#OP Rob Lucci

[onepiece-birthdays]

It's June 2nd

Happy birthday to Chimney of Water 7! She is 10. Happy birthday to Rob Lucci of CP0! He is 30.

[srpayt0n]

GOD i love men fr

[stillxnunpxidintern]

All of the Rob Lucci that I have on Treasure Cruise so far.

[njere]

pigeon man and the giraffe my beloveds

[gilenart]

Lovely commissions for @auryborealis ❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️

[jakkenpoy]

these two have the same birthday~

[fennecco]

🌤️

[xandertheomen]

im finally almost finished the lineart for lucci and hattori!

[littlesniggy]

I just want to forget

Hello, here a small something for my Rob Lucci fans. Warning: 18+, mention of s*x, mention of de*th, loss, overall not happy, smoking, numbness, hurt/comfort, non pirate AU, female reader Pairings: Rob Lucci x female reader Word count: 1.2k

Hot smoke is filling your lungs as you take a deep breath in and inhale the toxic air, the scratchiness in your throat and upper air passages a welcoming feeling to the numbness you have been constantly feeling. Your eyes wander to the glowing poisonous stick between your index and middle finger, studying how the glow slowly eats away the tobacco, leaving only behind gray ash that eventually falls off and lands on the black satin sheet covering your bare legs. 

“I told you I hate it when you smoke in my apartment.” You don’t need to turn your head to know he is looking at you annoyed. Even when you two are intimate, when he is fucking the living shit out of you, leaving you in bite marks and bruises – his cold and annoyed façade remains. Yet, you don’t mind. He is the reason you can forget; even if it is just for a short time. You still appreciate it.

“Sorry.” You reply quietly but make no effort to stub the cigarette out. You know he has an ashtray on the nightstand next to the bed; he bought it only for you. He doesn’t smoke. He also makes you empty and clean it every time before you leave if you used it. Seems to be fair. That’s the least you can do. 

“Well…put it out.” You hear him but your brain is not comprehending the words he says. You simply stare at the continuous burning of your cigarette, the taste still present on your tongue. It reminds you of Him. He rarely smoked but he had the habit of smoking one every time he came down from his high after loving you. You always complained about it when you kissed him, telling him it was like sticking your tongue into an ashtray but you got used to it to the point where it had become some odd feeling of comfort. It meant familiarity. It meant safety. It meant home. 

Funny; you had never thought you’d miss the taste of cigarettes on someone’s lips so much. That’s probably also the reason why you picked up this habit shortly after you started “seeing” the man next to you. 

“Hey, you hear me?” of course, you can hear him. You’re not deaf. You’re just…absent-minded. But why does he sound more annoyed than usual? He almost never tells you to stub it out so you deduce he has been having a bad day. Now, that you think about it, he also sounded irritated on the phone when you called. So, you are sure his bad mood has nothing to do with you; or at least you are not the cause of it. You contemplate if you should ask but knowing the man next to you, you know he won’t talk. You basically know nothing about him. Sometimes, it frustrates you. Some days, you want to have a conversation with him, to tell him about your day, about your feelings, about you fear. But he doesn’t want to hear it. He had made it abundantly clear that this relationship or however you want to call it, is purely physical. And you agreed to it, but still…

A big hand harshly grabs your wrist and takes away the cigarette glimmering away between your fingers and angrily stubs it out in the ashtray. His hot breath ghosts your neck and an involuntary shiver runs down your spine. “I do not like to repeat myself.” He hisses, the sound almost animalistic. His grip tightens before he lets go, leaving an angry red handprint around your wrist. In moments like this you are reminded that this man is dangerous.  

“Now, if you are done for today, I suggest you get dressed and fuck off. I need to go back to work.” You see him sit on the edge of the bed out of the corner of your eyes, his muscular back facing you, his long black hair elegantly falling over his shoulders. A big tattoo is covering almost his entire back -  some kind of cross with circles on each side and one in the middle. You would like to know the meaning but you don’t ask. 

There are scars on his skin; too many to be accidental, too small to be life threatening. The one on his stomach, however, seems to have been more serious. You once dared to ask him what happened. In response, he simple turned you around, pressed your head into the pillow and pounded into you until he was satisfied. 

When you weren’t thinking about Him and imagining a life you could never have, you thought about the possible jobs he could be doing. Secret agent, assassin, military, special forces. The list could go on but are the most likely you decided. But you never asked. He wouldn’t give you an answer anyway so why bother?

His body tenses momentarily when you gently grab his arm. He doesn’t turn his head to you completely but enough for you to see his harsh brown eyes staring at you. 

“I don’t wanna be alone.” Your voice is almost a whisper but you know he can hear you loud and clear. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t reply, he just looks at you. He is contemplating. You know he has no sympathy for your situation. He is not the compassionate type. Sometimes you even have the impression that he has sociopathic tendencies. Yet, you don’t care. You welcome it, even. Everyone else looks at you in pity. They don’t look at you as a person. They only see the woman who lost her husband. And you hate it. You hate it to the bone. He doesn’t. He looks at you as if you are vermin yet you don’t care.

You inch closer, embracing him from behind as you wrap both arms around his strong torso. Your lips find his sharp jawline and your lips follow the bone to his ear. You know he likes it. He would never admit it out loud but he enjoys it when you tease him with small kisses. It makes him almost tame. 

You gently put his earlobe between your lips and suckle on it, your hands caressing his flat stomach and chest. It almost sounds like he is purring when a dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. He snakes a strong arm around your waist and starts kissing your neck in return, tracing a bite mark with his tongue. 

“Why should I care?” he whispers into your ear. You lean back and turn your head to look at him as good as you can. What a beautiful man. What a dangerous predator. 

“You don’t have to care. I just want you to make me forget.” 

A dangerous smile creeps onto his sinful lips. 

He presses you slowly into the mattress with his weight while his teeth sink into your neck. The fingers on your waist dig painfully into your delicate skin. 

If there is one thing you know for certain about Rob Lucci then that he can make you forget; even if it is just for a moment. 

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

The man the myth the legend and his boss. Paulie's there too

[signatureartsblug]

I was forced inspired to draw Kaku Voguing all because I told @straws-and-sunflowers that Kaku was A favorite and yet I never drew him in my life.

Featuring Rob Lucci not sure how he's feeling tbh and I love that for him.

[srpayt0n]

Lucci b4 going to sleep...my back hurts

[stillxnunpxidintern]

Okay Rob Lucci fans, I can see the appeal of this man after pulling him this afternoon.

[njere]

Happy bday pigeon man we all love u

[fishychaos]

Single cell organism Kaku and virus Lucci

[k44rds]

Not too long ago, I discovered Rob Lucci while my poor little self has only begun Skypiea and I have only one thing to say.

Rob Lucci is DANGEROUSLY underrated.

And I intend to fix that.