom pain from the last spanking you’d gotten for lying.
“Then listen, I suppose…” Crocodile was quiet as you told him about the grievances and issues from your day, only interjecting when he wanted you to expound on a topic. By the time you’d finished talking about what was bothering you, you’d cried into his large chest while Crocodile soothed you. Hiccuping as your crying jag ended, you looked up into the eyes of the former Warlord.
“Thank you for taking the time to deal with my stupid -” Crocodile put his cigar in a nearby ashtray and scooped you up in his arms. You buried your head in his chest, smelling the rich cologne and lingering desert scent.
“Don’t belittle yourself and don’t thank me, neither are befitting the partner at my side. Your troubles are more important to me than anything else,” he said while carrying you off to bed for some additional...relaxation.
Thank you to my VSN (Very Special Nonnie) who betas almost everything I write… ⊙﹏⊙
There will be at least one more chapter after this one 😅
~
In Crocodile’s estimation, things had been going exceptionally well for the Cross Guild. They had an established territory, money was pouring in from their protected islands, and they were settling in on Karai Bari island. He didn’t have to live in a confined space with Buggy and his crew, he was now in the process of building his own manor on the island. He already had a residence, but it wasn’t up to his standards. It was only a five bedroom house, nothing like the mansions he was used to. It wasn’t decadent, it didn’t have a single chandelier, no humidified room for his cigars, not even a wine cellar. Crocodile felt that it was basically akin to camping outdoors given the lack of luxuries. Despite being cramped by the tiny abode, being able to avoid hearing Buggy and his loud crew decreased the Clown’s chances of death exponentially. And on top of all of that, you were spending more time with him, and not just during chess matches.
Crocodile had demanded that you report to him directly, ordering Buggy that he needed dedicated cleaning staff just for his residence. Buggy had given Crocodile a pointed look but conceded under the stipulation that Crocodile had to ask you and you had to agree . A preposterous notion, Crocodile thought, crew were assigned to tasks, not asked to do them. Still, he’d rather ask than risk you objecting, he knew that you would do - or not do - anything for your Captain. Originally Crocodile thought to challenge you to a chess match, but he wasn’t confident that he would win. He’d gotten better, you’d even told him so, but you still won an overwhelming majority of the chess matches the two of you played. Instead, he’d asked you at the end of a long evening spent chatting, drinking, and playing chess.
“I need staff for my residence,” Crocodile said, sipping on his whiskey. You were sipping your third drink the way he taught you to, letting it hit your tongue and savoring the taste. A few weeks prior he gave you a tumbler of a delectable 150 year old vintage and you immediately drank it down like a shot. Crocodile realized you needed some lessons on drinking whiskey and had been educating you ever since. At first you hadn’t liked the beverage much, but now you appreciated the dark burn on your tongue. Watching you swirl your whiskey in its glass he could tell you were listening, but weren’t responding.
“Well?” Crocodile prompted, crossing his legs, wanting to hear your agreement. He didn’t want another circumstance where you denied him, his ego still stung from when you’d turned down joining his crew.
“Well what?” you asked, rolling your eyes. Crocodile drew sharply on his cigar and uncrossed his legs, sitting forward.
“Well, would you like to be my personal staff? I’ve already asked, what is your answer?” Crocodile hated repeating himself.
“You didn’t ask me anything before. You told me a statement, ‘I need staff.’ But yes, I’ll c-clean your house.” Crocodile rubbed his temple, he wasn’t accustomed to asking for anything, much less getting grief over it.
“Good, it’s settled. You start tomorrow. I’ll need my office cleaned with -” you waved your hand, cutting Crocodile off. If anyone else did that, they’d be needing to find a hook much like his own.
“Don’t tell me how to do my j-job, I’m competent enough. Spent enough years doin’ this to know how to polish, wipe, and c-clean,” you finished with a small slur of your words. Crocodile hadn’t realized how inebriated you were, but then again, you were much smaller than he was. Crocodile wasn’t used to sharing his good alcohol with anyone under 2 meters tall. Even Nico Robin had been almost 2 meters, and she could hold her alcohol well.
“Very well, I’ll leave everything to your expertise,” Crocodile said indulgently, rolling his cigar between his fingertips.
“Pfff. Y-you should be thankful, n-none… no one wants to clean your house,” you said stumbling over your words. Crocodile was immediately on alert - he did not like to hear information about himself that he did not already know. What did the staff know that he didn’t?
“And why would that be?” he drawled, showing no emotion in his voice or features. Crocodile had spent years honing his ability to keep his emotions from telegraphing in his face or voice. If the Clown had said anything negative about him to their crew, it would be another long week spent on a hook for him.
“All the goddamn SAND, ‘s annoying,” you finished with a groan. Ah. Well, Crocodile never spent his time cleaning after himself, he had you to do that for him. Crocodile smiled widely.
“Which is why I am ever so grateful for you, my dear,” Crocodile said, taking your hand and kissing the top, like a gentleman, making you giggle lightly. Crocodile knew you were tipsy but he still enjoyed the pretty flush that came to your face when he kissed your hand. He wondered if you’d flush when he kissed your pretty little mouth. Crocodile had been planning on seducing you, but he was waiting until his manor was completed before making any moves. Once his mansion was complete, he would have many opportunities to sidle up to you, create circumstances for lingering touches, he’d have you wrapped around his hook in no time. Crocodile was an old hat at creating romance when he wanted to, this would be his way to get you into checkmate.
“I believe you’re done for the night. You have to work tomorrow, I hear your boss is rather…demanding,” Crocodile smirked in an approximation of a smile.
“Ugh, you have n-no idea,” you said, smiling at him and rolling your eyes.
~
A few weeks later, Crocodile’s new mansion was no closer to being completed. If anything, it was in worse shape than before since he kept losing his temper and burying parts of it in sand. The Marines had forestalled the ships carrying raw materials to Karai Bari island, bringing the construction to a grinding halt. Even though CrossGuild had subordinate crews, the widespread Marines could, and did, use their positions to their advantage and stop shipments from coming into or out of the Yonko’s territory. Word spread quickly among the crew that Crocodile was in a bad mood, and not to disturb him unless there was good news.
“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” you asked Crocodile one evening during a chess match. Even you had been getting a harsher version of Crocodile, despite his best efforts. You’d noted that he was on a definitive losing streak, making his mood even worse. He was sullen and withdrawn, which further spoiled his plans to seduce you. But how could he think to win you over you in this pile of rubble? No, he needed things to be in order, all his strategies thought through, all his bananawanis in a row, before he could enact his plans.
Puffing a billowing cloud of smoke into the air, Crocodile deigned to respond to your coarse language. “The Marines,” he drawled, “are preventing shipments of raw materials to the island. It’s halting progress on my mansion.” Crocodile hadn’t actually told anyone else the reason for his bad mood, it was none of their business.
“So? Fix it,” you answered shrugging while moving a pawn closer to his King.
“Ah, just fix it. I see. An easy solution to my problem,” Crocodile intoned, crossing his legs and taking your pawn with his knight. Anyone else would be quaking in their boots from Crocodile’s deceptively calm tone, but you didn’t even spare him a glance. “And how do you propose that I fix it, hmm? Please, enlighten me to the solution that no other Yonko has thought of before now.” Crocodile knew he was being cruel and taunting you, but you weren't phased.
“Set bounties on the Marines,” you said, eyes focused not on him but still on the chess board. Crocodile blinked and took out a soft cloth to polish his hook while he thought.
“Tell me more,” Crocodile demanded, smoking his cigar while he polished. You finally looked up from the board and at him directly.
“It’s simple. Set bounties on the Marines. They do it to pirates and revolutionaries, set your own. You have enough money to back it,” you replied. Crocodile thought about your idea, it had some merit.
“It would spur fighting between pirates and bounty hunters, but how will that help my shipments? Most of them come from civilian companies, or merchant marines,” he reflected. He did like the idea of turning the tables on the Marines but the idea needed more fleshing out.
“That’s exactly why it’ll work. The Marines are used to fighting pirates and getting support or at least neutrality from civilians. But let’s say there is a big enough reward,” you explained, picking up another pawn, “civilians’ll at least consider turning in a few Marines. And if a Marine or two are captured and brought here, morale among their troops will tank. Marines will have to look over their shoulders constantly, won't be able to trust any island, especially poor ones. That’s where the raw materials come from right? Poor islands mining their resources? If the Marines stop trades coming from poor islands, people will have to find money somewhere, maybe from bounties.” You used your pawn to flick over his King, winning the game. “Everyone has their uses,” you finished, sitting back and folding your hands in your lap.
Crocodile looked at you in awe. You had single handedly solved a problem that had been plaguing not only Cross Guild, but everyone fighting against the World Government. Not only that, but done it while winning a chess game and ignoring Crocodile’s nasty attitude. Crocodile could have kissed you right then and there, he didn’t think he would find anyone as brilliant as you if he searched every Blue in the world. You’d earned more than Crocodile’s respect, you had his admiration, something only the Pirate King had held before.
Bad mood dissipating, Crocodile quickly thought through the implications of your plan. He’d present it to Mihawk tomorrow, and they’d tell Buggy what would be happening. He couldn’t credit you directly, he needed to maintain his reputation, but he would reward you with as many gems and jewels as you wanted. He took his cigar in hand, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, deep in thought.
“That’s all it took to make you happy, huh?” you asked, amusement in your voice. You sat back in your chair, grinning at him.
Crocodile grunted. “And how do you know I’m happy, hm?” He was elated you’d solved his problem, but it bothered Crocodile to no end that he couldn’t hide some of his emotions from you. He was used to being unreadable, unpredictable, and aloof, not read through and through like a cheap novel.
“You’re twirling your cigar. You only do that when you’re really happy,” you stated, pointing to the cigar in his hand. Normally, Crocodile would be irritated at your observation, but he was in the mood for celebration.
“Of course I’m happy my dear, I have the smartest and most beautiful woman on the Grand Line sitting across from me, giving me the most exquisite ideas on how to run my criminal empire,” Crocodile said languidly.
“I have one more idea,” you stated, “I think it’s just as good as the last one.”
“Oh?” Crocodile asked, interested already, “and what would that be?”
“I think we should fuck,” you stated, looking into Crocodile’s eyes.
Crocodile took a moment to blink slowly several times. He was glad for all his training, all of his work in keeping his emotions out of his face and body. He’d even trained himself to stop running his hand through his hair thanks to you. Otherwise, he thought, you would have found him completely off guard. Normally your crude language bothered him immensely, but now…your invitation to fuck was stirring a fire within him. Still, he didn’t want to let you know that you’d won, that you’d caught him unaware yet again. He wanted to let you twist in the wind a little, to have you feel a little uncertain and off-kilter, like he often was around you.
“And what makes you think this is a good idea?” Crocodile asked in a deep voice, resuming polishing his hook. He had nearly taken his cigar in hand, but was consciously preventing himself from telegraphing his happiness.
“I dunno, you might be a good lay. Based on your height alone, you probably have a big cock. Maybe you’d let me ride you, but I’m not sure,” you mused. Crocodile raised an eyebrow, crossing one leg over the other to hide his growing erection, continuing to put his attention into his hook.
“Go on,” Crocodile husked, “what else?” He enjoyed you stroking his ego, and if you were a good little maid, he would let you stroke him elsewhere. Not that you needed to know that yet.
“Well, I think you might be kinda selfish in bed. Not sure yet,” you said, raising a shoulder. “Like, if I have to get myself off, we’ll only get together once,” you said while raking Crocodile over with your eyes, “maybe twice.” Crocodile scowled and you quickly chided him. “Oh, don’t be mad. Think of it as a challenge to prove me wrong.”
“And what if I’m not interested?” Crocodile was going to turn the screws a little before you interrupted him.
“You are,” you said definitively, “I know you’re interested.” You stood up and sashayed over to him, plopping yourself in his lap. Crocodile gently grabbed your face and squished your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger carefully, pointing your face towards his own. You were sitting in the lap of one of the most powerful men in the world, taunting him relentlessly, and still had the audacity to smile like the cat that ate the cream. Crocodile couldn’t have been more titillated.
“How?” Crocodile purred indulgently. “I didn’t run my hand through my hair. How do you know?” he said, letting go of your face so you could answer.
“You’re polishing your hook, means you’re intrigued. Like a cat flicking its tail,” you replied, “but I’ll give you time to pretend to think it over.” You pushed off of Crocodile’s lap, and he let you stand up. You leaned over him, kissed his cheek, and walked off towards the door. “Let me know, Croc,” you threw back over your shoulder with a wink.
You won again.
~
That same night, Crocodile laid in his double king bed, wide awake. He was exhausted, yet sleep evaded him hour after hour. He rubbed the end of his stump, finding the repetitive motion soothing on his aching arm. He removed his golden hook every night, setting it on the bedside table next to him. His custom made silk bedsheets were quite expensive to replace and easy to shred. Crocodile hadn’t been seen without it since it was fitted to his arm, even when he was having sexual escapades. It wasn’t that he needed his hook, his power came from his strength, his haki, his mind, and his Logia fruit. But he preferred the way he felt with it on, his loss to Whitebeard overshadowed by his ability to overcome defeat. He didn’t feel vulnerable without it, that would be impossible given his undeniable strength. He just strongly preferred to never be seen without it. Running his fingers over the scars on his stump, his mind whirled with thoughts.
Well, only one thought, really. He kept thinking about you saying that you wanted to fuck , over and over. He felt the weight of you sitting in his lap, brushing against his turgid erection. He saw your hips swaying as you walked and the little wink you’d given him as you left. Crocodile had never felt as desperate as he did now. Even worse was the fact that you’d been right about everything you’d said, as always . He did have a huge cock, which he was proud of, and he was a selfish lover. It wasn’t a skill issue, but he rarely found reason to put in the effort to make his partners come. Women flung themselves at him left and right wherever he went, he never had to work to find comfort in the arms of another. Crocodile fucked for his own pleasure only, and his partners usually came. If they didn’t, well, they had hands, didn’t they? Crocodile didn’t bother to concern himself with the pleasure of others when he would never see them again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d entertained the same person more than once.
Except… he couldn’t even imagine a scenario where he left you wanting. He kept imagining you spread out before him, moaning in pleasure as he thrust into you on the green silk sheets of his huge bed. Or, sitting back in his oversized chair, letting you do all the work bouncing on his cock, sucking on your tits as he played with your clit. Or, Crocodile spreading your legs and biting into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, teasing you as you grew slick before his eyes, his wandering kisses moving upwards, upwards, upwards, until he finally captured your clit with his mouth and made you scream his name. No, he would show you that he wasn’t selfish when it came to your satisfaction, he was going to make you cry with how much pleasure he’d give you.
All of these thoughts did not help Crocodile’s continuing erection, which was straining against the weight of the blanket above him. He considered the possibility of dealing with his twitching cock himself, but no, you put him into this situation and you’d get him out. Throwing the blankets and sheets off the bed, Crocodile quickly dressed and summoned Daz.
“What’s up, Boss?” Daz asked while yawning. Late night summons weren’t as common as they had been in Alabasta, but Crocodile didn’t pay Daz to complain.
“Go get the maid, I’ll be in my office,” Crocodile ordered. He didn’t elaborate, he didn’t need to explain his actions to his second in command. Daz grunted and went to follow the directive, leaving Crocodile to wait for your arrival in his office, sitting in the same chair he played chess with you in. He had a small pang of remorse for waking you in the night, but you deserved it for tormenting him. Besides, he’d give you the day off tomorrow, you’d need it after a long night spent with him.
About twenty minutes later, you knocked and cracked opened the door to Crocodile’s office. Your hair looked rumpled from sleep but there was a mischievous look in your eyes. You were only wearing a loose gauzy shirt that hung down to your knees. It wasn’t the sexy kind of lingerie that Crocodile was used to seeing, but it made him want to lift it and find out what was underneath the billowing fabric. He was surprised you hadn’t covered your neck, but maybe you were forgetful from getting up late in the night.
“And how may I help you at this late hour, Sir Crocodile?” you asked with a raised eyebrow, like you already knew what he wanted.
“I’ve thought about your idea,” Crocodile replied, patting his lap and spreading his legs in anticipation of you perching on them. “As always, your keen insight is most appreciated. You are correct - we should fuck.” The crass words were not what Crocodile would usually use for seduction but it felt right considering your initial proposition.
You smiled and sauntered over to his seated form, sitting down facing Crocodile. He was sure you could feel his large erection through his thin work slacks, but you'd have more opportunities to inspect it more closely soon.
“About fuckin’ time,” you breathed, looking into his face, your small hands on his shoulders.
“About fuckin’ time,” Crocodile agreed. With that, he leaned in and captured your lips with his own. He took control of the kiss quickly, and to his delight, you let him. You were a tad clumsy in your kissing, but nothing that couldn’t be helped with a few lessons. Holding the back of your head with his hand, he angled your mouth so he could better slip his tongue inside. He was greedy and impatient, wanting all of you at once, kissing you, nipping your lips, caressing your tongue with his own. He held you in place as he showed you what he wanted, how to please him with your kiss, and you were a quick study. He kissed you until you broke away, chest heaving. Letting go of your head, he rucked up your shirt that was bunched up under you and put his hand on the meat of your ass. To his surprise, you weren’t wearing anything under your makeshift nightgown.
“Little vixen,” Crocodile growled, lightly slapping your ass, “you came here naked? What if I wanted you to clean something, hm?” You laughed and shrugged.
“Guess you would have gotten a show either way,” you said, pushing your hands through Crocodile’s dark locks, leaving them entwined behind his neck. Pressing down against Crocodile’s lap, you let out a little moan as his cock gave you friction where you wanted it most. Crocodile was kneading your ass with his hand while planting kisses along your jaw, up to your ear. He wasn’t sure if you would like being kissed over your scar, he would need to ask. He often forgot about his own distinctive facial scar but he knew others had mixed emotions about their own.
“You don’t have to do that,” you said, breaking away while rolling your hips against his own.
“Do what?” Crocodile murmured, biting your earlobe gently between his teeth. Crocodile didn’t like to be told what to do, especially in bed, but he also didn’t want to do anything that would upset you.
“Kiss me ‘n stuff like that, I know guys don’t care,” you blurted. Crocodile pulled back, using the flat of his hook and his hand to still your movements against his cock. Crocodile searched your face closely, a blush rising on your cheeks as he scoured your face.
“ Guys may not care, but I certainly do. Have you forgotten your challenge, little maid?” Crocodile husked into your ear. You tried moving again, but his grip on your hip was unrelenting. “Ah, ah. It’s my turn to play,” Crocodile said, nipping your collarbone, “and I intend to take my time.” Your face went even more crimson at his words, and you weren’t meeting his gaze anymore. Normally, you were brazen in your wants and desires, but suddenly were feeling a little flustered.
“May I touch your scar?” Crocodile purred, running a finger on the side of your neck, avoiding the line of your scar. You nodded, turning your head to bare your neck even further. Crocodile used his hand to cup your cheek, holding the weight of your head in his large hand.
“May I kiss it as well?” he asked, his breath tickling your neck. Your breathing went ragged as he ghosted his lips over your neck, waiting for your reply. You nodded, but Crocodile wasn’t accepting that this time. “With your words.”
“Y-yes. Please kiss me there,” you stammered, still blushing. It seemed you could be taught manners after all, you just needed the proper incentive.
Crocodile kissed you slowly, nipping and licking across your neck. He wasn’t sure how much sensation you retained there, but he found the mark of your resilience unbearably attractive. Since he was cupping your face, your hips had again begun their dance, grinding against his own. He continued kissing, but began raising your shirt further, running his hand up your back. He felt more scars, but you were here and alive in his lap, so everything must have been in the past. Holding the hem of your shirt, he began lifting it off slowly, inch by inch.
Once he got it up to your waist, you paused him with a hand on his forearm. “It’s not pretty, I’m warning you in advance,” you said, wresting your neck away to look at him for a moment.
“You’re lovely,” Crocodile replied lightly. Many prior partners had some form of body insecurity, he was familiar with the notion.
“No, it’s not - well, if you don’t want to continue after you see, I won’t blame you,” you said, shrugging quickly. You were trying to play it off nonchaltantly, but Crocodile noticed your tightening jaw and your shoulders stiffen. Curious now, Crocodile took your shirt completely off, aided by you raising your arms in the air.
Dropping the shirt to the floor, Crocodile studied your nude form before him as you hunched your shoulders forward. Both of you were right, as it turned out. You were absolutely stunning - beautiful skin, luscious tits, and feminine curves all begging for Crocodile to taste. However, covering your perfect form were scars too numerous to count. The crooks of your arms were littered in old puncture wounds and your chest, arms, upper legs, and back had long, thin, parallel scars with uneven suture marks covering them. Whatever injury that had caused the scars was deliberate and frequent, but Crocodile couldn’t understand the poor quality of the medical repair. He studied you in silence, running his fingers over the lines marring your skin.
Breaking Crocodile’s inspection, you leaned over the side of the chair, grasping your shirt with your fingertips. “It’s alright, I get it, I really do,” you said softly. Your tone was understanding but you were flushed and avoiding eye contact. “It’s a lot, I know, and -”
“Hush,” Crocodile chided you softly, running his fingertips along your back, causing you to arch with the sensation.
“I’ll just put my shirt back on, it’ll be easier for both -”
While you spoke, Crocodile unlatched his hook, letting it fall to the carpeted ground beside the chair with a loud thud.
TW: (just for this chapter) mentions of torture / gore but not described in great detail.
Skip about halfway for softie Croc :)
Crocodile was in an absolutely fabulous mood as he cleaned the dripping blood from his hook with his handkerchief. He’d always enjoyed psychological torture more than physical, but combining the two was when he really shone. He’d been torturing the Marine in the same ways he’d tortured you - creating thousands of wounds, infecting them with sand, and allowing them to heal enough to scab. He’d then remove the sand, the wounds would reopen…ah, he was having fun with this one. His pitiful screams made Crocodile smile wider the louder they became. He didn’t need information, he didn’t need them as blackmail, he had full reign over the pacing of his craft.
It had been three days since the Mad Medic had come into his hands and Crocodile had kept him alive thus far. Crocodile had made him beg for the mercy of death but hadn’t yet granted the request. He was thinking about killing the Medic the following day but he wanted to ensure that you didn’t want to have your just desserts before he did so. Double checking his vest had no blood spatter on it, he walked the distance between the jail and his nearly-completed mansion with a spring in his step. He was elated with the way he’d dragged out this torture. Normally Crocodile bored quickly during his torture sessions, finding the pleading and begging irritating. But keeping this one alive and suffering was a delight, given what he’d done to you in the past.
Entering his mansion, Crocodile looked for you first in the office. He’d given you the week off but you’d insisted on cleaning his house anyway, saying it gave you an outlet for your nervous energy. You’d been off since the Medic had come to the island and Crocodile couldn’t wait to show you his progress with your former tormentor. You weren’t in the office so he checked your next favorite haunt - the kitchen. You were often in the kitchen, munching on snacks or drinking tea, or trying to get Daz to like you by baking him desserts. Daz did like you, but the two pirates had a silent agreement to dump your treats out the window or turn them into sand when you weren’t looking. You had many incredible qualities but baking was not one of them.
Nearing the kitchen, Crocodile smelled burnt flour and vinegar, indicating he’d guessed correctly. You’d been in the kitchen more than ever this week and your...food had gotten more creative over the time period. Peeking his head in, Crocodile prevented his nose from wrinkling as you plated the charred cookies. You looked cute in your apron, he’d love to unwrap you like a present but now was not the time. Maybe in exchange for eating the bricks he'd have you serve him in nothing but the apron...
“Crocodile! Would you like to try some of my oatmeal raisin cookies?” you asked with a bright smile. The cookies looked more like charcoal briquettes rather than an edible foodstuff.
“I fear they are too hot, they are straight out of the oven, no?” Crocodile demurred, trying to avoid the inevitable outcome. He’d resorted to turning his tongue to sand while in his mouth to decrease the taste of your creations.
“True, you can have some later. I’ll set one aside for you, I just hope no one eats it,” you agreed easily. Crocodile could have sighed with relief but didn’t want to hurt your feelings.
“I assure you, no one will touch the cookie. Come, we have matters to discuss” Crocodile replied, thinking of the times he’d paid Daz to sample your baking in your presence. You took off your apron, set it aside, and followed Crocodile to the office. Crocodile sat down first in his leather arm chair, patting his lap. Like a spoiled little housecat, you slowly trailed behind him and perched on his generous thigh.
Unfortunately this was no time for heavy petting. He was about to make you uncomfortable and wanted you near so he could physically reassure you. Something he’d realized over the time you’d spent together was the lack of physical affection, especially romantic affection, you’d received over the course of your life. You hadn’t come to him a virgin, you’d had some dalliances in the past. But he could tell no one took their time with you, treated you like the beautiful treasure that you were. You were used to quick, rough fucks, pulling your panties up when you were finished and leaving immediately without so much as a kiss. You were used to sex but not to intimacy which…Crocodile pitied you in some way. He didn’t often desire intimacy but to never have experienced it was depressing to think about. Indeed, the first time Crocodile had offered you aftercare, you’d balked at him.
“I can clean myself, I don’t need you-” you started in on him as soon as Crocodile had offered to run you a bath in his (newly renovated) bathroom. You were curled up completely nude on his lap, indulging in a lazy post-sex game of chess as his seminal fluids dripped down your thighs. You were winning, naturally.
“Of course you can but I want to,” Crocodile retorted, keeping his tone intentionally sharp and lightly slapping the outside of your thigh. You tended to yield most easily when he established that he took care of you for his pleasure, not your own. Which was partially true, Crocodile did enjoy pleasuring and pampering you. You were always awed and grateful, the relative poverty of life with the Clown a good counterpoint to the luxury in Crocodile’s mansion. But the larger problem in Crocodile’s mind was that you didn’t feel you deserved anything good in life. Not from Crocodile, not from the Clown, not from your fellow crew, not from anyone. And Crocodile didn’t like that line of thinking one iota. The least he could do is give you the head of your former tormentor on a silver platter. Perhaps literally.
Wiping a stray smattering of flour from your cheek, Crocodile gave you a serious look despite his inner glee.
“Dear, would you like to join me in the jail for a few moments? Perhaps torture the Medic yourself? It might give you some kind of closure,” Crocodile mused. Since he’d fought Strawhat, he always remained until his opponents were truly dead; Crocodile didn’t like making the same mistake twice. Your smile faded from your mouth, a sight Crocodile loathed.
“I, um, don’t know. I was, um, thinking, maybe but I -” you were looking beyond Crocodile as he used the flat of his hook to gently turn your face towards his. Your eyes held a hint of fear, of memories from long before you’d met Crocodile. Just for the tension you were feeling now, he’d torture the Medic for at least 4 more hours.
“ Tesoro I will be with you the entire time if you wish to go. You do not have to. You could also watch me torture him if you prefer,” he said quietly, running his hook up and down your back carefully avoiding ripping the fine green linen dress he’d bought you as a gift for winning your fiftieth game against him. You looked up, your eyes filling with the same tenacity he saw when you defeated him in chess.
“Let’s go.”
Crocodile was sure of his decision as you walked hand in hand with him to the jail. He watched you mentally prepare yourself for the sight, tilting your head to the sides as you engaged in silent conversations with yourself. You didn’t need to worry, the Medic wouldn’t be able to touch you in any physical manner, even if he had all his fingers. Reaching the jail, you took a deep breath and squared your shoulders.
“Remember, I am always at your side. I will begin with him, join me if you’d like. And if the sight is too much -” you cut off Crocodile with a curt wave.
“Trust me, you haven’t seen the gore I have, no matter how many people you’ve tortured,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Crocodile smiled at your bravery and passed through the guarded doors with you by his side. The jail was a rather small building, as you had recommended they did not keep many prisoners. There were no windows save small rectangular openings high up on the stone walls to let in a minuscule amount of airflow and light. Most cells were empty but as you walked down the hallway a few groans could be heard from a few cells along with the clinking of chains.
Crocodile wasn’t bothered by the smells or the oppressive heat inside but he did worry about your own constitution for a moment. He realized that your words earlier were true, you were non-reactive to the rancid environment. You held your head high and kept your gaze forward as the two of you made your way to the back of the jail with Crocodile leading the way. Stopping in front of the last cell, Crocodile beheld the sight in front of him.
Bloody, bruised, battered, and beaten, the Mad Medic was a whisper of his former self. Sitting in the back of the cell, arms chained to the wall, the Medic’s greasy black hair hung loosely as he drooled on his lower half, jaw unable to close properly any longer. You looked at him askance, as if he’d ruined your favorite pair of boots, not like he’d tortured you maliciously for years. Crocodile ran his hook over the bars of the cell, enjoying the twitch it brought to the Medic’s frame.
“Wake up, Doctor. You have a guest,” Crocodile sneered. You watched impassively as the Medic made eye contact with you. Whereas before he’d grinned wickedly at you from afar, now he stared at you in horror as you stood next to Crocodile, searching your face for forgiveness that would not be granted.
“Nothing to say? Come now, let’s have a chat, shall we?” Crocodile unlocked the cell and entered, his dress shoes clicking against the stone floors. The Medic curled in on himself as Crocodile took the tip of his hook and dragged it down his face, cutting the flesh neatly in two. The Medic moaned out loud, the wild look in his eyes showing the culminating effects of days of torture at Crocodile’s hand.
“Pleasssse, merccccy,” the Medic said in loose syllables, looking at you. You furrowed your brow.
“It doesn’t hurt. Ignore the sounds of the beast,” you replied in a clipped monotone. Crocodile tucked those words away for later in his mind. In the meantime, he sliced the Medic from finger to shoulder, putting increasing pressure as his hook continued its journey. The Medic screamed like a stuck pig, though his voice was now hoarse from repeated use. You watched for a moment longer then spun on your heel and left the jail. Crocodile smiled his unnerving cheshire grin at the Medic, who was trying uselessly to remove Crocodile’s hook from his skin. Oh, the fun they would have.
~
An hour or so later, Crocodile sauntered out of the jail. It was a shorter session than usual but Crocodile wanted to check in on you. He’d already changed his blood soaked clothes and started a new cigar - the old one had been extinguished on the Medic too many times to relight - and was heading back to his Mansion. First looking in the office and kitchen (where his cookie remained untouched on its plate), Crocodile finally looked in his bedroom. The bathroom door was shut and he heard the sound of running water in the pipes.
Opening the door, Crocodile allowed the steam to escape before he entered the humid bathroom. All devil fruit users were weak to water but more so Crocodile than others. Of course he bathed but he avoided water as much as he could. The glass shower stall was billowing steam like a cauldron but he didn’t hear any noises besides the running of the water. He entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him, unwilling to let you get cold despite his discomfort.
“ Tesoro , how are you feeling?” Crocodile asked from the doorway. He heard no response, and approached the shower. Though the glass doors were fogged, he could see you sitting under the stream of water on the cold tiled floor with your knees tucked under your chin, allowing the hot water to beat against your back.
“Answer me, Darling,” Crocodile urged you gently. You looked up at Crocodile with red rimmed eyes, tears running down your face even as water ran down your skin. Crocodile hadn’t seen you cry before and it was nothing he wanted to see again. He started unbuttoning his vest and shirt, folding them and placing them on the counter. You watched him with concern as he removed his pants as well as his hook, placing both on the counter.
“B-but you don’t like water -” you stammered out, starting to get up from your spot on the floor. He entered the shower, hiding the grimace he felt as the water began to bead on his skin. He wasn’t weak, the majority of his body wasn’t submerged in water, but the feeling was akin to a paper cut between his fingers. Decidedly unpleasant but not outright painful.
You stood up as he entered, Crocodile walked to the teak bench in the back and sat down, opening his arms to you in invitation of you joining in his embrace. The shower was roomy - Crocodile himself was a large man - and he liked having the bench near enough to feel the mist of the warm water without having to deluge himself in it. Unlike earlier when you’d practically strutted to him, now you scuttled like you were about to be punished. You stood between Crocodile’s muscled thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling into him. Crocodile ran his arm up and down your wet skin as you remained silent.
“I will ask you once again. How are you feeling?” Crocodile said over the noise of the falling water. The increasing moisture in the air was bothering him but he’d endure for your sake.
"I don't know, I um, I don't...know," you trailed off, still lost in your own thoughts.
"Take your time, Tesoro, we have nowhere else to be," Crocodile said softly, holding you by the back of your arms. Though Crocodile enjoyed revenge and torture, he knew that trauma resolution was not so easy as the death of your former adversary. He'd learned his own lesson as he'd fought Whitebeard, the sick old man not giving him the fight he wanted.
“It um, didn’t feel as good as I thought it would? Like, I thought I would feel great, standing next to you? And you looked so powerful and strong and... but I felt…I don’t even know. Sad? Small? Confused?” you replied. Crocodile hummed and turned you to sit on his lap.
“What did you mean about the ‘sounds of the beast’?” Crocodile prodded gently. He had a suspicion but wanted it confirmed before he visited the Medic next.
“Oh. That was what he would say if I screamed or made noise during procedures,” you said in an emotionless tone. Crocodile put his large hand on the back of your neck and pulled you forward to kiss your forehead.
“I am sorry it was not what you imagined. It can be challenging to have such important events not live up to expectations. For what it is worth, I did not think you small or sad - I saw a powerful, strong, capable woman who has survived and overcome significant adversity. You were as I always have seen you -”
“Pff. Please don’t say something cheesy like the Queen on the chessboard,” you said lightly, trying to break the tension, burying your face in his shoulder. Crocodile tutted at you, enjoying the change in your mood. He watched the water drip off your nipple and yearned to lick it but restrained himself for now.
“Nonsense. You are not the Queen, a piece to be moved in defense of or sacrificed for another. You are the only opponent worth playing,” Crocodile finished, looking you in the eyes. Your lashes filled with tears again, though this time they were accompanied with a smile and hiccup.
“You’re the most romantic person I know,” you said with sincerity ringing in your tone, wiping your nose on your palm. Crocodile grimaced and put your hand under the stream of water in the shower.
“That is…not one of my known personality traits,” Crocodile replied dryly. He wasn’t going to disabuse you of your notions, it made his life easier if you were easily impressed with his variety of romance. He made a mental note to have flowers shipped to the island, based on your statement you’d be floored to receive them.
“I’d like to show you my romantic side,” you purred at him, your sadness forgotten. Your arm crept along his inner thigh towards his half erect cock. Crocodile was eager but the water was beginning to bother him.
“Gladly, my Dear. I’d love to see what you have to offer me. In the bedroom,” Crocodile demanded, picking you up bridal style and turning off the shower. Wrapping you in a towel, he exited the bathroom and stalked towards the bed in the center of his room.
“What Croccy, don’t like swimming as much as your bananawani?” you teased, licking his dripping earlobe.
“Mm. I see your attitude has recovered, Brat. Let’s see how well it serves you. I seem to remember you proclaiming endlessly that you would be my good girl if only I would stop my ministrations. Is that not still the case? Perhaps I can remind you of your promises to be good for me,” Crocodile drawled, biting your shoulder gently. You puffed up in fake outrage as Crocodile tossed you on the bed. You laid on your stomach on the bed, leaning against your elbows as you reclined on the tall bed frame.
“You had me over your knee, spanking my ass forever! I was sore for two days! Of course I’d say whatever, I woulda said you’re the Pirate King,” you said, flicking your eyes as he loosely stroked himself.
“Tsk, tsk. Lying to your Captain? Definitely not a good girl,” Crocodile said, raking his eyes over your figure as you broke out in goosebumps.
“Definitely not,” you agreed, licking your lips. Crocodile could tell you wanted to suck his cock but he had other plans in mind for you. He hooked his forearm and hand under your knees, flipping you up onto your upper back, pussy high in the air. His bed being so far off the ground put your delectable pussy at the perfect height for him to sample at his leisure.
“H-hey, wait, I wanted to -” you squeaked out before he silenced you.
“Don’t care what you want, Brat. This is what you’re getting,” he growled, holding your hips in place as your legs dangled over his arms.
“I can’t come like this, it’s too -” you began as a blush crept over your face. Even though you’d been with Crocodile for a few weeks now, he’d discovered that some sexual acts made you feel embarrassed. You didn't like feeling exposed, you preferred to come with your legs clenched around his hand, face, and cock. Your embarrassment was absolutely adorable and he made an effort to show off your pretty pussy and watch you squirm.
“Is that so? You cannot come in this position?” Crocodile smiled, baring all his teeth at you. You shivered, biting your bottom lip and nodding.
A few hours later he'd changed your mind. You could indeed come in that lewd position, your pussy on full display for his consumption. You’d also come in many others as he’d taken his time with you, stroking you slow and deep, hitting your g spot with his thrusts as he kissed and nipped at you.
“Just come for me once more, just one more time around my cock,” Crocodile murmured into your hair as he thrust into you from behind, his hand on the bed to keep from putting weight on you. You whined, you’d been so good for him already. Crocodile leaned back onto his knees, still thrusting as he smacked your ass for good measure. Picking up his pace, Crocodile admired the sight of his cock sliding into your well used cunt.
“ Aah , ah, p-please, I c-can’t -” you stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence as he continued to pound you from behind.
“You can. You will,” Crocodile said as he reached under you to rub your oversensitive clit. He’d kept you on edge for quite some time then had you coming over and over. You arched your back even higher, clamping your legs as closely together as you could.
“Ah ah. Legs spread, let me see my beautiful pussy. No hiding,” Crocodile cooed at you, using his knees to force your legs further apart.
“Croc-crocodile, I’m c-close, I’m -” Crocodile slapped your clit with his fingers and was rewarded by the pulsing of your pussy around him as you moaned your release. He rode you through your climax, wanting you to enjoy every overwhelming moment as he sought his own release. Your fluttering, messy pussy pushed him over the edge as he came deep within you. As you came down from your high, you pulled him down to lay next to you. Sweating and panting, you pulled his arm over your side as you rested.
“Feeling better?” Crocodile asked, kissing your mouth tenderly.
“Mmhmm, feelin’ fuckin’ great,” you replied, stretching out your legs. Crocodile closed his own eyes, content to enjoy the moment together in comfortable silence.
“You can kill him now,” you said apropos of nothing. Crocodile didn’t have to ask what you meant.
“As you wish, Darling,” he agreed, running his fingers over the scars on your back. You kept quiet a few minutes longer, fidgeting every half minute or so by shifting your legs, arms or learning his body with your fingertips. Your unease told him you had something else you wanted to say. He gave you the time to sort through your thoughts and feelings, despite the fact that he knew what you were going to say. As well as you could read him, he’d spent time working on being able to read you. And he knew you had a big revelation coming his way.
“Crocodile I -” you started hesitantly after several more minutes, stopping to collect your thoughts. Crocodile opened his eyes to watch you chew on a nail.
“It's alright, Dear. I love you too,” he replied quietly, looking into your eyes as he cupped your cheek.
“....I was gonna say I don’t have the energy to play chess tonight,” you replied sheepishly. “But, yeah, that too.” For the first time in several decades, Crocodile felt himself blushing.
Warning: description of prior abuse /medical violence in this chapter
~~~
You watched with your mouth a perfect circle as Crocodile’s hook fell to the floor. “B-but, your hook -”
“We both have our histories, our secrets, our scars. They make us who we are, not who we were.” Crocodile was unsure how he remained eloquent when surely all his blood was in his aching cock. Your eyes searched his face, trying to determine if he was going to switch his opinion and mock your scars.
“May I touch it? Your arm?” you asked hesitatingly, your hand hovering over his arm. No one had asked since the doctor had removed the stitches binding his skin together.
“You may,” Crocodile said, allowing you to run your fingers over the scarring.
“I’ve never seen you without your hook,” you stated, Crocodile transfixed by your slim fingers gently cradling his stump.
“No one else has either,” Crocodile said, puffing on his cigar with his hand. Normally brash, impudent, and cheeky, you ran your fingers delicately over his pitted and marked skin. Crocodile allowed you to move his arm and inspect it as you saw fit. It felt refreshing to be so open with a sexual partner, especially one who had scars of their own.
“Does it hurt?” you whispered, still tracing the faded pocks where the sutures had been.
“It aches at times, but nothing too bothersome” Crocodile said, blowing cigar smoke above your head. To Crocodile’s surprise, you began to massage his stump with your deft little fingers. It felt incredible, nothing like the rough kneadings he gave himself. Crocodile bit back a groan as he leaned back further into his padded chair. He finally had you, naked, sitting in his lap, and his first groan was elicited from a hand massage.
“You should let me help you with it,” you offered as you continued to work. Crocodile hummed his response. It really did feel quite good to have your nimble fingers working out his tension. He’d agree to it later, right now you were looking delectable with your little furrowed brow concentrating on him, tits gently swaying with your movement.
“Maybe another time. Right now, I’m going to help you,” Crocodile said, rising to stand while holding your bottom in his arms. You squeaked from surprise, clutching his shoulders as if in fear Crocodile was going to drop you. Crocodile strode with purpose towards the bedroom, his cock tenting his pants in anticipation of being buried in your heat.
He set you down none too gently on his bed, you ass bouncing on the mattress. Crocodile undressed rapidly, wishing he was still wearing his hook to slice through his expensive clothes. Putting his cigar in his bedside ashtray, he dove right after you, pinning your wrists down above your head with his hand. “Finally, captured by the King,” Crocodile droned into your ear. His legs in between yours spread them wide open, your wet core sloshing on his thigh. Crocodile wanted nothing more than to sink into your sweet cunt immediately but he knew he had to wait. You weren’t some plaything he’d forget the moment after orgasm. Crocodile needed to show you that he was worth the ride, so to speak. “Will you be a good girl for me? Keep your hands above your head?”
“Mmhmm. I can be good. I can be very good. I have manners now,” you purred to him.
“Talk is cheap,” Crocodile said with a smile, kissing between your tits. Crocodile growled, biting a nipple gently, earning him a yip. He kissed down your delicious stomach, licked some of your parallel line scars down your legs to your already sopping cunt. “You’ll have to show me,” Crocodile said, licking his lips and hiking your legs over his broad shoulders.
Two orgasms later and you were no longer very good as you had claimed. At first you had been, mewling and keening for his tongue like a good little slut as you came at his command, your hands where he’d left them. But after the second delicious orgasm you were whining for him to fill you, tangling your hands in his hair in desperation, trying to squirm away from his tongue. Crocodile tsked at you. “So? What’s your answer, hm? Are you still a good girl for me?” Crocodile asked before running his tongue up the length of your cunt, flicking your over-sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. The action had you writhing under him, trying to move him closer or farther away, he couldn't tell.
“Not such a good girl then, hm? Can’t stay still for me?” Crocodile teased as he brought himself up to loom over your face. “That’s alright, I like you wicked,” he said with a smile, kissing you deeply. You tasted your own delight on his lips and tongue, winding your arms around his neck with a contented sigh. Crocodile adjusted you to his desired position, bringing your knees up to your chest, legs hanging over the crooks of his arms in a modified mating press. Crocodile maneuvered the tip of his heavy cock to your entrance.
“Are you ready? I know I am rather… large,” Crocodile said softly, searching your face. You grinned and patted his cheek, causing Crocodile to kiss your palm.
“Fuck me, baby,” you said with a smile. You gasped as you felt Crocodile enter your tight heaven, your channel squeezing him like a vice. You were wet and slick but so tight Crocodile had to hold himself back from pounding into you. Your back arched up as he continued feeding your sweet pussy more of his cock. Pushing himself into you inch by inch, Crocodile groaned as he finally bottomed out, your tinny whine music to his ears.
He started moving his hips with a slow roll, making you groan your satisfaction. He kept an even tempo even when you mewled at him for more.
“You don’t tell me how to fuck you , brat,” Crocodile smiled against your temple. But he did rise to his knees, using his now free hand to rub your pretty little clit.
“C-crocodile, I’m close,” you uttered, eyes screwed shut with pleasure.
“Look at me,” Crocodile demanded, pinching your clit. You opened your eyes as you yipped with the sensation. “Look at me as you come, look at who can make you feel this way,” he growled at you, rubbing your sensitive nub faster now. He began thrusting more forcefully, rocking the bed frame with the strength of his movements.
“ Ah..ah..f-fuck! Crocodile! I’m c-coming!” you stuttered out, your tight channel gripping and spasming around Crocodile like a vice. Your toes curled as your legs tensed, clenching around him even tighter. It was music to Crocodile’s ears and he rode you hard through your high as you came undone around him. He was near his own pleasure and relentlessly pursued it while dragging out your own. Never overly expressive during sex, Crocodile grunted as he gripped the bedpost, cracking the wooden frame under his hand. His orgasm hit him harder than he anticipated, bringing sharper relief to his aching cock than he’d felt in months. Fighting the urge to collapse on top of you, Crocodile laid to your side and rolled you onto his chest. You were still dazed from your third orgasm and breathing heavily.
“So, what do you think, brat? Am I a selfish lover?” Crocodile teased, kissing the top of your head.
“Dunno, need to test my theory again. Best two outta three?” you said with a throaty laugh. Crocodile grinned, his scar spreading further across his face.
Later that night, Crocodile dozed off easily with your face pressed against him, drool pooling on his chest from your slack mouth. You were exhausted after enjoying each other's bodies for hours, now resting on top of Crocodile’s warm chest. He’d retrieve the hook in the morning, he thought to himself. For now, he enjoyed the warmth of your smaller body on top of his own as he pulled the blankets over the two of you.
~
Crocodile was an early riser by nature but the spot you slept in grew cold by the time he awoke to the breaking rays of the sun. He would reach for you in the morning only to find your lingering scent on the pillow. Today was no different as Crocodile woke to an empty bed. You’d started spending your nights in his bed, usually romantically, but sometimes just talking quietly together until you fell asleep. Crocodile didn’t have a sense of humor that he was aware of, but you were able to get him to chuckle quite frequently. You told him jokes, relayed funny information you’d heard and did an impressive Mihawk impersonation. Your keen intellect was always on display even when you were nestled into his side drifting to sleep. He frequently sought your opinion about Cross Guild matters and gave it as much weight as Mihawk’s.
“What should we do with the Marines that are brought here?” Crocodile asked. Mihawk very strongly wanted to kill them but Crocodile was undecided if that was the best option.
“Keep ‘em. Er, at least the high level ones. Shows you can contain powerful Marines. And the others, just kill ‘em,” you said with a yawn.
“Kill them? I’m surprised that’s your opinion dear,” Crocodile said, kissing the top of your head.
“Did you call me dear ?” you asked incredulously.
“Mmm. You are dear to me, I should hope that is clear by now. But why kill them? I would think you’d be opposed to the murder of innocents,” Crocodile mused as a blush spread across your cheekbones. You were unused to romantic affection, but Crocodile sought to remedy that with his own brand of tenderness.
“Why would I care? They’re not innocent. They’re part of the World Government, just as bad as the people on the top. Maybe worse because they sign up for it. I’ve changed my mind, I think you should kill 'em all,” you said with a pout crossing your adorable features. You were generally easy going in nature towards others, with a notable exception for Marines. Crocodile assumed your negative perception of Marines had something to do with your previous enslavement, but you’d tell him when you were ready, it wasn’t his way to pry.
He got dressed and headed for his kitchen with a scowl. He was going to address the issue of leaving his bed without him later today - either you had to wake him up with you or you had to remain until he was ready to let you leave in the morning. He’d grown accustomed to your presence and wished to spend the early morning with you.
Pouring from the coffee carafe you’d thoughtfully prepared for him, Crocodile looked out the veranda at the island. Although it wasn’t chosen for its beauty, the island was rather pleasant in the early morning and in the evenings, when most of the crew was sleeping off their hangovers or preparing themselves for another. Crocodile’s coffee soured in his gut as he saw you from afar exchanging a hug with the Clown by the entrance to the Clown’s tent. You stayed in conversation with him afterward, smiling and laughing at the foolish man’s animated words and limbs flying about in the air. Crocodile had no idea what someone as intelligent as yourself could possibly say to such an imbecile but he’d long stopped trying to interfere in your relationship with your Captain.
Throwing his beloved jacket over his shoulders, Crocodile stalked towards you, no longer willing to hide his jealousy. The Clown and Mihawk were aware of his feelings towards you, though neither had said anything. As Crocodile rounded the corner to the tent, Crocodile realized the Clown was speaking to you about himself. Pausing to listen in, Crocodile heard the remainder of the conversation.
“ - could get you away if you needed it,” the Clown said quietly, holding your hand.
“Nah, I like that old bastard,” you replied, nuzzling his hand on your face. It would have been a touching display of affection if it was himself, not the Clown.
“But if there’s problems, let me know. Shanks's pretty good at chess too, watching you kick his ass would be fun,” the Clown added, putting his hand on your shoulder in concern. Crocodile gave the Clown’s words some thought. Though the fool irritated him to no end, Crocodile appreciated that the Clown was watching for your best interest even if it was against his own, he thought, chewing on his morning cigar. To offer to send a crew member to a rival Emperor was a sign that he cared for your safety, even if he had no reason to be. For this transgression of offering to take you away from Crocodile, he would only verbally wound the Clown, he wouldn’t raise his hook against him.
Coming fully around the corner, you smiled as you saw Crocodile’s own frowning face. Despite having his back to Crocodile, the Clown tensed, quickly removing his hand from your shoulder, correctly guessing the identity of the interloper.
“Good morning, Dear. Buggy,” Crocodile intoned, tilting his head in an outward show of respect towards the Clown, making you beam. You always appreciated when he showed a modicum of respect towards the Clown though it was not sincere. “Come, let us eat breakfast. Buggy, I will see you later at our meeting,” Crocodile said mildly, resting his hook on the Clown’s shoulder in a mirror of the Captain’s own movements. It always felt odd calling the Clown by his name - like referring to a an animal by a human name, but he had agreed to the terms of your service. Crocodile wasn’t going to hurt the Clown, but he didn’t need to know that now. A little negative anticipation would benefit the Clown’s mood for later. You kissed the Clown’s cheek and bade your goodbyes, walking with Crocodile back to his increasingly finished mansion.
“What was that conversation about?” Crocodile asked, though he felt foolish confirming information he already knew.
“Captain Buggy was making sure you’re treating me right,” you replied easily. Crocodile hummed and took your hand and placed it on his arm as the two of you strolled back to his residence. He had to walk slowly to match your shorter stride but he didn’t mind enjoying the cool morning air with you.
“I know you were eavesdropping, you’re not as slick as you think you are,” you said with an impish grin. Crocodile grunted. He was slick for everyone else, just not to you.
“I’m not old,” Crocodile replied.
“You are. You’re like 50,” you said matter-of-factly.
“47, brat. Maybe I need to spank the impudence out of you later tonight,” Crocodile mused.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you said with a wink and a laugh. Crocodile’s lips quirked into a small smile. Crocodile led you past the marina towards his residence when you spotted new prisoners being unloaded from a pirate ship.
“Oh, new Marines? Anyone good?” you asked curiously, watching the prisoners being brought to the prison. Your idea had been an incredible success, Marines began arriving to the island semi-regularly. Of course, all high ranking captures were published in the news by Cross Guild, further weakening the bonds the Marines had with the less stable islands.
“Mm. This time we have mostly low ranking Marines with a notable exception. The Mad Medic has been brought in, apparently captured and detained by his own subordinates. A rare occurrence, but nothing -” Crocodile ceased talking as he took in your countenance. You had paled, your cheeky attitude from moments prior evaporated completely. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, no longer watching the scene play out in front of you. Crocodile frowned, he hadn’t seen you this on edge since the first time he’d properly met you. And even then, you were more nervous than anything else. Your hunched shoulders and lip between your teeth told Crocodile you were scared. And that was not an emotion Crocodile liked seeing in his brave, resilient maid.
“Dear, what’s the matter?” Crocodile asked quietly, walking even slower now. His hand on top of yours kept you from removing it from his arm completely, you were practically tugging him to get further away from the marina. You were frantic to get away, your normal sassy attitude completely absent from the conversation, unlike the easy, leisurely walk before.
“Nothin’, just wanna go,” you whispered back, resuming pulling on his sleeve once more. Crocodile had never seen you so withdrawn - it must be the introduction of the Marines. Crocodile scanned the incoming prisoners, the only one of note was the Mad Medic who was decidedly unamused by the circumstances. He was examining the island and his eyes landed on Crocodile and his companion. A sickening sneer spread over his face as he leered at you from afar. Things quickly clicked into place in Crocodile’s mind as he made a quick decision.
“And go we shall. Come along,” Crocodile said, hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the marina. Your eyes darted back towards the boats, as if to make sure you weren’t being followed. Unfortunately, the time for discretion had ended. You were going to have to tell Crocodile what had happened to you so that he could determine the level of torture the Mad Medic would face.
Wheeling you into his house, Crocodile brought you into the study, sitting you down in your usual chair. You started to set the chess board automatically, your mind obviously elsewhere. Crocodile wasn’t in the mood for playing chess but allowed you to continue as a way to settle your nerves. Crocodile poured two cups of coffee from the carafe you’d left, handing you one after adding one teaspoon of sugar and a large amount of cream, your preferred presentation.
“The Mad Medic,” Crocodile stated.
“Yeah,” you said absently, staring at the chessboard. Crocodile made the first move, trying to ease the burden on your mind.
“Describe how you know this person,” Crocodile rumbled, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers against his hook. You studied the board and made your move, countering his pawn with one of your own. You waited for Crocodile to make his next move before you resumed speaking.
“Before Captain Buggy bought me, I was a medical slave for students training to be doctors to Celestial Dragons. They don’t train on animals or oranges or poor people, they train on slaves for accuracy. Um, like me. I had to go through lots of invasive physical exams, sutures, venipuncture, intubation, surgery…and lots of other stuff was done to me by students. It was um, bad. Really bad. That’s where some of the, um, scars come from. Suture practice. He would, um, make cuts and sometimes rub stuff in them to make them worse for the students to clean and fix. That’s why they’re so even and there’s so many of ‘em, they were for practice. And um, a buncha my veins are ruined from, um, being stuck bad too many times,” you stated, showing him the crook of your arm again. The irregular puncture wounds and parallel scars made sense now. Given the hundreds you had, Crocodile couldn't imagine how many times you had to endure being sliced just to be poorly sewn again or stabbed over and over. You were jiggling your feet and rubbing your hands together, clearly in distress.
“Come here,” Crocodile said, holding his arm out to you. You got up from your chair and came over to sit in his lap sideways, tucking yourself against his chest. “Thank you for sharing this, little one, I know it is difficult for you,” Crocodile said, rubbing your back with his hand. He kept his sand from swirling, he didn’t want you to worry about cleaning the chair.
“And he was, um, in charge of the program. He used me more than any other slave. Said I had good skin and blood for it, I dunno. And healed faster, but I don’t think that’s true. So. That’s how I know him,” you spoke in a rush, as if you needed to get it out quickly before you stopped yourself. “That’s, um, part of why I got so good at chess. I used it as a distraction during procedures or when in recovery, which was a lot of the time. You know, thinking about moves, playing games in my head, since um, I was strapped down and um, y’know, gagged most of the time, ” you continued, staring out the office window. You hadn’t made eye contact with Crocodile since the sighting at the marina, something that bothered Crocodile immensely.
“I see,” Crocodile said easily, like you were telling him you wanted two teaspoons of sugar in your coffee instead of one. In reality, he was imagining the myriad ways he was going to enjoy torturing the Medic to death. He didn’t want to think of you, scared and in pain, strapped to a medical table as students practiced on your precious skin.
“And the final test for doctors who want to work for the Celestial Dragons is, um, how I got the neck scar,” you stated, though your voice had dropped to nary above a whisper. “They, um, well, he, um, slashed my throat with a razor and a fourth year student had to sew up the wound before I died. If I died, they wouldn’t pass. It was….” you trailed off, not finishing the sentence as you relived what was likely the worst moment of your life.
“But um, it took me too long to recover since the student who did mine wasn’t all that good, and um, they sold to the auction house since I couldn’t work, and um, well, you know the rest,” you ended abruptly. Crocodile didn’t want to press for the details, he would find out all he needed to from the medic in due time.
“So that’s why I hate Marines. The medical school was affiliated with them and if they were really going to protect people, they would. They would have stopped the program. But they don’t care about us. No one does,” you finished, wiping your nose with your sleeve. Crocodile reached into the pocket of his vest, retrieving his handkerchief and handing it to you. You took it and wiped your nose and eyes, sitting miserably with tears staining your pretty cheeks.
“Would you prefer to watch his torture or participate yourself?” Crocodile asked, his head at a slight tilt as he removed your tears with his thumb.
“Wha-what? I thought you were keeping the high level Marines alive, that it-” you sputtered, finally looking at Crocodile’s face. Crocodile cut you off with a wave of his hook.
“No. This one dies by my hand. Or yours, should you wish for it,” Crocodile stated in a flat tone.
“You’d…do that for me? I know this is fucked up, but that’s…really nice. Maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I mean, aside from buying me and freeing me,” you said, wiping your nose again.
“You are precious and irreplaceable, I will kill anyone who dares raise their hand against you. That is not a threat, it is a promise. Now, answer the question. Would you like to participate, watch, or neither?” Crocodile asked, rubbing his hand tenderly on your cheek.
“Hmm. I don’t - I don’t know. I don’t want to see him at all. I wasn’t, um, who I am now back then. It was - I wasn’t - um, I just can’t, I’m, um, scared,” you said, avoiding Crocodile’s eyes once more. He gently put the flat or his hook under your face, tilting it up towards his own.
“It is understandable that you are afraid but you have nothing to fear. Why don’t you let me attend to this matter for now, hm? It is, after all, my area of expertise,” Crocodile said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. You gave him a watery smile, but kissed his cheek.
“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Crocodile said, sand already swirling as he adjusted his hook.
Sir Crocodile et cette terrible, horrible, mauvaise, très mauvaise journée
On Ao3
18+ MDNI
Translated into French by the incredible @amandine-rustal
The original in English
Couple : Crocodile x Lectrice
Avertissements : Lemon sur la dernière partie.
Résumé : Crocodile redoute le seul jour de l'année où tu ne travailles pas : ton anniversaire. En tant qu'assistante personnelle incroyable, il dépend de toi pour presque tout. Comme chaque année, cette journée sans toi est un désastre complet. Mais peut-être qu'il peut sauver quelque chose des décombres. Quelque chose ou quelqu'un qu'il désire depuis très longtemps.
----
Sir Crocodile tapota du plat de son crochet la date entourée sur son calendrier de bureau. Demain était son jour le moins préféré de toute l'année. Tu ne prenais qu'un seul jour de congé par an, ton anniversaire. Bien sûr, tu avais aussi théoriquement des week-ends de libres. Mais il y avait toujours un imprévu et tu passais au moins une demi-journée à gérer ses affaires ou ses problèmes personnels chaque week-end.
Il ne t'en voulait pas d'avoir ton anniversaire pour toi, tu étais incroyablement assidue et tu le méritais. Mais sans toi à ses côtés, tout semblait s'écrouler en quelques minutes. Tu étais de loin la meilleure assistante personnelle qu'il ait jamais eue. Peut-être même la meilleure employée qu'il ait jamais eue, surpassant même sa cohorte d'hommes de mains, dotée de fruit du démon, qui tuait pour lui sans discernement.
Bien sûr, il savait que s'il t'appelait sur ton baby den den mushi, tu répondrais et ferais tout ce qu'il voulait. Mais il se sentirait coupable de te déranger. Et la culpabilité était une émotion que Crocodile avait ressentie qu'une seule fois et qu'il ne voulait plus jamais ressentir. Non, il se débrouillerait sans toi demain et te laisserait profiter de ton jour de congé.
Bien qu'il n'ait pas été avenant avec ses hommes du Baroque Works, Crocodile était considéré comme un employeur de premier plan à Rainbase. Une fois qu'il avait trouvé quelqu'un qui était bon dans sa profession, il faisait de son mieux pour le garder à son service. Il traitait son personnel avec respect, le payait très bien et avait établi des directives à suivre pour les employés. Les hommes de mains pouvaient être remplacés, les pirates sanguinaires étaient monnaie courante. Des femmes de ménage, des chefs et des assistants fiables et de haute qualité ? Inestimable.
Et tu étais l'employée la plus fiable, la plus organisée, la plus équilibrée, la plus méticuleuse et la plus travailleuse qu'il n’avait jamais eu.
Au début, il te soupçonnait d'être une utilisatrice de fruit du démon. Cela aurait expliqué comment tu parvenais à tout faire correctement, à temps et si facilement.
Cependant, il s'est vite rendu compte que tu étais juste excellente.
Tu ne suivais pas ses ordres à la lettre, comme certains de ses complices. Tu n'attendais pas qu'il te dise ce dont il avait besoin ou les tâches qu'il voulait faire, tu pensais par toi-même et tu anticipais ses besoins.
Tu n'étais pas une personne qui disait oui à tout, tu exprimais ton opinion s'il te le demandait. Il appréciait ta perspicacité et ton esprit vif. En fait, pendant les années où tu avais travaillé pour Crocodile, tu ne t'étais disputée qu'une seule fois. Et ce n'était même pas une dispute, en fait. Crocodile avait commencé à se laisser pousser une moustache, il pensait que cela ajoutait un peu de royauté à son visage. Tu la détestais et tu lui as dit que cela ne convenait pas à ses traits. Tu avais raison, bien sûr. Il t'avait permis de la raser toi-même, pour ton plus grand plaisir.
Même si ce n'était pas ton jour de congé, Crocodile se souvenait toujours de ton anniversaire. Le tien était le seul, en dehors du sien, dont il avait pris la peine de se souvenir.
Il avait beaucoup d'amantes qui pensaient que les cadeaux attentionnés et romantiques qu'elles recevaient pour leurs anniversaires, leurs anniversaires de mariages ou « juste comme ça » venaient de lui. Mais la vérité était que toutes ses amantes étaient « en couple » avec toi. Tu te souvenais de tous les détails et tu arrangeais tout selon les goûts de ses amantes.
Crocodile n'essayait même pas de se souvenir de leurs noms, les appelant toutes « Poupée » pour s'épargner des ennuis. Il les considérait même comme des jouets interchangeables, facilement remplaçables, stupides, puis finalement sans valeur.
Cependant, tu pouvais lui dire leurs fleurs préférées, leurs pierres précieuses préférées, leurs styles vestimentaires, leurs pointures et toutes autres informations dont il avait besoin. Tu leurs avais envoyé des centaines de cadeaux, sans aucune faute de goût.
En conséquence, Crocodile avait la réputation d'être un vrai romantique, quelqu'un qui écoutait quand ses amantes leurs racontaient des détails personnels. Or, il s'en fichait complètement.
Il s'est arrêté à ton bureau alors que tu terminais ta journée, apportant avec lui un petit sac cadeau accroché à son crochet.
- Joyeux anniversaire, dit-il à voix basse en te tendant son cadeau.
- Quelle agréable surprise Monsieur, dis-tu en le retirant et en l’ouvrant immédiatement.
C’était une succulente agave White Rhino en pot qu’il avait achetée sans ton aide. Elle était chère et rare, mais tu valais chaque centime qu’il avait dépensé pour toi.
- Oh quelle délicate attention ! Merci beaucoup Monsieur !
Tu lui as souri.
Pour certains, cela aurait pu ressembler à un cadeau de piètre qualité, mais Crocodile te connaissait bien. Tu n'aimais pas les fleurs coupées, ni la plupart des bibelots.
Tu étais passionnée par les cactus et les plantes grasses, et tu passais une partie de ton temps, loin de lui, à t'occuper des plantes. Tu avais une collection impressionnante, que Crocodile complétait au fur et à mesure que l'occasion se présentait. Tu t'es levée de derrière ton bureau, l’a contourné et tu t'es mise sur la pointe des pieds. Crocodile s'est mis à ta hauteur et tu l'as embrassé sur la joue en signe de gratitude.
- Quelle merveille avant mon départ Monsieur. Je vous verrai après-demain. S’il y a une urgence, n’hésitez pas à m’appeler.
Crocodile te sourit et s’appuya contre ton bureau. Crocodile savait que tu n’avais aucune intention malveillante en l’embrassant, c’était de l’affection platonique. Mais il appréciait néanmoins cette sensation. Il attendait ce moment avec impatience chaque année.
- Profitez de votre jour de congé.
Il ne le pensait pas, mais il n'allait pas te le dire.
- Merci Monsieur.
Sur ce, tu as soigneusement porté ta plante et tu as quitté le bureau. Crocodile t'a regardé sortir puis a fait la grimace une fois que tu es partie. Ce seraient de longues 24 heures sans toi.
~~~
Le lendemain matin commença mal dès le début.
Crocodile se réveilla tard, son réveil n'avait pas sonné. Il le jeta avec du sable, le détruisant complètement. Il était déjà agacé. Normalement, tu le réveillais doucement avant que son réveil ne le fasse, mais tu n'étais pas là aujourd'hui. Il trouvait que se réveiller au son de ta voix douce et de ton visage calme était une façon apaisante de commencer sa journée.
Crocodile se leva de son lit et se dirigea vers son valet de chambre, pour le trouver vide. Il voulait aussi le détruire, mais il décida qu'il ne devait pas démolir tout ce qui l'irritait aujourd'hui. Il n'aurait plus rien et de plus, ce serait plus de travail pour toi de tout remplacer.
Tu accrochais généralement ses vêtements pour lui après les avoir repassés toi-même, et il voyait rarement la nécessité d'ajuster tes choix. Tu savais ce qu'il aimait et comment il aimait se présenter jusqu'aux boutons de manchette de ses chemise. Crocodile se dirigea vers son grand dressing et regarda les étagères bien organisées de vêtements. Cela faisait un an qu'il n'avait pas eu à le faire lui-même et cette corvée ne lui avait pas manqué.
Il choisit une tenue et se regarda dans le miroir. La tenue manquait d'une certaine élégance que tu pouvais assembler sans effort.
Il ajusta son crochet, il avait l'air terne. Tu le polissais toujours pour lui jusqu'à ce qu'il brille. Il fallait s'en contenter, il était déjà en retard pour une réunion qu'il avait convoquée. Il quitta sa chambre pour la salle à manger, à la recherche de son café corto. Il y avait une carafe de café filtre qui l'attendait sur la table, mais pas d'espresso. Il y avait aussi un impressionnant plateau de pâtisseries sucrées. Tu savais que Crocodile voulait d'abord un café corto, puis du café filtre, un cigare et pas de nourriture.
Était-ce si difficile de reproduire tout ce que tu faisais en une seule journée ? Aucun membre du personnel ne pouvait rivaliser face à cette petite femme ?
Crocodile sonna un domestique et demanda l'espresso. On lui apporta un americano. Il soupira et se frotta les tempes avec sa main.
La journée s'est ensuite dégradée.
Tu avais préparé ton absence la veille, en laissant des notes et en organisant ce que tu pouvais anticiper. Crocodile avait un autre membre du personnel sur place, qui répondait aux appels que tu aurais normalement pris. Mais même sans ton aide, ce fut un désastre complet. Crocodile était habitué à ce que tu prennes des notes pour lui pendant les réunions et il avait oublié d'apporter un stylo et du papier. À la fin de la réunion, il avait oublié la moitié des chiffres de la présentation trimestrielle. Tout semblait avoir besoin de ta touche, de ton aide, de ta prévoyance pour se dérouler sans problème.
Les choses allèrent de mal en pis.
Les réunions dévièrent du sujet, les rapports contenaient des données incorrectes, les ennemis n'étaient pas torturés et il avait oublié de nourrir les bananawanis à temps.
La nouvelle se répandit rapidement que Crocodile était de mauvaise humeur. Tout le monde connaissait la raison, mais personne n'osait en souffler mot. Malgré ses vœux pieux, la table de la salle de réunion avait maintenant plusieurs trous de la taille de son crochet et son bureau était recouvert de sable. Il se pencha en arrière sur sa chaise et tira une longue bouffée de son cigare. Tu aurais déjà tout arrangé pour apaiser sa colère.
Ce n'était même pas toutes les petites choses de la journée de travail que tu organisais. Tu étais experte dans l'art d'anticiper ses besoins avant même qu'il ne se rende compte qu'il voulait quelque chose, et d'organiser sa vie de manière à ce qu'elle convienne à quelqu'un de sa condition. Tu le comprenais mieux que quiconque. Oui, Miss All Sunday s'occupait de Rain Dinners, mais tu gérais Crocodile.
Il s'assit et se rappela l'une des fois où il t'avait appelé au milieu de la nuit. Il essayait de ne pas perturber ton sommeil, mais parfois il fallait le faire. Une de ces occasions s'était produite lorsqu'il avait invité Dracule Mihawk chez lui. Ils avaient discuté et bu, jusqu’à tard dans la nuit. Aux premières heures du matin, il t'avait appelé pour te demander de la nourriture pour accompagner leur vin.
- Bonjour Monsieur, comment puis-je vous aider ?
Ta voix était endormie, il vit son escargot répondre les yeux embrumés mais toujours avec un sourire.
- Je m'excuse pour cet appel tardif. J'aimerais avoir des rafraîchissements.
- Bien sûr Monsieur, l'escargot regarda quelque chose. Il est 2 h 50. J'avais prévu que vos rafraîchissements préférés soient livrés à 3 h. Préférez-vous attendre dix minutes ou préférez-vous que je vous apporte quelque chose immédiatement ?
Tu n'étais pas facétieuse, Crocodile savait que s'il te le demandait, tu aurais de la nourriture pour lui à 2 h 59, quoi qu'il arrive.
- 3 h, c'est bien, merci.
- J'espère que vous pourrez pardonner mon impertinence Monsieur. J'ai également inclus quelques rafraîchissements qui pourraient être plus au goût de votre invité.
Mihawk haussa un sourcil.
- Très attentionnée. Bonne nuit.
- Bonne nuit Monsieur.
Et bien sûr, à 3 heures du matin pile, un plateau de plats préférés de Crocodile, accompagnée d'une importante quantité d'alcool, lui a été livré par un serveur à l'air fatigué. Crocodile s'est servi des raviolis frais et a offert le plateau à Mihawk. Mihawk a refusé, car il dégustait les gambas à l'ail et du jambon.
- Tu as une assistante formidable, dit Mihawk une lueur d’intrigue sur le visage. Les plats sont excellents, transmets-lui mes remerciements.
Mihawk inclina la tête vers Crocodile. Crocodile sourit, tu l’avais rendu fier.
En interrompant son voyage dans le passé, il entendit le téléphone sonner pour ce qui lui sembla être la millionième fois ce jour-là. Miss Merry Christmas décrocha le combiné. Il pouvait entendre la moitié de la conversation.
- Allo ? Non, elle n'est pas là aujourd'hui, c'est son anniversaire. Je ne pense pas que vous vouliez… êtes-vous sûr… laissez-moi voir.
Miss Merry Christmas regarda Crocodile dans son bureau et cria à travers la porte ouverte :
- C'est Doflamingo, voulez-vous le prendre ?
Crocodile voulait la tuer sur le champ. Son sable tourbillonnait déjà derrière lui. Elle avait dit à Doflamingo que c'était ton anniversaire.
Après que Crocodile avait eu commencé à t'emmener aux réunions des grands corsaires, l'idiot tape-à-l'œil avait essayé de te faire déménager à Dressrosa et de travailler pour lui.
Crocodile ne s'inquiétait pas de te voir le quitter pour un autre employeur. Par contre, cette pensée pesait lourdement sur son esprit et lui causait une immense colère lorsqu'il t'imaginait passer du temps avec Doflamingo. Mais ce n’était pas de la jalousie, Crocodile ne serait jamais jaloux d'un employeur qui recruterait une personne aussi intelligente et lucide que toi.
De plus, « Mademoiselle Sur Le Point D'Être Empalée » lui avait demandé s'il voulait prendre l'appel. Maintenant, Doflamingo savait qu'il était là et il devait prendre l'appel sinon il risquait une crise de colère de la part de ce roi gâté. Il se dirigea vers le den den mushi, qui avait l'air plutôt satisfait.
- Quoi ?
- Alors c'est son anniversaire aujourd'hui, hum ? Je vais devoir lui envoyer quelque chose de sympa, peut-être de la lingerie... tu en veux aussi ? Fufufufufufufu.
Crocodile espérait que Vegapunk inventerait bientôt un moyen de tuer quelqu'un grâce à un den den mushi. Il s'occuperait de Doflamingo plus tard, il n'était pas d'humeur à accepter les quêtes amoureuses idiotes du roi de Dressrosa. Il raccrocha délicatement, tapotant doucement l'escargot dans le dos avec sa main. L'escargot avait survécu parce qu'il en avait tué un, une fois par colère, après un appel similaire et cela t'avait bouleversé. Crocodile n'aimait pas quand tu étais bouleversé. Tu avais même pleuré à cause de l'escargot et Crocodile s'était senti coupable. Il avait encore moins aimé ça.
Il avait besoin d'un verre.
~~~
Crocodile quitta son bureau pour se rendre au restaurant de Rain Dinners. Il avait un mal de tête épouvantable et il a failli crier ton nom pour te demander de l'aide. Chaque année, ton anniversaire lui faisait réaliser à quel point il dépendait de toi, alors chaque année, il augmentait ton salaire le lendemain. Il se fit une note mentale pour faire la même chose demain.
Crocodile était assis à sa place préférée, fumait son cigare et buvait son whisky pur. Les barmans étaient compétents et n'avaient pas besoin qu'on leur dise ce qu'il voulait boire. Il réfléchissait à certains des rapports que lui avaient communiqués ses sbires lorsqu'il t’aperçut, seule, en train de boire un verre de vin au bar. Crocodile fut surpris, boire seule, en ce grand jour ?
Crocodile savait que tu avais une relation amoureuse antérieure à ton embauche. Crocodile n'avait jamais aimé ton partenaire, mais tu semblais assez heureuse. Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi quelqu'un de ton calibre, de ton intelligence et de ta beauté était avec un tel perdant, mais pour ton bien, il ne l'avait pas tué.
Crocodile se ressaisit et se dirigea droit vers toi au bar. La foule s'écarta facilement pour lui, beaucoup essayant d'attirer son attention. Certaines de ses poupées essayèrent de lui toucher le bras ou de lui parler, mais il ne leur accorda même pas un regard. En venant à tes côtés, tu levas les yeux vers lui et lui souris faiblement.
- Bonsoir Monsieur.
Tu étais absolument ravissante, aussi belle que le jour où il t’avait rencontrée. Normalement, tu portais des vêtements simples, mais bien coupés au travail. Cela n’avait pas empêché son imagination de s’emballer lorsque tu portais tes jupes crayons ou tes hauts légèrement décolletés.
Il ne comptait plus le nombre de fois où il avait voulu détacher tes cheveux de leur coiffure et y passer ses doigts. Ou le nombre de fois où il avait voulu déchirer ta jupe et de te posséder lorsque tu te penchais sur son bureau.
Il avait envisagé à maintes reprises de te séduire, mais au final, il te respectait trop pour le faire. Il ne voulait pas interférer si tu étais déjà en couple, aussi pathétique que soit ton choix. De plus, il ne savait pas ce qu’il ferait sans toi si son intérêt n’était pas réciproque et que tu partais. Il ne voulait même pas envisager cette possibilité.
Aujourd'hui, tu étais habillée de façon plus chic que d'habitude, ta silhouette saisissante se parait d’une élégante robe noire qui dévoilait ton dos de manière provocante. Il réprima son envie de passer son crochet le long de ta colonne vertébrale pour voir si cela te faisait frissonner. En repensant à toi, il remarqua que tes yeux étaient légèrement rouges et gonflés. Il posa sa grande main sur ton épaule.
- Qu'est-il arrivé à cette… personne … avec qui vous passez habituellement du temps ?
Il ne pouvait pas appeler ce garçon un homme, encore moins un petit ami. Il avait de la chance que Crocodile se souvienne de son existence. Et qu'il continue à le lui permettre.
- Nous ne sommes plus ensemble Monsieur.
Tes yeux se remplirent de larmes. Crocodile était assis sur le siège à côté du tien.
- Vous avez rompu aujourd’hui ? Demanda doucement Crocodile ne voulant pas t’embarrasser ou te contrarier davantage.
- Oui Monsieur.
Tu as regardé ton verre de vin, faisant tournoyer doucement la boisson.
- Voulez-vous qu’il soit mort ?
Crocodile aurait juré que son crochet tremblait. Il ne pouvait imaginer de meilleure fin pour la soirée. Peut-être que cela sauverait cette terrible journée.
- Non merci Monsieur.
Tu n’avais pas le même penchant pour la violence et la soif de sang que lui. Crocodile ne s’en souciait pas. Il n’aimait pas tellement les plantes grasses. Vous pouviez tous les deux avoir des passe-temps différents et arriver à bien travailler ensemble.
- Vous n’avez pas besoin de perdre votre temps à me consoler Monsieur. J’aimerais que vous profitiez de votre soirée. Quelques-unes de vos amantes sont ici, si vous voulez que je vous rappelle leurs noms.
Crocodile s’en moqua.
- Comme vous le savez, je fais toujours exactement ce que je veux.
Tu hochas la tête. Comme s’il allait renoncer à passer du temps avec toi pour une femme sans nom.
- Où travaillait-il déjà ?
Crocodile allait le faire traquer, juste pour… s’amuser.
- C'est le directeur général de Fantasia, répondis-tu les sourcils froncés.
C'était un casino concurrent, il n’était même pas dans le top trois de Rainbase.
- Il a dit que je suis trop impliquée dans ma carrière, que je ne passe pas assez de temps loin du travail. Que ma vie tourne autour de la vôtre.
Tu levas les yeux, déjà repentante :
- Je m'excuse Monsieur. Vous n'avez pas demandé de détails.
Crocodile balaya tes inquiétudes d'un geste de la main. Il aimait que tu lui fasses part de tes sentiments et de tes opinions. Crocodile prit le plat de son crochet et le plaça sous ton menton, levant ton visage pour regarder le sien. Une larme coula sur ton visage.
- Certaines personnes ne comprennent pas le dévouement. La loyauté. Le devoir. La passion.
- Passion Monsieur ?
Ton visage rougit légèrement à cause du vin… ou peut-être du contact intime. Crocodile réalisa tardivement son faux pas. Il n'avait pas eu l'intention de révéler son désir, surtout quand tu étais déjà si bouleversée. Il retira à contrecœur son crochet de dessous ton joli visage.
- Voulez-vous que je vous raccompagne chez vous ?
Crocodile changea de conversation au cas où tu te sentirais mal à l'aise.
- Oui, merci Monsieur, tu sembles surprise de son offre et de l’avoir acceptée.
Naturellement, il voulait s’assurer que son employée préférée était chez elle en toute sécurité. Il n’avait jamais fait ça pour quelqu’un d’autre, mais cela ne voulait rien dire. Cela n’avait certainement rien à voir avec ta tristesse et ta vulnérabilité. Il t’a tendu la main et tu as descendu avec précaution de ton tabouret de bar. Crocodile t’a guidé jusqu’à la porte avec son crochet sur ton dos nu. Il a regardé attentivement et s’est rendu compte qu’il avait raison, tu avais la chair de poule.
Vous avez tous les deux traversé la ville plongée dans l'obscurité en silence, profitant du beau temps. C'était une autre chose que Crocodile appréciait chez toi : tu ne ressentais pas le besoin de remplir le silence avec des bavardages insignifiants.
Plus la promenade durait, moins Crocodile était content. Il te payait très bien, pourquoi ne vivais-tu pas dans la partie luxueuse de la ville ?
Tu avais tourné au coin des rues de bas quartiers, jusqu'à ce que vous arriviez à un immeuble d'appartements à l'aspect miteux et vous vous êtes arrêtés sur le pas de la porte. Crocodile aurait préféré le brûler que d'y mettre les pieds.
- C'est ici que j'habite Monsieur, merci de m’avoir raccompagné.
Crocodile regarda une fois de plus le bâtiment en briques qui s'effondrait.
- Pourquoi ? S’exclama Crocodile.
Il avait presque coupé son cigare en deux.
- Je vous demande pardon Monsieur ? Confuse face à sa question.
- Pourquoi vivez-vous ici ? Je vous paie bien, je sais que vous pouvez vous permettre de meilleures conditions de vie.
Ton visage rougit.
- Ne vous inquiétez pas Monsieur. La situation s'est résolue d'elle-même.
Crocodile plissa les yeux. Cela avait donc un rapport avec ce garçon. Avais-tu remboursé une partie de ses dettes de jeu ? Il allait garder un œil sur lui. Crocodile le savait bien, il possédait un casino et avait vu ce genre d'idiot des milliers de fois. Cela ne marcherait pas et ta situation de vie actuelle non plus.
- En effet. Vous allez emménager dans mon manoir.
Crocodile était ravi de ce résultat. Il n'avait pas aimé que tu vives si loin de lui. Il avait toujours un service de sécurité qui te suivait quand tu n'étais pas avec lui, mais ça ne lui semblait jamais suffisant. Avec le niveau de connaissance intime que tu avais de lui et de ses affaires, il était toujours inquiet que tu sois kidnappée ou torturée.
Honnêtement, s'il l'admettait à lui-même, il s'inquiétait. Un autre sentiment qu'il n'aimait pas.
Non, cela fonctionnerait parfaitement. Il n'aurait pas à être distrait par des pensées concernant ton bien-être et tu serais plus proche de lui à tout moment.
- Monsieur, ce n'est pas… approprié, as-tu rétorqué.
Il n'avait pas pensé aux implications de te faire venir, mais dans ce cas précis il ne pensait pas avec son entrejambe.
- N'importe quoi. Vous aurez toute l'aile Est pour vous. Décorez-la comme vous le souhaitez, je vous fournirai une allocation logement. Je vous attendrai ici cinq minutes. Rassemblez ce dont vous aurez besoin pour la nuit. Daz viendra chercher le reste de vos affaires demain.
- Monsieur, est-ce vraiment…
Tu avais croisé les bras sur ta jolie poitrine.
- Le compte à rebours a commencé.
Sa volonté était gravée dans la pierre, même ton agacement ne pouvait l’en dissuader. Tu as soupiré, levé les yeux au ciel et tu es entrée rapidement dans le bâtiment. Peut-être qu’une bonne chose était ressortie de cette terrible, horrible, mauvaise, très mauvaise journée.
~~~
Crocodile était extrêmement heureux du résultat de sa décision. Il se sentait en paix en sachant qu'il pouvait te protéger et te garder à l'abri de ceux qui chercheraient à prendre le pouvoir sur lui. Ou pire encore, d'autres magnats essayant de recruter tes services pour les leurs. Il avait surpris Mihawk en train de te parler tranquillement après la dernière réunion des grands corsaires, et tu avais ri de quelque chose qu'il avait dit.
Il ne t'empêcherait pas d'avoir une conversation avec l'épéiste, mais il n'aimait pas ça. Il savait que même Sengoku avait essayé de te recruter comme Marine. Tu as refusé toutes les offres et tu es restée avec Crocodile. Il ne s'inquiétait pas de ta loyauté, mais Crocodile n'aimait pas l'attention que tu recevais des autres. Tu étais son assistante personnelle et Crocodile n’aimait pas partager.
Il a essayé de te donner ton espace et de te permettre d'avoir ta propre vie personnelle au sein du manoir. Il ne voulait pas te contrôler, il savait que tu étais indépendante. Mais comme vous partagiez désormais le même manoir (gigantesque), il te voyait parfois en dehors de tes heures de travail. Il te voyait flâner dans les jardins, à t'occuper de tes plantes, regarder les étoiles depuis le balcon.
Quand tu ne travaillais pas, tu t'habillais de manière plus décontractée, permettant à Crocodile de voir davantage ton corps. Le fait que tu ne l'appelais que « Monsieur », même en dehors du travail n'aidait pas. Il avait longtemps fantasmé sur ta voix sensuelle disant « Oui Monsieur » et « Non Monsieur » dans un cadre plus intime. Il avait essayé avec plusieurs de ses poupées, mais aucune d'entre elles n'y parvenait. Seul ton « Oui Monsieur » faisait battre son cœur.
~~~
Plus tu vivais dans son manoir, plus Crocodile devenait méfiant quant à la nature de tes sentiments à son égard. Crocodile n'était pas du genre à demander directement, mais tu semblais avoir des sentiments qui surgissaient de temps en temps.
Une fois, il t'avait demandé d'aider une poupée à partir le lendemain matin, après une nuit dans sa chambre et tu avais catégoriquement refusé.
C'était la première fois que tu refusais une tâche qu'il te demandait. Et tu n'avais pas reculé. Tu as dit que cela dépassait le cadre de tes fonctions, mais que tu enverrais une femme de ménage.
Si Crocodile avait dû mettre une émotion dans ton ton, cela aurait été de la jalousie.
D'autres fois, il t'avait surprise en train de le fixer, de rougir et de détourner le regard quand il l'avait surpris. Vous travailliez ensemble depuis des années, mais avec la proximité et ton nouveau statut de célibataire, peut-être que tes sentiments étaient en train de changer.
Crocodile voulait tester sa théorie. Un jour, alors que ta jupe crayon était particulièrement serrée, il t'a appelée dans son bureau à domicile. Il était adossé à sa chaise, fumant un cigare comme d'habitude, des papiers sur son bureau.
- Oui Monsieur ?
Tu te tenais à l’entrée du bureau.
- Entres, je ne mords pas.
Tu t’es immédiatement rapprochée de son bureau, une légère confusion sur le visage. Normalement, il essayait de te parler de la manière la plus professionnelle possible, et tu avais immédiatement remarqué le changement dans son langage.
- Jettes un œil aux derniers chiffres de Rain Dinners. Je sais que les calculs sont corrects, mais il manque quelque chose.
Tu t’es approchée à côté de lui et tu t’es penchée pour lire, comme tu l'avais fait tant de fois auparavant. Mais cette fois, il a posé sa main sur le bas de ton dos. Tu n'as rien dit, mais il t’a entendu inspirer. Intéressant.
Tu as passé un moment à feuilleter les pages.
- Je vois le problème Monsieur, dis-tu toujours penchée.
Crocodile se leva et se pencha à côté de toi, t’emprisonnant d’un bras.
- Je m’excuse. Il vous manque une page du rapport.
Tu rougissais furieusement, mais tu continuas :
- Je vais vous en procurer une copie.
Tu étais énervée.
- Merci, c’était tout, souffla Crocodile dans le creux de ton oreille.
Tu frissonnas sous le contact rapproché. Crocodile se rassit dans son fauteuil, te libérant. Tu courus pratiquement hors de la pièce, le visage aussi rouge que si tu avais passé toute ta vie dans le désert d'Alabasta. Très intéressant.
~~~
Crocodile voulait fixer des limites claires et obtenir ton consentement avant de faire quoi que ce soit. Il te respectait en tant que personne et si tu devais refuser, il voudrait quand même te garder comme employée.
Il t’a appelé un soir.
Tu es arrivée rapidement, mais dans des vêtements plus décontractés car c'était en dehors de tes heures de travail. Tu portais une robe d'été mi-longue avec un motif à fleurs bleues. Elle accentuait tout ce que Crocodile aimait dans ta silhouette : la perfection.
- Comment puis-je vous aider Monsieur ?
Polie comme toujours.
- Viens ici.
Crocodile t’a fait signe d’un doigt tendu. Tu t’es placée devant lui comme attendu. Il a soigneusement enroulé son crochet autour de ta taille et t’a tirée plus près, juste devant sa silhouette assise.
- C’est mieux.
Il a retiré son crochet.
- Est-ce que ça te plaît de travailler pour moi ?
Tes sourcils se sont levés de surprise.
- Bien sûr Monsieur. C'est le meilleur travail que j'ai jamais eu.
- Te souviens-tu du jour où je t’ai embauché ?
Crocodile tirait sur son cigare, laissant la fumée s’échapper de sa bouche. En même temps, il polissait son hameçon avec un chiffon. Il savait qu’il avait une silhouette imposante.
- Oui Monsieur.
Tu étais fascinée par la vue du crochet doré, brillant dans la lumière tamisée.
- Tu te souviens de notre conversation à propos des bananawanis ?
Tu détournas les yeux de son crochet.
- Oui Monsieur. L’une des conditions d’embauche était d’être à l’aise avec les bananawanis. Vous m’avez demandé si j’avais des inquiétudes quant à la façon de m’occuper d’eux.
Tu devenais nerveuse, incertaine du but de la conversation.
- Tu te souviens de ce que tu m'as dit ? Sourit Crocodile d'un air troublant.
- Oui Monsieur. Ce sont des prédateurs de premier plan, il faut les traiter avec soin et respect. Si vous acceptez votre place sous eux, ils peuvent être affectueux et doux. En cela…
Tu l’as regardé dans les yeux :
- … je doutais qu’ils soient les créatures les plus dangereuses de la propriété.
- Tu crois toujours que c'est vrai ?
Crocodile se redressa de toute sa hauteur, te dominant. Tu levas les yeux vers lui. Tu semblais nerveuse mais pas effrayée.
- Oui Monsieur.
- Et que dirais-tu d'une créature plus dangereuse ?
Il parla à voix basse, regardant ton visage rougir. Il enroula lentement son crochet autour de ta nuque, te laissant le temps de t'éloigner. Tu ne bougeas pas, sauf pour frissonner.
- Ah, probablement la même chose Monsieur. Si j'acceptais ma position de subordonnée, je pense que la plupart des créatures fortes… euh… seraient réceptives.
Crocodile tira doucement sur son crochet, dévoilant ton cou à lui. Il se pencha à ta hauteur, caressant de ses lèvres la partie exposée de ton cou.
- Parles maintenant de tes objections.
Il disait la vérité, la moindre hésitation de ta part et il s’arrêterait immédiatement. Il s’intéressait à la soumission volontaire, rien d’autre.
- Monsieur, je… j'avoue que j'en ai envie, mais je crains de mélanger affaires et passion.
Crocodile sourit à ta déclaration, faisant écho à ses paroles prononcées le jour de ton anniversaire. Tu avais donc été affectée également.
- Si quelque chose de désagréable se produit entre nous, maintenant ou plus tard, je t’assure que nous reviendrons à notre arrangement précédent. Tu ne seras pas renvoyée et ne subiras aucune sanction. Trouves-tu cela acceptable ?
Il préférait perdre son autre main que toi. Tu as hoché la tête.
- Oui Monsieur.
Tu le regardas avec des étoiles dans les yeux.
- Si je fais quelque chose et que tu souhaites mettre un terme à l’expérience, dis « non ». Si tu dis « arrêtez », je ne le ferai pas. Si tu dis « je vous en supplie », cela ne m’émeut pas, pas plus que les larmes. Si tu dis « non », je cesserai immédiatement mes actions. Tu comprends ?
Tu déglutis.
- Oui Monsieur.
- Quel mot mettra fin à quelque chose que tu ne souhaites pas voir arriver ?
- Je vous dis non, Monsieur.
- Très bien. Enlève ta robe.
Tu avais l’air nerveuse, mais tes lèvres se relevèrent aux coins sous son léger compliment. Il savait que tu faisais de ton mieux quand on t’approuvait.
Il se rassit sur sa chaise et admira ton élégance. Tu abaissas lentement les bretelles de ta robe, puis tu en retiras tes bras. Tu ne portais pas de soutien-gorge, tu avais jugé que la robe suffisait. Il avait vu de nombreux strip-teases de ses poupées, tous parfaitement conçus et pratiqués pour enflammer le désir d’un homme. Le tien n’avait aucun artifice, aucune ruse, rien de calculé. Et pourtant, il trouvait ta performance bien plus sensuelle et séduisante.
Il sentit sa verge se raidir davantage à chaque seconde qui passait. Lorsque tes bras furent libres, tu laissas ta robe s’accumuler à tes pieds et tu en sortis. Tu restas immobile, attendant son jugement.
- Absolument magnifique.
Il se releva, tourna lentement autour de toi, laissant le métal de son crochet glisser sur ta peau nue. Il le fit glisser sur ton dos, sur l’arrière de tes bras, sur tes clavicules en faisant le tour de toi. Partout où il le faisait glisser, ta chair se colorait de chair de poule.
- Tu es encore plus belle que je ne l’aurais jamais imaginé.
Tu te figes à ses mots. Il continua à te taquiner avec son crochet.
- Est-ce que ça te rend nerveuse quand je contemple ta beauté ?
- Non Monsieur.
Il finit de te boire et se rassit, écartant les jambes.
- Viens t’asseoir, dit-il d’une voix douce comme de la soie.
Tu t’approchas de lui sans hésiter, tes seins rebondissant doucement tandis que tu marchais. Tu te perchas gracieusement sur le côté de sa cuisse puissante, attendant son prochain ordre. Tu suivais toujours si bien ses ordres, après tout. Il posa son cigare et posa sa main sur ton flanc, te rapprochant de lui.
- Exquise au-delà de toute comparaison.
Rapprochant son visage du tien, il enroula sa main dans tes cheveux, à l’arrière de ta tête. Il tira, inclinant ton visage vers le haut. Tu haletais doucement. Il chercha sur ton visage le moindre soupçon de doute persistant, mais il ne vit que du désir brut.
Il approcha ses lèvres des tiennes très lentement, rampant centimètre par centimètre, sans encore t’embrasser, mais oh si près. Tu essayas de l’atteindre avec ta bouche, mais sa main t’en empêcha.
- Pas besoin de te précipiter, je ne vais nulle part, dit-il en mordant doucement le lobe de ton oreille.
Crocodile n’avait pas en lui la force d’attendre plus longtemps pour t’embrasser. Il approcha ses lèvres des tiennes, ouvrant la bouche. Tu le laissas entrer tandis que sa langue explorait la tienne. Il t’embrassa à son rythme tranquille, te montrant qui avait le contrôle. Il était exigeant et dominant et tu aimais chaque instant.
- Dis-moi, si je te touchais entre tes jambes, est-ce que tu serais mouillée pour moi ? Demanda-t-il en embrassant ta mâchoire.
Tu devins rouge cramoisie, mais sa main dans tes cheveux t'empêcha d'éviter son regard.
- Oui Monsieur.
- Montre-moi.
- Oui Monsieur.
Tu écartas tes cuisses tremblantes pour lui, révélant ta culotte trempée. Il dénoua sa main de tes cheveux et fit glisser un doigt le long de ton bras, de ton ventre, jusqu'à tes cuisses. Il passa la main autour de toi et déchira les côtés de ta culotte, la détruisant et révélant ton entrejambe luisante. Tu haletas mais ne bougeas pas. Il fit glisser un doigt le long de ta fente, sans séparer tes lèvres inférieures, mais les doigts revenant toujours brillants.
- Est-ce que ça fait du bien quand je te touche comme ça ?
- Ou…oui Monsieur, as-tu répondu en retenant un gémissement.
- Tu en veux plus ?
- Oui Monsieur. S'il vous plaît.
Oh, tu n'avais jamais ajouté cette petite supplication auparavant. Crocodile se sentit devenir encore plus dur. Peut-être qu'un jour il te ferait supplier. Mais pas aujourd'hui.
- Monte sur ma cuisse, c'est comme ça que tu vas jouir ce soir.
Il voulait regarder ton visage et profiter du désordre que tu avais fait sur son pantalon. Il aurait tout le temps pour d’autres moments de plaisir. Il t'a déplacée pour que tu sois à califourchon sur sa cuisse.
- Oui Monsieur.
Il était content que tu n’aies pas hésité, que tu sois aussi intéressée à obéir, que lui l’était à commander. Tu as commencé à tournoyer sur son énorme cuisse, émettant de petits gémissements, tes mains sur ses épaules pour plus de stabilité.
Il en a profité pour prendre ta poitrine en coupe, pétrissant le monticule entre ses doigts. Parfois, il regrettait sa deuxième main. C’était l’un de ces moments où il aurait aimé pouvoir sentir tes deux seins en même temps.
Au lieu de cela, il a soulevé sa cuisse pour que tu sois plus près de lui et a penché sa tête pour lécher et taquiner tes mamelons. Tes gémissements n’ont fait qu’augmenter. Il a embrassé toute ta poitrine et ton cou, en s’assurant de laisser quelques marques. Ta tête était rejetée en arrière, tes yeux vitreux alors que tu cherchais ton plaisir. Tes gémissements augmentaient en rythme et en intensité, tu étais proche.
- Demande-moi la permission de jouir, dit Crocodile d’une voix lente.
Tu gémissais et tu te cabrais plus vite contre sa cuisse, balançant tes hanches en petits cercles. Il pouvait dire au moment où tu succombas, il sentit ton sexe spasmer à travers son pantalon. Il te regardait sortir de l'euphorie, le visage déformé par le plaisir. Il était proche lui aussi, mais ce soir n'était pas pour lui.
Après avoir fini, tu avais besoin d'un moment de repos. Tu appuyais ton front contre sa poitrine, respirant lourdement. Un instant plus tard, il te souleva et t'installa sur son autre cuisse.
- Bonne fille, comme tu as si bien obéi. Regarde le désordre que tu as fait sur moi, dit-il en désignant la tache humide sur son pantalon.
Tu rougis, mais tu lui souris toujours alors qu'il te ceinturait de ses bras. Il t'enveloppa dans une couverture à proximité de son canapé, te permettant de t'effondrer contre sa large poitrine. Il ralluma son cigare et s'assit paisiblement en fumant. Sa verge dure comme du roc attendrait plus tard.
- Merci Monsieur. Puis-je vous poser une question ?
- Bien sûr.
- Est-ce qu’on pourrait… refaire ça un jour ?
Tu avais l’air peu sûre de toi, mais Crocodile t’a souri gentiment.
- Ma chère, libère ton emploi du temps pour ce soir. Et pour le lendemain. Et pour l’avenir proche. Après tout, je ne suis rien d’autre qu’une créature affectueuse et douce.
