#sir crocodile x oc

[rorywritesjunk]

No one:

Absolutely no one:

Me while grocery shopping: omg the whole Buggy/Sunny/Croc fic reminds me of that image of Raul Esparza, Anne Hathaway, and Audra McDonald from Twelfth Night.

Me, loading my car of groceries: obv this isn't like the play but that image has that same energy I feel. Sunny in the middle, Croc holding his hook up to her, Buggy clinging to just a little bit of attention from her, wanting to be close.

#not a fic #my own brain rot #buggy the clown #sir crocodile #sunny x buggy #sunny x crocodile #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sir crocodile x oc #crocodile x oc

[skytk11]

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

๋࣭⭑Big Three Music Headcanons! ๋࣭⭑

☠︎ Crocodile ☠︎

Classical pop music. This man would love classical music like Frank Sinatra, Etta James, and Billie Holiday. I can see him now just working while listening to classical music and in his office smoking a scar bobbing his head a little bit while the music plays on a record player.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

At last (Etta James)

Kiss of Fire (Hugh Laurie)

Born under a bad sign (Albert King)

The girl from Lpanema (Frank Sinatra)

Old Devil Moon (Frank Sinatra)

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

⚔ Mihawk ⚔

I see Mihawk listening to classical music, but more Gothic if he was listening to classical music it would be Something with the piano in it but when we're talking about Gothic I see him Listening to something with romantic goth in it like Tearful Moon, HIM, and mazzy star.

☽༺♰༻☾

I love you more than death (tearful moon)

Kiss kiss kill kill (Horrorpops)

Vampier romance (blutengel)

Slow, love, slow (nightwish)

I love you (HIM)

☽༺♰༻☾

⚝ Buggy ⚝

To be honest, I don't know what music he would like like the genre of music. I don't know. I have a feeling he listens to a lot of different types of genres because he's just a silly little guy like you'd probably listen to Edgy, Silly, And some weird ass music but we love him for that.

⛧☾༺✮༻☽ ⛧ Kiss me you animal (Burn the ballroom)

Boogie woogie Wu (ICP)

No One lives forever (oingo boingo)

HERE COMES THE HURRICANE LEGENDARY

KATRINA (Kevin Jz Prodigy)

Look who's inside again. (Bo Burnham)

⛧☾༺✮༻☽ ⛧

#one piece #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #one piece headcanons #headcanon #music #buggy d clown #sir crocodile x oc #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #mihawk x reader #mihawk fanfiction #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #op mihawk #sir crocodile one piece #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x y/n #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy pirates #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x oc

[empressofmankind]

I did another doodle for the fic @tiredemomama is writing. And honestly, I can't blame Caimi for thinking Shivs found him in some strip club, tbh.

#one piece crocodile #shivs #shivs x croc #shroc #crocaine #op crocodile #crocodile op #crocodile one piece #one piece oc #op ocs #one piece art #sir crocodile #crocodile #one piece sir crocodile #crocodile fanart #sir crocodile x oc #sir crocodile fanart #croc x shivs #imperial art farts #sketchbook #doodles #traditional art #sketches #monochrome art

[love-overdrive]

One Piece OC Introduction

What it says on the tin! This is my One Piece OC. Below are arts I’ve commissioned of her (please do not use or steal these, I do not give permission for these to be used elsewhere) and her profile.

Name: Mariam/Mary

Age: 35 (Pre-Timeskip) / 37 (Post-Timeskip)

Hometown: Alabasta

F/O: Sir Crocodile

Familial/Platonic F/O’s: Dracule Mihawk and Buggy the Clown (Coworkers), Nico Robin (No ill will towards her… feeling isn’t really mutual), Alvida (Best friend in Cross Guild), Galdino/Mr. 3 (Appreciates his art)

Devil Fruit: Genie Genie no Mi- the power to become invisible or shapeshift as one sees fit. When awakened, this fruit allows the user to manipulate the minds of others and charm or induce fear into them, rendering them vulnerable. Due to its rather broad nature, it is classified as a Paramecia because it does not truly meet the criteria of a Zoan or Logia.

Position: Once a young woman juggling many odd jobs, she works beside her husband, Crocodile, in Alabasta to find any useful information while also keeping up appearances. Using her skills and resources, she plays the part of a doting wife and upstanding lady of the community to get others to spill their secrets. Her contribution allows Crocodile to get what he needs while continuing to convince the population he’s a respectable man.

After the disbandment of Baroque Works and formation of Cross Guild, her job has largely stayed the same, save for the extra work on influencing the community. She tends to do some extra paperwork and keeps the lower ranking members in check should the need arise.

Relationship with F/O: Originally, Mariam had met Sir Crocodile to plead or work out a deal to spare his wrath against her father for not paying his debts to Crocodile. Initially annoyed with her constant badgering, the Warlord became amused by her anger and her insistence on helping her father despite his supposed idiocy.

This interest led to him offering her a deal to ‘test’ her- pretend to be his wife to give him information and a good reputation, then he’ll lower or remove the debt entirely. Although frustrated, Mariam had agreed and thus, their relationship as a “married” couple had begun. Despite their marriage starting out as a fraud, the two eventually fell for each other naturally and became true lovers.

Even though Crocodile is taller and stronger than her, she tends to lecture him or talk back if he gives attitude. It’s a fight he knows he’s not winning, especially with how stubborn she is. Oftentimes, she just teases Crocodile whenever he’s in over his head or refuses to admit he needs help with anything. She knows he’ll ask for it in a bit.

Favorite Food: Bazella

Pets: She helps Crocodile take care of the Bananawanis and was gifted three of them for herself. Their names are: Mawz (Banana), Mishmish (Apricot), and Ruman (Pomegranate). She loves them lots and they’re very protective of her, too.

Favorite Pastime: Despite keeping up appearances being exhausting, Mariam has always loved tea parties. Even after her and Crocodile left Alabasta during the formation of Cross Guild, she still continues the habit of making them. She also likes to read in her spare time to unwind.

(And a last piece of art I’ve Commissioned for Ramadan <3)

#one piece #one piece selfship #one piece oc #sir crocodile x oc #mariam #self ship #my oc #op oc #oc intro #self ship blog

[silkendandelion]

Say My Name (This Time I Will Answer)

A One Piece fanfiction (completed, one-shot), Gift Fic for Mirage In The Desert reaching 2,500 hits on ao3!!

ao3 link

Sir Crocodile x OC (male) Words: 7.6k Genre: Smut, fluff, romance, angst, bottom Crocodile

Rated: Explicit for sexual content, no external warnings apply

In Mirage In The Desert, Crocodile fantasized about a world where he and River met under different circumstances, one conducive to a love they could nurture. So I wrote it. In a world where he never lost his hand, and remained both a swordsman and a pirate captain, he hires a man off a random dock on some unknown island, one who proclaims he’s on pilgrimage from a Paradise island, and is looking for work. Can be read as x reader because River is not described nearly as in depth as the original fic. It can also be read alone from MITD, but might not be appreciated the same way.

Thank you for all of your continued support, and please enjoy 💙 it was so fun to work with Croc and River again, and this one is a personal favorite. Sweet, romantic, soft Crocodile, moonlit swimming, and lots of sauce 💝 have fun you guys

~*~

For all of Crocodile’s love of gold, and the flash of truth in the eyes of his opponents as the arc of his blade reaches it’s apogee, the sea was his first. His greatest paramour, a punishing lover that shouts and thrashes as much as she laves his skin with warm foam, cleansed of lesser men’s blood and graced by a crown of coral while she whispers:

My king.

So he procured a ship. To be close to her, to see a better, wider world than the one he knew, one overflowing with gold and power. He fled his home country on a stolen carrack worthy of his ambition, and filled her with a crew that was appropriately dangerous, loyal enough, who called her La Forza Dorato.

Today, years later and under such a bright sun, he wanted to be nowhere else.

“Captain!” A young crew member called to him, where he stood on the pier. He had already forgotten this one’s name. “Your list is exhausted, Sir. We sail on your command.”

“Immediately.” With only his word, they bustled to begin loosing the sails, and he remained on the dock long enough to light his cigar. His left thumb flicked open the solid gold lighter with a bright ping, while his right shielded it from the passing wind.

Thwip, thwip. But it only sparked. He clicked his teeth, about to bark out an order for one of the crew to hop down and buy lighter oil before they departed, until a man spoke up beside him.

“Need a light?”

An elegant hand with a calloused forefinger offered him a flame, attached to a man younger than himself but certainly not a boy by the creases along his eyes. Strikingly violet eyes among tan skin and dark, expressive brows that matched the mane of thick, black hair draped down his back, pulled neatly into a leather hair cord. Crocodile’s gaze flickered from the silver lighter to the twin swords on his hip, both the same shade of moonlight.

“Thank you,” he replied, polite but curt, and head bowed to accept.

“Is this your ship?” The stranger turned to his boat, wandering nearly onto the ramp until the crew gathered to block him, ready to defend.

“Oh—have I overstepped?” He chuckled nervously—handsomely, Crocodile hesitated to admit—and he nodded to his pirates to relax.

“Only fools wander onto a pirate ship of their own free will. Or stupidity.”

“I assure you, it’s foolishness, really,” the stranger explained. “I’m on pilgrimage from a Paradise island. If you have work for me, I promise to work hard.”

The crew grumbled in a ripple of protests, unimpressed by his fine-tailored clothes and sturdy boots, worthy of an adventure, sure, but only barely broken in. On that, Crocodile agreed, hesitant to entertain any self-proclaimed mercenary who, despite the hand-me-down rucksack slung over his shoulder, smelled of expensive perfume when the wind picked up his long hair.

“Are those swords just for show? Or do you claim to be a professional?” He pulled back his cape with his left hand to show the rapier on his own hip, a golden blade with a spiral hilt, too heavy to be a dress sword and proportionate to his tall, wide body.

“Why don’t you find out? Or are you just the captain?”

Crocodile had killed mouthier fools for less lip, but the mirth in those eyes, dancing among purple firelight and hinting of mischief, made him want to find out. He took a long drag off his cigar to keep from smiling, though it nearly turned into a scowl when the stranger spotted his decision—and had the audacity to grin at him.

Careful, beautiful stranger. Looking at men like that tends to make promises I doubt you could keep.

“You will refer to me as such.”

“Yes, captain,” replied the stranger with a deep, flourishing bow. “River Joel Faustina, at your service.”

“Shall I call you River?”

“Please,” he replied, beaming like his new captain had committed some incredible deed by merely offering him employment. Conditional upon his performance, of which pretty smiles held exactly zero weight. Crocodile rolled his eyes as he gestured for them to board, at the same time his crew were already scattering to enact his anticipated command.

“Let’s go!”

~*~

Crocodile ruled his ship the way he governed his heart: loyalty must be earned, obedience is non-negotiable, and failure often proved to be a fatal mistake. As to why the fool was still alive, even he didn’t know.

Perhaps he found his perseverance endearing, determined to haul sails and throw freight with the brawniest of his crew no matter how it reddened his fingers, his fine clothes beginning to fray with the strain of manual labor. Perhaps it was because Crocodile often forgot himself, unabashedly studying his newest sailor piling all of his hair to the top of his head between orders, and clicking his teeth that he was never wise enough to begin with his hair up. Surely, the ditsy stranger had to know how the loose pieces stuck to his neck in sweat-soaked petals, how the pieces curling around his chin in the humidity were capable to cause insanity.

He suspected a long plot, one where the stranger knew exactly the picture he painted when he stood by the railing to wring his shirt dry, the long line of his back tempting Crocodile to press fingerprints into his skin, until he was love drunk and bewitched, too warm and drowsy to prevent the robbery of more than just his jewels. That in mind, he respected the stranger’s dedication to his scheme, putting in long hours day after day, from his calculated “good morning, captain” at first light, to sending him dark eyes across the fire of the evening, and further flaunting himself across his captain’s restless dreams.

“I don’t like him,” Crocodile declared to no one.

For as long as he’s sailed, Crocodile always ate last, preferring to eat alone, and only after he deemed the day well and truly finished, the sun long gone. Despite his singular statement, containing it’s own beginning and end, the crewmate who poured his ale felt the need to reply. For tonight, on this subject, he would allow it.

“No one does. But, he does as he’s told. So how much can any of us complain?” They shrugged.

“He can’t be trusted.”

“I wonder where he goes every night, when he sneaks out of his bunk like none of us have ears.”

The clatter of Crocodile’s fork to his plate caused the startled crewmate to flinch. A coat of sweat began to dot their pallid skin, as they watched him slowly replace his fork to the napkin. “When would I have learned of these nightly occurrences, if I had not spoken?”

“I-immediately, captain, as—” They swallowed around their tight throat. “The moment I knew what it was the brat was uh—up to.”

”We’ll never know then.”

Crocodile’s rings caught the candlelight in a deadly flash, the promise of a permanent end to their business as he wrenched the crewmate up by his shirt.

“WAIT! You can’t—DON’T—”

A door opening elsewhere startled them both to silence, the cabin perfectly still while they both listened to it close, and the joining patter of feet on the deck. He tossed the man away, suddenly uncaring to enforce his own rules, to the grateful pounding of the frightened crewman’s heart.

“Get out,” he said simply, eyes and ears still trained to the almost imperceptible noise of footsteps.

The man scrambled to leave him alone, dashing off to go through the door they had heard open, while Crocodile ventured the opposite way to the deck. Empty, he believed at first, awash with moonlight and the white noise of the endless sea, enough to rock the ship but not to wake the crew in their beds. Against the railing, he spotted him, the sneak, his face turned to the damp wind, and… standing there?

He waited long breaths for him to reveal a snail phone, communicate to his handler he was getting close to his target, or mark notes in a pocket journal about his plot to fell the rising pirate before he became too powerful—but he only stood there. Basking in the moon, catching spray on his cheeks and gazing out at the sea like he was in love with her too.

Perhaps there was no plot after all, and his newest sailor was simply a fool. Nothing more. For now, there in the dark, damp and awed, he knew only one truth: that he found him beautiful.

~*~

Did he know his captain watched him walk the deck every night? Wondering what he scribbled about in his journal, a salt-stained book with it’s leather worn soft? Does he know he captivates me?

“It’s poetry,” he answered when questioned one morning at breakfast. The pirates at his elbows leaned to see the pages better, and the stranger had little mind to cover up or pretend to be embarrassed.

“What’s a man like you doing out on these seas?” Another one asked.

“I’ve come to see the world,” was his simple reply. “Find a new home, maybe find love.”

From the doorway of the galley, Crocodile blew smoke from his mouth, an olfactory announcement of his presence. The stranger was the only one to raise his head and meet his guarded, golden stare. “You’re a fool for that too.”

He rumbled some warning to the crew about other ship’s in the area, determined to appear indifferent to the stranger’s show of vulnerability, like he hadn’t fled to the sea for the same.

~*~

That night, as Crocodile sat beside the window in his quarters, smoking and thumbing a book without absorbing the pages, he wondered why the fool was late. 18 minutes, according to the golden watch in his pocket.

Tch, he clicked around his cigar, and was about to pour himself a drink when he heard the crew quarter’s door opening.

“A night for star gazing, eh?” He said quietly to no one, seeing the stranger come to the deck without a book or his pen. The night was perfect for such, their ship drifting aimlessly on a glass sea, the air warm and sky clear. His thoughts drifted back to the dark liquor on his desk. Would tonight be the time he went to him with two glasses and a hope fluttering around his insides? He seized the crystal glasses before he lost his nerve, grabbed the neck of the bottle, but—

The sight of endless skin outside the window froze him where he stood.

Once-fine linen pooled around bare feet, and the stranger stepped from their puddle to approach the railing, the night bathing the entirety of his skin a dark, deep blue.

“What is he—wait! Fool!” Crocodile ran from his quarters too late to catch him, just in time to watch him dive over the railing and down into the warm water. Bubbles preceded his resurfacing, among a gasp of delight and a handsome, shamelessly giddy smile.

“What are you doing?” Crocodile scolded down at him, quietly lest the crew wake and his voyeurism be revealed completely. “Are you insane?”

“Oh! Hello, captain,” the stranger replied, wading happily like he wasn’t being glared at by his highest superior. “Would you like to join me?”

“Get back up here—that’s an order. Storms can roll in at a moment’s notice.”

“Sky’s clear, captain. It’s only you and me,” he said, paddling onto his back to show him the planes of his body, chest barely breaking the surface and modesty only partially maintained by the black, shadowed water.

“Do you have any idea the kinds of animals that live in these deep waters?”

Dark eyes find his, and the mesmerized sway of his mind suddenly feels too much like falling over the railing. “I’ll protect you, captain.”

Absurd. Impudent. Brat. Crocodile cursed him repeatedly as he yanked at his clothes. But, with every article he tossed to the deck, his annoyance dimmed, soothed by the promise of warm seawater and a welcoming soul. He dove over the railing, the water parting for his large body in a burst of bubbles that tickled along his skin with the melodious laughter above him. Coming up for air promised the sight of the tempter up close, dotted on every inch of his skin with droplets of diamond—but he found he was gone.

“… Where—,” he gasped, startled at the brush of skin against his legs, and a dark shape darting beneath the rippled surface. What could easily be an expert swimmer or fish revealed itself as a man some meters away when the stranger reappeared. Beneath his wet lashes, he found his own yearning reflected back at him, alongside the same glimmer he saw at the docks all those weeks ago. The one that promised to either transform or drown him.

“If you catch me, you can kiss me,” promised the stranger.

They dove beneath the waves, and Crocodile soon realized he chased a native of the sea, as fast as any animal, breaking the moon beams that shone down through the water with the strong arc of his body to remain just out of his reach. He tumbled over the net of his hands with ease, exciting bubbles around them with his need to tease, to tighten his nimble limbs around the struggling thump of Crocodile’s vulnerable heart.

But Crocodile was also born to the sea, a predator of his own environment, and asking him to give chase was a simple request, as effortless as the yield of the stranger—this siren’s body when he folds into the hands that ensnare him. First, by the gentle grasp around his ankle, then sliding up the length of his legs to hold him in the wrap of his arms. With his delicate organs separated from the predator’s wide palms by only smooth skin dotted with moles, he offered Crocodile the air in his lungs, the warmth of his blood rising to his face as they finally catch their breath.

“Caught you.”

Under the compounding heat of his gaze, the water felt suddenly cool. Their limbs remained intertwined as he realized the only reason he held this creature of the sea—a man with a name, he reminded himself—in his hands, able to feel the thump of his pulse and the puff of his breath across both their lips was because he swam into his net of his own free will. Were he to deem his captain unworthy to touch him, he would have swam to the bottom and drowned him.

Yet here he floated, soft and beguiling, like he might dissolve into foam if Crocodile didn’t kiss him right this moment.

The slam of a door on deck flinched them apart, and Crocodile covered him with his body, despite them both bare, able to be seen completely if only the ripples calmed. Incoherent, sleepy grumbling floated down, among the sound of a zipper.

“How rude. Hey—” River called when a big hand clamped over his mouth, barely heard over the sound of liquid over another part of the railing they couldn’t see. Crocodile kicked them towards the netting along the side of the ship, quiet enough the sailor must have believed them to be fish, and left them alone to wander back to the cabin.

Among the silence, Crocodile realized with devastating clarity, lips still tingling where they had nearly touched, that he could not bring himself to continue.

Nevermind the moment being shattered by a weak bladder, their focus had been elsewhere long enough for Crocodile’s doubt to creep back into his edges. Cold, sour doubt, the worry about his worthiness of love, and wondering if River could smell his weakness. Wondering if he would still want him if he knew the fragility of his heart. Unbecoming, he believed, of a dangerous, cruel, and ruthlessly resourceful pirate. To remain apart was to protect his most vital asset: himself.

“… You should be in bed,” he said quietly.

“But—”

“That’s an order. River.” He couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, not when he might see the breaking of his own heart reflected back at him.

“Yes, captain.”

River climbed the net first, crestfallen, and Crocodile could not even bring himself to admire the back of him as he shed water and fumbled back into his clothes. He took no delight in going back to his quarters, clothes in hand, to lie down alone. Damp hands scrubbed down his face, reaching for a cigar to soothe the sting of his self-inflicted isolation. A punishment? For what, the imagined sins inflicted upon him by people he had already killed?

No, he thought as he flicked open the lighter. For my own weakness. That I replaced the chains of the dead with my own shackles. He does not deserve their weight, and neither do I.

Smoke wafted to the ceiling in lazy plumes, filling his lungs with the blanket of a hard decision.

The next time I hold him, he will have to decide: be mine, or find a new captain.

~*~

“No breakfast today, captain?” A crewmate asked when they were called to fetch his neglected tray and an empty carafe.

“How long until we reach the next island?” Crocodile asked instead.

“Day after tomorrow, captain. Our supplies will hold, despite how much that flimsy swordsman eats.”

He spun his cigar over the ash tray, tired, unseeing eyes scanning the correspondence and notes sprawled across his desk. “Perhaps… he will not be with us much longer.”

“Anything else, captain?”

“That will be all.”

Once his door clicked closed, the silence all but clawed at his nerves. He placed a record on his gramophone, finding comfort in the little band inside the tin speaker, and the weight of his rapier in his left hand. A few practice strokes, precise, gentlemanly, sharp in every way he was also. Were he to lose his hand, his ability to fight, he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t kill him, or worse perhaps, leave him alive.

He wondered if River could love a version of him without his sword, a man who would surely crawl from bloody ashes refusing to die, one who no longer cared to smother his rage. After all, even whole he was still that man. To love someone, to be theirs and keep them, was to love both who they are and who they could become.

A knock at his cabin door tells him the sun had set while he was in his head, the entire day lost to his sword strokes and spinning thoughts. The turning of the knob without his permission tells him exactly who stands on the other side, and River slips between the door and the frame to encroach on his habitat with little care for how he might be received. It clicks shut behind him, at the same time Crocodile’s scolding dies on his tongue.

He stands in night clothes Crocodile had never seen on him, a long linen shirt fluttering around his calves, his body bared as if he were nude by the glowing orange of the lamp light behind him, while his hair and limbs drip seawater onto the floor in gentle patters. The cloth soaks through where it touches his skin, framing goosebumps and tight nipples that perked up on the walk from warm water to the cool, dry cabin.

“Are you going to send me away? Captain?” His quiet voice startled Crocodile from his ogling.

“Why?” He manages with a dry mouth after a moment, and River opens his mouth to reply but he was not finished. “Why do you torment me? What do you want?”

“How do you not know? Can’t you see me?”

The slam of Crocodile’s palms on the short bureau behind River startles them both, caging him between corded arms that strain his dress shirt. He dips, poised to rumble the penultimate question against the warm skin of his neck where his pulse flutters against his lips. Between his legs, Crocodile’s knee keeps him spread, vulnerable, at the mercy of his crazed musings, and squirming as the furniture digs into the give where his rear meets his thighs.

But his question goes unasked. So he decides, as he stands close enough to see his own burning want reflected back in blown pupils, feel the impatient quiver of him against his body, that whatever his answer might be, he needed this night first. One night to begin a lifetime of bliss, or a special, singular night to carry him through.

“River.”

“Yes, captain?” His pink tongue flicks out to wet his dry, bitten lips.

“No. None of that,” he growls in the space between them before surging forward to lock their mouths together, tongues sliding as he grips the back of his thighs to hoist him onto the bureau. Both of them grab and yank at the bottom of River’s shift, hoisting it up to pool in the bend of his thighs so he can cage Crocodile’s waist between his thighs the way he himself is trapped between the hard planes of his body and the wall.

“Captain, we—”

A jeweled hand grabs his jaw, thumb digging into the joint, and keeps them impossibly close to let every letter of his order vibrate in his blushing throat. “Say my name.”

The blushes rises to flood his cheeks, a challenge if Crocodile had ever seen one, to turn his entire body pink to match. “But you said when we first met—I mean, someone will hear us.”

“They would not come through that door even if they believed you were being murdered. Don’t tell me you are shy?” River’s answer comes as an unabashed moan, Crocodile’s reward for sucking hot kisses into the junction of his neck and shoulder while wide, greedy hands knead and pull at the flesh of his hips to drag their erections together through their clothes.

“The man who came to my quarters in nothing but a shift has no right to be shy.”

He hauls him into his arms but does not move to the bed, instead setting him down on the table where his dinner had lain only hours before. The sigh of anticipation that stutters from River’s chest urges him to continue talking, to keep working his body with his voice. All burgeoning promise and smoke, the one that has him leaking into the crumpled mess of his shift with thoughts of Crocodile using those big hands to yank him back into his stroke on every single piece of furniture in the room.

“With the ease you stripped yourself bare to jump into the sea, I do not believe the moon can see any more of you than it already has.” Crocodile’s words were punctuated by shoving his shift up to his chest with one hand, bearing all of him to his hungry gaze as his other hand pulled open the buttons on his shirt. He yanked his belt open to give himself some modicum of relief, sighing hot when thinner hands slipped themselves into his trousers to stroke the clothed outline of his cock. Relief indeed—but tonight, he had no patience for mischief.

”What if someone had seen you?” He reached passed him for the oil (the same bottle he had used to maintain his rapier earlier in the night), and the scent of cloves drifted up from where he hastily slicked his hand. Long, thick fingers briefly massaged the skin behind River’s sack, down over nearly the entire cleft of him until he pressed one inside.

“Or did you want to be seen?”

To the pounding of his heart in his ears, and the rhythmic flex of River’s hands on his shift as he obediently keeps it lifted out of the way, he bullies in a second finger. For all his intent to stay still and let his lover adjust, be tended to, River’s hips squirmed in restless circles, tempting Crocodile to be mean to him with the little moans that puff from his kiss-bitten lips. But, for them to collide in a wave that swallows them both, he needed to hear from those lips he was wanted, even if the answer came ripped from River’s throat in the wail of his ecstasy.

“Answer me.” His fingers continued to drag over sensitive walls, pulling out just to shove back in again, again, pressing to his spot on every entry with an insistent curl. “Did you want to be seen? Eh? Would just anyone do?”

“N-no, I never—they wouldn’t,” he stammered out, his breath stolen by the lightning bolts of pleasure beneath his navel that lit up his entire body. A plea laid across his tongue, ready to be sprung but Crocodile’s fingertips refused to let him breathe enough to confess, like they were intent to keep him drunk and babbling until he could no longer recall excuses.

“O-only you. Only you, Captain, wanted y-you to see me. See me, fuck me—” A loud moan chopped off his words, loud enough to wake someone if not for Crocodile smothering his lips with a wet kiss, sucking on his tongue as he swallowed the cry caused by a third, thick finger. He consumed his sounds with a greed he hadn’t realized he could have for anything but gold, possessed to wring River’s body of every heaving breath and take them selfishly into his own lungs—

Until he had everything he could give.

River’s body rattled, toes curled hard enough to hurt as he wrenched his lips back on a ragged gasp, hips bucking into Crocodile’s soaked palm until he broke on the choked, shameless cry of his captain’s name. He moaned his crest to the ceiling, legs beginning to shake when those fingers refused to stop pistoning inside him. Crocodile almost regretted being so aggressive, but seeing those violet eyes shine with tears, lips equally glossy with drool as he called his name for the entire sea to hear—he wanted to reward him with blinding, wracking pleasure until he could recall no other words.

In the sudden quiet, he reached to soothe him, brushing his palms down his sides and hauling him into his arms to bring him down slow. For a long moment, there was only the sound of slowing breaths, their matched heartbeats pounding against the other’s ribs, until River’s eyes finally peeled open at the beckon of his voice.

“Did I break you?”

His answer came as a surge of energy in a desperate kiss, arms flung around his neck and a mournful sound pressed between his lips. Even through the tears, his eyes shone wetter than before, prompting Crocodile to wonder if he had made a terrible mistake.

“You made me come. Didn’t you—don’t you want me? To be inside me?”

The tight squeeze of his hands on River’s quivering waist dries those tears awfully quick.

“What kind of men have you allowed to touch you, that you would think one is enough?”

He isn’t prepared to watch storm clouds roll into his eyes at his question, elegant hands suddenly gripping into his shirt to shove him back from between his legs. For a shorter man, he carried a strength Crocodile had yet to witness in action, now aimed at himself as he wrestled them down onto the bed to perch above his hips in a tall line that spoke of some kind of pride.

In his miles of moonlit skin he saw it: the threat to be drowned by a man he didn’t fully understand. Yet, it only made Crocodile want more, grabbing for a life preserver in the strong thighs draped over him, and watching River toss his shift somewhere into the dark.

“I’m tired of your questions. Your assumptions to know me, what I’ve done with my body.” Above him, his gaze, the weight of his brow sat open and startingly sober. Among the storm, he found another emotion, the precursor to love, so close to honesty, and yet Crocodile could not identify it as devotion because he had never seen it before aimed at him.

“From the day I came aboard this ship, I never pretended to want anyone else, never hid my intentions. I only ever screamed them if you would bother to look.” He swallowed around his resolve. “You don’t believe me, that I want you? I will show you.”

For all of Crocodile’s hard-nosed affection, his growled demands and confident fingers, the immovable line of him lies willingly supine under the smaller man, long legs parting for him to crawl off his hips and down between his knees.

He looks perfect this way, they think about the other, meaning the way River pulls his endless, black hair to the top of his head with the leather from his wrist, and Crocodile’s wide chest beginning to rise and fall faster, the muscles in his strong jaw clenching and releasing with anticipation River can see plain in the heavy, tight line of his cock against his hip.

The shock of a hot mouth against his tip makes him hiss, soothed by wet kisses along every inch of him that is revealed by River’s hands slowly peeling down his trousers. Momentarily, River ponders undressing him completely so they match, but finds he enjoys too much the sight of Crocodile half undone, shirt bearing his solid torso and lower-half exposed only down to the tops of his thighs. Perfectly disheveled, begging to be consumed, bared perfectly for the moon to see all of him too. Hard evidence it was River’s hands that destroyed him, who cared to reform him.

A telling bead of precum, worked up by River’s ardent staring, tempts him to taste, swipe the tang of him away and lead him between his soft, inviting lips. Crocodile’s answer is a long moan squeezed up from his chest by the squeeze of the throat around him, and betrays exactly how much he’s enjoying himself. His stoic face is unused to being scrunched in bliss by a feverish mouth taking him down to the root with just a few, determined swallows. River takes a moment to hold him there, nose pressed against the dark, neat hair on his pubic bone, for what Crocodile believes to be a breath-stealing, head-spinning eternity—until it’s gone too soon.

He thinks he might lose his temper when that mouth pulls off completely to speak to him.

“You are so much more than I imagined. Oh,” River panted into his skin. Red, slick lips mouth up to his flushed tip to suckle and demand for more precum until it rips a haggard groan from his chest, and Crocodile gives a flushed, pissy scowl, one that demands he stop fucking around.

It hardly frightens the man between his legs, not when Crocodile’s hair has fallen from his meticulous style in damp strands over his cheeks to match the shine of sweat on his forehead. Between his knees, the heat of him nearly steams where River breathes over his sack to roll them around on his tongue too.

Crocodile wants to complain about the crawl they’ve fallen into, demand he pick up the pace, but before he can arrange thoughts on his tongue he’s rewarded by those lips slipping back over him. They fall into an easy rhythm, one that slides hot and tormentingly slow over the entire length of him with every complete bob of River’s head.

A soft, yielding “fuck” flutters out above him, anxious thighs brushing his ears, and River takes the moment to admire the crimson flush creeping into the valleys of Crocodile’s chest, the bob of his swallow around an unguarded groan. Big, sword-calloused hands cradling the curve of his skull are their own reward, as are the little, muffled moans he lets vibrate along the cock in his throat, tempting those hands to squeeze into the roots of his hair.

Crocodile puffs out a quiet chuckle, needing it to be mean but the lack of air in his lungs is a powerful enemy. “Look at you. So haughty and spitting a moment ago. How quickly you’ve become docile for me,” he says, deep in his chest as his jeweled thumb smears a drop of drool away from River’s lip, across his cheek.

Is that how it appears, captain?

River’s eyes flick open, dark as the depths of the ocean that housed creatures more dangerous than either of them, and promising to ruin him on his own pride. They steal the rest of his breath, trading air for lightning in his veins, all while never ceasing the steady rhythm of his head. One of River’s hands, the one that had contented itself to rub over the firm planes of Crocodile’s abs while he pleasured him—suddenly slipped away.

But, Crocodile hardly had the mind to count limbs, not when a tongue prods the hole in his tip, massaging his foreskin and coaxing his eyes to close, assuring him he was the one in control. A pretty thought, pretty as the man who knows the truth, the one collecting his own precum to nudge behind his balls, lower, lower still, and massage over Crocodile’s hole.

His eyes fly open, face suddenly as red as his chest, shooting up to his elbows like River can’t feel him getting even harder against his tongue. “You little—brat—”

“Push me away, then.” That mouth, that smirking mouth lay open to let his cock slap on his glossy tongue. “I’m a swordsman too, certainly no waif, but you and I both know I didn’t lay you down on this bed against your will. If I’ve overstepped—stop me. Tell me to stop, Crocodile, if those rippling muscles have suddenly failed you.”

The pleased chuckle he breathes over the tip of his cock coincides with Crocodile’s surrendering sigh, and the impossibly long line of him falls back to the pillows with the dizzying slide of River’s finger inside him.

“Add another, hurry up—”

“Ah,” he tuts at him. “I will treat you with the care you showed me. Even if you didn’t wait very long at all,” River chuckled again, and Crocodile’s teeth clicking in annoyance turns a huff of pleasure when he gets his request.

He wants to be infuriated at the impudent swordsman for pushing him down and taking liberties with his body, but he can’t feel anything beyond the eager, searing heat that keeps swallowing his semblance of thoughts through his cock, and the expert, clever fingers massaging his inner walls so thoroughly.

River holds back a teasing comment about “who’s docile now” as he opens his eyes to admire him through the tears pooling on his lashes. For all River’s calm voice spoke of control, he knows neither of them can deny their body’s reaction, from his wet cheeks at his throat being filled dutifully over and over, to his hard cock between his legs that throbs as Crocodile writhes on his fingers, long legs restless against the sheets as his sturdy body shakes and cock swells in his throat. Such the cycle continues.

Below him, Crocodile melts on the simmering heat filling his body, threatening to burst from his cock and yet it doesn’t, can’t, as it’s held back by the distracting hand leaving fingerprints on his insides, all over his swelling prostate. He’s in a loop of pleasure, riding higher to a place he hasn’t seen in so long, so out of his reach from atop his throne. And yet here he was, moaning, gasping for air on the sticky, devoted affection of the man who came to his quarters and presented himself first.

The barrage on his senses retreats suddenly, and Crocodile nearly begs for the high, wounded sound he made to remain their secret. Luckily, River looks to have no intention to tease him as he wipes his lips clean with his arm, using his slippery hand to stroke over his own cock. By the glow of the oil lamp, Crocodile can see all four of his fingers shining, but recalls no pain when they had entered him. And they must have, if the openness of his hole is to be believed, felt by a quick touch of his own fingers.

“Why did you stop?” He rasps into the humid air between them.

River answers by leaning over him, hair mostly fallen from it’s quick style, pupils blown as they keep him pinned to the pillows, all while his greedy hands knead at Crocodile’s strong thighs. “Do you believe I want you now?”

Crocodile means to fire back some quick-witted, biting retort, until his thighs are hoisted up, baring his hole and held aloft by deceptively strong arms.

“I’m sorry you haven’t come yet… Would you believe that I want you if I had let you come in my mouth, showed your seed to you on my tongue before I swallowed it?”

“You are…” Crocodile growled out, golden eyes equally blown as his hands grabbed at the sheets. “A cruel, impudent little thing.”

The calloused hands on his thighs flex. “Cruelty recognizes itself, Crocodile, and I think you need better proof of my intentions.”

“I believe you.”

His ragged gasp as he breathed in, so unlike the Crocodile that strangled control from every aspect of his life down to his pleasure, desperate and—if River was anymore bold—vulnerable, had them both snapping to each other's gaze. For a moment, only the sound of the ocean outside filled the warm room.

“I believe that you want me, and I want you. Beautiful River, handsome poet, I want you, so—” Any more words were swallowed by the moan in his chest as River surged forward, bracing his hands beside his ribs and pressing his cock inside in one firm thrust.

River’s hips meeting his stretched rim comes with Crocodile’s big hands on his body, one in his hopelessly lost hair bun, the other on his lower back to feel his muscles clench and twist. “Come on, you wanted to show me proof. Or is this pretty face the extent of you? Your pretty cock—”

He’s interrupted by the throw of his hips, an honest moan worked up from both of them when River grabs at the mattress for leverage to work Crocodile’s body harder than his fingers could ever hope.

“I am more than this pretty face,” he pants over him, one hand leaving the bed to grip his thigh and spread him wide to bury himself even deeper. “More than the swords at your disposal. I will ruin your body, your soul.”

Crocodile’s head, also hopelessly mused from it’s style, presses to the pillow with the force of his hard, steady strokes. Quiet, panting moans leave his lips in rising succession. He touches River’s bicep where one of his arms keeps him braced, fingertips scratching him gently in a way that might have been reserved for admiration if not for the drop of drool that escaped his clenched teeth. Breathing is so hard suddenly, when he can easily look down to see the poet’s pretty cock disappear inside him, his own lying neglected and useless in a puddle of it’s own pre against his stomach.

He can’t help but be impatient, especially after being denied his orgasm down River’s throat, and reaches down to stroke himself off. His breath rises again, shorter, more labored as River shifts his knees to match his attention to Crocodile’s prostate with his wrist’s efficient, choppy rolls.

“That’s it, come on. Come for me,” River coaxes him, voice rising, whining and urgent like he was the one approaching orgasm and it flings Crocodile over the edge with a punch to his diaphragm that comes out as a deep, cracked groan. His vision blurs for long moments, white and crackling at the edges, until he comes back to himself to realize the rhythmic thumping against his flank has not ceased. River’s still at it, dragging him out of the dredges of over-sensitivity and back on the road to another, stronger orgasm.

Perhaps he will drown him anyway.

“I’m sorry it look so long for you to come, but I—,” River swallows around his dry mouth, “I will make you come again, I promise.”

“You stupid poet, you beautiful—” His words hold no bite as they wheeze from his wet lips, choking on air when River threads his elbows behind his knees to spread him wider, impossibly so as he leans over him to capture his lips.

He feels himself blush to be pressed completely open, River’s soft thighs rubbing against the skin of his hips to fuck him slower, deeper than he had before, the length of his cock dragging against Crocodile’s most sensitive places for the entirety of his stroke. It made kissing nearly impossible, not when the overworked neurons in his brain are firing off at a rapid pace and his body has begun to melt into the sheets.

“Kiss me, please, I need you,” River whimpered against his tongue, like he didn’t have him folded in half, moaning on his cock and golden eyes dripping tears down his temples and into his hair. Crocodile seized him to bring them chest to chest, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripped on his rear to press the shape of his rings into his heated skin. Dizziness crept into his vision, he knew he was flying too high, only able to wrestle a few words from his vocabulary beyond the fluttering in his chest and the boiling just beneath his skin.

“Mine, all mine. Always,” he panted, his glassy eyes causing River to wonder if he meant him or his cock. The lightning in his belly begged it was the former.

“Yes, yours. No one else’s. Only you, captain, it’s always been you,” He moaned out, nearly a sob as Crocodile’s head flopped uselessly to the pillow. In the fog of his cooked consciousness, he still felt River’s forehead press to his temple, mouth hot near his ear, begging his words to be heard clear and coherent among the humid air between them.

“I’m yours, Crocodile, only yours for as long as I live.” The rhythm of his thrusts wavered as Crocodile’s mouth dropped open, dumbfounded to feel him swell even harder inside him, right against his sweet spot. “Command me, fuck me, use me as you wish.”

The storm rising beneath his ribs burst suddenly, flooding his body to the tips of his fingers and toes, his internal muscles squeezing unbidden, and they both call each other’s name over the ocean rushing in their ears. To Crocodile, it felt so different from the orgasm he had impatiently wrung from himself earlier, hand stripping his cock while he allowed River to sweeten the deal with his dutiful stroke. But this, this, River was in control of his pleasure, fucking it deep from within the most molten parts of his core and pushing him impossibly higher with every hungry, obedient thrust.

The sweet, keening moan above him is a treat, along with the last pleas of stuttering hips pumping him deep with a liquid heat that sweeps his insides to the corners of his soul. An apology, he thinks, for the ache in his hips as River finally lets his legs fall to the side.

He contemplates scolding him, picking the pieces of his pride off the floor to remind the other man he did not have permission to come inside him, until a muted thump to the mattress captures his attention first. Beside him, River lies bathed in moonlight, wearing his sated flush like a silk chemise, and decidedly too endearing to shout at. He sighed at length, supposing he earned it, after coaxing him to come twice on his cock and hard enough the second time to hit his own face with his seed.

But who would he be if he didn’t complain a little?

“Ugh. You come into my room, make a mess of me and my bed. I don’t suppose you intend to clean up after yourself, do you?”

“Shall I use my tongue? It will only take a moment.” River jumped up to lean over him, beginning to suckle the semen off his abdomen with a happy hum, to Crocodile’s flustered outrage.

“Outrageous, mischievous—hrn.” A strangled sound fell from his tired lips when the tongue moved to lap at his hole, interrupted by Crocodile’s firm hand in the roots of his hair. He dragged him back up for a kiss, tasting himself in their shared sigh, and a fond calm settled over them as they parted with a wet sound, not unlike the waves after a storm.

Crocodile anchored his stare by the firm grip on the back of his neck. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Every word.” River answered without hesitation, and let their foreheads gently thump together. “Do with me as you wish. Forever.”

“Promises like that, to a man like me, are liable to breed hatred eventually. You will come to resent me.”

“No, I won’t. Not this time.”

He wants to ask him what he means, why his gaze is so calm, as if he’s come home from a long journey. Maybe he’ll ask him one day. But not now, when their skin is so warm where their sides brush, and the ocean outside is quiet.

#one piece #sir crocodile #sir crocodile smut #sir crocodile x oc #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x male reader #x reader #x oc #bottom sir crocodile #oc x canon #oc x reader #male reader #original character #male original character #ao3 fanfic #oc fanfiction #mirage in the desert #if you read my story mirage #silkendandelion #silkenspeaks #latino oc

[gearvmac]

.જ⁀➴ crack-shot luna design sheet commission by the talented @taco-tuseday

#AAAAAH #where do I start #im in love with everything #guys her gaze??? #im so happy her gun is included this time and it looks so cool!!! #her eyes man 🫠 #and her fav Hawaiian shirt! #she looks so adorable in all of these #im so so thankful to have commissioned them again #thank you!!!! #it looks stunning #i had to include her name in Japanese this time #brass knuckle pirates #one piece oc #oc: luna shiranui #gorgeous art #burned commissions #one piece #op oc #op ocs #one piece ocs #design sheet #i do not own the logo #all rights reserved to the original owner #but I do own the baby girl #canon x oc #sir crocodile x oc

[miloonepiece]

i have two one piece ocs and i’ve come to the realization that one of them is literally Jessica Rabbit and Buggy is Roger.

now I have the urge to write that, i’ll probably make it some headcanons for readers to enjoy but… god i love my silly little ocs

#multifandom #writing #one piece #— milometis #— miloonmetisfics #one piece x reader #one piece oc #one piece x oc #opla buggy #buggy x you #buggy x oc #sir crocodile x oc #mihawk x oc

[lostfirefly]

Trembling, crawling across my skin, feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine (Ch.5, The Finale)

This fanfiction story is my present for my friend @yujo-nishimura. I hope you still enjoy the story, my dear :)

Yujo's wedding dress is inspired by the green wedding dress from the show “Outlander”. Sorry, I'm not very good at writing church speeches. The scene in the church may seem unnatural because of this.

Description: The Wedding!

Warnings: The action takes place around the end of the 18th - beginning of the 19th century. NSFW part is included!

Words: 2924

Sir Crocodile x OC

The title is taken from “Dance with the Devil” by Breaking Benjamin.

English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @ane5e, @rorywritesjunk

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The week passed quickly. Yujo was busy preparing for the wedding, Helena was happy that she was receiving letters from Mihawk. He was away on business, but constantly sent news.

“God, sister! I can't wait for your wedding day!! This will be my official coming out as Draculе's bride.” Helena lay on the bed, kicking her legs happily. “God, I'm so happy! And you?”

“Can I ask? Are you waiting for my wedding to be happy for me or to go out with your swordsman?” Yujo smiled, looking at her sister. 

“Why are you saying such offensive words?” Helena pouted and crossed her arms. “Of course, I’m happy for you. Aren't you happy?”

 “Maybe. I don't understand it yet, to be honest.”

“A week has already passed. It's time to understand, sister!” Helena jumped up, ran to Yujo and began to smother her with his arms. “Promise that you will allow me to visit you? I will need to tell you everything. About everything! About my children and Mihawk, about our trips as a married couple.”

Yujo looked at her sister, inspired with happiness, and could not stop smiling. “You will always be welcomed, my little sister!’ 

The wedding day has finally arrived. From the very morning there was chaos in the Watton house. Helena ran around rooms, chasing one maid after another to help her get ready. Mihawk was supposed to come pick her up in a carriage, and she wanted to look her best.

“God. You might think it's you who's getting married, not your sister.” The father said, smiling.

“Da-a-a-ad!” Helena stamped her foot and almost cried. She ran to the second floor and opened the door to the bedroom.

“Your wedding day, Yujo!!” Helena screamed joyfully in the doorway.

Yujo sat at the dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror. Crocodile sent the best maid from his castle to their house to help to prepare her makeup and hairstyle for the ceremony.  

Yujo’s hair was worn in soft curls or waves, with little to no height. Hairpins with lilies were stuck into her hair. 

The dress was also made to order. Embroidered chest, off-the-shoulder neckline, thin lace sleeves, wide green silk skirt sewn in with fine silver threads. Details such as pleating and corsets were also chosen. Yujo gently ran her hand over the fabric several times and smiled.  "So beautiful."

“Miss, I’m sorry, but it’s time to get dressed.” One of the maids said quietly, stuttering.

“Oh. Sorry. Yes! Of course.” 

The maids set up a screen and helped Yujo get dressed.

“Come out, come out, come out!!” Helena practically squealed with impatience.

One of the maids pulled back the screen while the other two straightened the hem of her dress.

“How do I look?" Yujo asked nervously. 

Helena folded her hands together, pressed them to her chest and fought back tears. “God! You look amazing!! Your dress is even green, to match the future Madame Crocodile.”

Yujo suddenly laughed. She walked up to Helena and hugged her. “Who will amuse me in the evenings, my dear sister? I'll miss your stupid jokes.”

“In any case, I wouldn’t amuse you for long, given the fact that I’m getting married soon.” Helena wrinkled her nose. “You didn't say anything about my dress, by the way!” 

Helena spun around a couple of times. She wore a cream-colored silk satin dress with long, loose, translucent sleeves. The high collar was decorated with a lace pattern, and the waist was outlined with a wide silk belt. Mihawk had given her that dress, which made Helena even happier.

“You look amazing, sister!” Yujo's voice trembled. 

Their father invited both sister into the carriage. Yujo's feet were getting cold. Her heart jumped with excitement every time she heard the clatter of horses' hooves. She couldn't believe she was going to marry Crocodile. She was nervous, she was worried. The man she'd kissed in the office just a week ago, whose lips had made her legs tingle, was about to become her husband. 

“It’s hard to breathe.” Yujo said quietly. 

“It’s just pre-wedding jitters, sister!” Helena stroked Yujo’s back. “Everything will be fine!”

The carriage pulled up to a large blue and white cathedral. The carriage door opened and Yujo saw a yellow-colored carpet leading directly into the building. Their father walked up to the carriage and offered his daughters his hands. Helena pecked her sister on the cheek and ran off squealing into the cathedral. 

“How are you?” Her father asked her.

“I'm fine. I'm a little nervous.”

“Well, it's normal to be nervous. I felt the same way when I married your mother. You're marrying a worthy man, my dear daughter.” He stroked her cheek.

Yujo shook her head slightly and squared her shoulders. “How do I look?”

“Like a queen!” With a tremor in his voice, her father said.

He took her hand and slowly led her down the aisle. 

The inside of the cathedral seemed larger than the outside. The white color and the golden columns added space. The entire room was filled with flowers. Everyone sighed as soon as they entered the main hall.

Yujo looked at the guests with her eyes. Yes, the highest levels of society were indeed gathered here. Helena waved happily at her from the front row, standing with her swordsman. Yujo looked down the aisle and saw Crocodile. He wore a three-piece blue-green suit. Edges, buttons, and pockets embroidered in pink and green, and cuffs of pink corded silk, also embroidered finished with lace flounce. 

Yujo felt her hands sweating and her legs moving treacherously slowly. However, she felt the butterflies in her stomach, which increased her heart beat. She didn’t hear the music, and she tried to hide her smile. 

Yujo was escorted down the aisle with her father, who stood on her left side. Together, they processed down the aisle towards Crocodile. Once they had reached the altar, the groom turned around and took a step forward to greet his bride. Yujo took her place next to Crocodile, standing on his left. 

“You look wonderful, miss Yujo!” Crocodile took her hand and kissed it. Goosebumps ran all over Yujo's body. 

“Thank you! I can say the same about you!” 

“I have another gift for you!” He bowed and made a gesture with his hand. Mister Three looked at Yujo and held up a red velvet cushion. Yujo saw a silver tiara with a pattern of intertwined laurel leaves.

“How beautiful!” She whispered and lightly poked at the pillow.

“A royal tiara for the future queen!” Crocodile replied in a firm voice. He took the ornament from the pillow, tsked at Mister Three, and as soon as he was gone, Crocodile put the tiara on Yujo's head. 

A relatively tall male who wore flamboyant ballet clothes with a swan theme and was dressed in a pink overcoat and blue medieval garments walked down the aisle. He cleared his throat.

“In the name of the father, and of the son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen.” Assembly responded. 

“Grace to you and peace from God our father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

“And with your spirit.” Assembly responded.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to witness and celebrate the holy union of Yujo and Sir Crocodile.”

“Dear Yujo and Crocodile, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?” 

“I have.” Both replied.

“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?”

“I am.” Both replied.

“Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”  

Crocodile took Yujo’s hands in his hand. 

“I, Yujo , take you, Sir Crocodile, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” 

“I, Sir Crocodile, take you, Yujo, to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times 

"Bring the rings!" The priest said.

Crocodile made a hook gesture and Mister Three brought the rings lying on a blue cushion. It was two black and gold rings with a moss agate in the middle and small diamonds around the edges for Yujo and a stone-less version for Crocodile.

The priest sprinkled the wedding rings with holy water before handing them to each partner.

“Yujo, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit.” Crocodile placed the ring on Yujo’s hand.

“Crocodile, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit.” She placed the ring on his hand. 

“In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss!” 

Crocodile hugged Yujo with his hook and pulled her closer. He kissed her hungrily, as if he wanted to show that she was his now. 

“Go in peace to glorify the Lord with your life.”

“Thanks be to God.” Assembly responded. 

“So, now you’re mine, miss Yujo. Since now and forever.” Crocodile whispered in her ear.

“Now and forever.” She repeated after him quietly. 

He took her by the arm and led her out of the cathedral to the orchestral version of “My Sails Are Set.” Yujo glanced at the guests. Helena practically drowned in tears, burying her face in her swordsman's chest. Father and mother smiled sincerely. She glanced at Mister Three. He was clearly annoyed. Their engagement was called off, and Crocodile forced him to serve him at their wedding. Such humiliation was difficult to bear.

Crocodile opened the carriage door and helped Yujo up. They drove to his castle. After a while, the guests arrived for the gala dinner. 

The men retired to Crocodile's office to celebrate the wedding and congratulate themselves on being kings of the world. The girls were in the dining room at this time. It was unusual to Yujo that the maids in Crocodile's castle already treated her as a full-fledged mistress of the house. 

As dinner came to an end and the guests began to disperse, Helena ran up to Yujo and hugged her tightly. "I love you so much, my sister!!!”

“I'll come to see you tomorrow!” Yujo hugged Helena tightly. 

The maids escorted her upstairs to her bedroom. As she looked around the spacious gray-green room, she didn't see Crocodile return. 

“I hope you're happy with today, Miss Yujo!” He said, taking her hand. Yujo felt a thousand little electric shocks run through her body as he began to run the fingers of his hand over her wrist. 

“If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to the bathroom to clean up before I go to bed.” She whispered excitedly, removing his hand.

“You don’t need to ask my permission. My castle is your castle. And my maids are your maids.” He looked at her instantly.

Not knowing why, but Yujo bowed slightly and quickly left for the bathroom. She sat down on the pouffe. Everything around her was in green and gold colors. Yujo looked at herself in the mirror. The mere thought of her first wedding night with Crocodile made her blush and look like a beet. Her father had always been very strict about her interactions with young men and any advances from potential suitors. 

She took a deep breath and pulled the tiara and the hairpins out of her hair. She shook her head, straightening her hair. Furthermore, she kept repeating to herself that it was all for her father's sake, to strengthen the family's position, afraid to admit that she had fallen in love with Crocodile. She had only read about those feelings in the books she and her sister hid from their parents under the mattress. 

She got up from the pouf, took three more deep breaths, and walked back out into the room. Crocodile was standing near the window, sipping slowly from a glass of whiskey. 

"You're back." He turned to her, set the glass aside, took two large steps toward her and placed his hook on her waist. He put his other hand on her cheek and pulled her toward him. Before she understood anything, he kissed her. His tongue was sliding across her mouth.

His kisses were so respectful and so soft that she had to close her eyes and turn off all her senses just to notice that he was there. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and let out a thin moan. 

He suddenly ran his hand down her back, searching for the strings on her dress. Yujo helped untie the ties on her dress without taking her lips off his. He hissed through the kiss as he removed her dress. She quickly moved her hands to his clothes and began undoing the buttons on his shirt and pants. He quickly walked her towards the bed and gently pushed Yujo onto the mattress. Yujo propping herself up on her forearms and watching with a quirked, challenging eyebrow. She was focused on his face. He took off his own underwear quickly. No teasing. No kisses. She wanted to touch him, but also she was shy. She was shy of her feelings and shy of strange desire of his body. 

Crocodile walked up to the bed and bowed to Yujo. He started kissing her. He kissed her greedily until they both ran out of breath. He ran his hook along the outer and inner sides of her thigh.

“But if you don't want to, Miss Yujo, I won't touch you.” He whispered near her lips.

“I think it's too late to say no, isn't it?” She tried to joke. 

She put her hand on his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. He picked her up with one hand and laid her on the bed. Yujo’s cheeks flushed. Her month red. She looked between his legs and returned her gaze to Crocodile.

“More than you expected?” He grinned, knee pressing into the mattress.

Her hand grabbing his arm. Crocodile let himself fall onto her. Gently. With an obscene whisper of skin against skin and a mingled groan.

Their lips were entangled. Crocodile found himself sinking into the sensation of her bare skin on his, sinking into the sensation of her hair as he angled her head, sinking into the sensation of her mouth as she let him. Here her inexperience occurred. The almost-shy way she ran her hands down his back. Crocodile ripped off her bra with his hook and kissed her again. He moved down to her chin and collarbone.  

Crocodile put his hook on her waist and let his another hand fall to the inside of her thigh, as his mouth moved lower. He licked the underside of her breast. Yujo jumped and shivered as he traced his tongue to the tip of her nipple. Yujo parted her legs slightly and Crocodile grinned, taking that as an invitation. 

Before entering her. Crocodile paused, catching Yujo’s gaze. She nodded slightly. Crocodile laid his full weight on her and slowly entered her. She tensed and pursed her lips.

“Don't worry, the pain will go away soon.” He said and began to move slowly back and forth.

Yujo’s heart began to race with his every movement. Crocodile dropped his head against hers, closing his eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand, felt his pace begin to quicken with each passing second, and the sounds he uttered became louder. Crocodile pumps against her cervix every time as she swings between cries of discomfort muffled into her hand and groans for more, pleasure-pain. She dug her fingers into his back, feeling the pain gradually go away with his every thrust. 

“Moan for me, miss Yujo.” Crocodile whispered in her ear, and started speeding up his pace. 

She didn't even notice how she started moaning into his mouth and pulled him closer to her. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, wanting one more entrance in her mouth. He slid his tongue into her mouth, rubbing it over hers with a moan. She moaned and slowly moved her hips up to meet his every thrust. He moaned, moving his hips down against hers as he thrusts her harder. He started kissing her neck, then moved down to her hippies and gently touched them with his lips. He brought his lips back to hers, kissing her deeply.

She moaned and picked up her pace some. She moaned, feeling him go deeper and harder. He moaned, biting his lip as he felt himself getting close.

“You’re so good, my miss Yujo!” He groaned into her ear. 

“You feel amazing.” She moaned out, understanding she was close.

She smiled and moaned his name over and over. He looked down at her and smiled, kissing her softly before moving off her.

“Are you ok?” He asked and looked into her eyes. 

“Yeah.” She didn’t notice how she ran her hands over his hair. 

He pulled the cover over their bodies and slid his arms around her, kissing her forehead. He started stroking her hair.

“I'm glad your father agreed to our marriage. Now you are mine, miss Yujo. Now and forever.”

“Now and forever.” She repeated quietly. 

#one piece #one piece crocodile #sir crocodile x oc #oc fanfiction #sir crocodile #sir crocodile one piece #friends on tumblr #sir crocodile x reader #one piece au #sir crocodile x you

[missrandomdreamer]

Wip of new one piece OC Delphina

She's with sir crocodile and she's very smol

Still trying to figure her out

#sir crocodile #Sir crocodile x oc #Delphina (OC) op #One piece OC #Wip #One piece

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Bitter Sea [Chapter One] Máire [Sir Crocodile]

A/n: this is my first time writing for Crocodile; this has been in my head for a while but I didn't want to start writing it until after I saw more in the manga regarding Crocodile. This story will come out slowly, so please be patient. Odyssey has been giving me OP cravings. 😆

Also, there are a few connections in this fic to other OP stories I've written.

Warning(s): mentions of slavery, secrets, and dark themes.

No Minors Allowed!!

"Cassia, we're late," Alyssa – a woman with vivid purple eyes – declared.

The said woman peered across the room and gave her a brief nod, then averted her yellow eyes to the mirror to fix her horned mask. It was a cheap prop, but Cassia liked it; the mask only hid the upper part of her face – the recent bruises included – but she felt secure with it on. If only her pointed ears didn't stick out like a sore thumb. Sighing, she stood and followed Alyssa to the parlor of The Garden; several costume-clad women were roaming around either dancing or clinging to a man's arm.

It was swarming with people.

As Cassia sauntered onto the floor a busty woman near the bar called out to her. Immediately her heart sank.

As the owner of the bar and bathhouse, Lady Blossom was not a woman to take for granted. Cassia knew; she suffered many a punishment for her disobedient actions. The bracelets on her arms were not a fashion statement.

"My Lady," Cassia greeted.

"I have someone special for you to entertain," Lady Blossom mentioned as she shoved a tray into her tattooed arms; its contents were a bottle of brandy, a cigar, and a pack of wooden matches.

Was she entertaining a businessman?

She motioned for Cassia to follow her, leading the dark-haired woman from the parlor to the bathhouse. The warm steam clung to her scanty clothes but she didn't mind; she was used to the heat. And Lady Blossom always assigned her to the bathhouse when she was hard to manage. Cassia wasn't always good with guests, especially handsy ones, but it was better than having to work in the parlor where the guests were violent and rowdy.

Taking the said woman to a closed door, Lady Blossom turned and ran a manicured finger across Cassia's cheek; her ears twitched in annoyance.

"Behave. And smile a little," she ordered.

Cassia agreed despite wanting to bite her finger off. She sighed and put on her best smile before she entered the room. Inside she was greeted by a familiar sight; a naked man resting in a claw foot tub. Only this man made her hum in interest. She had never seen one with a hook for a hand. Recovering from her moment of wonder, Cassia cleared her throat and took the tray over to the table across the room.

"May I interest you in a cigar or a glass of brandy?" She asked.

"Brandy first," the man answered. His voice was rather deep.

Cassia poured a glass and took it over to him, resting on her knees beside the tub. Offering it to him, she stared a moment at the long stitched scar that stretched across his face at the bridge of his nose. It was an interesting scar, but the moment his deep-set eyes averted to her, she turned her attention to the floor.

"What's your name?" The man asked.

"The name given to me was Cassia," she answered.

It wasn't her real name. No. Her real name didn't fit the theme of the inn, at least that is what Lady Blossom told her.

"It doesn't suit you," the dark-haired man mentioned.

Her face heated up. Cassia raised a brow and looked at him as he drank his brandy. How did it not suit her? She was named after the purging cassia plant with its beautiful golden flowers; the color of her eyes. However, she was not as vibrant as a cassia flower, not with her dark hair and tattooed hands that revealed symbols from a time in her past that was painful to remember.

"And neither do those bracelets," he added.

Cassia tinkered with the one on her right wrist. Did he know what they were for?

"My powers are prohibited here," she mentioned.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the entire truth either. Cassia ignored the nagging feeling in her gut to inquire about his knowledge of the bracelets and took a clean rag from the side of the tub, lathering it up with honey-scented soap. She started with his right arm, running the rag along his pale skin.

"What brings you to the Pleasure District?" Cassia asked.

It was part of her job to ask questions, though she didn't want to pry. When the man didn't answer her, she sighed.

"You have no obligation to answer me; I don't mind the silence."

She favored it.

"I'm looking for someone," he mentioned.

Cassia raised a brow. Someone who worked in the Pleasure District? Perhaps his friend was taken and sold in the auction house. Or lover.

"The Garden is a decent start, I suppose you could ask our Madam. She governs the island too," she explained.

"I have an idea where she is," the man uttered.

So, he was looking for a woman. Cassia grinned.

"How lucky. The people here would swoon to hear someone was more interested in them than the services they provide."

Luckily, The Garden was not a brothel; it was an inn located in the New World on Kaika Shima (the flowering island).

As Cassia ran the rag over the back of the man's neck, she heard him chuckle.

"Is that so? The woman I am looking for is a witch."

Cassia raised a brow. Her hand stalled for a moment, but she quickly recovered.

"No offense, but that sounds ridiculous."

"She's known as the Queen of Curses," the man mentioned.

Why was he telling her this?

"I've never heard of someone here with that title. Most are asked to change their names upon entering this island though. Madame Blossom prohibits lawlessness as some of the patrons that come here are government officials and World Nobles," Cassia mentioned. She took an uneasy breath.

Though some are forced to, she opted not to say. She had seen her fair share of people brought to the island against their wills; all of them had been on the auction block as she had. As long as the nobles were entertained, the Marines turned a blind eye to where the workers came from. As far as Cassia knew Kaika Shima did nothing to warrant the attention of the Marines; all the businesses were legal.

"That's a shame," the scarred man mentioned regarding her knowledge of the women he sought.

As Cassia began to run the rag down his left arm, he turned his eyes to her. She avoided his curious gaze and continued her task; her ears twitched in annoyance.

"I've never seen anyone with ears like yours."

"That's because there aren't many like me," Cassia retorted.

She didn't want to get into it. For all, she knew her kind had been wiped out years ago, including her family. With an uneasy sigh, she rang the rag out and stood.

"Let me get that cigar for you."

Cassia stood and sauntered over to where she sat the tray down. Once her hands were dry, she picked up the matches and the cigar and brought them over to the client. He rested the end between his thin lips as she struck the match and lit the tip.

"It's been an honor serving you," Cassia mentioned with a bow. She forced a smile and leaned up. "I'll be outside near the door if you require me. Please enjoy your bath."

She turned to leave, but the client soon stopped her.

"Your given name is Máire, is it not?"

Cassia felt her stomach churn in dread. She hadn't heard that name spoken in a long time. Her fingers clenched into a fist and she peered over her shoulder at him.

"I'm sorry sir, but I've already said it before... I know nothing of the person you speak of."

The client laughed and blew a plume of ashen smoke into the air.

"Masks aren't hard to read when the one wearing them is a terrible liar."

Without a comment, Cassia retreated from the room and sat down beside the door. Her heart was racing with fear. Who was this man? And what did he know about her?

#one piece fanfiction #sir crocodile #one piece fandom #sir crocodile x oc

[cyborg-franky]

Trade!

My half of the trade with my darling @dusk-bun, I hope you enjoy this <3

Crocodile x OC SFW Word Count: 1,031 AN: Please remember I only write Croc for trades/coms

Ilya winced as he turned over in his sleep, the blankets tangled around his legs as he kicked, fighting it as well as the nightmares that chased him through the night. The mirror he was forced to stare at, the person he used to be, the person he’d helped bury years ago was staring back at him.

Voices and echoes that tried to drag him down into the same hole with the corpse of his past. The dead name slipped from the shadows, getting louder and louder as he stood there, surrounded by his old life. He whined out in his sleep, grasping at the empty cold bed, his nightshirt clinging to his sweat-drenched body.

The little snail sat on the nightstand, making its repetitive noise, just for the man to carry on ignoring it. The nightmares swirled around Ilya’s head, digging sharp painful claws into his skin, he could feel the pain, the burning from the past he’d shrugged off.

He’d worked so hard to get where was, his troubled mind liked to burden him, stressed from several things in his waking hours, his insecurities grabbing his ankles, the sinking sand around him that slowly pulled him lower as he screamed into the void.

Ilya’s eyes opened wide, and he gasped, grasping the sheets at his side, sweat rolling down his face as he gulped in air, desperate to clear his mind. His attention snapped to the denden, how long has it be- he shook it off, groaning as he picked up the receiver, wordlessly he brought it to his ear.

“It’s been far too long, hasn’t it my darling?” the deep husky voice caused him to drop the object, hearing it clatter to the floor.

Was this another mocking nightmare? He pinched his arm and winced just to be sure. After all, losing the Crocodile had been one of the thoughts that plagued him daily. He realised what he’d done, trembling hands grasped for the denden and he brought it to his ear, his breath was shaky, his fingers struggling to hold it to his face.

“I-is that really you? You’re not a ghost, right?” he asked, knowing the question seemed ridiculous but he needed to know.

A deep chuckle answered him, and he felt tears pricking his eyes, rolling down his cheeks as he pursed his lips, desperate not to let out a sob, he needed to stay strong, the emotions that swirled around inside threatening to explode.

“Is it you… H-how?” Ilya felt embarrassed his usually confident voice cracked.

“It’s a long story, the D boy’s execution.”

“Oh..” it had been all over the newspapers, but there had been no mention of someone like his lover getting loose, just focused on the demise of the Pirate King’s offspring.

“Can you meet me tonight? I know where your ship is, even behind bars I had eyes and ears everywhere, I’ve been making sure my darling brat didn’t get himself into too much trouble.” Another chuckle, Ilya feeling warmth flood through him.

They’d never said the words I love you to one another but just knowing this, knowing that even in the pits of Hell the man was thinking about him, making sure he wasn’t sailing himself into the abyss was enough to tell him the levels of the man’s pure devotion to him.

His heart was thudding louder, the chuckle that emanated from the denden gave him very much the impression that Crocodile could also hear it. He nodded, knowing the little snail creature would relay the gesture to Crocodile.

--

He’d never run so fast in his life, his legs couldn’t move faster, the way he stumbled and almost tripped as he threw himself forward, willing himself to get to the meeting place faster. He might have gotten a little rusty from his marine days he thought to himself.

Or it was all the smoking the voice in the back of his head chided as he began to feel the sting in his lungs. He leapt over the hedge, feeling branches pull and snag at his clothes, nothing mattered, the only thing that did was him.

The town was dark, everyone fast asleep, the moon glowing brightly in the night sky, surrounded by glittering stars. He leaned against the wall of a house and tried to catch his breath, the way the moon lit up the cobblestone streets, sleepy streetlights struggling to cast their light on the world.

Where was he? He asked himself as he peered around the corner, the man stood there in the street, his silhouette larger than life, the outline of the large fur coat that was draped around his shoulders making the shadow seem like a creature to avoid.

He knew that was who he was looking for, he felt tears running down his face once more, oh he was going to be a mess, the red puffy eyes, the trembling lips. All of that was pushed aside as he sprung from his hiding spot, calling the man’s name.

Crocodile turned, the moon making all the gold he wore sparkle, but all Ilya could focus on was the dazzling grin on his face. With arms open wide he accepted his missing lover, wrapping one arm around him, lifting him from the ground and chuckling as Ilya buried his face into his chest.

Sobbing and crying, his words coming out a garbled mess as he clung to him. Crocodile allowed a soft smile to grace his sharp features as stared down at his partner’s teary eyes, how they glimmered in the light, the pain that was nestled there, pushed back by the joy he felt at being reunited with him.

“I missed you,” Ilya blurted and gripped the fur trim for dear life, still worried this was all a dream.

“I missed you too.” Crocodile replied and squeezed him.

“I love you, I’m sorry I never said that before you left! I love you; I love you, I love you.” Ilya sobbed out and leaned his face back against Crocodile “I’m sorry I look a mess…” “Your beautiful, even more than when we last met, I love you too, my Ilya, my darling.”  

#sfw #sir crocodile x oc #one piece own character

[skytk11]

This is my OC Val

#oc artwork #ocs #oc #oc art #my ocs #one piece art #one piece #original art #my art #artwork #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #oc one piece #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x oc

[iddvartx]

« 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 » pt 1

summary: first time between Sir Crocodile and Madame iv

part: 1 / ?

warnings: nothing special in this part, only high sexual tension

pairing: oc x cannon / oc x Sir Crocodile / Madame iv x Sir Crocodile

words: 737

art by iddvartx on instragram, twitter, tumblr and tik tok

It was late in the night at Alabasta's largest casino. The owner had sent the special guest to retire with him to his private rooms. The two crime bosses were walking down the glass corridor immersed in the water where the crocodiles could be seen swimming peacefully. The rattle of the guest's silver-soled boots touching the ground and the casino owner's footsteps echoed with their lowly words. The owner opened the large doors of his office which had a huge aquarium as a background, stepping aside to make room for the guest, lowering his reptilian and cold gaze towards her, holding the cigar between his teeth, hinting at a slight smile.

"After you, Madame... "

He said in his usual low tone but slightly more accommodating than usual. The woman hinted a smile looking straight ahead passing the gentleman entering the office.

"Thank you, Sir Crocodile..."

She thanks him in the same tone, making the pirate accentuate the smile that once the woman entered in the room and he closed the door behind him and then reached her at the beginning of the stairs.

"Do you like the aquarium?"

The man asked taking the cigar between two jeweled fingers and then throwing out the smoke starting to go down the stairs, then being followed by the woman

"It's unique, an original idea."

She responde. The gentleman brought the cigar back between his lips, looking for a moment at the woman to understand what was going through her head, but that visible eye shone in the light from the aquarium, of that singular color and that thin pupil like his own, hide so much, and those purple-tinted lips arched in a slight smile, in a calm expression. That woman was such a mystery to himself and the whole world, that he didn't believe she could be human, no woman had so bewitched him, so he didn't know how to give any other explanation. He took his eyes off the woman, looking ahead, puffing smoke again. The woman moved her eyes to the man with always that expression as if he was disgusted by everything. It was also difficult for her to understand what that human had in mind, those eyes, despite being of such a warm color as gold, transmitted an impressive coldness, so enigmatic... That man had attracted her attention more than she had wanted, full of mystery, he had attracted her curiosity, the curiosity of a demon of the sea.

Among the various thoughts of both and only their footsteps that echo in the silence of the large office both ended at the end of the staircase. The gentleman continued going to his desk making a nod to the madame pointing to one of the armchairs in front of the desk.

"Take a seat, Madame"

He mutter holding the cigar between his teeth coming behind the desk taking the cloak off his shoulders to place it on the back of the chair holding his hand and hook on it looking up at the woman who sat down on the chair, always with that expression so calm, unintentionally his eyes lowered to her legs when she moved them to cross them and he immediately turned his gaze cursing himself for having looked, just squeezing the cigar between his teeth and then going to his own mini bar by lifting the sleeves of his shirt.

"Do you always welcome your guests like this?"

Asked the demon as she observed the room while sitting leaning with an elbow on the armrest and her cheek on the fisted hand using a tone as if she already knew the answer, the gentleman noticed her tone and for this he narrowed his gaze towards her and tightened his grip on the teeth on the cigar and then turn his head towards the liquor he was about to pour making a short grunt.

"No."

He replied dryly by pouring the liquor into two glasses with ice. The madame was looking at him when he turned his back to her and closed her eyes at his answer, giggling slightly with her mouth shut, a laugh that for some reason made the pirate shiver a little and just squeeze one of the two glasses in his hand. She. That woman knew very well what she was doing, and at this thought the gentleman just made a grimace of irritation.

( to be continued... )

#one piece #one piece x oc #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x oc #oc x cannon #fanfiction #only a kiss #baroque works

[love-overdrive]

Mint and Peach for your Croco ship! (You can include the others too, I'm just unfamiliar with those fandoms)

Thank you dear aaaa 🫶

Peach - Do you have any sentimental items you've received from each other?

Mariam: An old tea set. Not, it’s not a joke and Crocodile would’ve been happy to shell out more money for a better, newer set, but that one was special to Mariam since it was her great-grandmother’s tea set that had to get sold to pay off her father’s debts. Crocodile bought it back for her after she found it in the market again, and it’s remained in her possession since.

Crocodile: The letters she’d write to him. Both when he was out and about for his work, and when he was in Impel Down. She didn’t send the ones written while in Impel Down, but he found them one day and secretly took it. Mariam is very romantic and often writes long letters or even some poetry in them. He keeps them all despite acting like he isn’t affected by them (he’s memorized almost every single letter).

Mint - What music does your f/o enjoy? What do you two listen to together?

I don’t see Croc really caring for music, he is kind of a “no noise is the best noise”, but he might put on some classic or jazz records in the back while he smokes. Mariam is the one more in love with music, so she often just listens to his records or whatever fits her fancy. She has discovered Uta recently and loves her music (Croc now has to go support his wife’s desire to see Uta live). Croc does like slow dancing with her to old Arabic love songs.

#oc ask game #rambles #mariam #op oc #sir crocodile x oc #sir crocodile #crocodile

[silkendandelion]

*looks at WIP list, throws it out the open window*

SO I HAVE THIS IDEA—Who cares if it’s mid-January?

CHRISTMAS ONE PIECE, semi-long fic, and the pitch is:

Modern AU!Law and River are invited to Vivi’s wedding a few weeks before Christmas (not their first Christmas together but it’s early in the relationship), a swanky affair with all the fixings of drunk friends and obligatory rich business associates of Cobra’s that stop by to drop off gifts for the lovely couple.

Among them is Crocodile, who brings the most expensive gift by far, and stays just long enough to ruin Law’s day.

River, awkwardly slamming back champagne: “Law, this is Sir Crocodile… My ex-husband.”

Law’s live reaction, and the snickering Strawhats are still accurate:

Because I LOVE the idea of Law fulfilling the trope of the insecure lover who learns over the course of a story that they never had anything to worry about, no matter how rich, handsome, and terrifying their lover’s ex might be. (No matter how much Crocodile enjoyed seeing Law squirm)

#oc fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #writing #fanfiction #one piece #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x oc #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #x reader #x oc #my wips #christmas fic #romance tropes

[gearvmac]

tagged by @inafieldofdaisies to do this bad sex meme template so ofc i had to with the current brainrot. tysm for the tag!

tagging @lunar-cherries @silkcrowsocs (i need to see doffy and sylvana in this) @marivenah @simonxriley @carlosoliveiraa @theelderhazelnut @finding-comfort-in-rain @kyber-infinitygems @corvosattano @stuckinthewrongworld @captastra @onehornedbeast @leviiackrman @malewifefirestar @illmetbymoonlight @nightbloodbix

#had so much fun with this #oc: luna shiranui #one piece oc #brass knuckle pirates #x: lingering like a cigar on his lips #crocodile #crocodile one piece #crocodile x oc #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x oc #bad sex meme #one piece #op oc