#cross guild shenanigans

[kamizuya]

In a universe where Doffy joins the Cross Guild…🫣

[kondoram]

heheh... litel clown funy 🤡

[my-roooom]

Not pictured: Mihawk out of frame like 👁️👁️🍷

[empressofmankind]

I had an itch, and it needed scratching.

[wordy-little-witch]

Hiiii thanks for answering my moment-of-weakness-at-2am-ish ask lmao

Sooo u said that u have lots of thoughts abt accidental rizz buggy,, and in p sure that the marines wer the tip of the iceberg... can we pls have more of ur ideas abt it?🥣😳🙏 im brainrotting but its vague scenarios that i cannot put into words aaaa writing is hard

Do u have ideas abt him rizzing the pirate populace? Or him doing circus tricks that are also hot,, like teaching some of his crew some acts while in a hot practice outfit,, like im talking about those tight but stretchy turtle necks and long gloves that almost reaches the shoulders also paired with loose pants but his ass still looks good in it, with them bare leg socks(the ones that show his toes n heel) and him taking his lectures seriously and oblivious to his crew just looking (dis)respectfully and having brain empty,, kinda like nightwing teaching gymnastics to women (i wish dat wer me)

Then croco and mihawk are also lowkey attending the lessons w an excuse

Or maybe abt his followers from the crew making buggy merch like pictures but they took some pics of buggy candid, pics that show more of his calmer side cuz I KNOW he pretty, he just emotes like a muppet lol,, which is then mass produced by his followers and them fanboying/girling over it, which then slowly spreads throughout the grandline n the 4 blues cuz ppl be curious abt who dat pretty blue haired pirate is then be shocked learning that its buggy the loud n flashy guy that could have a calm and soft side,,

and ppl demand more so his followers keep taking pictures of him, while buggy is oblivious to the fact that the pics are being distributed/selling,, then someone took notice of stonks rising that someone being crocodile and is somewhat surprised yet not surprised abt the public wanting more pics and then capitalized on this,, then croco is now making buggy have photoshoots but it gets thirst trappy, and now croco n the others in the set are also thirstier than the alabasta desert lollll, buggy still remains oblivious thinking that doing this for morale lolol

so now buggy has amassed a huge following by accident and the public gets even more thirstier because of the thirst trap photos,, and shanks be on his knees and jelly that so many ppl are thirsting after his buggy, and then ransacked a ship carrying the buggy pics n merch and had added it to his buggy room, which is a room full of buggy merch n pics lmao,, the red force r exasperated at first but then took a look at the pictures and they kinda understand their captain now lolll

And buggy still remains oblivious,, maybe until he decides to sail to an island and instead of ppl being kind of wary yet accepting due to his charisma,, he'll be bombarded with ppl carrying his (maybe thirsty) photos/posters asking for gis autograph,, and he be so shocked n confused but hes still a performer at heart so he fakes smiles thanks the crowd of ppl and signs the posters,,, Then suddenly he goes back to crossguild n asks them about it and is pissed at the fact that he couldve made more money in his knowledge lololol

dats all i have for now thank u for reading dis long ass ask :D

YES omfg just all the yes

Some general headcanons here on my end, but Buggy is STRONG okay, both bc of his circus skills, knife fighting and devil fruit. He just isn't Full Six Pack Washboard Abs. He's got a little curve. A layer of cuddly softness. HEALTHY muscle.

So he absolutely has a multi-faceted fan club of pirates, civilians, marines, alike. Some love the soft prettiness. Some like the fierce candid shots. Some are absolutely FERAL over casual competence.

Buggy regularly has cross training classes, I bet. He's a bit of a jack of all trades, and so he's got some skill in all sorts of topics that are useful. Piracy and circus performing are a lot more alike than a lot of people think, after all. He arranges classes and stuff to make sure everyone has some sort of transferable skill.

It's not HIS fault that he has his hair up for practicality, a sleeveless leotard and high waited capris. He's dressed for class, that's all.

If he does catch anyone staring, he bristles, taking it the wrong way.

Later on down the line, all of the sudden realizations that people are making MONEY, off of pictures from HIM hit him like a sack of bricks, and he rushes to his sassy besties, just "Gal, Vida. Am I pretty??? Like seriously, AM i????"

A: "No." / G: "Yes."

B: "................... a h."

The candid shots become photoshoots, become thirst traps, become eventual pin ups after Mihawk and Crocodile get Inspired. Buggy has the range to play the masc and femme with ease, and he's surprisingly photogenic.

Bonus: an entire line of Buggy Body Pillows with extra padding in the butt. ((Shanks owns several))

[reginaldqueribundus]

me and my friends’ very exclusive One Piece theory

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,100+, 1,700+, 1,700+, 1,400+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, swearing, masturbation, dub con (Using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, feelings, all individual 'x reader' drabbles, same reader!insert different outcome, chop-chop fruit shenanigans, angst, romance, smut, kissing, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Dreaming of You Masterlist Here, Please read the warnings. I am having a lot of fun with this series, but this one got away with me. They're only meant to be silly little drabbles between larger fics. Sorry for the lengthy read! Enjoy playing the part of a marine spy for Cross-Guild!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @lostfirefly

Hips pressed against one another, huffing pants and gasps were collected in one another's lips and skin as he pinned your back against the wooden wall behind the burgundy curtains of the tent door. Legs collected over his hips, he held your left thigh in his right hand, his forearm caging you by slotting up between your right shoulder and the cool surface. 

Lusting and passionate, he drew intentional thrusts that were slow and deliberate enough to brush at your g-spot and mold your pussy to the contours of his thick cock. He slacked his jaw, his eyes swimming with emotion as he ground his pelvis against your clit with every heavy thrust. 

Your voice whimpered for him, stifling your mewls of pleasure by biting down into his shoulder and crying as he bullied his cock into your needy pussy. He groaned with you, rocking his cock in slow, languid thrusts up into your body. 

“Please,” you begged him, desperately clawing at his back and peppering his shoulders, neck and jaw with enthusiastic kisses, “We don't have long until the others come back.” He growled at your words, offering you a particularly mean thrust forward and a cruel bite against your neck. 

“A-Aah!” you gasped in shock, biting your lip and digging your nails into his shoulders harder. He sheathed his entire length greedily into you, his shaft twitching in bliss the moment he felt his blunt tip brush your cervix. His hips stapled yours against the wall he was bullying you against. 

“I don't care if they hear,” he barked against your neck, tracing his tongue over the bruise forming from his bite, “I don't care if they see.” He pulled back his hips only slightly before immediately propelling himself forward and forging his body against yours like soldering iron to a hot blade. 

“Let them hear,” he admitted, huffing against your neck as he rocked his hips into yours, removing his hand from hooking around your thigh to grip your neck and bring your gaze to meet his. “Let them see.” He plastered your parted lips with his own, desperate with tongue and teeth as he released your neck to hold your thigh once more. 

“I want them to hear,” he groaned into your mouth, rolling your cheek with his chin and kissing down your jaw, “I want them to see.” He trailed his needy kisses down your neck as he doubled his effort and sped up his rhythmic thrusting. 

As your core sucked him in each time he retracted, his mind was lost to him and was filled with primal desire. He needed them to hear your sweet moans and whimpers. He needed them to see who was making you feel this good. He needed you to know who you belonged to. 

“Say you're mine,” he growled, his lips mouthing up your neck, over your jaw and to your cheeks, “Say it.” He sped up faster, his cock hammering into you with every cruel, frenzied thrust. His hair was sticking to the dewy sheen of sweat against his forehead and neck, his brows furrowed as he glared into your eyes with an intensity he had never felt in life prior. 

“Say you're mine,” he barked at you, commanding you to fulfill his desires as his cock twitched within you. Your walls beckoned him closer, the thump of your ecstasy wringing his cock as he pistoned it within you had him desperately whimper and whine your name. 

“P-Please say you're mine,” he implored you in desperation, his fingers clutching your thigh in a heaping fistful as he continued to chase your mutual highs, “Tell me. Tell me your mine, and I'll be your slave.” He begged, kissing your lips and panting through his thrusts, “I'll be yours. Is that what you want?”

He chased your mutual high faster, rocking and pummeling into you with his heels digging into the floor. His belt buckle jingled atop his pants pooling at his ankles, your own pants discarded beneath you long ago. Leaning down, he took your peaked nipple into his mouth and rolled it over with his tongue.

A string of saliva attached from his lips to the puckered bud when he pulled away, huffing and panting at the lustful display of your breathing hitching. Body bouncing in sultry ripples with each thrust, he groaned as he felt his abdomen tighten with a familiar call of his imminent release. 

“Yes,” you whispered his name suddenly, clutching his neck and carding your hands through his hair, “Yes, I want that. I want you-...” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” 

He growled his pleasure at hearing your words into your lips, tongue lapping with yours and his hair brushing against your forehead. You hastily tugged him away from your lips by gripping the scruff of his neck and pulling hard. 

“W-What? Why are you-?” He began, his words halted by the intensity of your gaze. Your lips were parted, face flushed from a higher rise of hazy temperature, and skin forming lustful bruises and mapping his treasure with his marking kisses. 

“Make me yours,” you gasped at him, panting as your lust eclipsed your eyes, “Cum in me. I want it. Need it.” His eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack as his hips staggered their vicious thrusting deep inside you. 

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna-...” His abdomen tightened further, his eyes glowing black with luminescent lust as his seed spilled inside you with hot spurts, “I'm cumming-... hhah-... I-I’m cumming…f-f-fuck-...” Rope after rope of translucent cum released within your walls, the rhythm of your own ecstasy milking him with squeezing grasps on his throbbing cock. 

You called his name, throwing your head back as he trailed his eyes over your skin with adoration within his bliss. He couldn't get enough, reaching forward to collect your lips beneath his in a scorching mess of lips, tongue and teeth. With a desperate kiss to mold him against you completely, he forged an unspoken covenant to ensure you knew you were his and he was yours. 

Opening his eyes, the image of your blissed out afterglow faded from his vision. All that he was met with was the ornate ceiling in his bedroom, his cock twitching through the final waves of untouched pleasure. 

“No,” he growled, removing his duvet with his right hand and glancing at the lustful dance his swollen cock twitched with. A last spurt of cum spilled from the glossy slit and he immediately thrust the ruined blanket on top of his stomach to shield it from his sight. 

“Fuck.”

Sir Crocodile 

He balled his right fist, slamming it into the mattress beside his hip with a rumbling growl in his chest. Inhaling deeply, holding it for a few seconds, and exhaling slowly had him assess all that occurred to him with his night vision moments ago.

“Please say you’re mine. Say you’re mine and I’ll be your slave,” his own voice echoed in his mind, “I’ll fall to my knees and worship you in all ways. I’ll treat you like the deity I know you to be, showering you in praise and praying at your altar. Please.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered with half-hooded lessons, “I’ll only ever be yours, Sir Crocodile. Only yours.” He snapped his eyes awake, clenching his jaw impossibly tight and drawing his brows down in fury.

“I begged?” he snarled, reaching for a cigar and his flint-lock lighter, “I begged to claim you as mine?” He clicked his tongue before biting down on his cigar, lighting the end with a small flame and sucking in a sour lungful of smoke, “Utterly ridiculous.” 

Pulling the duvet away from his lap, he growled at the sticky ooze pooling at his abdomen before squaring his shoulders and walking to the adjoining ensuite in his master bedroom. The Cross-Guild tent did not have many luxuries, but he refused to go without simple pleasures while working with the disgusting clown. 

A bath was one such pleasure Sir Crocodile would not live without.

Running the water, he dropped each foot into the tub and sighed out at the contact of the freshwater rising to his thighs. The heat and steam eradicated his shame from his abdomen without much effort, melting it down and washing it away beneath the water. Groaning, he looked to his absent left hand and gazed down at the scarred stump. 

“We don’t have long until the others come back,” he heard your voice echo within his mind, drawing himself back to the dream and causing him to grimace in annoyance. He circled his palm and fingertips over his left forearm and molded the flesh within a firm grip. 

The pains on his phantom limb had returned, his mind racing and attempting to draw up distractions by any means necessary. Your midnight illusion was simply the latest commodity to preoccupy his attention with lustful desires, is how he rationalized such a shameful intrusion. 

He was a fourty-six year old man, not some prepubescent teenager so consumed with the need to fuck that their minds dreamed it into an untouched and sticky reality. The pain intensified, his teeth clamping in a rough hiss as the illusionary throb of his hand caused him to shake his arm from his grip. 

This was going to be a long and tiring day.

At the meeting, he was being short and harsh with anyone and everyone to cause him displeasure. His teeth snapped barks, his chest rumbling his fury and his hair was beginning to become disheveled. The clown was aggravating, and the swordsman’s silence was not as refreshing as it was under usual circumstances.  

His right hand only ever left his left forearm for the chance to draw up a cigar, yet the sour smoke did very little to soothe his pain, and his hand only seemed to make the intensity of the throbbing worse. As Mihawk and Buggy stood to leave the room, he remained behind and he finally hissed out a lengthy growl behind his clenched teeth at the pain. 

There was not a sound in the room, a slight ringing in his ears as the pain reached his head and dizzied his mind. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, he had no context for a gentle touch on his hand over his forearm until he snapped his purple eyes up to meet with yours. 

“Allow me, Sir Crocodile,” your smile illuminated your face, gently suggesting with your touch to remove his right hand from his left forearm. He attempted to fight the urge to bark at you, snap at you and give in to his desire to have you touch him. 

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Marine?” he growled, eyes narrowing and lips curling up into a deep snarl, “Who gave you the right to touch me-?”

“Oh, shut up. You've been horrendous today and I refuse to have this continue to be cause for your disgusting attitude,” you bit back, your own lips pulling back to reveal your snarl, “Let go of your arm and let me help you, damn it.” He immediately dropped his arm in favor of gripping your neck in a tight choke, bringing your face closer to his. 

“You dare to give me orders, Marine?” he roared at you, your teeth gritting back the pain and glaring into his eyes. “I was a former warlord, little spy. Now I hunt and kill your kind for a living.” As Sir Crocodile monologued, he remained ignorant of your hands working to find the clamps of his prosthetic hook and releasing the golden cover from his arm. 

“And now you touch me, spy? Offering me what, exactly?” he continued monologuing as you removed his hook and rolled up his embroidered sleeve. The pain in his forearm was so intense he could barely feel any relief of tension come from releasing his limb from the confines of his hook. “How are you going to help-... A-ah!” He gasped, his brows tugging up in the center of his forehead as he glared at you. 

Immediately releasing your neck, he looked down at his bare forearm within both of your hands and bit back a whimper. In his own grip, his scarred forearm felt hot and throbbing beneath his cooler temperature. In your warmer hands, his arm felt encased in an encumbering embrace like hot stones sizzling on a damp surface. 

Your thumbs traced the contours of his muscles, dipping between his bones and rolling his muscle between your fingers. The heel of your palm added a tight pressure to his ache, his breath coming out in rough pants the longer you held him in a tight grip. His eyes softened, his scowl loosening from anger to pain. 

Hissing and panting, an uncharacteristic whimper fell from his lips as you silently focussed on working the flesh within your skilled grip. Circling your thumbs and contracting your hands, you instructed him with calming and soothing words. 

“Deep breaths now,” you whispered in a slow and intentional hum, “In when I squeeze, and out when I release.” He nodded his head, feeling the soft roll of your hands over his skin. As you tightened his grip, his chest expanded with a lengthy inhale and exhaled as you withdrew. 

Repeating that motion, he felt the tension in his mind begin to release him from his illusions. Focussing on your movements as your voice soothed him with each direction, he didn’t expect his emotions to overcome him at such kindness. Your hard contractions over his arm eased up, your fingertips tracing the scars on the vacant nub and causing his flesh to tingle beneath it. 

“Better, sir?” halting your soft motions, you gently placed your hand on his forearm and held faint pressure over his skin. Reopening his eyes, he felt tangible relief wash its way over his face. Gazing into your eyes, you held nothing but empathy and gentleness in your twin orbs. He leaned down over your face, bringing contact between your two foreheads and offering you the slightest of smiles. 

“Why would you do that?” he whispered in an uncharacteristic soft voice, “Touch me like that? Offer me such kindness after all that’s occurred between us?” He raised his right hand and cupped the back of your head in a firm grip to hold you against him. 

“You didn’t kill me the moment I stepped into the red tent,” you smiled warmly at him, “Nor did you kill me any day thereafter.” Giving his arm another gentle squeeze, you glanced down at his missing limb and offered him a melancholy smile. He growled at your confession, searching your eyes for a further explanation. You huffed out a sigh, smiling further with a soft twitch up your cheeks. 

“I used to do this for my friend back at the marine base,” you offered him a glimpse at your history with your explanation, “Did it all the way up until the day she died. Said something about my hands feeling warm against her skin, different to her own temperature. Soothing.”

He chuckled at that, nodding against your head and closing his eyes shut in momentary bliss. That was why you felt so good on his skin, your skilled motions causing him aid and relief. You have done this before, and were offering it freely to him. 

“Oh?” he asked, his smile tugging at his cheeks and elevating the scar over his face, “And did she manage to say what she did without you by her side to aid her?” You laughed at him, breaking away your contact from his forehead and scrunching up your nose playfully. 

“I was always by her side, sir,” you confessed to him, nodding as you spoke, “She and I were inseparable, even in cabin quarters.” He nodded in understanding, looking down to his limb and back up to your eyes. 

“Well, if that’s the only solution for the pain I’m encountering,” he uttered, his lips curling into a wide smirk, “I would see you gather your personal effects and move into my cabin beside the tent, immediately.” You laughed at him, rising from his side and beginning to leave the meeting room. 

“I hardly think that would be appropriate. Don’t you agree, sir?” you question him, collecting your bag from the circular table in the center of the room. As you moved to leave the tent, a strong forearm snaked around your chest and grasped your shoulder, tugging you firmly into a broad chest. 

“Wasn’t a suggestion, Marine,” he whispered into your ear, the smooth rumble of his voice shooting tingles up your spine and causing you to gasp. “You’re mine now. Hear me?” He grazed his lips over your cheek and down your jaw in a slow motion. 

“Mine.”

Buggy

“Oh, what the fuck?” his nasally voice huffed, his makeup free face flushing with a hefty sprinkle of dark blush, “You’re fucking kidding me.” He reached down to his cock and fisted it in a pistoning motion. 

“Had to be you, didn't it?” he cursed your name in a pouty snarl, “The fucking spy.” He swirled his cock in his palm, growling at it before he simply detached it with his balls and brought it up to his face. He frowned in a deep scowl, drawing up his heckles as he began chastising his cock. 

“C’mon, man! How could you do this to me?” He growled at his cherry-red knob, choking it in his fist, “You think this is fucking funny? You think I want to see ‘em like this?” He drew up his other hand and slapped his knob, his pelvis wincing in response. 

“Out of bounds,” he berated his cock, “The spy is out of bounds. You know the spy is out of bounds.” He pinched his knob, choking it and only making his pleasure heighten. “N-Nnngh-... Not for thinking about, not for trying to fuck.” 

He whimpered, his priorly ruined orgasm still gluing his duvet to his stomach. He growled, hocking a wad of spit behind his lips. He spat on his cock in an attempt to degrade himself further, only leading to lubricating his ministrations and causing him to throw his cerulean colored hair back into his plush pillows in bliss. 

“Hhah-... The spy is not for you, you fucking idiot,” he gulped his confirmation, his cock thrusting itself in his fist beside his head as he frowned at it, “Think about something else,” he closed his eyes, meeting the thrusts of his cock with his hand as he tried to think about anyone else he could sheathe himself in. 

“Buggy, I-I’m gonna c-cum-,” he heard your voice whimper at him, his cock twitching in his hand beside his face, “Buggy, please can I cum?” He shook his head, attempting to picture anything else. Faceless breasts bouncing, ripples of an ass jiggling, parted lips panting and huffing with eyes scrunched shut-... Your voice calling his name with adoration pouring from your lips like honey. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, shaking his head and attempting to go back to the earlier images. He only pictured your hair, your skin, your perfume, and your lips behind his eyes. Those lips used to spell secrets, split in a perfect ‘O’ as he pictured you slicking his cock up in your needy cunt with your erupting ecstacy milking him of his heaping load. 

“Fuck! No, no, no, no, n-oooh!” He threw his cock away from his face to not shoot himself in the eye with his release. It spattered the wall in a secondary wave of sticky cum like a grenade exploding on impact. “Nnnngh-... F-Fuck. Fu-uck-... C-cumming-.” His abdomen contracted as he rode the remaining waves of his orgasm untouched and unstimulated. 

Ropes of guilt shot out of his small slit and coated the wall and floor in a sticky pile of pearlescent cum. He groaned your name, huffing and panting as his hips bucked up in an attempt to stimulate his detached cock. 

“N-... No…” he whimpered, bringing his palm up to his face and clapping it over his lips. “Not the spy. I can't-... I can't have the damn spy. They're a bloody marine, you fucking idiot,” he degraded himself further, rising from his bed and wiping his abdomen of the solidifying globs of sticky cum with his duvet. 

He reached his cock, staring at it as it looked like a pathetic, slobbering drunk as it lay in a pool of its own drool. He clicked his tongue at it, picking it up and dusting it off before reattaching it to his pelvis. Readjusting his balls, he found his red jumpsuit and messily thrust it over his body in one swell motion. Instead of throwing his arms through the sleeves, he tied the material around his waist and offered to remain shirtless. 

“Not the spy,” he whispered to himself as he exited his ornate living quarters at the Cross-Guild base. Making his way to the kitchen, he was halted by a soft hum reverberating around the room. 

A familiar somber tune painted the air with its melody, his eyes shutting and the corner of his mouth ticking up as he listened to the lyrics. Stepping into the room, he attempted to mask his nerves with his signature mischief written on his face. 

As he drew his eyes over your features, your back facing away and staring out the window by the sink, he couldn't help but have the mask of protection slip away. Your lips whispered the lyrics, your heart carried the tune. You were not in your marine uniform, nor were you adorning the attire Sir Crocodile purchased for your protection. 

You were dressed in simple, gray-coloured slacks that hung loosely around your hips. The top you were wearing was a cropped t-shirt with his Jolly Roger printed on the back. His lips parted in shock as he drank you in, listening to your soft singing and closing his eyes to experience it fully. 

Before he could manage to say a word to reveal his presence, your hums ceased and your voice lowly uttered your apologies. 

“Sorry, Captain Buggy,” you bow your head to him in greeting, “I was not assuming the three of you to be awake so early. If I bothered you with my noise, I apologize.”

“N-No bother,” he huffed your name and hastily gave his reply to you with a soft blush, “I-... I haven't heard that song since the old days. Way back when-... When Roger…” He trailed off, looking at a point just beyond your hips and against the sink beside you. 

“I love the old shanties,” you chased his gaze with your own, angling your chin down and attempting to pry his eyes up to meet yours, “They're either about drinking, fucking, or grieving.” Buggy met your gaze, grinning up at you with his teal eyes beaming. 

“Ah, two of my favorite pastimes,” he added his commentary, leaning in closer and a cheeky smile pulling at his cheeks, “I’m not one for fucking.” He shot you a wink, prompting you to laugh at his joke. Your laugh was music, each soft teeter was as radiant as a lilt from heavenly minstrels. After teetering off your laugh, he offered you a soft smile with his eyes wide and curious. 

“Would you mind…?” Buggy trailed off again, nervously clutching the back of his neck and cringing through his smile, “...Could you perhaps tell me why you decided to join us, again?” He released his hand from his neck and darted his eyes between yours. 

After taking a moment to collect your breath and mull over what it was he asked of you, shrugged and offered him a simple answer. 

“The Berry is good, and it’s mutually beneficial,” you nod at him, smiling with your answer, “You were the one who offered me a choice, remember?” Crossing your arms, you leaned your hips back on the sink and glared at him, “It was either: spy for the marines as a triple agent for your Cross-Guild with a livable wage, or have Crocodile or Mihawk take my head. I chose you, Captain.” 

As Buggy was reminded of his prior actions and offered you a sheepish smile in response. Stepping forward, he reached for your forearms and waited for you to flinch away or chastise him for such a soft gesture. In the wake of such a softness, he was pleasantly surprised when he felt your fingers interlace with his own and hold them beside him.

“You know, ‘m sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, looking to his toes and pouting his unpainted lips, “Didn’t mean t’ have it sound so bad.” You smiled in response, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze and angling your chin down to look at his uncovered fingers. 

“You know, you’re actually quite handsome,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, “The infamous Captain Buggy D Clown, genius jester, king of fools, and calamity of chaos.” You named his titles with a soft smile, looking up into his rainforest-colored eyes with such gentleness. 

“You-... You think I’m handsome?” He asked you, your soft laughter prompted his own to slip freely into the air. You unplaced your right hand from his left and cupped his cheek within your palm, running your fingers through his hair. 

“You’re usually dressed in makeup, with your long hair tucked under your hat,” you collected a strand between your fingers and rolled your thumb over the lengthy blue locks, “And, you usually don’t have this much skin revealed.” Looking down at his chest: his messy blue hair trailed down his chest, tapered off at his stomach, and picked up again like a cerulean trail leading to the assumed treasure beneath his red jumpsuit. 

“I’m not used to seeing this much of you, Captain,” you muffled, drawing your gaze back up to his with a rapidly broadening smile, “And I’m not mad about it.” Your eyes creased at the corners as you offered him a toothy grin in response to his vibrant blush.

The hue of his cheeks rivaled that of his nose and jumpsuit, his eyes almost weeping from the rapidly rising blood pooling in his face. His Adams apple bobbed at the compliment, gulping back a dry pit in his throat and swallowing it. 

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, chuckling to cover his nerves and squeezing your remaining hand in his in two short motions, “I… I take back my earlier sentiment, uh-... If you’re interested?” He continued stuttering and choking on his words as he clumsily cartwheeled around his intentions.

“Oh?” you smirked at him, raking your fingers through his hair and darting your eyes between his, “And what was your earlier sentiment again, Captain?” You trailed your fingers down to the end of his lengthy locks. 

He gulped his terror and humbled himself by offering you a short, huffed laugh. After taking a moment, his eyes twinkled in mischievous hope as he rejoined your eyes in a smiling gaze. 

“I am one for fucking…”

Mihawk

Amber eyes stared in horror at the ceiling, wide and unblinking as he replayed the final moments over and over again in his mind. He drew his right hand down to grasp around the steel girth of his deflating cock and wield it in his firm grip. 

“I want that. I want you, lord Mihawk,” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you in his mind's eye, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes twitching but remaining staring vacantly at the ceiling. Thumbing over the prior release, he hissed in agitation the moment his fingers collected his viscous eruption. 

“How fatuous,” he snarled, raising his duvet once more from his waist, “So puerile.” His face remained vacant, his eyes holding only a touch more agitation than his usual persona as he walked to his ensuite shower. Turning the taps, he didn’t wait to feel the rise in water temperature. 

Stepping into the freezing water, he made no reaction as the icy liquid pelted at his skin; not even blinking to dampen his rapidly drying eyes. The water began to elevate in temperature as he released his cock from the grip. Gathering his sandalwood soap bar in his hands, he began lathering himself in foamy suds and washing over his body with his shock and shame still evident on his features.

The only time he closed his amber eyes was when he washed over his face, scrubbing at his whiskered chin and massaging his cheekbones. As soon as his eyes closed, he only saw your face contorted in pleasure, your ethereal moans freely haunting him in his ears. Shaking his head beneath the water, he only saw your face and imagined your hands clawing at his back beneath the water. 

Horror and shock eclipsed his eyes upon reopening, his eyes remaining that way as he concluded his shower, dried himself off, applied his cologne and skin care products, and dressed himself in his pants and greatcoat. His fingers stuttered over the lacing on his outer greatcoat, his lengthy necklace almost choking him as he placed it over his neck.

Almost stumbling into the dining space, he searched in his mind for a reason something so juvenile could occur for someone of his age, standing, and stature. He had gone for so long without taking a lover, he barely felt any lusting urges overcome him anymore. It didn’t suit his routine, his monotony, or his lifestyle as a former warlord. 

His apathetic and bored stature coming from a place of loneliness in his sovereignty as World's Greatest Swordsman. His achievements were already so vast, and he had nobody to share them with - nor a desire to begin a courtship with someone akin to his title. He had no time to take a lover, no time to indulge in whoring as it took away from his duties tending his garden in Kuraigana, and his bounty collecting as Marine-Hunter for Cross-Guild. 

So, why did his mind replay your pleasure over and over again in a loop of falsified memory? The marine spy, the confidant to cross-guild, the whispering oathbreaker; all the titles he sought to bestow you with. His hands reached for the bottle in front of him, clasping the green glass in his hands and uncorking the waxy tip. Pouring the rouge liquid into a crystalline glass, he felt a presence to the side of him.

“Could you spare a glass for me, my lord?” your soft susurration drew his attention back to the present, prompting his eyes to flicker to you. He witnessed your soft smile, your gaze assessing his face and shoulders.

Wordlessly, he reached for another glass and began readying it for you. The dry liquid coated the glass, a soft drop spilling from the rim and down the stem which caused you to knit your brows in concern. 

“Everything okay, my lord?” you asked, reaching for a napkin and beginning to clean up the mess, “You seem out of sorts this morning. Berry for your thoughts?” You dabbed at the table with the wafer-thin paper and tidied up his spill without a second thought. His eyes followed your motions, almost viewing the dabs in slow motion the longer your hands lingered near him. 

His silence seemed to perplex you further, turning your shoulders and leaning your hips back against the marble counter and staring up into his unblinking eyes in response. His shaking hands reached for his wineglass and drew it up to his lips. His mustache dipped into the liquid, messily staining his upper lip with the tart tannins. 

Gazing at his shoulders, you noticed a loop of his shoulder straps seeming to bubble within the corseted lacings, your hands absentmindedly straightening the bonds without much thought. Mihawk choked on his liquid the moment your hands brushed against his shoulders. 

Feeling the warmth float from your fingertips to the exposed skin beneath the weighty jacket, his eyes widened briefly and his pupils narrowed in an accusatory glare. Huffing a nervous laugh as his soft choke and shaking your head, you reached behind you to the pile of napkins and began to raise it to his face and lightly pat at his stained skin. 

Reactionary, he immediately placed his glass down behind you with his right hand, his left clapped around your invasive wrist in a circled vice-grip. Your breath caught in your throat, darting your eyes around his face with your eyes wide and panicked. He immediately drew his face forward and captured your lips beneath his without restraint. He hummed into your lips, raising his right hand and carding his fingers through your hair to deepen the passion.

Lips, tongue, and teeth pulled and tugged at your mouth from the swordsman, his gentle moans and sharp breaths depicting his wanton need to join himself with you immediately. He was pent up for so long, restrained for so long, and his body betrayed him in a shameful display in his dreams as proxy to such desire. If his overnight visit from you as his midnight muse spoke for anything, it was that his needs were now becoming more insistent, prominent, and desperate to be satiated. 

And you were who he wanted to aid him in such a task. 

Your hands raised defensively beside you, your eyes were wide and staring at his furrowed brow and tightly clamped eyes. He continued pressing heated and passionate kisses against your lips with gusto. Not giving you time to adjust or react, he anchored himself between your legs and pinned you against the marble dining station. Lips trailing to your cheek and down your neck, he bit, nipped and sucked at your revealed skin. 

His hands looped around your neck and shoulders, drawing you against him with an incessant need to depict to you his desires with his unyielding grip. You gasped as his lips traced up your skin and returned to your lips, your hands dropping to brace yourself beside you on the marble surface. 

Pulling his lips away, he held your face stationary by palming at the scruff of your neck and holding your attention with his honey-colored eyes. His predatory gaze narrowed in on you as his bruise-kissed lips ticked up in his signature smirk. 

“There,” he snarled at you in soft agitation, before releasing your neck. He collected his wineglass and green bottle from behind you, keeping his face in close proximity. His smirk drew up further as he turned to walk away from you. 

Calling over his shoulder, he snickered his taunting remark at you before leaving through the door, “Now I can occupy your thoughts the same way you've been tormenting me in mine.” 

You stood there stunned, frozen in place as your lips still tingled with the feeling of his against yours. The silky scrape of his neatly cropped beard tickling your cheeks, the way his tongue brushed with yours, and the animalistic desire to consume you with his lust had your soul ignited. 

Turning to the marble bench, you claimed your wineglass and raised it to your lips, immediately gulping back the tart liquid in a heaping swig. Placing the glass in the sink, you stared at the door Mihawk just left through, your thoughts spiraling and sifting through all the possible scenarios of what his words meant, and what the kiss means for you now. 

Only Mihawk knew what he intended with the kiss, and after the morning meeting, he was going to give into his desires further and offer you a place in his bed to have his dreams become reality. 

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 1

Thank you @discordantwritings for this request! I've been so excited to write some Cross Guild shenanigans, I hope you enjoy it! Also, this will be part 1 because I did turn it into a whole ass thing, lol. Just a miniseries, I swear!

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader (Eventual smut, but not this chapter. Reader is in a relationship with Buggy first, then meets the others in this chapter.)

Word Count: 2863

Ao3 Link

Summary: You left your stable/boring life as an investment banker to have some adventure. Unfortunately, that sweet Warlord of the Sea didn't follow your financial advice, and now you and your clown are at the mercy of his biggest lender and his new business partner.

Rating/Warnings: Eventual Smut, 18+, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Alcohol, Swearing, Angst, Established Relationship, Canon Typical Violence, Manipulation, mention/brief threat of slavery, Humiliation, Blood and Violence, Pet names, Power Imbalance, Crocodile is a villain

A/N: The reader starts out with Buggy, so Crocodile and Mihawk will be enemies to the reader at first. Crocodile in particular is a VILLAIN toward the reader at first, threatening violence and there's a mention of paying off debts by selling Buggy and reader into slavery, as he threatened in the anime. Please do not read this if toxic, threatening relationships are triggering for you. Dynamics will shift after the initial chapters, but he's still a villain and I wrote him that way in this fic. It's very much dark romance style/bad guys need love too/Mafia boss type vibe.

Fuck, my sister was right. 

“Hurry it up, Y/N, it’s time to go!”

“But, Captain Buggy,” you matched his near frantic whisper, “Your crew are calling for you. Don’t you need to give them orders?”

“Fine, fine! Just keep packing!”

You barely heard the commands and lies that he spewed from the balcony, your hands shaking as your mistakes blared through your mind.

You’d been so bored. You had a good, stable life. You were great at your job. You’d started at a bank, and soon you were managing investments for wealthy clients who didn’t want to do their own work to stay wealthy.

You were so good with numbers. So good at helping your clients make smart, safe choices.

Yet here you were, about to get killed by the fucking Navy because you’d wanted a little adventure.

The screams started getting louder, and you heard what had to be explosions, luckily not close by. Yet. 

Kat told me this clown would get me killed.

Tears burned in your eyes as you pictured your sister’s face, pinched with worry and shock.

“He works for the government now! I’m going to help run his organization, I’ll handle the finances, and his mercenaries will help the Navy out.”

“Are you fucking insane? He’s a Warlord! Not some Navy officer,” Kat almost yelled, face red as she leaned toward you.

“I… He’s different, okay. He’s really sweet,” you mumbled, looking down as your fingers twisted in your lap.

“Oh my fucking gods, Y/N, did you fuck that clown? What has gotten into you?”

You didn’t know what you were grabbing and packing, tears streaming freely now.

“Captain! The warships around the island are getting attacked!”

“Who’s helping us,” Buggy screamed, and the confusion and hope in his voice made you drop everything.

Racing to the balcony, you were just in time to watch two Navy warships go down in flames.

Desperate hope filled you now, and you reached for his hand.

He pulled away as news of who your savior was came closer, shouts of triumph sending chills through you, freezing Buggy in place.

“It’s Crocodile! He really does work for Chairman Buggy! We’re saved!”

Crocodile. Crocodile!

All those berries, drained away with Buggy’s antics. All those berries that you were technically supposed to be in charge of. 

All of it was Crocodile’s.

“Buggy, Buggy, please. Where can we hide?”

He turned at your hoarse whisper, his mouth hanging wide in shock.

“Buggy!”

“We don’t have the money to pay him. He’s gonna kill me!”

His strained voice grated your nerves as you pulled on his hand, dragging him away from the balcony, and the adoring eyes of his henchmen.

He was near babbling as you pulled him along, searching for anywhere to hide. 

A frustrated sob left your throat as you remembered what you’d been feeling recently, even with his idiotic spending, and refusal to listen to your words of reason.

I thought I was falling for him.

But the sight of him falling apart now, not only failing to protect you, but even himself, was making you regret every single moment.

Your heart felt raw, burning more with each yank on his hand, especially since his hand was only connected to that fucking pouch he likes to wear.

Then that hand was torn away from yours, Buggy’s yelp making you jump. 

Buggy went flying over your head, sliding down the hallway with a grunt. 

Before you could turn around, you were encased in someone's shadow. You shook as you felt the heat of a body, inches from you. The first thing you saw was the glinting gold of a massive hook, then you had to crane your neck. 

Towering above you was a man in lavish clothes, a purple vest with an orange scarf, and a fur coat. He seemed to be ignoring you, his cigar dangerously close to dropping ash onto your hair.

You felt like prey, like a rabbit. Shivering in fear, just waiting for the wolf to walk away or devour you.

“I know you,” he directed at Buggy, his deep voice rumbling through you. “I thought you’d try to flee without paying me back.”

I’m so close to him. How can he tell I’m so weak? If I had a weapon I could try to hurt him.

As if he could read your thoughts, Crocodile looked down at you, tapping his cigar off to the side before the ashes fell. 

“I don’t know you.”

Your mouth gaped open as you stared into his cold, scarred face.

“Well, you see, Crocodile,” Buggy started bullshitting, moving closer. “Buggy’s Delivery Service may look like it’s doing well, but we’ve, uh… We’ve lost a lot of our big earners, and…”

Buggy trailed on, spouting excuses that made you want to scream at him, until you felt his hand grip the back of your shirt. 

He slowly pulled you backward, away from Crocodile. New tears fell as your pathetic clown tried to shift his body in front of yours, shielding you.

He was too late.

The sting of cold metal wrapped around your neck as Crocodile’s hook captured you, like the prey you were.

He yanked you up, until your toes were barely scraping along the ground as he looked you over.

“If you can’t pay, clown, we can sell you into slavery. I wonder how much your woman is worth.”

“Come on, Crocodile,” Buggy drawled, inching closer again. “Don’t say such horrible things! We broke out of Impel Down together, didn’t we?”

“I lent you money for that sake,” he countered calmly, before looming over Buggy with even more danger edging his voice. “But if you can’t pay, you’ll have to take full responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” Buggy choked out, eyes flicking to you when you gasped from Crocodile's movements.

“I’m gonna found a new company, so I need money now.”

You could see the frantic wheels spinning in Buggy’s head before he puffed himself up, making his body look huge as he spread his limbs out in the red fabric.

“Then, let me help you with that business! This former Warlord of the Sea will serve under you. I’ll work off my debt! We have great resources!”

You brought your hands up to hold onto the hook as Crocodile lifted you even higher. You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose, or if he had just forgotten that he was holding you there. You watched Buggy try to sell the plan, try to save you both. 

“We have advertising design, printing, transportation, and the finest financial adviser on the seas.”

Buggy emphasized the last with jazz hands shaking wildly in your direction, and you cringed.

Crocodile hummed, setting you on the ground in front of him, but still tugging on your neck with that cold metal as he looked you over. You let out a breath when he released your neck, but then the sharp point of the hook traced teasingly on your cheek, stopping your breath entirely.

“W-Wait, come on, Croc. We’re pals! You don’t need to–”

“If you’re in charge of the finances,” Crocodile breathed down on you, ignoring Buggy’s pleas, “then it’s your fault that all my money is gone, isn’t it?”

You started to shake your head, but the cold prick of metal held you frozen.

“No, it wasn’t her fault,” Buggy almost yelled, voice missing its chummy tone now. “Please, we didn’t– I didn’t follow her advice. Tell him baby, you’ve got all those plans you made, right? The investments?”

Your eyes clenched shut, a wave of tears cascading down as he defended you.

“Is that true, girl? Did you try to keep this idiot from wasting all my money?”

His breath was hot on your face as he leaned over you. Your lip quivered as you waited for him to open his jaws, and swallow you whole.

“Tell me.”

“I… I created a plan to manage those funds, using much of them to invest and create reciprocal income for the organization.”

His eyes burned into you, silently demanding more.

“Unfortunately, I was not able to go forward with those plans,” you said weakly, eyes looking down, seeking freedom from his glare.

“I wonder why that could be, hmm?” 

He brought his hand to your face now, huge fingers gripping your chin to force your eyes back to his.

“Tell me why all of my money is gone. You are the financial advisor, aren’t you? Should I bleed the berries out of you?”

“No, I’m sorry,” you stuttered, eyes fluttering down again until his grip on your face became painful.

“It’s okay, baby,” you heard whispered behind you.

“Ca-Captain Buggy did not follow the financial plans that I laid out for him, or my recommendations to adjust spending when funds became low.”

Crocodile’s lip twitched up, and he released you, making you stumble.

He reached for Buggy, hitting him again until he slid across the floor.

“No, please!”

“Why are you crying for this potato sack? He nearly got you killed.”

The menacing man sighed as you failed to speak, then grabbed Buggy by the hair.

“Don’t worry, we’re not killing him yet. Go get your paperwork, I wanna see if you really are a numbers girl.”

Shame flooded you as you nodded, doing nothing as Buggy was dragged away like trash. 

There’s nothing I can do. Numbers, money, that’s all I’m good at. 

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that you are really good at that. And maybe that skill could help you get out of here alive. 

Maybe I can help Buggy after all. 

~ 

That sliver of hope vanished when you walked through the door, your briefcase in hand.

Off to the side you saw Buggy’s officers, eating and laughing happily, as if nothing had happened. 

As if their Captain’s head wasn’t dangling from Crocodile's hand, bruised and bloodied while that hook kept shoving against his skin.

Crocodile was seated on the plush, green couch, using Buggy’s limp body as a foot rest. He held Buggy’s head over the middle of the couch, between him and another man.

The other man’s cold, amber eyes felt like blades through your skin as you froze in the doorway. You recognized him, though you’d hoped you’d never meet the swordsman in person.

Dracule Mihawk. What the fuck has my life turned into?

Buggy coughed, spitting out a piece of paper. That stupid fucking flyer his men had made. 

They hadn’t even waited for approval before spending the money on printing and distributing it. You’d wanted to strangle every fucking dumbass that touched it when you saw the bill.

“The word ‘humiliation’ isn’t enough to express how I feel,” Crocodile growled, as Buggy apologized for the Cross Guild poster, showing Buggy as their leader. 

“As much as I’d like to kill him,” Mihawk mused, his voice filled with calm disdain, “it’s not a bad idea to have him as our figurehead. I would rather live peacefully than become an Emperor of the Sea.”

He stood gracefully, heading to the counter to pour himself a glass of wine. He turned to look back, his head tilted like an animal watching for prey.

“Let him take the heat, and we can get rid of him whenever we want.”

“You’re right,” Crocodile laughed, shoving his hook into Buggy’s mouth.

You let out a choked gasp, grateful that they weren't going to kill him now, but feeling the looming threat that the future held.

And there were Galdino, Alvida, and even Mohji and Cabaji, ignoring his pain, laughing and stuffing their faces. Their betrayal made you ache for Buggy.

Until you remembered the danger you were still in. 

I’m betraying him too. I’m going to work for these men. I’m going to stay alive.

“Who is this,” Mihawk drawled as he took his seat again.

“Uh, I–”

“This might be our numbers girl. If she proves herself,” Crocodile threatened, dropping Buggy’s head onto the floor behind the couch, before patting the cushion beside him. 

“Come here, girl. Show us how useful you can be.”

With wide eyes, you walked toward them, avoiding stepping on Buggy’s body as you sat between the two terrifying men. 

Crocodile’s arm rested on the back of the couch behind you, so you sat slightly forward, avoiding his touch. 

Mihawk tilted toward you, and you found yourself staring at the beautifully embroidered details of his black and gold coat, avoiding looking at his bare chest and abs between the rich fabric.

He cleared his throat, making you jolt, before bringing your shaky fingers to unlatch the briefcase. You struggled, gasping when Mihawk reached over your lap to open it for you.

“Gods, Galdino, will you bring this girl a drink," Crocodile huffed, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Where the fuck did the clown pick up such a skittish little thing, huh?”

You focused on your paperwork, pulling out some of the plans you’d initially brought to help manage the funding Crocodile had provided. 

Mihawk took them gingerly from your hands as Galdino passed you a glass of wine. You were sure that he must be pissed at being ordered to serve you like a waiter.

You chugged the whole glass of wine, closing your eyes while Crocodile chuckled, and Mihawk reviewed your work. 

“It’s well done,” he praised, handing it to his partner. “These skills will be helpful with getting this operation running.”

“As long as the idiots in charge actually listen, of course” Crocodile joked, flipping through the pages. 

He tossed the papers aside, motioning for Galdino to fill your glass again.

“Sorry about all of that in the hallway. You work for us now.”

“Okay,” you breathed out, barely audible.

The back of his hook touched your face, the smooth metal guiding you to look at him.

He studied you for a moment, and your brain tried to make sense of him, of what was happening. His black hair was slicked back, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. The long scar across the middle of his face made your brain hurt. You couldn’t imagine what kind of wound that must have been.

His deep set eyes were judging you, and you fought every instinct to hold his gaze instead of running. 

Finally, he let out a low laugh.

“When I find something of value, I protect it. Do your job well, and you’ll be taken care of. Better than with this clown, that’s for sure.”

You winced as his foot dug into Buggy’s body, eliciting a moan from the man who’d brought you here. 

Chewing the inside of your lip, you sipped on your second drink as they discussed plans to announce the lie that Buggy really is the leader. 

They don’t need me here. I’ll just go to my room.

Each time you almost stood, or asked to be excused, your brain went blank. You just sat there, between these two ex Warlords, these two men who radiated power. The night went on, until all of Buggy’s betrayers trickled out.

“Wait.”

Crocodile’s deep voice commanded as you stood to follow Alvida and Galdino out, desperate to not be alone with these men. But here you were.

“What’s your name? Unless you want us to call you Numbers Girl.”

You settled on the couch, still sitting away from the back to keep from leaning against Crocodile’s arm.

“It’s Y/N.”

“I am curious, Y/N,” Mihawk spoke up, swirling his wine in its glass. “How such an intelligent and attractive woman ended up with this pathetic clown.”

“Please, leave her alone,” Buggy’s weak voice creaked up from behind the couch.

“It’s just curiosity,” Mihawk continued, and you couldn’t help meeting his golden gaze, his large hat tilting down toward you.

“Come, Y/N,” Crocodile joined in, “I could use a laugh. How did you end up with Buggy?”

“We… We met at a bar.”

They stared, and your skin practically crawled at the pressure for more.

“I’m an– I was an investment banker. I was having a drink after work, and overheard Buggy discussing his new organization. I offered my services.”

You shifted your head slightly to look back and forth at them, and their confused faces almost made you laugh. Almost.

“Why,” Crocodile asked, his deep voice almost dangerous as he demanded an explanation. Mihawk just cleared his throat, and took another sip. 

You wanted to comfort Buggy. To remind him that you’d been drawn to him. That he was funny, and sweet, and that your time together that night was what made you want to join him. 

But you knew the real reason you chose to go with Buggy, and you knew they’d only punish you both if you talked about being with him. So you told the truth.

“I was bored.”

It felt like the air around you shifted. The weight of their stares, and the sound of their low laughter made your skin flush with heat.

They both leaned forward, surrounding you as they brought their glasses to tap against yours.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Crocodile’s husky voice rumbled beside you. “You won’t be bored with us.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! It hurt beating up my Buggy boy like this, but I made it through, lol

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Who's the most dominant and the most submissive in the Cross Guild thingie? First thought is it seems obvious Buggy is the most submissive but between Crocodile and Mihawk who's the most dominant? How hard do they butt heads? (Does Mihawk even give it the time of day to butt heads to begin with-)

Imagine reader just watching them argue in this comical cartoonist ball of fighting with the dust all around and she's just off to the side waiting on the bed like: "CAN I GET RAILED??? CAN I PLEEEASEEE JUST GET RAILED-" 😂

Buggy is definitely most submissive. You're the only one of the group that's actually nice to him, and he clings to your side like he's glued there and will do absolutely anything you ask. He knows that having you in his corner means you can talk Crocodile and Mihawk into being at least slightly more tolerant of him and his shenanigans, and he's just so grateful and loves you so much for it.

Mihawk leans more toward dominant than submissive, but he's still in the middle. Certified brat tamer. Actually finds it cute when you brat him but he's not going to admit it out loud, unless he's happens to be extra wine-drunk at the time. Then he might slip up and call you adorable. You can also use puppy-dog eyes on him to get him to agree to some things he otherwise wouldn't. Just gives you a weary look and a sigh and a "Fine...but you are in my debt now, darling. And I fully intend to collect."

Crocodile would definitely be the most dominant. You know how he is about being insulted and anyone taking a stab at his pride, and with that comes a desire for total control. Doesn't put up with brattiness or find it cute, it'll only piss him off. He'll still dote on you, particularly with expensive gifts and dates; but he expects you to be compliant to his whims in return.

Crocodile and Buggy constantly butt heads. Mihawk typically only ends up involved if he makes some snide comment about the two acting like children, or worse, "The two of you bicker worse than an old married couple." Buggy briefly manages to escape while Mihawk and Crocodile are having it out, only for Crocodile to grab him by the hair and drag him back into the fray like "Did I say I was done with you, assclown?"

All while you're laying in bed, sighing and just picking up a book from the nightstand to read until they calm the hell down and remember that you're waiting to get railed.

[kamizuya]

Cross Guild’s shenanigans…Sweet Revenge on Pocky Day!

Previously: https://www.tumblr.com/kamizuya/678322082951626752/nice-try-doffy-nice-try-comic-inspo

[fangirlingpuggle]

More dumb thoughts on modern One Piece AU.

Crocodile and Mihawk working sort of together with different definitely not all that legal businesses (before the cross guild) and neither knowing about the other having kids until an open day at Luffy/Zoro's school the 2 just seeing each other across the room like that always Sunny meme.

It gets more awkward when Zeff walks in and knows who they are and the 2 of them know him (they didn't know he was retired and kinda thought he died)... and then Bellemere walks in and get even more awkward because when she was a cop she had definitely tried to arrest them all at some point.

Merry is there with Kaya and Usopp and is slowly steering those 2 away. It doesn't work Luffy's already caught site of them and they're sucked into the friend group.

The play dates at each others houses are awkward as hell for a while. Until the kids start getting into more insane shenanigans and all the parents bond in solidarity because 'How the fuck did our kids even manage this?... is it bad i'm impressed i'm kinda impressed'

[aimbutmiss]

I always forget that Buggy and Gaimon are friends. Like they had an all-night bender together on an island full of ATLA hybrid animals, and all while Buggy's in his tiny form. That night was probably one of the most fun he's had in years and nobody ever believes him when he mentions it.

I never forget because I LOVE Gaimon. He's such a nice guy, and I can't wait for Oda to randomly bring him back 😂

I can actually see him living on Karai Bari, working for Cross Guild. He doesn't have an important role in the organisation, hell he could just be a chore boy or something, but he's happy because his animal friends are still with him and he gets to see his clown bestie everyday!! Crocodile and Mihawk are super confused when Buggy brings this new employee followed by a zoo of weird creatures, but at that point they're too used to Buggy's shenanigans so they just let him do as he pleases. And to be honest Buggy really needs a new drinking buddy because Alvida is just too judgemental sometimes.

Croc and Hawk are much more eager to accept this weirdo into their lives after they realise they got themselves a shiny new babysitter for the kids 😁 Gaimon is happy to help but he does NOT realise what he's getting himself into because these kids are anything but normal.

[hey-august]

Buggy would be a fucking MENICE on April 1st. The crew would be on high alert. His partner always ready. Hell even cross guild is tense waiting to see what he has planned. Man is pulling out alllll the stops

You know it. There would be chaos. Absolute chaos. But if you embraced it, April 1st might be your new favorite holiday.

I'd like to imagine that his crew would also try and get into the shenanigans eventually. Some would try and prank Buggy. A few would succeed and that would only spur the excitement.

There would be alliances. Which group could successfully prank the captain? Who could get the captain on their side to prank another unsuspecting victim? What happens when Buggy is pulling the strings of multiple cohorts of crewmembers trying to out-prank each other?

And as for Buggy himself, the intricacy and intensity of his pranks would vary. Swapping the sugar and salt. Releasing three circus animals, but they have signs that say "one," "two," and "four." Putting disgustingly sour or incredibly spicy condiments in food when his victim isn't looking.

Sometimes he just chuckles. Nothings happening, but Buggy's laugh has everyone on edge. Goosebumps. Prickles on the back of their necks. At the beginning, this was one of his favorite "pranks" for the Cross Guild.

Not to mention swapping Crocodile's cigars for chocolate. (His partner talked him out of adding a turd.) And swapping Mihawk's hat feather with lil baby birds.

But listen. Hear me out. Jackass. JACKASS. The giant hand skit is the exact shit I think Buggy would pull. (Video behind the cut.)

(The way Bam falls at 2:16 gets me every time. Cackling and tears in my eyes.)

Honestly, there are so many Jackass skits that I could see Buggy doing. Clipping someone's hair short with a surprise razor, the black mamba sock puppet face smack - he can just float a hand over.

A menace. A whirlwind of pranks and laughter. Buggy loves April 1st.

[empressofmankind]

Look at me.

LOOK AT ME.

Suspenders. A'right?!

[wordy-little-witch]

I feel like I’m getting annoying with all these agere asks but I’m in a weird headspace rn and so my favs now have to regress and be happy so I can sleep better and maybe someone else gets a kick outta it I dunno? Anyways

I still love the idea that Buggy’s regression is mostly unrelated to wanting to wear certain clothes or long for certain toys or even a specific kind of food or such, I like to think it’s very „No. aesthetic“ type of regression, where you probably couldn’t tell at first glance and it’s not as easy as just giving him kiddie stuff and he’ll be happy. (Not to knock on anyone who does like the aesthetics and kiddie stuff just to be clear.) so he actually doesn’t have a bunch of toys and plushies and such and doesn’t really ask for them either.

…. THAT BEING SAID

Buggy should most definitely have an absolutely gigantic plush Fruitwani. Massive thing. It’s almost as big as Crocodile himself and that’s not counting the tail. A complete impulse purchase by Crocodile as well, being separated from his husbands for a while, having to delay reuniting them for another two days because of unforeseen circumstances and some unfortunate encounters with some Marines. Talking on the Denden to both of them and learning Buggy has had some bad regression days behind him. He doesn’t even let himself slip fully, there’s still a part of him that knows why Crocodile isn’t back with them, so he tries to stay in a big headspace when talking to him, but inwardly Buggy just wants to cry badly and curl up into Mihawks arms all day because Croccy isn’t home and he doesn’t LIKE it when people aren’t with him for too long because they may never come back. It’s a mess. Crocodiles suffering, Mihawk is suffering and Buggy is absolutely miserable.

So when Crocodile spots the giant plush toy sitting in a store window, surrounded by smaller plushtoys, his mind is immediately made up. Yes that one. Just for decoration? Not for sale? Well it is now. No. No that can be arranged. No the price doesn’t matter, he will leave this island with this absolute beast of a plush toy no matter how many Beri he has to spend or who he’ll have to harm if that what it takes. He WILL have that toy.

Buggy still clings to Crocodile more than usual when he gets back, no plush could ever replace the connection he was craving…. But after he has settled down a bit more the plush actually becomes on of his favorite toys. Not even just when he’s regressed, he just loves this thing. Has spooked several people wanting to talk business with Crossguild coming into the room finding chairman Buggy lounging on, what appears to be, a full sized Fruitwani , it just looks that convincing at first glance. For Buggy it’s not only cool and flashy, it’s a very, literally, big reminder that Crocodile cares about him in his own way, even when on some days the most he’ll get from him is a good morning kiss and the rest of the day is filled with snark towards him until he bids him and Mihawk goodnight again. It just means a lot to him to know he’s loved even when he’s being vulnerable or difficult.

Also yes, Crocodile also loves this thing and Mihawk has been on the suffering end of him and Buggy spooning the damn thing at night while he goes woefully unembraced on his side of the bed „ah yes, just me, my fiances, and the eight foot tall Applewani plush one of them threatened a shop owner over.“

Olay lemme preface this with some things

1) you're not annoying at all, and if anyone says you are, I'll eat their knees

2) I get it - honestly posting content for Buggy specifically for age regression was nerve wracking bc like. Idek really. But giving things I experience to characters I love is so cathartic, and I've spent more than a few nights just.... daydreaming about stuff like that just to be happy and comfy and cozy. No judgement on this blog, of that I promise you ♡♡♡

3) agere is valid every and any way, aesthetic or not, visible or not, it's doesn't matter, only the ways people feel. If you're safe, happy, and not harming anyone, you're doing so perfect and I love you and am proud of you

Now with my soap box stuff done, HOLY HECK YES YES PLZ I LOVE THIS I ADORE I NEED IT, GODS YOUR MIND!!!!! (/pos)

Buggy isn't a typical person, head to toe, inside out, he's Flashy but also incredibly subtle. His regression isn't some cookie cutter type of deal, he's wild and slightly feral in some ways, he's unusual and perfect and precious. His idea of a good time is knife games, climbing (everything is sight, nothing is sacred), explosions, and playing poker. He has a special rope that's just for him to tie and play with ((and occasionally chew on, though Mihawk has a mild heart attack every time he sees it while Crocodile cringes into the next plane of existence in disgust)).

At a glance, not much changes, but Mihawk can feel the change in Haki, and Crocodile can see the microscopic things there when Buggy shifts. He holds things differently, stims more visibly, just seems bouncier and even more animated yet somehow much more calm. The best explanation comes from Buggy himself in describing the shifting between his headspaces. "Some things turn off and others pop on open."

The worst thing to Buggy in general is a perception of loss or abandonment. Logically, he knows it isn't the case, and he can cling to that mostly, but experience has taught him that distance does NOT, in fact, make hearts grow fonder - at least, not for him. The one and only time he felt it may have applied - and this is a very tentative maybe - was when he reunited with his crew, made into Alvida's image and her decisions. There was no war over crew nor ship, just an allowance to slip back in as if he'd never quite left. The only changes or acknowledgement was Alvida's slightly awkward, brusque, yet lingering touch to his arm when she gave it a squeeze and remarked that "handling these hoodlums solo is not my idea if a good time." He was needed, and that did wonders for his security but not so much for the mental health.

Crocodile and Mihawk don't need him - he's the face man, sure, and he's got a talent for manipulation, speeches, rallying men. But at the end of the day, they outshine him despite their proclivities for the shadows. It's a juxtaposition. It's safe. It's wonderful, and Buggy still struggles to trust in the reliability there.

Logically, he knows- Croc is out, managing something for work, he's coming back, he will be back, he's not alone or abandoned or suddenly useless and worthless.

But he still feels it all.

And falling into his headspace to decompress is always harder when he's upset or scared, it only really works when he boils over, and the meltdown that would lead to is counterproductive. So he's waffling between the two, assured only by the calls, by Mihawk, and the few other places he can get some semblance normalcy and security.

When Crocodile does come home, a comically large plush toy over his shoulder, Buggy's already practically vibrating and is completely beyond the point of words in a positive way. He just squeals, lunges and the cushion of sand catching his weight is warm and safe and cozy and he clings, a clown themed koala, right there without shame.

The plush doesn't come up until later.

When someone inevitably asks - and, interestingly enough, it is Mihawk who does - Croc is honest. "Thought the clown would like it for longer trios like this."

The toy is big, yes, and also decently heavy, moreso than even it's size may seem. It's partially weighted in the tummy, legs and jaw, a display piece more than a toy for playing with, and Buggy is absolutely obsessed. It's Croco-sized, and it's a 'wani, and it's soft and cute and heavy. He loves it.

His first order of business is immediately dropping down to scramble under it and just... going limp. He wriggles a little, humming softly before falling still, cheek squished into his forearms, hair a mess but he's smiling, he's relaxed, he's comfy and happy and safe and with his boyfriends' Haki on the edges if his muffled, fuzzy awareness, he truly unwinds for the first time in over a week.

Crocodile carefully tugs his hair from under the toy with his hook, and Mihawk hands him a little fidget toy or a rope.

The toy is named later on, as demanded by a tiny jester with a frankly lethal set of baby doll eyes and quivering lip. Really, he could topple nations with that face, the other two swear.

Mihawk simply has to make peace with Addie the Applewani Cuddle Buddy having a semi permanent spot in the bed.

[beanghostprincess]

Follow up of the Marco And Shanks Feuding Over Buggy -

Once things resolve, the captains are somehow the WORST instigators. Roger, once he realized Marco was flirting with his Baby Bug, is caught between "well, kid has good taste" and "Oh I Gotta Kill A Child".

Whitebeard makes frequent comments about daughter in laws and it sends EVERYONE reeling, especially Buggy. He thinks it's hilarious, and it mostly joking ((but a little serious)).

Maybe it's the multishipper in me, maybe it's the polyamory projection, but eventually Shanks and Buggy have The Conversation about being captains of the own crews, of being each other's most definitely, of being married ((they are 13-15 when The End Is Nigh for Roger, and I can see Buggy having a sudden realization that Captain that Dad is dying. She and Shanks speedrun being married so he can do it. They're minors so it isn't official, but they get/make rings, set it up and have Captain officiate it so they're "married". It's the closest they'll get to the real deal and both need their dad there for this.)).

Shanks and Buggy establish an open relationship. They can be with and pursue others, but communication is key and they need to just keep each other relatively in the loop.

Buggy jokingly asks if Marco is still a sore subject, and Shanks shoots her a grin. "If you stay mine, you can be with whoever you like. Just promise me you will make sure he treats you the way you deserve, princess."

The next time Marco crosses either, it's Shanks. And he asks "hey featherhead, still crushing on clowns?"

"And if I am?"

"Here's her denden number - be nice, be polite, don't hurt her or I'll roast you for dinner, chicken boy :))"

"What"

"Byyyyeeeee~"

"No wait what-yoi-?"

Buggy goes on to assemble the world's weirdest, most unexpected polycule. A Yonko husband, a Yonko's division commander boyfriend, two warlords, a Marine, maybe a Revolutionary, just... wild ass polycule.

((Bonus, once she settles in the East for a bit, Zeff takes one look at her and goes "Oh boy now I have a niece. Damn it all." He threatens to shovel talk anyone who dates his weird clown niece but they rarely stop by the East, so he's got the conversations scripted in his head. When Mihawk shows up, he is READY.))

Buggy also has a bunch of evil exes bc she's a catch but she doesn't always clock red flags. It's mostly fine, but if any attempt retaliation, usually she's oblivious, either bc her crew goes full Protect Mom Mode or bc her current partners... take out the trash, as it were :))

Once Luffy realizes Buggy is basically his step mom is all sorts of ways, the Strawhat Protection System is enacted full throttle. She is oblivious. It's hilarious. Buggy has Scary Dog Privileges and doesn't even realize.

Whitebeard still calls her daughter-in-law. Roger is screaming crying throwing up in the afterlife. Rayleigh flips between "Oh my baby girl can handle herself ahe's so strong" and "Nobody Is Good Enough For My Daughter". Crocus hoards all newspapers that so much as mention her or Shanks.

Just. Silly funny polycule shenanigans.

Buggy just has a whole ass harem of boys pining over her and she goes through life thinking they're normal about her but they're not. They're literally obsessed with her. She only loves Shanks and is fond of Crocodile and Mihawk (ends up falling for them eventually, y'know) and the people she has been with have always been just kind of there? She doesn't forget them but she doesn't really care about them either. IT girl, girlboss behavior for once even if she's still a failgirl. But they always remember her. She's not easy to forget. Everybody that loves her is so protective of her too and she wonders why she never gets bothered by anybody?? She believes it's because she's now important and scary and yadda yadda but it's just because people have to go through Rayleigh, the strawhats, Shanks, and Cross Guild to get to her. So, you know, she's protected.

This is just amazing, btw. I also think they have an open relationship. And Marco being extremely confused when Shanks gives him Buggy's number is just hilarious, help. He's having a moment there wondering if it's a trap or something. I think Buggy would have the time of her life, and although Shanks also sleeps with other people, his heart will always be with Buggy. Like- He's the clingiest most annoying husband in the world. He's so proud of calling Buggy his wife. He's just there cheering for her, knowing that no matter how many people she's with, she'll go back to him!! The trust they could've had in each other if things would've gone well,,,,,, Going insane.