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You were already wasted as you stumbled into the fourth bar of your night. No one knew shit. The bastard’s location still remained a fucking mystery.
“Hi there,” you drawled at the bartender as you slumped none so elegantly down on the standing stool. “Know anything about the whereabouts of Red-haired Shanks?”
The bartender glanced at you, raising an eyebrow as he wiped down a glass. “Shanks, huh?” he repeated with a bemused smile. “Been a while since I’ve seen him.” He leaned forward as he continued. “No idea where he went though, lass. Anything to drink?”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Figures. The bastard’s slippery as fuck.” You fumbled in your coin pouch, slamming a few berries on the counter with a bit more force than necessary. “Whatever’s cheapest please.”
The bartender chuckled and poured you a mug of something that smelled like it could strip paint. You took a long swig, wincing as the harsh liquid burned its way down your throat.
You turned around, squinting your eyes as you struggled to put into focus your surroundings. This was a sketchy establishment. Musty and falling apart at the seams. Just like you. Your gaze landed on something red, slightly gleaming in the shitty flickering lamplight.
Red nose.
A red fucking nose, huh? What a weird fellow.
Wait.
A red nose should remind you of something. Right! Your mind distantly placed it. Some tall tales recounted around a campfire about being part of Gold Roger’s crew.
Fucking hell.
Lady Luck worked in strange ways.
“Hey! You! Big red nose!” you shouted, pointing unsteadily in his direction.
The men around him stopped whatever they’d been doing, freezing in place as the man in question slowly turned to you.
“What d’ya say?” Buggy the Clown’s voice was precariously calm as his eyes met yours.
You teetered on the edge of your stool, attempted to stand up, the world tilting a little, then slumped back down. “You heard me, red nose. I need to know something.”
“Red nose!” he screeched dangerously, stomping to you, fury evident in his gaze.
You snorted at the display. What was his problem? Men were always so sensitive, you just stated the obvious.
“What about my nose?” he demanded, eyes blazing, a knife finding itself to your throat in a very clear threat.
You met his glare defiantly. He had pretty eyes, now that you could see him up close. Actually, if you got past the nose and the makeup, he was quite handsome. Was that his hair coming through his hat? You rather liked long hair. More to pull and grab. Your stare danced down. Good build too.
You smirked, cocking your head and leaning slightly into the knife. You felt it slice through skin a little. “Careful there, clown.” Your tongue passed your lips, your hand going to the blade, tips of your fingers tracing the steel slowly as you continued. “I might be into that, you know?” you giggled. “But you know Shanks, right? You’re Binky, right?… no was it Baggy… Ah! Booggy!! Ehe, nailed it,” he frowned, destabilized by your drunken train of thoughts. “Anyways, any idea where that red-haired bastard might be?”
Buggy’s eyes narrowed, the blade pressing just a bit more firmly against your neck. It was more of an ego thing now than a threat, though you could clearly see the confusion and irritation in his gaze. “It’s Buggy, you half-wit,” he growled.
You felt a familiar heat pool at your core at the way his voice shrieked… or maybe it was the degradation paired with the knife at your throat… Or a mix of it all. Either way, it made
you smile and lean further into the act. To your satisfaction, he seemed to distantly catch your train of thought. He took a step closer, making you lean against the bar, your back arching under him. “And why should I tell you anything about Shanks?” his breath brushed against your lips.
You snorted, his question unfortunately bringing you back out to reality. “Why, pretty boy?” Your mouth twisted as you slowly removed the blade out of his hand. “Cause the bastard knocked my sister up and left without saying shit.”
The words hung between you for a while. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, working. Then his expression shifted. Disbelief. Amusement.
He laughed.
“Shanks has a kid?” he bellowed and you sighed downing the god-awful booze in your cup.
“Five fucking years old, still hasn’t shown back up and not answering letters,” you added, rolling your eyes. “You guys were in Roger’s crew together, right? You MUST have an idea where he is.”
The echo of his laughter dimmed. He crashed on the stool next to yours, hearty chuckles still shaking his shoulders. “No fucking idea, woman,” he gestured at the bartender to get you new booze.
You slumped down defeated. “More slippery than an eel in fucking oil,” you complained under your breath. A tankard appeared in front of you. You eyed it dubiously, then eyed the clown. “You better be paying, pretty boy,” you said before taking a gulp. It was far better than whatever you’d been drinking before. “Cause I’m flat-out broke.”
✨💙✨
Your head hurt. Hurt so fucking bad. You could hear the rhythm of your heart in your ears. You creaked your eyes open, soft rays of sunshine an insult to your very being. You pulled the covers against yourself, fabric dragging along bare skin. Wait. Was that a bed? It was a nice bed. You hadn’t slept in one so comfortable in ages. You caught something blue in the periphery of your vision.
Ah right. The clown.
You looked at him for a bit, sleeping soundly, long hair splattered around him, the sheets barely hiding his naked frame.
Damn, you’d been right. He was a pretty boy.
You tried to get up, but slumped back down just as fast, your body feeling like lead.
Fuck.
Most of the past night was a mystery to you. Though it didn’t take more than adding two and two together to figure out what you’d done with the clown.
Fuck, you could still feel him a little. Though your thighs were clean. Surprisingly gentlemanly. You chuckled softly. Must have been a good lay, shame you didn’t remember.
You spotted a half-empty bottle of booze lying on the floor. You shifted over lazily, tips of your fingers grazing the cool glass before they finally wrapped around it. Expertly you untwisted the cap, bringing the alcohol to your lips.
You smirked. Shit was good quality. Couldn’t be hungover if you were drunk.
You closed your eyes with a satisfied exhale, images slowly coming back to you.
✨💙✨
You’d been talking and laughing for a while now. Your conversation had shifted to a more secluded corner of the shabby establishment. You were straddling him as he recounted another unbelievable story, his hand detached as he waved it around, punctuating his words.
You giggled a little, eyes stuck on his lips, not following a single one of his words. Then your mind started going down the slippery slope of the possibilities of his devil fruit powers. You put your palm on his chest, steadying yourself as you looked into the sea of his eyes.
“Say,” you mused drunkenly. “Buggy,” you uttered his name wantonly, dragging it emphatically through your lips, leaning near, breath mingling with his as he slowly stopped talking. “Can you detach, like, everything?”
Your lips almost touched, his gaze sparkled with amusement.
“Everything,” he confirmed your thoughts, inching a little closer. With a flick of his wrist, his hand reattached itself, going to your thigh, traveling up to your ass then to your lower back, slipping under the hem of your shirt as he found his way to your waist.
You let out a small whine as ideas crossed your mind. You smirked as you asked, “Have you ever, like, detached your head to suck yourself?” He chuckled nervously but before he could say anything you continued. “Cause, if it were me,” you moaned, low, pressing yourself against him shamelessly. “I think I’d eat myself out every day.” You rolled your hips. “Fuck, the possibilities.”
✨💙✨
You cringed as the memories of your drunken boldness flooded back. You shouldn’t be surprised, you guessed. It was far from unusual from you, and it clearly wasn’t your worst blunder.
He shifted a little next to you, slowly coming back to the land of the living.
You took another sip, the burn down your throat feeling heavenly.
“Mornin’, pretty boy,” you rasped as his eyes creaked open.
He just groaned.
✨💙✨
He’d brought you back to his ship, both giggling as you drunkenly tumbled down the cobblestone path. You’d almost fallen off the gangplank as you made your way to the gaudy swaying deck.
As you entered his quarters, his lips found yours, hungry and demanding. Red lipstick and day-old makeup smeared across your face as your tongues met. His body pressed yours against the door, hands not wasting time as he undid your pants.
The kiss broke for an instant as you took off your shirt. Mouths crashing again as soon as the fabric passed your head. Your fingers bunched desperately into his coat before tugging it off with urgency. Your hands traced up his arms, finding muscles you hadn’t entirely expected.
“Buggy,” you moaned into him, a sound muffled against his lips. His hand detached, buried itself in your underwear.
You bucked as the tips of his fingers found the bundle of nerves in small circles. Your nails dug into sinews as you struggled to keep upright. His body leaned further into you, a grounding weight. You felt fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back as he trailed down your jaw, the hollow of your throat.
“Shit, you’re wet. Wanna hear you,” he murmured against your ear, tongue meeting your lobe, teeth nibbling.
He pressed a touch harder on your clit and you mewled and swore under your breath for him. Then you felt two of his fingers detach and enter you, lazily pumping in and out.
Oh fuck. That wasn’t fair.
Your hands shot to his head, tossing the hat away as your fingers sought to tangle themselves in his locks. Long blue strands cascaded around his shoulders and your nails found his scalp, digging almost painfully,
He moaned in tandem with you at the sensation, hips rolling against yours, making the palm at your cunt drag harder against your clit. “Gonna cum,” you warned in a high-pitched voice you barely recognized.
Your walls twitched against his fingers as you came undone. He didn’t stop as you rode your high, dancing ridiculously close to the line of overstimulation. As your body slumped, relying entirely on him to hold you upright, digits snapped together, hand slowly retreating before going back at his wrist.
“Fucking hell,” you panted, guiding his head back to yours, lips meeting leisurely. You went to the front of his pants, palming him. “Take me to bed, you pretty pirate captain.”
He chuckled, lust in his eyes. “Say that again.” He grabbed your ass roughly, pulling you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.
“What part?” You licked his lower lip, hands lacing around his neck for support as he made his way to the bed. “Pretty?” You kissed his jaw. “Pirate?” Your teeth dragged on his neck. “Or? Captain?” you whispered in his ear.
He rolled his hips at the last one, the sound of pleasure escaping his mouth obscene. He unceremoniously dropped you down on the mattress, bouncing for an instant. You quickly kicked your boots and removed your pants off, panties and bra following suit, thrown into oblivion.
He started doing the same, shirt discarded but before he could unlace his pants you grabbed his hand, pulling him to you. He stumbled down, your bodies colliding, long hair draping around you as he kissed you.
With a quick movement, you flipped the both of you, straddling him. “You still got those knives, captain?” you asked, grinding yourself on his hips, leaving a wet spot on his pants. “I want you to hold one to my neck as I fuck you.”
He grinned and you suddenly felt cool steel at your neck. “Fucking stunning.” He bucked under you.
You swore as you realized the hand holding the knife was floating, your head lulled back, a needy mewl escaping you. This shit was hot. You quickly made works of the laces of his pants, pulling out his cock.
He was already hard for you, leaking. You traced along him, touch fleeting until you reached the tip, your grip tightening, thumb swiping the bead of precum, gathering it. You brought back your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean, the taste salty on your tongue as you slowly started lowering yourself on him. His hand shot to your hip, fingers digging into the softness of your flesh as he tried to steady himself.
A loud moan escaped him, his back arching, breathing uneven as you took him fully. “Fucking warm and tight,” his voice was shaky.
You didn’t waste time, lazily making your way up and down his cock. The stretch was heavenly. You grabbed his hand at your hip and brought it to your chest. You rolled your hips and his fingers pinched and squeezed for you.
“Fuck, Captain,” you gasped. You went to your clit, fingers expertly circling, matching the movements of your rhythm. You purposely leaned into the blade and you felt blood trickle down your neck. “Fuck.” Your thighs trembled.
“Shit, woman,” he grunted, hips rising to meet yours. “Who knew you’d be such a whore.” Your walls twitched and you stuttered at his words. He smirked. “You like that? Whore?” he punctuated his question with an especially forceful thrust, fingers pinching hard on your nipple.
“Yes!” you cried out, desperately chasing your high. “Oh gods, yes.”
“That’s right.” he started thrusting into you more steadily, making up for your weakening thighs.
One of your hands shot to the hand holding the knife at your throat as you came, holding the blade more firmly against your, your body spasming and folding in pleasure.
You distantly heard him chuckle at the sight. Then you felt yourself be turned around completely, your face burying itself in the linen covers, his cock somehow still pumping into you in the exchange of positions.
The pace he set was hard, fast, rough, just how you liked it. You felt fingers burying themselves in your hair, pulling painfully, then pushing you harshly into the mattress. A staggered scream of pleasure escaped your mouth, drool seeping into the loose weave of the fabric.
Your thighs shook violently, threatening to collapse as overstimulation bordered the edge of your mind. Your fingers tangled in the covers. His hand came to your clit in small flicks. It sent your world careening. You couldn’t breathe properly. You felt threads snap beneath the force of your nails.
“Shit, never asked your name,” The rhythm of his hips was becoming more frazzled, urgent. The hand in your hair pulled you up a bit to hear your answer.
“(Y/n),” you moaned again and again, punctuated by incomprehensible swears.
He chuckled. Your name rolled on his lips. It sounded nice. “Pretty name,” he mused, pushing your head back in the covers roughly. “Fuck,” his fingers circled harder against your clit and tears stained linen along your drool. “Sail with me, (y/n).”
You were too far gone to answer him properly, a second orgasm tingling at the tips of your fingers. “Yes!” you agreed mindlessly, toes curling.
The world disappeared around you as you came, shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. “Fuck,” you sobbed as your body tried to retract from the stimulation of his touch.
It didn’t take long for him to join you in rapture, suddenly pulling out of you, thrusting against your ass, hot seed spilling along your lower back.
✨💙✨
“Mind if I smoke?” you asked as you unsteadily made your way to your pants, discarded on the floor next to a small window. You felt his stare on your naked figure as you bent down shamelessly, looking into your pockets for your lighter and your pack of cigarettes.
“Ya can do whatever you want, woman,” he groaned behind you, his voice still thick with sleep.
You chuckled, bringing one to your lips and lighting it without much thought. You closed your eyes for a moment, relishing the exhilaration that came with the smoke filling your lungs. Your eyes creaked open again, only now noticing the unending expanse of blue in the horizon.
Ahhhhh.
Fuck.
You’d set sail.
You sighed. Didn’t matter.
You took another puff of smoke, turning back to the bed.
“Soooo,” you drawled out the word, the mattress dipping under your weight. You ungracefully made your way to the pirate, straddling him, bottle of booze in one hand, cigarette hanging from your lips. “Captain.” You rolled your hips against him, feeling heat pooling between your thighs as your oversensitive clit caught on his hardening cock. You exhaled, smoke coming out in a hypnotizing pattern. “How about we have some fun.”
He smirked.