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[coquettefrancaise]

your hands are cold

from Pride and Prejudice (2005)

pair: Azriel x Reader ~ 4.8k

warnings: mysogony (not from az), risque thoughts from reader, sharing a bed ooooh, shadow violence, protective azriel

summary: Azriel would give you the shirt off his back if he knew you were cold and he's trying so so hard to make you see that

Illyrian's lived in the snowy mountains of the Night Court. Thick blankets of snow fell year-round, the sun scarcely offering a reprieve from the constant bite of wind. By the time the children were old enough to run and wield a stick the boys were thrust into training and the girls into house/camp work. Everyone grew to adapt to it, their bodies functioning at an unnaturally high temperature.

Although Azriel, Rhys, and Cassian had lived away from Illyria and the camps for multiple centuries now, they still grew overly warm during the earlier seasons. Both a curse and a blessing.

So why the hel didn't anyone tell you to bring a thicker coat?

Being the night court's newly appointed emissary, you were tasked to go to Illyria to comb over some of the issues stirring up. Specifically concerning the female's training. Surprise surprise.

Thankfully, Azriel had offered to come with. Rhys had given him a smirk, looking between the two of you but Azriel winnowed you before you could decipher what that look meant.

You now stood outside the training ring with him as Devlon and two of his croonies made up some half-assed excuses as to why they weren't prioritizing the females training.

"-we have two new mother's in the area who need the extra support." Devlon ranted, clearly exasperated that his high lord was continuing to harp on this matter.

You looked up to Azriel who was watching the pathetic male with a clenched jaw. He loosened it to say, "Have the father's help then. If they can't care for their own children then they should keep it in their pants."

You refrained from giggling but remained indifferent. Some of the people you worked with were open to your messages while others were... Devlon. And Beron, you supposed. You had to tread lightly because one misstep and they would prod at the weakness until you couldn't handle it. 

"All of our males are needed in training to ensure that they stay in shape. Those females shouldn't have spread their legs so fast." Devlon drawled.

"Surely Rhys would be willing to reenact the castration laws." You said without thinking, glaring at him. "You wouldn't mind being first on the list, would you?"

Devlon only ignored you.

Even with the ire coursing through your veins, you shivered. You were supposed to have been here for an hour max. Get in, yell at them, get out. Unsurprisingly, there was more to fix than you had assumed.

Azriel side-eyed you as you shook from the cold and held out his hand to Devlon. "Coat."

Devlon paused, glaring at the shadowsinger's scarred hand as if it held the plague. "What?"

"Give me your coat. Now."

The words sent an entirely different kind of chill through you. One that made your eyes widen at the hostile calm with which he said it. Sure, you'd heard that tone once or twice, but it never failed to impel you to stand straighter even if it wasn’t aimed for you. 

Devlon scoffed. "I'm not giving you my coat. Who do—"

Shadows crept up around Azriel's feet, climbing his tall, hard body until they amassed near the siphons at his hands, contrasting starkly with the pure white snow that fell around him. With the tendrils of darkness poised to strike, paired with the unforgiving look on Azriel's face, he made a hauntingly beautiful picture. Feyre would be distraught she hadn't been here to capture it.

Not a second further, Devlon took his coat off and placed it in the shadowsinger's waiting palm. His own hand trembling, you noted with smugness.

Azriel stayed silent as he flicked it once. Twice. Until he was certain it was free of any contamination, and then turned to you, a far softer expression pulling at his achingly handsome features. He then stepped forward and brought the coat around your shoulders, encircling you in his arms to fasten the buttons.

Time stopped and you took the chance to study him. The mussed locks of hair from running his hands through it every time Devlon opened his mouth. The smooth planes of his tanned skin. His enviably dark, long lashes framing those all-seeing hazel eyes. And his mouth... if you were a poet you would write odes about it. Both admiring and wicked.

You blushed.

"Is this alright?" he asked softly.

You slowly nodded, words stuck in your throat due to his close proximity.

His fingers brushed against your throat softly and he pulled away, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

When the argument started back up again, you found that while your upper body was warming up, your legs and feet were still at the mercy of the breeze.

Azriel looked to you again and released a heavy sigh. "We'll send healers to perform check-ups on the babes and new mothers. The other females will train as normal. And you will speak to the court's emissary with respect." He told Devlon, voice final.

"I have no idea why he has a weak female performing court check-ups." Devlon bit out, no doubt angry at having been pressed into submission and having his coat stolen.

One second you could see clearly, and the next your vision was clouded by swarming darkness. Instinctively, your hand shot out to find Azriel, fear twisting your stomach at the thought of being attacked or—

You barely had time to call out for him when the darkness vacuumed back to its origin—Azriel.

He now stood a breadth away from Devlon, shadows morphed into the shape of a hand held at the camp leader's throat.

There was no curiosity lingering in your mind as to why he was often referred to as the Angel of Death. His body was tense and forbidding, as if he had been carved from stone. Broad, claw-tipped wings spread in threat, consuming the space around him. The largest you'd witnessed.

"It'd be a shame if your windpipe was broken," his voice was colder than the wind that had picked up, "I'd think twice if you were to make another smart remark about our high lord's emissary."

They stared at each other and then Devlon's shoulder sank in defeat. The ghost hand dissipated at his throat, revealing finger-like bruising. You could only imagine the true harm his shadows could inflict if given free rein.

Devlon's eyes snapped from Azriel to you, chin dipping nearly imperceptibly before walking away, back tense as if he were preparing for an attack.

You waited until he was out of sight to speak. “Thanks for the coat?”

Azriel rolled his shoulders, eyes on the space above your head. “Sorry that it belongs to that dense misogynist; I rarely find the need to carry one around.”

You laughed, hoping to dispel the tension clinging to the air, and clutched the coat tighter to warm your hands up. “It’s summertime; how is it still snowing out here?”

“The elevation of the mountains results in colder weather year-round, no matter the season. This is considered warm.” He jerked his chin in the direction of a group of shirtless Illyrian’s training. “Cassian used to tan on days like this when we were younger.”

“Is that what he’s been doing the past week? I wandered up to the roof yesterday and caught him rubbing some oil into his legs. I never want to see him in shorts those small again.” You widened your eyes in horror. 

"Count yourself lucky. I've seen the bastard’s ass more than I have his face."

"Some would say that you should count yourself lucky then."

Azriel scoffed, eyes glittering with amusement.

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked. 

You really weren’t. Not when he was watching you with such tenderness. A cold gust of wind blew past, making your teeth chatter. Azriel didn’t waste any time in scooping you into his arms. 

“Wait,” your breath hitched, “what about Devlon’s coat?”

“We’ll burn it when we get back to The House.” 

Just as he was about to lift off, thunder cracked, causing you to peer up at the malicious looking grey clouds rolling in. Odd, considering just this morning, when you first arrived, the day had been clear and sunny.

Azriel let loose a long breath, eyes switching from you to the sky until he put you on your feet. "We'll have to wait it out."

"You've traveled in far worse conditions," you reminded, although you'd much rather stay put too.

"I'd never risk your life." He stated, voice gruff.

You had to ignore the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. This was not the place nor time to feel flattered by Azriel's protectiveness. He was this way with all of his friends and family, after all.

"Where will we stay? I guess Devlon would let us-"

Azriel snorted. "If I spend one more minute with that shithead I might strangle him to death. Fortunately, Rhys' mom has a cabin here that we can stay in."

As if to hurry you both, the heavens opened up and peltered you with a cold sleet. You were almost instantly drenched. Azriel wasted no time in putting an arm around your back, wing stretched overhead to offer reprieve, and urged you forward through the slick mud.

Finally, you arrived at the cabin, a, small yet homey, two story house with an already roaring fire and steaming kettle on the stove. The shadows doing, you assumed. You turned to Azriel who retrieved two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with tea.

You could picture Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys as young, growing boys wandering in and out of that kitchen, hungry after long days of training. And you spotted notches in the wooden cupboards and dining furniture where playful fights or inaccurately aimed daggers managed to land.

He made his way to you, setting the mugs on the mantel, cringing as you shivered hard. "Do you mind?" he motioned to the coat you still clutched tightly at. "It will only make you colder."

You shook your head, teeth chattering, and reached to take it off when you were stopped by Azriel's hands. He peeled it off of your shoulders and down your arms and chucked it in the fire without blinking.

You couldn't help but laugh at his obvious distaste of the clothing and it's owner.

"Warm up and drink the tea; I'm going to search for some clothes that are, hopefully, untouched by mothballs."

Who would have blamed you for admiring the way his leathers fit to his bunching muscles as he made his way up the stairs?

A small part of you hoped that he wouldn't be able to find anything. From the stories you'd heard from the inner circle about missions that have gone awry in the cold, one of the ways they managed to stay warm was to share body heat.

The image of Azriel aiding you taking off your wet clothes before doing it to himself, flashed in your mind.

Ugh. You rolled your shoulders, turning towards the fire to soothe the ice settling in your bones. Yes, Azriel had been incredibly kind today by offering to join you and giving you a jacket, but that was just it. Kindness.

When you had first met Azriel, like most everyone, you fell for his devilishly handsome features and cool nature. It didn't help that he was unfathomably loyal and strong. Or tall and athletic. Or a good male with good intentions overall.

"It's just a stupid crush," you muttered to yourself as you put your palms out towards the fireplace.

"Hm?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Azriel returned to your side on silent steps. A shadow skittered over your shoulder, tickling your neck as if to laugh at you.

"We should really put a bell on you,"

"I'd prefer my enemies to not know when I'm near." Azriel held out clothes to you. "They're old but should suffice. If you'd prefer to wash-"

"That would be wonderful." The idea of a warm bath caused you to sigh with longing.

Azriel clicked his tongue, amusement lighting his eyes. "I shouldn't have even asked, huh? Come," he jerked his head to the direction of the stairs, "let's get you cleaned up."

Electricity zapped through your body at the image of sitting between Azriel's legs in the bathtub as he used a washcloth to soothe your goose-bumped riddled skin. Would he press his lips to each knob of your spine while he massaged shampoo into your hair and-

"Coming?"

Your eyes snapped to Azriel, the fog of your imagination dissipating, making you feel ridiculous. Your cheeks pinked and you nodded, following him.

The bathtub wasn't big enough to comfortably sit two people. Much less if that second person happened to be an Illyrian male.

Azriel put the dry clothes on the counter. "Do you need any help navigating things?"

"I am confident in my ability to bathe myself, thank you for your concern." You teased.

"Don't need me to get your back or anything?" he shot back, looking a lot less tense than he had when you were speaking with Devlon. In fact, he looked a lot lighter than when he was even around the inner circle.

"I think I have it all under control. Thank you again, Azriel."

Before heading out, he lingered at the doorway, looking as if he had something to say but decided not to. He then left you to your own devices, saying something about cooking something up. You stripped out of your drenched clothes and turned on the faucet, shivering when you first dipped into the water. It felt like a warm hug.

The only thing that would make it better would be if you were nestled against Azriel's tattooed chest.

No no no.

You shouldn't be feeding into your delusions. Especially while the person you were daydreaming about was the only other person in the house with you. It would only make things terribly awkward. And you didn't want to ruin anything with Azriel. Not when you were just becoming close friends.

You had been emissary to the night court for a couple of years now and while you had gotten along quickly with everyone, it had taken a while for Azriel to even speak with you one-on-one. He wasn't easily trusting, which you completely understood. But lately things had been warming up. He would make you breakfast when you were the only two up, hand-deliver the books Nesta let you borrow, even nudge your leg under the table when Cassian was making a fool of himself.

Not to mention the fact that he brought you to this camp despite it being a solo mission.

You pushed it all from your mind, not wanting to overthink things, and finished your bath.

The sweater and sweat pants Azriel supplied you with smelled faintly of him. You wondered if they had been his when he lived in this gods-awful camp.

Having found no brush or comb, you settled with running your fingers through your damp hair, wandering down to the kitchen to find Azriel at the stove, preparing what smelled like chile. He tilted his head up to look at you and fire settled low in your belly as his pupils seemed to take over his irises'.

You swallowed thickly, feeling somewhat self-conscious wearing his clothes that hung off your frame. You tugged on one of the sleeves as it slipped down your shoulder. "Hopefully there's warm water left."

The pot hissed with bubbles, shadows whisking the soup ladle out of the oblivious shadowsinger's hand to continue stirring, as Azriel scanned you from head to toe.

Judging by the amusement dancing in his eyes, you probably looked like a drowned rat. You itched to turn back into the bathroom and check yourself in the mirror.

He stepped into your space, "They're not too big?"

The clothes. You shook your head, pointing to the rolled up pant legs. "Needed some adjusting but they shouldn't cause too many problems."

"Certainly wouldn't want them to fall off," he mumbled, more to himself, the insinuation in his voice not helping in tamping down your growing feelings.

"Do I look silly or something? Why are you watching me strangely?"

"Not at all. I just thought you look... adorable." He smiled crookedly.

You realized now you had never seen a genuine smile—one that wasn't produced from dark humor—grace his face. Red splashed over your cheeks and you hurried to say, "You should probably wash up yourself. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold or anything."

After a moment of consideration all traces of pleasure were wiped from his face. You nearly swayed at the whiplash of his emotions. "There's some soup and I discovered one of Cassian's hidden stashes of wine,"

"Perfect," you offered an awkward smile.

While he bathed, you wiped down two bowls and wine glasses of grimy dust before filling them with soup and wine. You then stood by the sink, watching out the window into the night.

The storm had grown, howling winds causing the structure of the house to groan as rain continued its rhythmic drumming on the roof. A flash of lightning lit up the sky every few minutes with the accompanied roll of thunder.

Your heart raced double its time from the inane fear of how destructive nature could be.

You drained the wine in one swallow.

"Not fond of storms?"

"Shit!" you whipped around to find a fresh-faced Azriel rubbing a towel through his dark, wet hair. "When we return home I'm finding that bell."

His eyes squinted in amusement, tossing the towel onto the back of a kitchen chair. "If it helps soothe your worries, Illyria has endured worse weather than this."

"Are you sure this cabin is sound enough to withstand this weather? Considering how old it is?"

A black eyebrow rose, "Is that a jab at my age?"

Apologies began tumbling out of your mouth. Azriel only waved off the words. "Sit and let's eat. The storm will hopefully clear by tomorrow morning and we can be on our way back to Valeris."

"Were you able to reach Rhys?"

"He told us to stay put," he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth, "and that if anything is to happen to you, I will be the one to blame."

"I'm flattered he finds me so valuable."

Hazel eyes met yours for a heartbeat as he said, "You are very valuable."

Oh Cauldron. If he continued saying things like that, you wouldn't be able to keep your growing feelings from showing on your face.

You cleared your throat instead, "How much trouble do you think we'll be in because of that incinerated coat?"

The rest of the dinner was spent bonding over your hatred of Devlon. You weren't sure how Azriel survived being under the insufferable male for so long. Or all the males here, if you were honest. It helped you to understand why he was so hesitant to claim them as his people.

"How long has this cabin been unoccupied?" you inquired, taking another bite of the chile.

Azriel leaned back in his chair, considering your question. He'd been, surprisingly, open tonight. There seemed to be no trace of the ever-reserved male you encountered more often than naught. "The inner circle prefers to handle the camps during the day so we rarely find the need to stay here. Devlon uses it sometimes for meetings."

"Did each of you boys get your own rooms?"

"Boys?" a corner of his mouth kicked up, "You say that as if we're not all centuries older than you."

You stifled a chuckle, "Considering how often you three wrestle over ridiculous things like who gets the last slice of dessert, I think it's fitting."

His biceps flexed as he stretched them above his head. You felt dizzy with awe. "Whatever," he retorted playfully, "but, to answer your question, we shared the same room until it became too much of a hazard."

"Hazard?"

A faint blush crept over his tan cheeks. "When we became more interested in females than pulling pranks on one another."

Oh. You blushed in response and took a drink from your glass to hide your embarrassment.

Azriel huffed a laugh, obviously recognizing your regret of asking the question. In a considerate manner, he said, "Remember how I told you about Cassian tanning?"

"Oh gods, I won't be able to unable to get the image you offered out of my head."

"Then you'll be affronted to know that I found the oil he used."

A laugh spewed from your mouth. Azriel smiled softly at your unexpected outburst. The conversation was built on from there and your stomach hurt from how hard he managed to make you laugh.

As soon as you scraped the last bean out of your bowl, Azriel took it from you and washed it in the sink. Huh. A male who cooks and cleans? You couldn't believe your eyes. And you had to ignore the space in your heart that warmed.

Your attention was drawn to the shifting muscles in his forearms as he scrubbed the dishes. To the dark tattoos swirling around his powerful arms, practically calling you to trace them with your fingers.

"—sleep?"

You shook your head as you realized you hadn't heard him. "Sorry, what?"

A shadow tugged on your hair teasingly and he repeated, "Obviously you're tired since you can't even think straight. Let's go sleep."

He led you upstairs once more and into what you assumed was the master bedroom, with a large four poster bed, a vanity, armoire, and lace curtains that hung over the window. It looked as if it belonged to a... female.

"Was this—"

Azriel nodded, eyes softening as he took in the homemade quilt, "This was Rhys' mother's room. After difficult training or frightening storms, she would let us all fit in the bed with her as she told us stories of fearless Illyrians."

"You used to be scared of storms?"

You couldn't imagine the spymaster being afraid of anything. Even as a child.

"I was scared of many things,"

That was all he offered before attempting to stoke the fireplace and ensuring the room was warm enough. You hesitated before asking, "Is this where I'll be staying tonight?"

"We'll both be staying in here."

Your world flipped upside down.

"You're serious?"

Hazel eyes snapped to you with amusement. "The only fireplace working is the one in the living room; these logs are too wet. Not to mention the magic of this cabin isn't as strong without Rhys here."

It looked as if your idea of sharing body heat was coming to fruition. This would quite possibly be the best night of your life, so you needed to savor it as much as you could until everything went back to normal the next morning.

Your fingers shook as you pulled back the covers and slipped in. Oh gods. This was much more nerve-wracking than you'd anticipated. Yes, you seemed to get along great and you felt comfortable around him, but he was still handsome as sin and effortlessly attractive.

After Azriel was certain no logs were salvageable, he stood from his crouched position, spread his mighty wings once in to prepare for a cramped bed, then tucked them in tightly. Your eyes tracked the movement, the sconce lamps revealing the red tint running through the membranous tissue.

He walked to his side of the bed and laid down, a weary sigh leaving his lips. "The temperature will drop the later it gets, so it'd be wise if we slept closer. I don't bite."

Despite that last teasing remark, you couldn't help but feel nervous. Who wouldn't? You were only sharing a bed with one of the greatest warriors to ever live. And he was acting like it was a regular occurrence.

You tested the waters and inched close enough that your hips touched. You swallowed thickly.

He fluffed his pillow, and even yours, before resting his head and asking, "Comfy?"

Not trusting your words, you nodded, and the room was engulfed in darkness. There was nothing besides the staccato beat of rain hitting the roof and the buzzing along your skin where you were touching Azriel.

You counted sheep in your mind to calm down enough to sleep, fighting off the overbearing thoughts of the male beside you.

A peal of thunder caused you to start.

A heavy hand closed over yours, the ridges and callouses of unhealed burns pressing into your own unmarked skin. You caught your breath. "I won't let anything harm you," came Azriel's deep assurance, instantly calming your racing mind.

Two blinks later and you were sound asleep.

It was so gods-damned hot.

Having Azriel sleep beside you was like having your own personal Illyrian heater. Sweat beaded at your temple and your body felt like it was being roasted over a fire.

Obviously this sleeping-together thing would have worked a lot better if you didn't have access to the indoors or multiple blankets. The fact that you were so inclined to move away made you frown. You enjoyed sleeping so close to Azriel; he was safe, and strong... but he was going to burn you alive.

Slowly, you inched away from Azriel, closer to the edge of the bed, and pulled off the quilt, sighing at the instant relief of cool air sliding across your heated skin. You could finally—

The windows blew open, a gust of frigid wind bursting through the room. You began shivering and grabbed the corner of the quilt when a heavy arm was thrown over your stomach, tugging you into a hard body.

"Where were you going?" Azriel rasped into your ear.

This time you trembled for a different reason. "Wh-what?"

His thumb stroked over your hip, "You were trying to leave."

"It was hot," you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, he would realize what he was doing and let go of you.

"Don't go."

Hel, you wouldn't move again if a thousand Illyrians dragged you out of his protective embrace.

"Are the windows broken?" you asked.

What had caused them to slam open like that? Was this cabin deteriorating quicker than Azriel had let on? Would it hold on through the night?

You turned your head to the side to assess the damage just as the windows pulled together again. The latch clicking into place.

Squinting your eyes, you managed to spot two slithering shadows gliding along the windowsill.

"Azriel," his name came out suspiciously. Did he send his shadows to open the windows?

He hummed, the vibration of his chest reverberating through your own. "You're always so antsy around me," he admitted, "getting nervous when I start to get comfortable and changing the subject."

What else did you expect from the spymaster of the night court? Obviously he would be able to read a person's behavior.

"I didn't want to scare you off." Came your timid reply.

Azriel huffed a laugh. "Why would I be scared of the attention of a beautiful female?"

A pink flush spread across your cheeks, hidden in the dark of the room. You were never getting over this. Oh, how you wished you had your journal.

"I like you," he continued, "and I know you like me. But this game of cat and mouse has me growing anxious. I would rather like to smile at you without you diverting your eyes."

"I don't think you're scary."

"I know." He said in a cock-sure way.

You scoffed, amused. "For the record, I wasn't escaping because I was scared this time, but because your body runs at two hundred degrees."

"That's why I opened those damn windows." So that the cold would send you rushing back into his arms, you slowly realized.

You were at a loss for words.

"Say something," he asked, an imperceptible plea in his voice.

What were you supposed to say? I think you're beautiful and want to get to know you? You decided to play it safe with, "This is nice." There. That was enough to keep your heart at ease, and not make you sound desperate.

"I like you too," he tightened his hold on you, languidly nosing along your scalp, as if he were smelling you, "And I always want you here."

"In this cabin?"

In the span of two seconds, he had you on your back, limbs trapped under his own. From the scarce lighting of the cloud-covered moon, you could make out the slants and slopes of his face, the soft glimmer in those all-seeing eyes. "In my arms."

In all your day-dreaming, nothing ever compared to hearing him say those words than in real life. When his thumb brushed along your fluttering pulse, and his warm breath fanned against your face.

You swallowed thickly, "Is this a dream?"

His lips met yours, achingly slow, and oh so beautifully.

Once. Twice. He kissed you. The simple action conveying all that words could not. That he truly did like you. That you shouldn't be afraid. That he was falling with you. Falling so so so fast.

author's note: RELEASE ME! guys. i have been trapped in the writer's block hell. i'm home. if there are any mistakes or loopholes, no there aren't. i hope you all love it, pretties. (I haven't forgotten about the beautiful readers who sent me requests🥰)

[inhogf]

an idea dawned on me midday🙏😭 i cant not share this

thanos in his rapper era x reader, fucking in the back of a limo and he snorts a line off your lower back plz help

limo sex ft thanos.

contains · dubcon, fucking in a limo, degradation kink, drug usage (he snorts cocaine off ur back UM.) · a/n: anon this is SO good i couldnt get this off my mind on god 👅

thanos was embarrassed, infuriated even— getting rejected by some bitch at ‘club pentagon’ in front of all his friends wasn't like him, no, he was thanos. so he does what anyone within a right mind would do. he slips a pill in your drink and pulls you away to his limo right as your steps get inconsistent. a punishment, he'd call it.

“look at your pussy drooling all over my cock. filthy bitch.” thanos rasps between sloppy impels of his hips against your ass. you’re spluttering a series of pathetic moans, spit gathering on your chin. you were such a fucking mess on his dick; cunt clasping onto him every time he attempted to slipped out. you couldn't lie to yourself, really— you were enjoying this, evident in the way you'd voluntarily push your ass back. you're fucked.

your senses were oh so overwhelmed, muffled music from the club wavering through your ears, before a high-pitched ring drowned out your hearing. you cry, knuckles white as you held the head-rest of the car seat for leverage, grip so tight you might shatter it. you wince when you bash your puffy, swollen lips on the expensive leather of the seat; thanks to thanos jolting you forward. he groans, blunt nails smothered by cakey rainbow polish nipping at your sweaty skin before pulling away.

“fuck, i need a hit.”

with trembling hands, thanos tore open a small plastic bag from his pocket, the fine white powder inside glistening under the dim light of the car as he pinched a generous amount, carefully tapping it onto the surface of your lower back before you grabbed his wrist and spoke up. “what are you doing-?”

he pinched your thigh and shushed you like you were some fucking baby. so humiliating. he reached for an old razor blade, and dragged it through the powder, shaping it into a thin, straight line— his breath quickening as he admired his work, the anticipation tightening his chest before he snorted it up with a rolled bill. it seemed like he got even fucking harder inside of your cunt— if that was even possible.

thanos, higher than the fucking sky right now, would start recording you, the sweat on your skin glistening from the flash. he grabbed your wrists, slamming your ass back on his dick capturing the perfect bounce on his phone. he'd post it to his cf story, captioning it as ’this is what happens when u don't give thanos what he wants 🙏’ and would put on a track he produced behind it. he almost felt bad. almost.

“y’know, it's really your fuckin' fault, stupid slut..” he kept trying to justify his actions— slurring through his gritted teeth, words nothing short of hissed murmers under his breath. he was already so fucking high and his thrusts kept getting sloppier & sloppier. “maybe if you hadn't embarrassed me in front of all my homies.”

thanos had fucked hundreds of girls, yes— yet he has never been able to be taken so well. he can't physically control himself at the gummy, velvety addiction that weeps between your legs, each thrust coating his veiny shaft in a new layer of your sweet and pearly release. so tight for him.

his brows would raise as you stopped restraining your moans— enjoying your sweet submission, your uncoordinated, needy movements when you press your hips back, meeting his hefty dick stretching your thin, velvety walls. he could tell you were giving in. he wasn't enjoying it as much now.

the rough expanse of his palm smothered whatever it is all over your back, and he slips himself from you entirely before driving himself back in again. your head spins, chin smacking the leather of the seat because of his animalistic rutting; ropes of thick cum spurting on your lower back as he pulls out last second— your own cream spilling out from your cunt. you're overstimulated, whimpering and babbling streams of inaudible nothings; his softening cock laying snug on top of your ass cheeks.

“i could snap your neck right now, whore.” your eyes widen as his big hands slither up to your throat and grip it.

“but i won't, so give me your number.”

cr @inhogf dont steal

[diminuel]

The "something sexy" Rocks mentioned wearing under the Impel Down rescue mission outfit.

Someone has played too many JRPGs in her formative years. I had to make Rocks look like a hidden boss you run into unexpectedly when your level is still far too low.

Never worry, it gets even sexier once the transformation is complete:

(I imagine Rocks uses pretty much the same magic/ technology to summon his Captain's coat as Germa developed for their raid suits.)

[lover-from-the-past]

“I’ll Crawl Home to Her.”

Sir Crocodile x reader

Sir Crocodile’s name was shrouded in infamy after his encounter with Strawhat in Alabasta. Leading Baroque Works to overthrow a kingdom and siphoning the water to destabilize the government, all while publicly being a hero? It was scandalous; especially because he was a Warlord, appointed by the World Government to be one of the “good” pirates. His defeat landed him in Impel Down, stripped of his title and power, left to rot below the sea.

But he was a clever man. He allied with Luffy, escaping the World Government after the mess that was the fight at Marineford.

Now, in the dead of night, he returns to the home he saw in his dreams during those long months chained away.

The home was small, cozy in a way he was unfamiliar with. It sat on the beach of a small island, one he hid away long ago.

Chimes rang out as he approached the door, ducking inside the doorway quietly. The house was dark, and even in his time away, nothing seemed to change; your favorite mug still sat on the wooden table, books piled up beside it. Your shoes still sat neatly at the door, your coat and umbrella beside them.

He made his way down the familiar hallway, his eyes catching on the pictures lining the walls. Inside gilded frames was your shining face, glowing and proud, with his own face beside yours. His lips curled as he exhaled smoke, tendrils of it curling around the images.

Quietly, he opened the door at the end of the hall, stepping inside the room and taking in the scene. The windows behind the bed were open, the soft linen curtains floating through the balmy beach air. In the bed, you were curled around a pillow, the sheets tangled around you. Slowly stepping towards the bed, he put out his cigar in the ash tray you had gifted him long ago. He put a knee down on the soft mattress, planting his hand down and crawling over the expanse of the bed to wrap you in his arms, careful not to snag you with his hook.

Taking your still sleeping head in his hand, he pressed a kiss to your temple, inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume from the day before.

Looking at your face, he was reminded how lovely you were. How much he had missed you.

As your eyes fluttered open, something in his chest settled as he met the eyes that had haunted his dreams when he was imprisoned in Impel Down.

“You’re back,” He heard you say, your voice sleep heavy. As your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, he pressed a kiss to the skin of your neck.

“I knew you’d come,” You told him, stroking his hair, “The moment I heard you were free, I knew you would come back home to me.”

He would, and he did. During the long days in Impel Down, he thought of little more than you; what you might be doing, what you might be reading, what you might say when he returned. And sometimes, when it was late into the night, he pondered what he might do to you, once he escaped.

And now, here he was, back in your arms. He could plot in the morning, devising all the ways in which he would get his revenge on those who imprisoned him, create plans to gain back his wealth and power, strategize new alliances and partnerships. But for tonight, he would hold you in his arms and finally rest.

a/n: this is probably very ooc but it was self indulgent because I love him a lot so hopefully others enjoyed it too! Thanks for reading!!

Also I saw live action Chopper and he’s SO CUTEEEE!! My only wish was they made him chunkier like in the anime but I’m so happy with his design!! I’m also SO happy to see the next season bc everyone on there is so fine omg

Also I might start writing for AOT… I’m undecided so lmk if that’s smth you might want ok bye

[sakura-rose12]

I wonder what would happen if Doflamingo ever managed to escape from Impel Down? Would Cora and Law start bickering over who'd protect who if Doffy tracked them down/tried to find them and kill them? I can imagine Law bristling like a cat the second he finds out, fully prepared to kill the man for real this time because his rage Cannot Be Contained(tm) while Cora is grabbing him by the coat collar and is going "absolutely NOT, he tore off your ARM last time. It's my turn to punch him if he tries anything"/ "The last time you said that, he shot you, Cora-san!" But then Doflamingo DOES try to do something to Law and Cora goes full Protect Mode

Of course they fight over who protects who!

If Doffy ever showed up it would be them just taking turns protecting the other with such determination that they flow so well in a fight

[xoxochb]

request + a/n at the bottom

cw: (overly?) rough sex, brief swearing, overstimulation, piv, and erm I think that’s it? mdni (or do, that’s none of my business)

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

he’s trying to kill you, that’s what. there had been a celebratory event for percy jackson— what he did this time was beyond your knowing. one day he kills the minotaur the next he’s universally known and wanted by the fbi, in a similar way he’s praised at camp for every tiny thing he does. new quest, celebration, came back alive from a quest, celebration, presumed dead but came back alive, celebration, just existed, a damn celebration! the kid’s not even eighteen and he’s the talk of camp! it’s ludicrous, yes, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, what other people cared about was out of your capacity of understanding, he’s just a kid.

to your boyfriend, though, percy wasn’t ‘just a kid’ he was the bane of his existence. when you think about it— why was it fair that percy got claimed to quickly and is actually acknowledged by his godly parent while luke can’t do the same? that’s unfair. today, during another celebration for the great perseus jackson, you witnessed luke’s anger first hand, through fireworks and a party bonfire, you were pulled away by him in the middle of your s’more making— which he claimed was “helping add onto the hype for that dumb kid.”

with a pout spread over your lips, you’re dragged to an empty cabin eleven, his bed more specifically. you had no control coming after this, none when your clothes were pulled off, and none when he, without warning, shoved his cock inside of you (quite violently may you add, may the gods save you from the pain you’re going to feel in the morning). nonetheless, you’re not going to interfere with his mood, you’ll let him fuck you senseless until you fall into a coma. and that’s what you’re sure he’s trying to do!

because between his thumb maniacally rubbing over your clit and with each vicious thrust you feel yourself growing progressively more lightheaded, your hands tightly fisting the sheets and a plethora of tears streaming down your perfectly pink cheeks. you hear luke murmur incoherent babbles, something you assume is all hatred towards the son of poseidon, because you take notice that he gets rougher each time.

“luke, I- please… mhm I- can’t-” what the fuck are you saying? you sound like a clueless child attempting to say their first words. your chest heaves with great force, seemingly to the same pattern of the cacophonous fireworks outside that don’t seem to ever stop— gods, why fireworks of everything? you’re getting a fucking migraine at this point, and with every deafening moan escaping your maroon lips your head seems to pound harder. this is how you’re going to die for sure.

practically sobbing, you grab at luke’s dark curls in an attempt to pull him out from you, or just to do anything that involves stopping your current state of overstimulation. it’s too much, fine at first, but now it’s too much. panting, you repeat his name, pleading, praying. he doesn’t seem to listen at all, continuing to thrust inside you to impel your moans to jump to the highest octave possible, and you’re half sure that by now they’re louder than the bursting fireworks outside.

“you gonna come for me, angel? not done until you come for me…”

you could scream. shit— you’re practically already moaning at the same decibel level of a blood curling scream (you’re so not going to be able to talk tomorrow). “fuck, please- ah- luke, I-”

nonetheless, you feel your velvety walls tightening as your orgasm washes over you, your thick wetness coating his throbbing cock. he prolongs this for a full minute you were sure would’ve killed you, until he pulled out of you, he’s met suddenly with your deathly glare.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?”

༯ “So you had this post where u said 'louder than the fireworks' (which later said '(he's fictional)' lol) and i got an idea.. Luke castellan just fucking the shit out of you while everyone is celebrating percy bc he's mad or sum shit idek all i know is that its rough and he's trying to get louder than the fireworks 🤭” hi nonnie, my love, for some reason I was unable to respond to your request?? it only had “delete” and “post” but I love love loved this request so I just copied it on here :)

[everlastingauthor]

⋆.˚ ★— Dating These OP Characters

ᯓ★ Author's Note: Please do not re-upload my work or feed it to ai, if you wish to translate my work and upload please get my permission first and credit me that's all I ask for, please remember to stay hydrated, take your vitamins and medicine, and remember you are loved.

ᯓ★ Tags: Romance, Angst, Comedy, GN Reader, One Piece, & Fluff

ᯓ★ Characters: Crocodile, Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, & Nico Robin

ᯓ★ Request Open: ☑ Yes | No

• He spoils you. Nothing is too good for his desert rose; he'll buy you anything you want, no matter the price. Sometimes he'll take you shopping just so he can see what stores to buy you so that you'll never have to pay for what you want. He doesn't like the idea of you working, why would you work if he can give you everything?

• He's a busy man, but he'll do his best to make time for you, so he won't tolerate his agents asking stupid questions or doing anything that will make a meeting long or late; he's also not a fan of his agents trying to talk or get to know you. He believes that no one in his business should talking with you, and if they try to even touch or flirt with you, let's just say that agent won't be at the next meeting.

• He thinks you look cute in his coat when you two go on walks. Mostly so Crocodile can clear his head, especially after a stressful day. The two of you will hold hands and walk somewhere quiet. When it gets cold he'll drape his large coat over you. He thinks that you look so cute in the coat, he won't say it but now even on walks he'll put his coat on you, it's like letting those around him know you are taken.

• He's surprised that when he escaped the Impel prison, that you waited for him. You didn't date, have flings, or do anything romantic or sexual with anyone. You truly waited for him to track you down. He almost wanted to cry when you told him that you would wait for him even in old age you would, now the first thing he was going to buy you was a diamond ring.

• He met you through Shanks, you were a medic of the Redhead pirates. Mihawk slowly courted you like a gentleman and when you agreed to go out with him, he was delighted. He loves to get you flowers and take you out to dinner every Monday and Saturday. He'll take you to the finest restaurants, he won't take you anywhere cheap especially if the fine is cheap.

• He won't admit it, but he likes it when you watch him train; you'll sit there either reading or doing your hobby while he's training. He was surprised when you asked him to teach you how to use a sword; you explained that you were only good with a gun and hand-to-hand combat, but you wanted to learn how to use a sword. He was slightly worried since he didn't want to be rough on you. But he saw the determination in your eyes so he agreed to train you, maybe he found it a bit romantic.

• He's a gentle lover, you'll know when Mihawk is in the mood because he'll come up behind you. He'll place his hands on your hips and kiss your shoulder and up to your neck. He'll wait till he knows you are also in the mood. If you are hoping for Mihawk to be a rough lover, he can be if you ask him permission just be prepared not to walk for some time.

• Mihawk loves peace and quiet, but when Zoro or Perona are around it doesn't feel right. He thinks of the two as his children so he has no issue with them being there but something still doesn't feel right, maybe he misses waking up to you in his bed whenever you spent the night, helping him with farming, watching him scold Perona and Zoro, and maybe complimenting his cooking. After a lot of thinking and a certain dream, he made a choice. Next time you come to visit he was going to greet you with a diamond ring.

• Buggy was surprised when you agreed to date him; you were Crocodile's PA (Personal Assistant). Buggy would always hear Crocodile warn you about being around Buggy. But you didn't care what your boss said. You loved seeing Buggy perform, he loved hearing your giggles at his jokes or clapping whenever he performed. So when you asked him out, he thought it was a joke. He even laughed, but he saw you were serious; he let out a proud laugh because you loved him and because Crocodile now owed him 20 thousand berries.

• He'll always make you laugh especially when you are sad or mad at him. Whenever you are crying, Buggy will perform or make jokes to see you laugh; he'll bring you delicious food from his circus or even a stuffed prize. If you are mad at him, he'll detach his hands and tickle you while making jokes, he'll tell you how cute you look when you laugh. He'll stop tickling you when you threaten to bite his hands.

• He tries to convince you to be his personal assistant to ditch Crocodile, but you tell him that you can't since Crocodile kinda saved your life and gave you an extremely well-paying job. Buggy pouted, understood, he just hates that you have to spend most of your time at Crocodile's beck and call. But whenever you got your vacation days you would always spend your time with Buggy and making him feel like the bombastic clown he is.

• He loves when you are part of his performances, to join in on the entertainment. He'll even paint your face a bit to give it that lovely clown look, Buggy taught you how to throw knives and try tight rope walking. Just seeing you want to be part of his performances always smiling and laughing, he wanted to see that for the rest of his life. So let's just say the next thing Buggy plans to steal is a diamond ring.

• You love your boyfriend even though he could be an idiot sometimes. But what did you expect when you agreed to date him and join his crew. Shanks knew you loved to travel, so he, of course, took you with him. He's quite protective of you and wanted to make sure that even part of his crew that you knew how to defend yourself so he taught you how to use a gun and sword. He'll sometimes tease you and call you a sexy bandit. He'll even make lewd jokes when he challenges you to a sword fight saying whoever wins gets to be on top tonight, maybe he's joking or maybe he's not.

• If you don't drink, that's completely fine, and Shanks respects that. But if you do drink, you are his favorite person to drink with. Sometimes, you and him will sneak away to cuddle and drink; whenever Shanks is drunk, he'll bury his face in your chest and mutter about how lovely you are. Sometimes he'll tell you that one day he's going to marry you and have a family with you.

• Rest in peace to the dirtbag who dares touch you or wounds you. You always used to seeing Shanks goofy grin but whenever someone touches you or injuries you in front of Shanks. It's like if the sky got dark, there's a chill in the air, and there's no mercy. Just Shanks cold face and eyes as he pulls out his sword and makes sure that the person who touches you learns their lesson and if they injury you well they'll never injury you or nothing person again.

• Marriage, it was the first thing Shanks thought when he opened up that chest of gold and saw a diamond ring sitting there among the other golden things. He didn't care for the items in the chest, he let his men have it as he swiped up the diamond ring. He thought of many ways of how he'll propose to you and hope that you'll say yes.

• Robin was scared when she started to date you, the fear of losing you or her past catching up with her and putting you in danger. She even tried to break up with you, but you put your foot down and let Robin know that you aren't going anywhere. That you would fight for your guys' relationship. This made her tear up and made her realize that she would also fight for your guys' relationship, that no matter what she would fight by your side and for this relationship.

• Bedroom activities are interesting especially with Robin's devil fruit abilities. She'll make sure that you are well taken care of and make sure you are comfortable. She won't judge you for what you like in the bedroom, and even do her research beforehand so she can get a better understanding of your kinks.

• Robin will chuckle whenever she sees you getting jealous, for example, whenever Sanji is calling Robin his sweet Robin or flirting with her. She can see how you huff and get jealous. Whenever you try to walk over to deck Sanji in his nose, Robin will give you a kiss on the cheek and let you know that no one is going to take her away from you. But Robin has also had her jealous moments whenever someone flirts with you, Robin will purposely use her devil fruit abilities to mess with the person.

• When looking in a store with Chopper, Robin was looking at the jewelry. She was mostly looking at the rings all the different gems and sizes, Chopper noticed this and asked her does she plan on buying one, Robin smile and looked at the little reindeer and told him that she does but he needed to keep a secret since she plans on popping the question during dinner when she takes you out to eat.

⋆.˚ ★— One Piece Master List: [ Comment To Be Added ]

[opbackgrounds]

Magellan preferring enclosed spaces is basically just another excuse for a toilet joke, but it's interesting to think about him being in the prison so long that he can't handle open spaces

Why is the Impel Down logo for all the fireproof coats at crotch level?

[theshipsong]

the stars have all gone | iii

crocodile x f!reader, explicit oral (f receiving) and penetrative sex, can be skipped if you watch for the large ♂. part three of a series. mentions of past basil hawkins x reader. selfship-coded; reader is an astrologer, hawkins' former navigator, and a different race from both of them. post-timeskip canon au, 5.4k words.

You left the cafe through the front at your insistence, to assure the owner and few afternoon customers that the former Warlord was leaving the premises. Daz Bones leaned against the wall, and Crocodile only had to nod for the man to leave, waving a nonchalant hand.

"Your associate?" you asked.

"One of them," he said, which was more information than he strictly had to share, considering the secrecy you knew shrouded Baroque Works. Somehow you didn't think his old subordinate was who he meant, though you came up blank on who he might consider more of an equal. As if hearing your thoughts, Crocodile added, "We're meeting later. After I finish here."

You felt a pang of disappointment that he was leaving again, but quickly realized his idea of unfinished business was you, collecting you, and you bit your lip and focused on matching his strides that he already shortened to accommodate you. "I can't exactly host you or anything. I know a good sandwich stand, though."

"I'm a pirate," he reminded you.

"And how many pirates dine and dress like you?" You batted at the lapel of his fur coat.

"You could, too," he said.

"I'm not a pirate."

He ignored that. "Anything is better than Impel Down."

You stopped. "Okay, first: you were there for a few months, at most. Second: this stand gets their rolls from us at bakery. It's more than a notch above prison food."

Crocodile looked down at you, glancing, oddly, at your boot-clad feet, and offered his left arm. "You walk slow."

"I'm not eight feet tall," you grumbled as you reached up to clutch his forearm. It wouldn't be at a height that made sense for you without him squatting.

"Even six feet would make a difference," he groused, looking at your hand by his hook.

"Is that your normal height limit?"

"My partner was six two."

Partner. The upper ranks of Baroque Works operated in pairs, you learned when their mugshots were published two years ago. But what did he just say? It's poor form to sleep with subordinates. Did a partner count? His counterpart was the only one at large, now a bona fide pirate. Did he—?

You made yourself relax your hold on him. You had no business being possessive over someone you meant to turn down.

You led him downtown, sometimes pointing out landmarks, and noticed people who'd normally give you a wave or a polite smile didn't meet your gaze because of your company. Damn. He'd done awful things, but so had you. So did anyone whose business wasn't splashed across the World Economic Journal. Crocodile and Daz were known quantities around here, so you wondered at the chillier reception until you passed a newsstand, all Reverie coverage. His gaze also drifted that way.

"The dissolution doesn't affect you, does it?"

"Not directly."

Vague.

The pair of you had something of a walking dinner through public parks on the way to your flat, the silhouette of the hotel where you apparently slept together receding in the skyline. It felt a little ridiculous to explain to a pirate that your boardinghouse was quite conservative, strictly for unmarried women who had to be employed or enrolled in training of some sort, so you hoped he'd be out of there by midnight once you gently but firmly declined his offer and sent him on his way after a nightcap of bottom-shelf whiskey. You only had a small dining table and a writing desk, and he elected to sit at the latter while you hunted down your tumblers.

"You drink brown liquor but can't handle wine?"

"Wine's like juice," you defended. Especially port. You didn't forget his sweet tooth.

But he wasn't looking your way anymore, instead peering at the topmost page on your desk. "May I?"

"Go ahead."

He held it to the lamplight, and you recognized it as your own progressed chart, done more for practice than predicting your future.

"You write prettily," he said. "Prettier than you speak."

"Thank you," you said with an eyeroll. You sat at the edge of your bed behind him and moved to set his tumbler on the coaster by your ephemerides, and Crocodile grabbed the glass from your hand before you could land, his broad fingertips dwarfing yours. He took a sip and made a face at the taste, and you giggled, earning a warning glare.

He scratched at the back of his head with the side of his hook, the ice cubes in his glass clinking as he gestured. "These almost look like Poneglyphs."

"You've seen one?"

"In Alabasta."

You tilted your head. "They predate the Void Century, so they're probably simpler than Poneglyphs, or components of their characters."

"Have you seen one?"

"In the paper, so not any detail. The Big Mom Pirates found it." You chewed your lip, debating whether to continue. "We know the astronomers who named the seven visible planets, but not the outer ones. Symbols for Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto just appeared 800 years ago."

"Dangerous talk," he said.

With a dangerous man. Your last captain wasn't even interested in the history of his own tools. The first deck he used was yours, discarded once you realized tarot lacked the structure that kept astrology interesting even in your skepticism, and you'd never seen him use the second, less showy deck you gave him.

"Well, I imagine you won't sell me out. I think pointing out a gaping epistemological hole doesn't make treason."

"And you're not a pirate?"

"Every scientist and scholar should be one, by that logic."

Crocodile picked up the page again. "Pluto..."

"Uh, it's—" You scooted to the edge of your bed and grabbed a pen to point out the ♇. "It looks like that—kind of stupid, just a P and an L—but you also see—" You stood and snatched it from his hand, bending over the desk to draw a ⯔ and a ⯓ next to it. "Depends on where you are."

To your further surprise, he laughed. "Oh, Nico Robin. You liar."

You froze. "What?"

"I'm not stupid," Crocodile said, not really to you, it seemed. "I looked at that stone the whole time she 'translated' it. That was the very first character." He pointed at the third symbol.

"That one's really not widely used," you said, though you were quite lost. "It's regional to some parts of the Grand Line, maybe."

"Or it was suppressed," he challenged, weirdly animated. "Because it's the name of an ancient weapon."

"Hmm." There was more to Alabasta than he claimed. "If you think I can read at an archaeologist's level, I'll have to disappoint you," you said primly, trying not to feel hurt.

You moved to sit back down on your bed, and almost yelped when he pulled you into his lap instead, his left arm going around your waist and his hand gripping your hip. "Witch," he muttered near your temple, "I'm content with your skills."

"Well, I can't do witchcraft..." you said faintly. "And we haven't sailed together." What alarmed you more than his forwardness was that you wanted to melt backwards, to feel his body caging yours. "Crocodile..." you started.

"Sir."

"Is this really a good idea?"

"Hmm?" he grunted, faux-innocent. "I wanted to hear more about these glyphs."

"From here?"

He studied your profile slyly, his right elbow resting on your desk. "It's an absurdly small room. How else am I supposed to see?"

"This is hardly navigation, sir."

"But you use them for navigation."

"Yes, but my notes are my business."

"Would you sail with an observatory?" He nodded at your telescope by the window. You knew he didn't make empty promises; it was a very real offer.

"The crow's nest is fine."

"But this is quite an office you have here."

You had a library of ephemerides, all difficult to source since they came from small presses if not from Mary Geoise. Besides a bulky globe useful only for coordinates, you had various instruments: an abacus, a drafting compass, sextants and telescopes of different size, your old single-dial log pose, and a conventional magnetic compass, both useless in the New World. On the Grudge Dolph, you had some privacy as the only woman, but that meant Hawkins had to come to your bedroom with navigation questions, which was always treacherous. Not unlike Crocodile, one foot from your bed now.

"Beggars can't be choosers," you sniffed.

"And where is this ship of yours now?"

"Not mine," you said too quickly. "And I don't know. We don't keep in touch. Last I heard they formed an alliance." Which you hardly agreed with. "When did you dock here? What's your ship like?"

"It's a loan. Once I repossess some funds, I'm hiring a shipwright." You winced. Poor bastard, whoever it was owed him. "What day is it... Been here two weeks."

"Seems a little long, for you." He only lingered in one place for days at time.

His arm around your waist grew heavier. "You're quite elusive."

No. You were the only reason he was here? You assumed you were just a detour from tasks at hand.

"Seriously?" you said softly.

"I asked." It felt like he spoke to the crown of your head. "At the restaurant, the hotel. You could've left a number with the front desk. The damn host wouldn't tell me who was there that night..." The same confidentiality that benefited him, both of you. "...and I only had your first name. If Daz hadn't overheard one of your clients, I would have hunted your Magician."

Hunted. Crocodiles never did so without reason, your grandmother said when she spun tales of the old country. And it was forbidden to hunt them first.

"I can't serve someone I'm attracted to," you said finally. "And you don't sleep with subordinates."

"It's poor form." His breath whistled across your hair. "So why should I care?" With that, he brushed your hair aside and kissed the back of your neck, pulling a gasp from your lips. "Aren't we pirates?" You shivered, and he kissed the shell of your ear. "Make sure you remember this time," he muttered lowly.

♂

You leaned into his warmth, the solid wall of his chest making you feel strangely safe even with a sharp hook holding you to him. He exhaled through his nose as your ass settled against the growing bulge in his trousers. You turned your head so you could only see his jaw in your periphery, how tall he was. "Make it memorable, then."

"Minx."

You smiled as you reached up to pull his face down to yours by his nape. He tasted like whiskey and tobacco and heat, and you surprised yourself how fearlessly you butted your tongue into his mouth all while grinding backwards in his lap. His right hand found the inside of your knee and spread your legs open, his warm palm bunching your silk skirt up.

You whined as cold air hit your damp panties, which he quickly amended by rubbing at you over the thin fabric. "Ah—!"

"This wet, bird?" he breathed by the side of your head. "Just from a little conversation..."

"You too, old man," you challenged with a wiggle, to which he swatted at the inside of your thigh. "Ow!"

He promptly soothed it with a flat palm. "That's not what you call me."

"Sir," you drew out, singsong and annoying, and his eyes narrowed. The next thing you knew, he tossed you onto your bed, and the sheer size of him knocked the breath from your lungs as he rolled your panties and holster down your legs, the knife your last captain gave you clattering to the floor as Crocodile yanked you to the edge of the mattress.

"Quiet," he ordered lowly, sinking to his knees.

He laid his hook flat on the inside of your right thigh, and you shivered at the cold metal and how carefully and heavily it rested with the sharp tip closer to your anterior, away from the soft skin he massaged and kissed on your opposite leg at as he groped his way up, up, finally pressing his face to your slick folds and breathing deep.

"Sir—!"

"...hide from me." You caught the end of his murmur into the juncture of your thigh, and one of his thick fingers dipped into your entrance just as he licked at your clit, earning a throaty moan from you you hardly recognized. You only grew more slippery with his attentions, and the sound of not just your arousal but his spit mixing with it, licking and kissing around his own finger, was lewd and humiliating as your body adjusted, welcomed him back. Because it was familiar, the breadth of him between your legs, the spices and tobacco on his skin, the weight of his hook splaying your leg open to the side. One limb free, you traced your left sole down his back, feeling his shoulder blade move under the skin there, and it stimulated nerves you forgot you had. "Oh, sir—" Your voice came out breathy, and you futilely covered your mouth with your hand to suppress your noises, your other hand tangling in his hair.

He hissed at the sting, but didn't warn you off, instead lapping more insistently. Curious, you tugged with more intention, and he groaned before lifting his head. "Do that again."

You obliged, grinning up at the ceiling at the quiet whimper he made against you. Yes, sir.

But after that, he scissored a second finger into you, and the stretch burned sweetly, not painfully. You petted at his scalp to let him know you were okay, and he rolled your clit with his tongue with a satisfied hum. Smug bastard, you would've said out loud if you didn't feel the beginnings of an orgasm at how patiently and ruthlessly he prepared you. Your grip on his roots tightened along with your walls around his digits, and he kissed at your lips, pulling away some to watch his fingers moving, the stones of his rings glinting in the candlelight.

"Sir, can I please—?"

"So polite," he said dryly, like his face didn't glisten with your shared mess. "Yes, bird, come."

Like it was an order (it was), your body tumbled over the edge before you realized. Your would have flailed wildly if it weren't for his holding you down, his sticky fingers landing on the knee thrown over his shoulder. He watched you fall apart almost like he couldn't do anything else, and you moved to cover your face with your hands at his scrutiny when he snarled, "Don't hide from me again."

"Wasn't hiding..." you protested, and you didn't know if you meant now or the weeks he spent looking for you.

You managed to choke your surprised squeal to a whisper when he kept going. He coaxed his middle and ring fingers back in gently with a would-be chaste kiss to your puffy, throbbing clit. "Didn't get to see," he grumbled against your skin, and took up that slow, torturous pace again.

He's insane, you thought. Not for how he held you down and devoured you like prey, but how methodical this was, like he both knew you and just how much loosening you needed to take him. You only felt him through his clothes when he pulled you into his lap earlier, and you swallowed, unable to fathom him bare. You came a second time with the addition of his index finger and, to your embarrassment, your asshole fluttering against his tongue, and you felt him smirk at how your hips jerked with enough force to jostle him.

"Please, no more, sir, I want—"

"Not yet."

"It's too—" Tears were trickling out your yes. "S'too much, I don't need—"

"Yes you do." He pressed his hook into your leg, and somehow you knew it was more of a caress, how occupied his hand was now with massaging you open.

"Aren't you—don't you—?" There was no way he was doing this unbothered.

"This is for both of us," he said simply, kissing your knee. "Be patient."

Shakily, you nodded, and didn't know if you pushed his head down or simply followed him. You grabbed around for a pillow to muffle yourself, making sure to pull it away when you were close so he could see, whatever he meant by that. You weren't sure how many orgasms he'd pulled from you when he joined you on the bed at last, finally loosening his cravat and losing some layers. You watched him undress, hazy in your current state, and would have whistled at the sight. Noticing your look, he raised one cocky eyebrow.

"Not fair," you mumbled.

"What isn't, bird?" That pet name again as he crawled beside you, testing the limits of the double bed.

"You can't look like that and be one of the strongest men alive."

Crocodile laughed, truly laughed at that, and it was a lovely, rich resonance against your chest that surely traveled down the hall if your animal whining didn't. "Flattery?"

"You asked." And you meant it. He wasn't as trim as pirates your age who walked around with their shirts open—if anything he was softer than in his wanted posters, all the fine food and wine evident—but still so clearly strong, how he manipulated your body with both ease and care. And there was the thick, long cock that only made sense for his stature, proud and hard, that you couldn't believe ever fit inside you.

"Well," he said lowly, pulling you over him. "Who said you can be intelligent and charming all at once?" He looked ready to take it back at your snort of laughter. "You know I don't go out of way like this for anyone."

You had nothing to say to that, so you cast off your rumpled dress off and pretended not to notice his heated perusal. "Um," you started. "How did we—?"

He easily wrapped his left arm around you and propped himself up in your pillows, leaving you straddling his abdomen. His large hand skimmed down to your hip, his hook resting above your ass as he smirked up at you.

"Oh."

With a man of more average height, his face would be much closer, but you were simultaneously far from his lips and his lap. Feeling lost, you elected to scoot up his torso and plant a kiss to his jaw, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His brow quirked in amusement, but you could tell he was surprised at the gesture.

"Help me?" you asked shyly.

"Demanding thing." But he obligingly held your hips, guiding you down his body. "Slow." An order, like he was telling a pet to chew their food. Now sat splayed across his thighs, you reached for him, and lord. He was heavy in your hand, more thick than long, and you swore you felt him twitch as your fingertips traced the velvet of his skin.

"Pretty," you said unthinkingly.

You gave his cock a few experimental pumps, and he grunted. "I thought you couldn't wait anymore." His voice was tight.

"You don't get to be the only tease."

"Fuck."

"Language. Sir." Despite your threat, you lifted yourself slightly, and guided him where you were desperate for contact. You only meant to gather some lubrication by rubbing your pussy along his length, but his weighty tip knocking against your clit had you falling over his body. "Oh shit," you panted, your cheek planted on his sternum. He grunted at the friction. This position made you less self-conscious, somehow, your breasts squishing against his hard chest, your hands planted on either side of him, and you rolled, spreading your lips around his girth.

"Witch," he hissed.

"Not a—witch—" you corrected, like you weren't rocking against him, feeling his precum trickle between the two of you. "I'm a sci—scientist, it's just—observation—"

"Shut up," he growled, and you only picked up the pace. His hook pushed you more firmly against him, and you moaned at the increased pressure. "This really enough, bird? Just humping like—"

"Shut up," you whined, chasing something you couldn't see. At that, he moved his hand from your hip to your front, reaching for his cock like he could somehow take back control, but you sat yourself more upright and batted him away, widening your stance and finally, finally sinking onto him.

He grunted out a slow exhale watching you, and you bit your lip, the discomfort present even with his diligence. "Take your time," he murmured, the base of his hook rubbing at your back. You just sat there for a moment, still keeping some weight to your knees because if you took any more of his considerable length you'd surely hurt yourself. Your breath was coming short and shallow, and to your surprise, his large, jeweled hand came up to hold your chin and jaw. "That's it, bird." His thumb collected tears you didn't realize were falling. "Do you need—?"

"Nnnhmm." Whatever the hell you whined was in the negative, not even knowing what he was going to say. To stop? Never. A break? No. Help? Maybe. All you knew was you were probably ruined for other men for a long, long time after this, how perfectly overwhelming he was in every way. The smell of his sweat, the infernal pitch of his laugh, the taste of his skin, and the cruel size of him all threatened to make you fall like you never had, and oh no. You intended to send him off, didn't you? But how could you now that you'd found your bearings, with the perfect drag of his cock through you, just how much you spread for him?

His eyes were somehow darker as he looked up at you, wandering from what you were sure was an ugly, pinched expression on your face to the bounce of your tits, and his hand moved from your hip to thumb your clit lazily, not particularly helping but teasing. Frustrated, you pitched forward slightly to chase that pressure, and the dark chuckle at your desperation died in his throat when you purposely squeezed around him. "God, woman," he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, sir?" You sounded delirious in your own ears, your hands finding some purchase on his broad chest, and you teased lightly across one of his nipples.

"You weren't so..." He grunted at another evil little squeeze you were quite proud of. "...maddening last time."

"How was I?" You slowed to a grind.

"Not quite pliant. Didn't seem drunk to me. Still—you—" How was he so sure who that was? "—but you didn't go out of your way to torture me."

"Torture? Hah—" He started fucking up into you shallowly, and you stuttered. "F-from an ex-con?"

"I don't exaggerate," he said lowly as he sat up, pulling you with him with his hook on your back and his hand in your hair, his movements becoming sharper, deeper at this angle. Your eyes widened when he prodded at your lips with his fingers, which you happily slurped into your mouth. Just two of them were thick, stretching your lips obscenely, and you wondered if you'd ever suck his cock like this. No, this is it. No more. You needed this gag, him pressing down by your soft palate as he took over, bouncing your tired body in his lap like a doll while your moans blended into sobs. You were aware your spit must be pooling in his palm, trickling past his wrist, so you latched onto his forearm with both your hands as if to spare him, but more to feel even closer, closer than this.

"Look at me."

You were so full of him that the thought of seeing him was almost too much, but you complied as he slowed to a halt. Blinking back tears, you saw some strands of his hair escaped its styling to fall across his brow, which was crinkled with exertion and restraint, and you could have fallen in love with the concern and hunger in his eyes. You pulled his fingers from your mouth and kissed at the tips, meeting his gaze all the while.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

"Wan' more." You sounded like and idiot, but he smiled down at you indulgently.

"Do you?"

You nodded.

"Are you close?"

"Uh-huh."

"Come with me."

He started moving again, cradling your head in his hand and pulling you tight to his front with his arm, but in your state of bliss, you answered a different question, a few beats too late. "Yes, sir."

"Hmm?"

"I'll—shit—I’ll c-come to sea with you." You splayed your hands on his back and met his strokes, riding in earnest.

He didn't so much as pause. "I knew you would."

"How?" Wildly, you thought your progression had a 9th house midheaven, maybe he could read it, maybe—

"Because who else is there to fuck you like this, hmm?"

Oh.

"Shut up!" Your voice had a wobbly whine to it the closer you got. "'M not becoming a pirate again for sex."

"Really? Tell—" He grunted, and your ego had never been bigger, hearing how you affected him in turn. "Tell yourself that—in my cabin—every—night—" He punctuated it lewdly, a sharper thrust at each word, but you squealed into his pectoral at how deep he reached.

"Fuck, sir, shit. There—"

"Here, bird?" Repeating the motion, strain in his voice.

"Yes, yes—ooh, thank you—sir—I'm—"

You saw white behind your eyes as you went limp in the crook of his arm, and you dimly registered his hand gripping your jaw, him murmuring somewhere close to your forehead, and god, if only he could kiss you.

"So pretty like this," he was saying, and you nipped at his fingers, sucking his thumb into your mouth, and he chuckled at that. "Let me—"

"Mhmhm!" You released him. "Yes, sir, you too."

He really gripped you, pressing the cuff of his hook to your right hip, his fingers digging into your ass, as he chased his own pleasure, threatening to reignite yours, too. You were just along for the ride, falling over him, your arms looped under his and your hands on his shoulder blades as he moved in and out of you, slow and deep. You were almost sleepy, silly enough to try to tease him. "Do I feel good, sir?" you cooed, your cheek on his chest.

"Yes, witch," he bit out.

"You said 'every night'? I'm not sure you can keep that up." You knew he was glaring down at you without looking. "You're a busy man, is all, sir."

You felt his dick twitch inside you, and you wondered if it was the teasing or the title that got to him, but his breathing became shallower, and a low whine sounded in the back of his throat, only legible to you with your ear on his ribcage. His movements became a little more frantic, his hand creeping between the two of you to pull out with a 'pop', and you felt warm liquid land on your back as he pumped his heavy cock of its last drops.

"Woman..." he said lowly as you rolled off of him, taking care not to get his cum on your bedding. "I think you're evil."

"And what does that mean, really?" You padded off to your pitiful ensuite to clean yourself up, only for him to follow moment later.

"This is tiny," Crocodile said in distaste, looking from the top of your shower curtain to the sink.

"Even by my standards," you conceded.

♂

Considering where his mouth had been, it wasn't wild to use a bathroom concurrently, and really about the intimacy that shipmates would share. Still, Crocodile wiped your back and your inner thighs carefully with a damp washcloth, his large fingers ghosting over where he'd gripped you, with you sat on the counter so he wouldn't have to crouch. "Sorry," he grunted.

"It's okay," you said, looking over your shoulder at the pair of you in the mirror. You'd always wondered how couples your sizes worked, and now you had an answer. Couples. You shook your head. "I like it." He hadn't held you that tightly the first night, since you didn't wake with any marks, and none developed the following days. "Did I really ride you already?"

"No," he said simply.

"What?"

He shrugged, dragging the comb he borrowed from you through his hair. "Just wanted to see you like that."

You hopped down and glared at him. "So you babied me back then." And it can't have been as satisfying as tonight.

"I didn't know what you could handle," he defended.

You scoffed and turned on your heel, back to the studio's bedroom area. It was a damn mess, your silk dress strewn over your desk and chair and possibly torn, yet his clothes were folded neatly in a pile. How he managed that bewildered you. You whipped the sheets up to straighten them and replaced a quilt, and became slightly wistful at the thought of leaving this place.

Crocodile emerged from the bathroom to your woolgathering. "What is it, bird?"

"I'm probably getting kicked out tomorrow."

"I told you to quiet down."

"Not just that. Men aren't allowed in here after sundown."

He looked around himself, blinking. "Is this a convent?"

"No, Crocodile. This is what it's like being a woman who isn't a noble. You've worked with some before, clearly."

"Sleeping with them is new."

Your heart fluttered, and you internally slapped that part of you that wanted him all to yourself. "Seriously? Nico Robin's new wanted poster is—"

"She was practically a teenager when we met," he said.

"Oh." You were going to say gorgeous. "We're about the same age."

"You're younger."

"Have a type?"

You could tell he didn't enjoy this line of questioning, but he played along. "Dark haired, scholarly... you could wear more heels, I suppose."

"You've only seen me in heels."

"Taller ones."

You plopped onto your bed, not quite freshly made but innocent-looking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "'Bird'."

Then you heard his footsteps, and his sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's a, uh, legend in my homeland." Oh. He was embarrassed. "There's supposedly a bird species that lives with crocodiles. Helps clean their teeth."

"You called me a toothpick."

He laid back beside you, and it was utterly boyish how he covered his eyes with his hook in embarrassment. "Can we not?"

Smiling, you laid on your side to enjoy the sight of him, and you luckily had some reprieve. "You know, there's crocodiles where I'm from. Here in the New World."

"How do you know if you've never been?"

"My grandparents call politicians buwaya and marines baboy."

"Sounds like wani."

"Crocodiles and pigs," you translated.

"This is awful pillow talk." He mirrored your position, making you eye-to-eye for the first time, and his irises were so pale you could almost see your own reflection in them.

"Aren't you a politician, Desert King?"

He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "No one's been quite so... opinionated about it."

"About?"

"Utopia."

"I've hardly said anything."

"Today. Let's see if you still feel the same way as before."

You had no idea what you said then, but you knew where your beliefs aligned, so, "Well, it sounds impossible, for one. If my understanding of Baroque Works is correct, they all thought of themselves as early investors, no?" He grunted affirmatively. "So show me a document or something. What your utopia is. Is it a monarchy? Are you really trying to be king? What's the future look like without you? Does that matter to you? Is the military purely defensive, or do you plan to conquer?"

"God, woman. Does your brain never stop?"

"Only during really, really good sex."

"During? So I need to keep you happy to have any peace."

"Sounds like marriage." He glanced over your way, and whatever you read in his expression terrified you a little. What does he think of— "I mean it. If you really want me involved, let me know what it is, buwaya."

"And if you fucked a Marine, would you call them a pig in bed, too?"

"They might like it too much."

Crocodile laughed at that, and drew you into his chest, and you thought you were in real danger of feeling at home there.

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

5 TIMES BIGGER 📏 NNOITRA GILGA X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 23: SIZE KINK

🐙 Requested by: Anonymous. Nnoitra x f! reader. day 23, please? he is huge, size kink is perfect for him 🥴 thank you for the oportunity! ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. do not expect a romantic fic with this beast. size kink indeed. kinda humiliation. mouth fuck. fingering. strong language. you know Nnoitra. 🐙 wc: 968 // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

Index and middle finger buried in your mouth, cheeks pressed with violence and perhaps hateful intent. His big smile next to you, tongue tasting the flavor of your cheek’s skin. 

“You came all down here to see me, didn’t you? this is what you wanted, mh?” he asks, grunting.  “Yeh-f, Nnoitra-sama” you -try- to answer. It is pretty difficult with two huge fingers inside your mouth as well as the rest of his equally huge hand holding your face. 

He laughs, hysterically, like a devil.  He is pleased to have you there, trained, coming back for his pleasure. 

Nnoitra is not the kind of man -if he is a man at all- to care about your own safety, he is only there to satisfy his hunger… and your whines and pleads are the perfect seasoning of it. 

White clothes ripped, the third espada uniform you need to replace. Aizen-sama will be mad at you… 

“Come here” he growls, grabbing you from your hair, pulling up as he tangles your locks around his hand and wrists. It gets snarled around his bracelets; it gets you lifted from the floor at his height; Nnoitra is more than 2 meters tall… that’s almost twice your height. 

He is huge in comparison with you, despite being thin. He is a brute, and your insides are about to suffer the same destructive faith you are here for once again… his sex is also huge, hard, merciless. 

“Let me see if you are ready or not” he speaks into your ear, but he does not whisper… he is not meant to be seducing, at all. 

The fingers of his free hand -as big as any normal man’s sex- scrutinize your entrance; he is well aware of his size, and as much as a brute as he can be, Nnoitra is not trying to kill you but just fuck you. 

“Still too tight…. I’d love to fuck you exactly like this, but I wouldn’t stand your crying…” he continues, discovering you are not dilated enough to receive him inside. So, he decides to act in consequence.

His index slides inside you, opening its way for the middle one. So far it feels delicious, but you know your walls will have to bear stretching more and more. 

In and out they go, violently, pumping in and out, making you gush every type of liquid known to mankind. The dunes and stillness of Hueco Mundo getting dampened by the very first time with stuff that’s not blood. 

The silence of the eternal night of the forgotten, of the heartless, gets interrupted by loud moaning as the next few fingers get in and try hard to open your femininity, to make space for his impelling intrusion. 

Nnoitra’s sex, impatient, aches to penetrate, to tear and rend your body… and you, as much as your eyes are filled with tears of pleasure and a little bit of pain, are exactly as impatient as he is. 

“Nnoitra-sama, fu-fuck me…” you plead, both because you know he loves to hear it and because you indeed want it really bad. 

“Mgh… see how much of a whore you are? You dirty bitch, you already want my dick inside you? Fine, don’t cry then…” he smirks, scoffing at you for begging, for being “his bitch”. 

He lets your hair free, and you fall. Your knees carve into the white sand, your eyes shine with the bright silver of that half-moon, your tears as well. 

Ready, get ready. It will show on your belly. It will feel like your organs get destroyed. It will feel like your mind goes blank and your consciousness is gone for some time. 

“Open that mouth” he commands, first, he wants it coated with your saliva. He wants your face to show you need oxygen before even fucking you. 

You turn to face him, sticking your tongue out, watching him crunching a little to reach for your mouth. A big smirk on his face, his hand on the back of your head and his dick finally pushed in and up to your throat. 

You gag, you tear up, your hands grab fistfuls of sand and your toes curl. 

One, two, three thrusts. More and more gags, to the point of being about to throw up. Oh, but he wouldn’t let you, you are not allowed to be “that disgusting”. 

Once he is satisfied, and his shaft is indeed shiny, drippy and covered in both your saliva and his precum, it is time to fuck you as much as he wishes. 

“Stand-up” he orders -lifts you up from your hair-. The fifth espada turns you around and lifts you up by your legs. With his arms underneath the back of your thighs, you are suspended over his hard sex and then impaled by it. 

Your legs become spread, your back against his chest, your left arm reaches back for his nape to secure yourself as he begins pumping in and out of you. 

Your belly shows the bulge of his huge hardness whenever he is deep inside, going deeper every time as your walls get more and more stretched out. 

You feel your insides full, as if the tip of his sex was hitting your other organs and the thickness was taking up all of the space around. 

“Ugh… bitch, you are still too tight for me… but you are so good, come on keep milking my dick- come on, baby….” He moans, biting after your shoulder, licking your neck with his 5 tattoo on it. 

You indeed lose consciousness from time to time, you aren’t sure your body should be used this way… but it is too good not to go back, each, and every single time. His seed will heal what’s been ripped right after, don’t worry…

Taglist of amazing babes: @awas-posts @missfuriosa @theneighbourhoodferret @cyberdazetragedy @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919

[kirloskarcorrocoat]

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[godsholyhat]

Excerpt from a Hans/Henry fic set immediately after the end of KCD2. Posting it here because my usual beta reader is away and I felt like sharing with anyone who'd like to read.

The ache in his heart that began the day they parted bitterly in Troskowitz had never gone away entirely, a strange heaviness that eased only in Hans’ presence. For so long he had not understood the feeling, mistaking it at first for anger or resentment over how badly they had parted, or later, for the affection that any man felt for his closest friend. There was a rightness to standing at Hans’ side, a joy in fighting beside him that could not easily be explained. It was good and proper, Henry told himself, that he should feel such affection towards Capon: surely this sense of devotion was what any true-hearted retainer ought to feel towards his just lord who was at once both master and friend. It was surely loyalty and devotion that impelled him to heights of bravery he scarcely knew he possessed: to toil at labour and physic so that he might save Capon from the gallows; to stand between his injured friend and the bandit who had ambushed von Bergow’s company of soldiers so that his friend might live; to risk his life infiltrating Maleshov to free his lord from captivity. And perhaps, had they never faced the terrors of a siege together inside Suchdol, devotion and duty was all Henry might have ever understood of his affection for Capon, for even at that final farewell, facing almost certain death, he could not bring himself to kiss his friend, though he wished to, so sorely that he thought his heart might break for want of it. But his bravery failed him.

It was Hans who saved him. Hans, who took his life in his hands and kissed Henry so that he might understand that something greater than the loyalty between a lord and his man existed between them. Even there, Henry’s courage had faltered, and for a moment his sense was overruled by fear and confusion. But he had sworn to never run away again: not from a battle, not from death. He would not run from this either.

In the days since, Henry often found himself thinking on that night. He held the memory close to his heart, for it gave him courage when his nerve began to fray in those terrible days before the reinforcements set out to Suchdol and the nightmares of returning to find Hans and Katherine and Godwin dead amidst rubble became so vivid he could scarcely shut his eyes. On those sleepless nights, he would lie in his bed and remember those precious hours. Easy, Henry, easy, Hans had murmured to him as Henry tried in vain to rid himself of his clothes, hands shaking too badly to manage the buttons and ties. Let me take care of that, Hans had said, his clever fingers making short work of Henry’s coat, shirt, and hose. His own clothing soon followed and then they were chest to chest, skin to skin, and Henry could have wept for the easing of a desire so long denied.

[kotonoba]

For An Eternity (Croc/F!Reader)

Summary: You think about the days leading up to Crocodile's arrest and your foolishness for being so gullible.

a/n: I'm not sure this is exactly what you wanted, but this is how I understood the prompt. In my defense, this is one of the few songs I can use for multiple characters, & I think it suits Crocodile very well if we're talking about a reader insert story.

Warning(s): fluff, slightly ooc, vague depiction of canon story, soft angst.

Song Inspo.

Posted on AO3

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“You are a bad person, you and you alone,” you uttered softly to yourself, sitting in an empty house, in the empty dinner room, a table full of all his favorite food, the only thing missing was him. Memories of you and him sitting around the dinner table, talking and laughing when you were oblivious of the world around you. He told you tales of his good deeds and the people he had fought to gain such a reputation; you were none the wiser, gullible to his every word. Love was blind; even when your friends told you he was a bad person, you chose to ignore them. 

Love is blind. You were none the wiser when the Marines arrived on the island, snooping around as you sang praises of your boyfriend. He is strong, he is the savior, and he chose you; it made you happy when you were but a fool in his hands. He was a warlord, and you thought nothing of it when he went to do his duty to capture pirates who tried to bring harm to the land. You were none the wiser, even when he stopped coming home, only for you to find out he was not the man he portrayed himself to be. The Desert King, Sir Crocodile, with a heavy bounty for his head, had been arrested and placed in Impel Down. 

Reflecting on it, you were truly a fool for his antics; you should have known. Your stomach churned from the feeling of foolishness. You knew it was wrong, you knew he played with your feelings, but you wanted to believe there was some truth to his words when he told you, “I love you for an eternity.” 

You became a joke on the island, ostracized by your loved ones when you whispered that you still loved him because he was nice to you. You set up a stand for yourself outside of the village that housed your memories, a hut for yourself, and a place to sell refreshments. You kept up with the news, worried that he would get the bad end of the stick. As news came of a certain pirate breaking through Impel Down to rescue his brother, your eyes lit up as you recognized your beloved’s voice. To see that there wasn’t much change in him, put your heart at ease. 

You don’t expect him to find you, part of you had accepted the fact that you might have been a fling to him. But that part of you never learned to let go, as you still made a table full of food, praying he’d see you, even if it’s one last time. Your eyes fluttered closed as the desert wind blew through the cracks of your hut. 

A familiar scent washed over you, the smell of a rich cigar bombarded your senses, and your cold nights suddenly met with warmth as you stirred in your sleep. You heard someone speak, a familiar husk to his tone as strong arms cradled you protectively in his embrace. You stir awake, and the first thing you lock eyes with is his cognac-hued eyes that speak volumes to you. His coat wrapped protectively around you as he traveled by sand away from the island that ostracized you for loving him. He glanced down with a smile as he held you closer to his touch-starved body. You weren’t thinking; you never found the need to feel when you were with him. You pulled him into a kiss that stopped him in his tracks as he arrived at a large ship. 

The familiar scent of cigars bombarded you, but what mattered was him. A moment too long, he pulled away, a forlorn look replaced by unspoken gentleness in his husky voice: “I’m home.” 

Your eyes widened, and before you could blink, tears streamed down your face. You covered your mouth, unable to hide the widening smile. “Welcome home.” Crocodile never asked; he just knew you were waiting for him. If this were a dream, you’re happy to live in it for all of eternity, even as the ship arrived on a foreign land with other pirates who were rough around the edges, they knew better than to touch you. 

As you settled into the new establishment, a semblance of normalcy returned as Crocodile always returned to your side for dinner, but now, more often than not. Alabasta, during his reign, did not rain, but it was a different story when you’re at sea at Mother Nature’s mercy. 

The pitter patter of rain slowly echoing through the ship, you just knew he was going to return soon from the dormancy of his office with the other co-founder. As he enters his shared room with you, soaked from head to toe from the heavy rain, he rakes his hand through his hair, throwing aside his damp cigar that no longer burned from the rainwater. You laugh as you waltz to his side, assisting him into a drier outfit, “What are you laughing about, woman?” 

“I love rainy days now,” you chirped. Crocodile’s brows raised questioningly in your direction as he sat down. You picked out a drink for him, one that resembled his sun-kissed eyes. “I love them because there’s nothing to do,” you hummed as he poured himself a glass and took a sip from it. 

His hooked limb pulled you into his lap as he thought over your words; a gentle, warm glow that only you get to witness from him emerged beneath the cunning demeanor he wore, “Is that so?” He chased your lips gently as you gleefully met his with a passionate kiss. You giggled into the kiss, warmth spreading through your voice and to your lover, “Utopia isn’t utopia without you in it.” 

You felt your face heat up at his words, from his touch as he pulled you closer. You rest your head on his chest. “Even if the demon comes, I’ll love you for an eternity,” you whisper, earning a chuckle from him. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

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[diminuel]

One Piece AU Comics Masterpost

Some of my AUs are somewhat interwoven as they borrow headcanons from each other. I'm doing my best to sort them into their respective AUs.

They're mostly Dragon/Crocodile and Crocodad comics. Since this post is getting long, there's now a read more!

Stinky Child AU

A canon divergent AU where Dragon and Crocodile decided to raise Luffy in Windmill Village while still being a revolutionary leader and a warlord. They adopt Ace and Sabo.

Crocodile meets Ace // Crocodile is taking Ace home // Stinky Child gets a bath (Illustration) // Ace gets a new outfit // Ace meets Baby Luffy // Dragon meets Ace // Ace's first words // Baby Luffy has never been fed before // (little time skip) // Sabo interacting with Crocodile // Dragon has nightmares // Dragon gets Crocodile a new hand // Swooning over Criminals // The benefit of Logia powers ~ Big Timeskip~ // Logue Town // Impel Down // Luffy and Crocodile reunite on Amazon Lily // Mother's Day // After Marineford // Ace and Crocodile are reunited on Momoiro Island // Post Timeskip // Long Distance Relationship // Mistakes were made // Momoiro Island Dress Code // Cross Guild // Cross Guild puts a bounty on Garp

Captain No Brows

A potential first meeting between a young criminal and a marine and their encounters over the years.

First meeting // Unexpected call // Taking care of two orphans //Doffy has questions // Dragon cleaning up messes // Doffy is fantasizing // Dragon leaves the Marines

Potentially set in the same universe: Crocodile meets Portgas D. Rouge // Crocodile takes his shirt off // Unexpected revelations

Surprise Baby

Dragon and Crocodile find themselves with a child and have to figure out what to do. I have not yet decided to which AU this belongs.

Late Realization (Illustration) // Crocodile tells Dragon about the baby // Bit coat hides big secrets

Former Kuja Empress

AU where Crocodile is a Kuja who got ship wrecked and saved by Dragon's small group of revolutionaries. (Crocodile presents female.)

First Meeting and misheard names // Haircut

After the Divorce

Canon compliant AU in which Dragon and Crocodile get back together after the events of Marineford and end up having another baby.

Crocodile's mysterious client // Too late for protection (Illustration) // They're having another baby (Illustration) // Suspicious Coworkers (Illustration) // Luffy finds out he's going to be a big brother // Luffy meets his baby sister // Luffy brings his sister to his ship // Another one

Little Dragon's (Mis) Adventures

Bringing up never to be answered questions: did Garp and Roger have sex (see this comic) and is Dragon maybe Roger's son?

Dragon ends up on Roger's ship // Dragon has no choice but to stay with the Roger Pirates // They get to know Dragon // Pirate Flag // Diverging Priorities // Treasure Chest Baby // Dragon is babysitting Roger's cabin boys // Shanks thinks about his babysitter

Mini Mingo and Grumpy Verse

An AU in which Dragon and Crocodile had more biological kids after Luffy: "Grumpy" (Kite) and "Mini Mingo" (Dulcinea). Mini Mingo is suspiciously blond but it might mean nothing. Grumpy also exists as the fifth baby in the After the Divorce AU.

Second Pregnancy // Dragon helps feed the baby?? // New blonde baby // Kite signs up for the Marines // Sengoku isn't sure about another No Brows recruit // Kite and Luffy meet again after Enies Lobby // Marines shouldn't find Luffy cool // (Timeskip, Kite gets the Iva treatment) // Mini-Mingo is visiting Cross Guild // Mini Mingo has a crisis // Asking Grumpy for advice // Doflamingo has a crisis // Doflamingo does not take hugs well // Kite came home late // Sister dropping from the sky

Misc.

These are stand alone comics that could apply to multiple AU story lines.

Big Parents, Tiny Baby

Luffy's Birth // Tiny thing fitting into Crocodile's big hand

The No Brows Multiverse

Dragon is tired of people telling him he looks just like Garp. // Dragon shaves his eyebrows for his first wanted poster.

Chaotic Family Time (Various family related comics)

Toys for Luffy // Everybody wants to be a girl // The return of Captain No Brows // Sabo feels left out // The kids are meeting Pops // Alabasta Trip + Follow up

AU where Croc learns who Luffy is during Alabasta

The truth // Crocodile tries to get Luffy to go home

Rocks' Era (Various Comics about the Rocks Pirates as well as Rocks being thrown into the future.)

Pregnancy // No Doubts // Achieving Dreams // Short tempered // Big Baby // But tiny to Whitebeard // Baby Crimes

Spaghetti // Learning more about the timeline // Rumours // Facing Whitebeard // Grandpa Mug // Impel Down

What if: Rocks finds out that Shanks is his son

[azuhrasims]

One Piece Sims and CC can be hard to find. If you're not much of a CC creator like me, you scramble to put together similar items to make the Sim you want.

Consider this a Buggy the Clown look book with scrambled together CC and a few personal recolors. Check below for links, and downloads of that infamous skull and cross bones face paint and tucked striped shirt!

Skin Overlay: Gloriana Sims makes a few different really cool anime overlays!

Eyes: by OnePieceSims are here

Hair: Sims 4 Werewolves Pack

Hat: Cavalier hat by StrangeStorytellerSims can be found here

Clown Face Paint (blush): by peachs3ed-sims here

Clown Nose (face paint): by peachs3ed-sims here

Skull and Crossbones with Eye Makeup: By me, Azuhra find it here (Mediafire Link)

Lipstick: MAC cosmetics in game (tagged fem frame, you need to remove Masc frame tag for it to show up in your makeup list)

Neck scarf (necklace, I used the fem frame version): by Dissia is here

Striped Shirt (tucked, comes in multiple swatches, including black and white for those Impel Down vibes): by me, Azuhra. Find it here.

Trousers: by Serenity-cc you can find it here

Striped Socks: by Saruin and you can find them here

Shoes: by Bellasims and you can find them here

Gloves: by monosims and it looks like that .zip file might have tripped and fallen into this folder here

Bonus Round: I know some folks have used the fuzzy jacket from THIS set by Serenity-cc as buggy's coat.

Seriously, if any lovely CC creator makes us real Buggy CC, including that hat, I will be delighted.

I'm not a CC creator and my recolors are not as beautiful as some may be. Its all I have to offer though.

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Thanks to all of the lovely cc creators: @glorianasims, @onepiecesims, @peachs3ed-sims, @dissiasims, @serenity-cc, @saruin, @bellassims, @strangestorytellersims